cOOking TiKi

Apple cake
Based on my grandmother’s recipe with a letter to my grandfather

Ingredients:

4 eggs
1 cup sugar
½ cup neutral oil
½ cup melted butter
^2/3 cup lukewarm milk
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder

1 kg of apples
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Sugar to taste
Lemon zest (optional)

Preparation:

Start by preparing the stuffing. To do this, peel and finely grate the apples. Sweeten to taste and flavor with cinnamon. Press them a bit in a strainer to remove excess juice.

Cream the eggs and sugar in a deep bowl. Gradually pour in the melted butter, oil and milk. Finally, add the flour and baking powder. Get a sticky and relatively thick pastry.

Pour half the mixture into a rectangular baking dish, well buttered. Spread over the grated apple stuffing. Cover with the remaining batter and smooth with a spatula.

Bake the apple cake in the oven at 180°C for about 40 minutes. Check with a toothpick if the heart of the cake is dry and cooked. Let cool completely before cutting and serving. Sprinkle with icing sugar for better presentation.

Letter to my grandfather

Dear grandpa,

Another year has flown away without you. I still miss you as strongly as if it were yesterday that you packed your suitcase and gently went away into the night. I’m writing to ask how you’re doing up the clouds. I imagine you’ve assembled a whole team of craftsmen and builders and you’re raising palace after palace, temple after temple in the kingdom of heaven. And you are, undoubtedly, always available to land a hand to granny in the kitchen who is making delicious food for everyone.

I’m also writing to thank you for having you, for being such a beautiful, smiling soul, such a unique and kind grandfather! I probably never told you over the years, but I noticed all your little cares, every smile, every tender word. I appreciated them and thanked you silently. And I loved you more every day. But I didn’t really tell you.

I remember, for example, how you always gave me the heart of the watermelon, the whole of it just for me! You always served me the most tender piece of meat, while you were eating the greasy, chewy chunks. You handed me the ripest and sweetest fruit while you were saving the slightly rotten and wrinkled ones. And it was towards me that you pushed the biggest bowl of rice pudding, even though you loved that dessert just as much. I remember this and thank you!

I also remember the summer I was 9 (my cousin Vladimir was 10), we were on vacation in your hometown. You took us both hiking in the hills beyond the fields. We played, ran, rolled, climbed, had picnics — all things that leave memories etched in our minds. Afterward, we made our way back, walking barefoot in the river that wound its way to our house. Except I couldn’t walk on the stones lining the riverbed and writhed in an effort to avoid or better choose them. So you took me in your arms and carried me until we reached our path between the vegetable gardens and got out of the river. I remember that too and thank you!

I remember that it was you who took me to school the first day, my first day at school (the first grade at the age of 7 marks this solemn day in Bulgaria). It was also you who came to pick me up from my French classes and choir rehearsals several times a week. And it was you who shivered for over an hour waiting for me to finish my ice-skating lessons every Thursday and Saturday. I never saw you sullen or bored. Your eyes spoke of nothing but tenderness and joy. I remember that too and thank you!

I remember it was who prepared my breakfast every morning before school. You would get up very early to heat up milk and toast slices of bread. You would also make me a sandwich for later at school. Always with the freshest bread, with a good spread of butter and sausage or cheese. How I loved your sandwiches! You would also leave me 25 cents at the edge of the table in the hallway to buy myself something during the long break at about 10.20 a.m. It was enough for so many things! Either a small bun topped with sugar from the pastry pavilion at the market place, or a pretzel from the old bakery, or a kind of toast with minced meat from the fast-food on the main street, or a small paper bag of French fries or small fried fish from the van next to the school, or a cheese toast from the little snack bar at school, or freshly roasted peanuts from the stand near the tram stop. And lots of other things, like trinkets from the bookstore, like an eraser, a pencil or a small notebook. However, when Christmas approached, I saved these 25 cents and when my wealth counted about 10 leva, we went out together so that I could buy a small gift for each member of our family. You pretended not to see me doing it by reading your newspaper or the stand signboards. You see, I remember that too and thank you!

