Because of Sue’s inflexible rule, Mother swore that she would never torture her own children like that and my brother and I have lovely memories of digging into a freshly made chocolate cake that was so warm, the ice cream would melt down into the layers before we could eat it all.
Mother also picked up Sue’s finesse with pie crusts, but she never managed to pass that skill on to me. Whenever I’m forced to bake a pie, I use Mrs. Smith’s crusts, not Great-aunt Sue’s. But I make her biscuits, her cornbread, her smothered pork chops, and her fig preserves—a recipe passed down from Sue through Mother’s sister.
Now my older granddaughter comes out to the kitchen to watch me make gravy from the meat drippings. And she’s mentioned wanting to make biscuits.
And so Sue’s legacy continues.
Thanks for the good memories, Elaine.