Archive for March, 2015

Happy Easter

photo   I have been making Pizzelles today. It’s an Italian Easter tradition.  Did I mention I’m not Italian?  Nope, I’m Portuguese and English but I married into an Italian family and when an Italian family loves you, you become Italian. So after two batches which take a dozen eggs, a pound of butter and three cups of sugar I am now picking off the edges of the crispy cookies so they look half way decent when I give them away.  Because that’s another Italian tradition. You don’t just kill yourself making an immense mountain of cookies, you then give them away. So as I am picking off the edges because I haven’t nailed the exact amount of batter one needs to make the perfect Pizzelle, I’m thinking there might be a newer version of a Pizzelle maker.  One that doesn’t require the laborious work of picking off the edges.  You know some newly edged, sharp and shiny machine that creates the perfect edge free Pizzelles.

Then I look at my Pizzelle maker.  It had to have been made in the 60’s, and that’s being generous.  It is blackened in spots on the outside.  It has the words Automatic written on the front for whatever it was automatic for at the time, but when you open it up and it is shiny. The diamond light still shines every time I plug it in and it has never failed to work properly once you get past the first two.  Which is apparently a rule and a chance for the first taste, which usually goes to the kids who are hovering around me like vultures.

This Pizzelle maker belonged to my mother-in-law, an amazing woman who would bake ten times the amount of cookies I do. Who would give them all away so she was left with only a few “that she really didn’t need to eat anyway” as she would say.  My mother-in-law who passed away in the few short years I met and married her son.  I barely had her in my life for three years and yet she impressed upon me the importance of making and giving Easter cookies.  It is not Easter without Easter cookies.  It is not Easter without a bit of her.

So I guess I’ll keep my old, beaten, Pizzelle Maker and I’ll spend the week before Easter making, clipping and wrapping up cookies, and when I see the smile on the bus driver’s face, or get an email from one of the kid’s teachers expressing their absolute love for the few cookies they received I’ll know that was the legacy Natalie gave to me, not just the making of the cookies, but the happiness she found in giving them all away.  Happy Easter Natalie.


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