Each of us loves the smell of baking floating everywhere. And the house where the recipes for cakes were passed down from generation to generation, only slightly modernizing them. Specially in June, the whole family went to the plot to collect fragrant, ripe cherries, which we later used for yeast-raised dough. We used to make earrings out of them or throw them at each other. Grandpa was nervous at the time and told us to collect them all.
I remember the taste of those cakes to this day, and in the moments of the greatest tension, just when June comes, I get in my car and drive to my parents' house to pick cherries so that my mother can bake me the cake that everyone loves. She is extremely happy that I visit her, that I can see her and watch her work. We both like it very much.
A few months later there was always a time for plums. Hungarian or renklody, juicy and sour, and cake sweet and fluffy, sprinkled with crumble and powdered sugar, is the taste of my childhood. I would go out with all the sheet metal into the yard and offer it to my friends. I took it to our base, where we ate everything to the last crumb, imagining that there was a war going on, and this was our supplies. When the food was running out, we were back from the war for dinner. After all, you have to stop fighting someday. I am still laughing at it today that this plum cake would end all wars in the world even now.
Today I gave all the recipes for my mother's cakes to my wife and she promised that from now on she would take care of them meticulously. On the same day, my son asked for an ordinary yeast-raised cake, without fruit. I asked him if he wanted at least some raisins, but he crouched slightly at it, saying that raisins are the biggest evil of the world. It's a shame, because I love them.
He said he'd help his wife with her preparations. Bowls, strainers, mixer, and ingredients went in motion. Flour, eggs, yeast, sugar, butter. The oven heated to 200 degrees Celsius, shone invitingly. I felt longing.
I wanted to get in the car immediately, my mother knew all the recipes by heart. I wanted some crispy chocolate cookies.
I also remembered that for some time I was fat for all this food. Once Grandpa, when he came back from the field and saw me, he got very upset. Since then, I've eaten meat once a week, and vegetables the rest of the days. I lost over 20 kilos at the time. It was the worst period of my life - not eating sweets and yeast-raised cakes.
Today I'm not fat anymore, I take care of myself perfectly, so I know that once a week I can eat a rich piece of cake of the best in the world. I also keep an eye on my kids to make sure they don't get too addicted. But it's always better to eat cakes than to smoke cigarettes or drink alcohol. I tell them this every day when we eat fresh fruit, dreaming that it would be nice to eat a piece of yeast cake.
The wife then laughs quietly and then the mixer moves. I feel love and longing in it, I think I am the happiest person in the world.