It was supposed to taste
of your childhood –
a childhood that I didn’t know –
I never knew you grazed-kneed,
talking excitedly, packed onto
that back bench, trapped
between a brother and a sister –
but instead, made something
different. You liked it. It was not
your childhood, rain on the windows,
warmth in the kitchen –
it was something different,
tastier, maybe, comforting
as the day fades, as the wind
rattles roudn the house –
warm cinnamon, half-melted butter
oozing off the fruited slice –
a new coziness. Isn’t that
how marriage works? We bring
our memories, make something new,
cherish the old. Relish this now.
Barmbrack is an Irish tea loaf, traditionally eaten at Halloween, with charms inside it that have various symbolic meanings. My Irish husband mentions it every Halloween, and one year I decided to bake a loaf for him. If you want the recipe, it’s here: https://www.irishexaminer.com/recipes/?c-recipeid=4079
I’m not a great baker, but this is delicious. It tastes nothing like my husband’s childhood memories, but it’s become part of our repertoire.
This is for dVerse. I’m hosting tonight, and we’re writing poems about food.
It sounds delicious, Sarah, and how you bring it round to the recipe for a perfect marriage: lovely!
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Hmm, not sure it’s perfect, but it seems to work.
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🙂
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It’s also the easiest cake I’ve ever made.
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😃
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Wonderful memory. 🙂
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I love how you describe the process of creating new traditions… I think we do, creating new favorites and new memories.
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“Isn’t that how marriage works? We bring our memories, make something new, cherish the old.” Yes! Sigh.. such a deeply poignant write, Sarah 🙂
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I love the “with charms hidden inside” as both literal and metaphorical.
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Barmbrack from Bewley’s, nobody ever made it, don’t know why. Memories are full of food, and this is a lovely one, especially as it’s one you’ve created yourselves.
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its the easiest cake I’ve ever made – give it a go! utterly unlike the shop version! but in a good way.
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I will. I don’t know why none of the old ladies ever made it. They’d spend months making bread, soda bread and chirstmas cakes and puddings, but barmbrack was always what was carted back from Dublin. As if it was sacred.
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I imagined this being read, by an actress like Helen Bonham.Carter or somebody, and it was beautiful..
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Aw thank you – I cant seem to comment on your poem, but I enjoyed it very much – you really put the great British night out under the microscope. I could’t look away.
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Thank you so much, yes…I agree, that unfortunately is that great British night out..thank you again for your lovely poem.
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I tried recipe after recipe, trying to replicate my mother’s apple cake, which essentially is a spice cake with cinnamon coated apple slices placed edgewise into the batter in a rectangular pan. I finally remembered that my sister had my mother’s recipes. She sent a picture of the recipe card. I made it. It was nothing like what I remembered. I decided that after fifty years of baking my mother probably never looked at the recipe. I finally found one, myself, that takes me back to hers.
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Quite lovely! I oddly lack the nostalgia for home cooking, but I adore the sensation.
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How interesting.
Much love…
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Already printed the recipe, Sarah & can’t wait…
Not that I can’t wait to taste it, but if it reminds me AT ALL about ANY PART of my childhood, I’ll be REALLY bummed out.
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Oh! I forgot to thank you for hosting delicious prompt. Thanks!
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pleasure
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This is lovely and comforting on so many levels. I can almost feel the steam on the windows!
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I will probably make this. Love your poem,. Yes we make new memories and relish the old.
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Sounds like a tasty treat Sarah. Did you put the toys in the dough also?
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Certain food brings back memories for sure, whether by smell, texture, appearance or taste. It’s lovely to have such a memory! :]
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My late husband, the real cook in the family, used to make a sultana cake similar to this but only sultanas and I like the look of all the other ingredients. I’ve written it out in a recipe book I go for a wedding present more years ago than I care to remember. If Pat were still with me I know he would immediately have a go at making it. So much warmth in your poem.
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It’s good toasted with butter, too.
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Now my mouth is watering, Sarah!
❤
David
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Ah,a lip smacking recipe to try out! Great poem 😀
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How essential is it to learn cooking or at least watch your Mom cooking in childhood – to enable us to carry the taste to adult life.
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Just like a poem is a new creation, love is a feast full of old standards and new surprises. This is such a resonant poem Sarah, well done and so juicy.
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I love the contrast of “It was supposed to …” and “make something new” how life really is.
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Your words and the Barmbrack sound delicious!
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Recipe bookmarked, I do love a tealoaf. I love this poem as well, I could feel so much of my own experience with marriage in it. My husband was 19 when we met, so I only know his childhood through stories I’ve been told. Similarly, what seems normal for me strikes him as absurd. I think “a new cosiness” is the perfect way to describe it.
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I love the journey of this poem – leaving old traditions, new ways of doing things that eventually become traditions themselves.
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it’s nice when pieces of the past evolve into new moments, it’s true we can never go home, but we can take peices of home with us… very well said
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This is a perfectly lovely poem and I appreciated it even more on the second reading, after I read you explanation at the bottom. Did you put charms in the loaf? If so, what were they? This is a bit like the Rosca they bake for Three Kings day here in Mexico, with one or more baby Jesuses baked inside. Whoever gets the baby in their slice has to provide the tamales for Candlemas.
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Pingback: Tuesday Poetics – Food! | A Dalectable Life
This was so beautiful. I love the spouse trying to bring a memory to life with food. That is love.
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