I remember you were always the one doing the dishes. Back then, you and Grandma didn’t even have a hot water tank, and you heated water in the teapot. Except you rinsed the dishes with cold water. I never heard you complain about that! And you were always the one carrying the fuel cans for the stoves up from the tank in the cellar, going up four floors with maybe 40 liters of fuel in your hands! Then you lit the stoves, and the house was warm and cozy again. I remember that too, and I thank you!

I remember sometimes asking you to tell me a story. Except you didn’t know any and always told me the same one. It revolved around a pig, a forest, acorns, and a wolf. You never tired of bringing it out for me and starting your story over again. I remember that too, and I thank you!

I once asked you if we could grow a vegetable garden when we were on vacation in your village. You spent several whole days clearing a patch of land. Pruning, cutting, sawing, plowing, sifting, and turning over the soil just to have a nice patch of garden. You even repaired the fence and made a wooden gate. And then we were planting carrots, potatoes, beans, peppers, cucumbers, and tomatoes, as well as herbs. You had to lean on a crutch back then, for a tram accident damaged your leg on your way home from work. But that didn’t stop you from sowing, planting, and weeding on your knees in our vegetable garden. I helped you a lot, but you did most of the work. I remember that too and thank you!

I can still see you sitting in the kitchen making preserves for the winter. Cutting, aligning in jars, pre-cooking, and seasoning tons of vegetables every fall, sterilizing tomato sauces (plain or cooked in lyutenitsa), green and yellow beans, various pickles, roasted and peeled red peppers, eggplant-pepper sauces (called kyopolou in our country), and peas. You also made compotes by filling large jars with fruit, water, and sugar. This way, we had our “5 fruits and vegetables a day” all winter long, as, out of season, we couldn’t find fresh ones at the time. I admired your patience in grating dozens of kilos of apples, pumpkins, and quinces to then sterilize them in jars for future pies and cakes in winter. You grated by hand, without complaining. Calm and smiling, busy in the kitchen. Grandma was the chef, and you were all her assistants at the same time. You also didn’t mind freezing outside while you grilled large bags of red peppers to make sauces or sterilize them plain for omelets and ratatouilles in winter. I helped you when my lessons and homework allowed, but as always, the main work came from you. I remember that too and thank you!

I also remember one summer when I wanted to make white cheese. We were still in the village. You didn’t rebuff this new passion; on the contrary, you simply took a bigger can to get milk from the farm. You went there almost every day anyway. And you were my hero, as you already needed two crutches to walk, and the farm was maybe 2 km away from our house. With your bag slung over your shoulder, I could hear your crutches moving away on the cobblestone road. I thought you were so handsome. I sometimes went with you, but you preferred to go early in the morning. Then you made me a small wooden mold for the cheese (feta type) with holes in the bottom. This allowed the cheese to drain better and take the shape of a brick. Finally, you taught me how to make it. Our cheese was so delicious! I remember that too and thank you!

And do you remember, grandpa, how the bookshelf bar door creaked? Grandma didn’t store liquor there, but tablecloths, napkins, and boxes of chocolates. When you got a sweet tooth, you would signal me to join you attack the bar. I would follow you and wait for my chocolate share. Of course, Grandma would soon shout from the next room: “I can hear you!” The creaking of the bar door would betray us. I remember that too and thank you!

You see, grandpa, I could write a whole novel about it! We had so many great moments, and you did so much for me! I haven’t forgotten anything, and for every little twinkling, I loved you more infinitely every day.

I’ve made you one of your favorite cakes. Grandma made it for us quite often back then. You liked to have a piece of it for your 4 p.m. snack with a cup of hot chocolate. You would serve yourself a large piece of cake, followed by another smaller piece, and another, just to better align the cake in the dish. I sometimes kept you company in the cake carving that Grandma quickly discovered in the end and nibbled us that we wouldn’t be hungry for supper.

Let me serve you a big piece of cake, grandpa, and hug you tightly!

P.S. And do know, grandpa, that I named my beautiful yourger one after you, Toma?