Sweet Nothings

You’d think with all the free time she now has, mom would do something constructive – like, say, exercise and lose the flab she gained while warming a swivel chair for eight hours a day the last 13 months? Or maybe clean the gunk behind the refrigerator, wipe the ceiling fans, or at the very least, remove the hair on her legs instead of hiding them under jeans?

But our domestic diva, clearly, has other priorities. She feels she has to somehow make up for all the shopping she missed, all the talk shows she couldn't watch, all the blogs she couldn’t read and all the baking she put on a backburner.

That’s right; mom has recommenced baking with a vengeance. On any given afternoon, the house is redolent with the aroma of pumpkin pie spice, crumbly raspberry bars, melt-in-your-mouth cranberry scones, chewy chocolate chip cookies, etc.

While stirring a pot of caramel sauce with one hand, mom might crack eggs with the other or scratch her head to estimate 1/8 of a teaspoon. Not for her the Rachel Ray method of eye-balling ingredients and randomly throwing things in a bowl, giggling all the while. This woman takes her craft much too seriously and measures out ingredients with drug dealer precision.

“What is half of two-thirds?” she’ll ask dad, when he’s in the middle of writing codes or on a conference call halfway around the world. Unaware of the intricacies of baking, dad will spit out the exact figure, leaving mom to wonder how she could possibly measure light corn syrup in decimal points.

With all the delish decadence emanating from the kitchen, you’d think the family would revel in mom's confectionery creations. “But I want pink ice cream,” Kuki will whine, when presented with a choice of creamy custard or almond biscotti for an afternoon snack. “I’ll take it later,” dad will diplomatically say - his standard phrase for refusal.

Ingrates! One of these days, when the family asks her what’s for dinner, mom will be very tempted to say, “Eat cake instead!”