Saturday, September 22, 2012

Cinnamon Buns

Dough is rising before 7:00am, which means it is one of my children's birthday. That is a tradition that I can't remember when it started...but once it did at least 4 times a year the whir of the kitchen-aid and the dust of flour fills the air. I don't think I am particularly good at cinnamon buns...but having 4 kids has made for lots of practice. Before Samee left for Winnipeg I was trying to find a way to celebrate through the tears. Mikee suggested gluten-free cinnamon buns - which was perfect. Samee will be celebrating her birthday in Winnipeg this year....so the Samee version was our last morning. Food connects us....reminds us...satisfies and sometimes feeds something we didn't even know was lacking. I made this for you...I know you love chocolate, seafood, edamame...are all ways to let a person know we consider them...regard them...love them. Food traditions abound around a family table. Formal dinners at are house have had to eliminate corn. There is a long standing joke within that could be construed as rude and uncouth. The joke is still floating around and has eked out in several places....but I do what I can to quash the guffaws when I am trying to have a sense of decorum. People know I love to cook..and love when people eat. I am the Canadian version of a Italian mom that wants others to enjoy the fruit of my labour. JJ Bones cannot come to my house without asking "what's for supper?" and pointing at the dining room. For him, that is where we gather... He actually could care less what I make. For the most part he is drawn to the meat and the buns...but he doesn't like when someone is missing...and he likes to sit at my left hand beside his brother. He connects to the din of the table interjecting silly comments now and then....it is wonderful. The first time a young lad from Australia sat at my table the cacophony was intimidating I am sure. Chicken and rice were passing quickly and I could see he was not used to the pace of the Andersons....nor the protocol. When I let him know it was fine to ask to pass something, in a voice a little louder than he or I expected he asked for food. No one blinked an eye - they just started passing things down. "You'll fit right in" I said....and he has. I miss him at my table. Today the smell of cinnamon is wafting through the air in anticipation of a rising birthday girl. I hope she hears what the food is telling her.

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