Apfelkuchen: poem & pie

Evelyn and I had a lovely evening making an "Apfelkuchen" -- a German recipe that's pretty much like apple pie even though it literally means "apple cake." Not sure if I've mentioned this here before but a lot of my heritage is German -- my mom is German and lived there until we moved to the States exactly twenty years ago this fall, which means I was born in and lived in Germany until I was almost 4. And I actually spoke German before I spoke English - weird to think about....

My mom used to make an apfelkuchen. Not the same recipe Evelyn and I used but it must be pretty close because the smell and feel and taste of the dough bring back so many feelings of nostalgia....fuzzy memories of when I was very young...and I can't help but wonder if Evelyn will have similar memories.....

I don't usually share my creative writing here (which I'll explain another time), but this poem (which I wrote last year and could use some final touches) fits so well:

"Apfelkuchen"

 In a memory I’m not certain is real,

my mother makes an apple cake

for no special occasion. For us.

I am young, but old enough

to reach the counter to slip bits

of raw dough beneath my tongue.

She uses metric measurements—

     are we in Ulm?

 Or is this just her old Kochbuch—

     one of her few pieces of home

     that made it to the other side.

She reads the directions under her breath

like a secret.

Her lips shape syllables

I no longer know. 

my little helper

when I put the lattice on Evelyn said I was "making the apples safe." adorable. 

sneaky sneaky....

And this is where I'm supposed to share the recipe with you but it's freaking long and I don't feel like typing it all out and should really go work on my paper, maybe another day....

good night.