My apologies to everyone. Not only did I get a slow start to the year, but as soon as I decided to join 2008, my computer sent me to solitary. That’s right, my keyboard just packed up, leaving me imprisoned and voiceless. I finally have my new keyboard and am up and running - okay walking, but for all of you who sent in entries for the third Apples & Thyme, thank you so much for your beautiful memories, and your patience. Enjoy the read…

Laurie from Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska sent us another lovely entry. Read her Sourdough Saga and how she rediscovered that you should always trust your instincts, and your mother.

Tamara, the Rocky Mountain Writer, and a newcomer to Apples & Thyme, writes about her birthday cake and shares her mother’s handwritten recipe for Beat & Eat Frosting. Welcome Tamara

The gorgeous Marla from Bella Baita View tells us about Fabrizio’s family traditions and their Party Polenta, via a lovely stroll through their local market

Ronell from My French Kitchen had been threatening to join this event since it started, and this month she puts her Mom’s picture perfect Coffee Cookies where her mouth is. Thank you Ronell, I’m still drooling.

Amanda from Little Foodies also finally gets around to her A&T post, and in her words it’s ‘ a bloody long one’ so make sure you have a cup of coffee before you pull up her post and get sentimental with her.

Courtney from Coco Cooks wasn’t intending to enter this month’s Apples & Thyme, but found that she’d unwittingly written an A & T post so decided to send it to us anyway. Her biscuits are just beautiful so check out her story.

Paul and Mike from EAT ME! are taking it in turns to write an entry for A & T. This month Mike shares his granmother’s Figgy Lollies with us, and thank goodness he does, they’re delicious.

The lovely Kit from Food and Family shares a special post sending love and good wishes to both her parents from Africa. Our thoughts are with you all Kit.

Colleen, from Cape Town doesn’t blog, but has mailed me a special A & T story of her mom’s jam making. It’s good to have you with us Colleen. Her words follow:

I was reading your post about the orange marmalade that you made and it brought back the strongest most wonderful memories of my mom in our farmhouse sized kitchen boiling away her oranges on the old black Aga wood stove in the corner hearth……….hey! I’m only 54years young I can smell the heady citrus perfume mixed with sugar permeating the whole house, I can feel the oppressive heat in the kitchen,hear the bubbling and almost feel the steamslowly dampening everything in the kitchen. If I close my eyes for a brief moment I can see my Mom, floral apron,dotted with yellow stains from the many oranges she’d cut, tied around her waist, perspiration beading her forehead and wisps of dark hair clinging to it, having to remove her glasses because they had steamed up and she couldn’t see anything. I can see the big spoon she used to stir the fruit in the large aluminium saucepan with many dents in it, the little chipped cream colored enamel dish with green rim, sitting on to one side for the scum, and then the sparkling, mismatched bottles of beautiful marmalade lined up on the top pantry shelf. The shelf was lined with newspaper to protect the wood from leakages. The lower, more visible, shelves were lined with pretty floral shelf paper that we bought at our local grocer. We couldn’t wait to get to taste that perfectly jelled marmalade. For me the best was when it was spread onto a slice of freshly baked bread liberally spread with good old salted farm butter. Oh!! I start to salivate at the sweet memory and I am determined to make some again - really soon. Better yet was the preserved oranges - sparkling orange half rounds lying in beautifully clear syrup, waiting to be scooped out onto a plate. I will supply the recipe for this but unfortunately I don’t have any photos. Moms old Brownie Box Camera was a far cry from todays super techno digital ones The large aluminium saucepan graces my kitchen today, together with some other things I “rescued” from that old farmhouse sized kitchen with its gaudy green and white linoleum floor and yes, today in my smallish but well designed kitchen with gas hob (closest I could get to a wood burning stove in this modern day), I am carrying on the tradition started by my mother - I do baking from home and I also sell a range of jams, jellies and preserves. Doing what I do today I realize how difficult those years must have been for my mom and I am even more grateful to her and love her even more for how she sacrificed and worked to provide for and nurture her children.

I am the middle one of 5 children born to my mother. I don’t remember my father at all as he died suddenly when I was just 3 years old. The year was 1955. The day following his untimely death my youngest siblings were born - a twin boy and girl - to our grieving mother. Suddenly she found herself on her own, a single parent with 5 children, all under the age of 9 years, totally dependent on her for everything. We lived in a small rural town and the kind townsfolk rallied around to help out. I remember one farmer bringing milk, another eggs, yet others bread, meat or wood for that aforementioned wood stove that guzzled the stuff from early morning till late. You see, the way that my mom was able to provide for her family was to bake and make jams and preserves which she sold to the local townsfolk. I can see her now, back bent over the large table in the kitchen, cutting out cookies either with her cookie modeller or with an old mustard powder tin that she had removed the top and bottom from, it made a perfect rectangular cookie cutter. I still do that today when I bake those same cookies! The aromas of spice, citrus and vanilla that greeted me as I came running into the kitchen from school to greet Mom and tell her about my day haunt me sometimes so much that I just have to haul out the ingredients and bake. I often look for any arbitrary reason to bake in memory of my mom. The skills I have in my kitchen, the knowledge I have of the food and baking, the great love I have for baking and preserving, all come from spending time in the kitchen with my mom. I could never get enough of watching her, how she measured out her ingredients, how she broke her eggs into a saucer first to check them rather than spoil an expensive batch of cookies or cake batter if they were rotten. I still do that even though I don’t really have to these days. Her ways are ingrained into what makes me tick. As I age I see more and more of my ma in myself and I am so grateful because if I can be half the person she was then I will be happy and fulfilled. Ten years ago, Mom left us, at age 84, for the final time and crossed over the divide between life and death. Her last years had been very difficult due to osteoarthritis and chronic lung disease. Those gnarled hands that once worked prolifically, rearing free range chickens for the local market, baking, preserving, knitting, gardening avidly, joined together in prayer, were finally still and just lay in her lap, she was semi-invalid and totally lucid and I had the honour of taking care of her for 6 years before she finally went into a frail care home. When her time came it was my great privilege to sit with her, holding her hand, singing to her, reading her favourite passages from the Bible to her, talking and talking about my childhood and thanking her for her love and all she did for me and my brothers and sisters. Her last words to me were “I will see you on the other side”. She has left us with a wonderful legacy of love, our family, although large and spread out across South Africa, is one of the closest I know. We communicate constantly and if we get together for a special gathering - there is much laughter, story telling (usually embellished by my two brothers), preparing of food, eating and more laughter! How wonderful it is to be so loved and so blessed.

There is so much more that I could write about life in the kitchen with my mom but I will end off now with this poem, written by my younger brother, for the anniversary of Moms death.

You were our mother and our friend,
Which was unusual.

Somehow our characters still blend:
Your wisdom and our will.

When we turned you were there for us;
We spoke, you understood.

We felt cared for, but also free;
You loved, and it was good.

We are fortunate that we were born
To someone just like you;

We love you still. Though you are gone
You live on in what we do.

It has been great fun for me reminiscing about my childhood and my mom

Hugs from Colleen in Cape Town

And lastly if you wish to read my post it is here.

I’m almost positive I’ve left somebody out, just because that’s the kind of month it’s been. So if it was you, please send me a mail and I’ll fix my error IMMEDIATLEY! Thank you all once again for your lovely stories and don’t forget to get next month’s entries in by around the 10th February. Feb’s roundup will no doubt be extremely competently ( and timeously ) posted by my co-founder of Apples & Thyme, the gorgeous Jeni of Passionate Palate

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