I have a recipe that I will be posting, but the backstory is detailed enough that I feel it deserves a post of its own, so, here goes!
On the morning of the Fourth of July, I was awakened by a call from my uncle Charles. He was wanting to talk to my dad, who was at the lake, so I didn't know for sure why he called. (Uncle Charles doesn't call too often, fyi) Eventually, I talked to my mom to find out what the call was about. She told me then that my dad's cousin's wife, JoAnn, had died. (It sounds like we were barely related to the lady, but really it is a fairly close relation.) This came as a shock to everyone, because she was in her early sixties, she was in relatively good health, she was fairly thin, and she ate a healthy diet, because she was an avid gardener. Out of everyone in the family, no one could've guessed that she would be the next one to die. From what I've been told, she and her husband were at one of their children's houses for a small get-together. They were in the car to leave, and her husband looked over at her, and, just like that, she was gone. Everyone's best guess is that she had either a stroke, massive heart attack, or brain aneurysm. I guess it goes to show you that everyone has their time, and you can never guess when your last day will be. It seems cliche to say this, but really, it is the truth.
Her funeral was today, and my mom was trying to decide on something to bring for the funeral dinner. After much deliberation, we decided to make an apple strudel. Apple strudels are a big deal in my family, almost as a big a deal as a pie. In recent years, we haven't made as many as we used to, but it makes them taste that much better when we have them. For me, this recipe holds many memories. All of us girls started learning how to make strudel at a young age. It always began by watching, which is really the biggest step in learning. When we got older, we would help peel the apples. Next would be to learn how to mix the dough. Finally, when we got old enough, we'd get to roll it out. Most of the time, my mom rolled the dough out, because she does it best, but sometimes we would.
The reason this recipe has such meaning to me is that it is the one memory I really, really have with my Grandma Hladik. I've never really talked about my grandma, but I guess now I will. Sadly, most of the time that she was alive during my lifetime, she wasn't in the best of health. When I was born, she literally lived in my backyard. In saying that, I mean that her house was literally twenty feet from my back door. She had a massive stroke when I was five, and shortly thereafter she went to the assisted living in town. She was alright there, but towards the end, dementia had began to set in, and she just wasn't the same. When I was eleven, she passed away. Her death, also, was quick and unexpected. She was the only grandparent I ever knew from my dad's side, since my Grandpa Hladik passed away in 1987, six years before I was born.
I may not have really had her for very long, but back in the day, there was nothing I loved more than going to Grandma's house. I remember afternoons spent at her house eating Schwann's ice cream sandwiches and watching PBS cartoons. I loved exploring all of the rooms in her old house, always finding something new. If I think hard enough, I can still remember exactly how her house looked. When I was about four, Grandma usually made a strudel on Saturday mornings. Most of the time, she'd invite me over to help her, mostly to keep her company. She'd always let me sit on the counter and watch her stir the ingredients to make the dough, or peel apples. She'd usually let me have a few apple pieces, too...talk about fringe benefits! She would roll the crust on her table, sometimes letting me roll it just a little bit. Next, we would put the apples in the rolled crust, and I'd get to sprinkle cinnamon, sugar, and nuts over the apples before she rolled it up. While it was baking, we did the dishes, and I got to help with that also. Oddly enough, I was excited to do dishes back then, but I think it had more to do with the soap bubbles and my step stool I used than the task itself. Soon enough, the strudel would be done, and I would get to have some before I eventually went home.
That was usually how it went, but there were two instances that I remember the most. Once, Grandma let me help her roll the crust and put it in the pan. She always made it look easy, so I thought that I could do it just fine. It turns out that there is much more to rolling a crust than one would think, because it didn't turn out well at all. There were all kinds of holes in the crust, and it just didn't look right. I was bummed that it didn't look good, but I remember Grandma telling me that sometimes we had "boo-boo" crusts, and that it all ate the same. I found that very comforting, and I still think about it sometimes.
The other instance was more of a reflection of me as a four-year-old. By this point, Grandma and I had a standing date on Saturday mornings. We always started around 8:00 in the morning, which was nothing for my young self. Usually, before I went over, I would incessantly bug one of my parents to call Grandma to make sure I could still go. Well, one morning, I was up at the crack of dawn, unlike the rest of my family. I got myself dressed and I was waiting for someone to wake up so that I could go to her house. It got to be a little bit later, and no one was awake, so I took it upon myself to just go over to Grandma's because I didn't want to bother anyone. My grandma was pretty skeptical, since there wasn't a call, but I assured her that it would be just fine, because I always went there on Saturdays. Well, everything was going great...that is, until her phone rang, and she was greeted by my parents wondering where on earth I was. At that point, my little world came crashing down, and I went home to meet my doom. Unfortunately, my logic wasn't quite in line with my parents', who were worried that I had run away or was in harm. Needless to say, I spent quite a bit of that day in trouble, and I learned my lesson for sure!
Good or bad, I will always associate this recipe with Grandma and the good times we had together. I love you Grandma, and I miss you still.
(Keep watch for the recipe, which will be coming soon!
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