|Photo by Donna Cosmato|
Courtesy of Public Domain Pictures
I would watch, spellbound, as she sifted flour and mounded it on the table, then made a hollow and added eggs, a little oil, a pinch of salt. My awkward child-hands would help beat the eggs, gradually mixing them with the flour, and then I would watch as she started kneading the dough, working it for a while before stepping back and letting me take a turn--pushing and folding, pushing and folding for what seemed like years but was probably no more than ten minutes. My arms would ache--a good ache--and I'd ask Grandma to take over, knowing that soon it would be time for my favorite part of noodle making: cutting the dough with the little pasty wheel.
Grandma would flour the table, then roll out the dough before handing me the wheel. She'd watch as I cut, letting me know if my noodles were too thick or too thin. Sometimes they were just right! When I'd finish cutting, she'd help me pick up the noodles and hang them over the backs of her toweled-covered orange kitchen chairs to dry. Later there would be homemade chicken soup simmering on the stove, and those noodles would always be the best part.
Grandma died on September 16, 2010. She was 95 years old. My kids didn't really have the chance to get to know her, but I hope that one day I can show them what she taught me and tell them just how special their great-grandma was.
Do you have any beloved memories of time you shared with someone who's no longer living?