Reflections on the Third Week of Summer – Kittens and a Great Cupcake Bake

Sparkling Candles - photo by Chris

 Running my fingers through sweat-soaked hair on humid 87ºF (31ºC) Wednesday, I watched my daughter and son-in-law lounge on the sofa. She sat cross-legged with her back against the arm rest. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at a smart phone.

Three kittens raced past the sofa.

Chris leaned forward, scooped up the last in the line―Gilbert―and handed him to Ellen.

She set the kitten on her chest and smoothed his whiskers.

Gilbert purred and touched his nose to hers.

On Ellen and Chris’s last visit a year and a half ago, we’d bundled and shivered on the deck. They blew bubbles in frigid 10ºF (-12ºC) air, and I took photos of frosty-rainbow globes. Our fingers, toes, and bottoms numbed as if we’d hiked across the arctic. (See “Exposure with Frozen Bubbles” January 7, 2018 blog.)

I wanted a memorable, bonding activity for this visit too. Cuddling kittens might do.

Chris swiped his thumb down the phone screen, murmured “There it is,” and leaned back.

Climbing onto Chris’s abdomen, Ande stretched his legs to form a furry belt around Chris’s middle.

Setting the phone on his lap, Chris stroked Ande and looked at me. “Would you like me to bake cupcakes for you?”

Before I could answer, Ellen said, “Chris has been practicing to perfect a lemon cupcake recipe. It’s vegan so non-dairy.” She set Gilbert on the floor, grabbed sock-sniffing Rills, and squeezed him against her chest.

He mewed a protest.

She didn’t let go.

Practicing to perfect a cupcake recipe for me? My mouth watered and sparks of delight tickled my insides. “Yes! I love cupcakes.” So sweet of Chris to bake cupcakes for me―a two-week early birthday celebration. I wiped sweat off my forehead. “You could bake them tomorrow morning before it gets hot outside.”

Thursday morning, Chris, standing by the kitchen table and towering over me, made requests. “I need muffin tins . . . a large bowl . . . dry measuring cups . . .”

I stooped, opened the bottom cupboard, and reached behind stacked pie pans for the muffin tins. Gathering the other utensils and ingredients gave me a mini-aerobic workout.

With the studious expression of a scientist puzzling out a conundrum, Chris spooned whole wheat flour into a cup. “I’ll remove a tablespoon and put in one of cornstarch. That’ll make the cupcakes lighter.” He dumped the flour into the mixing bowl and reached for the tablespoon measure. “Ellen, you can grate the lemon.”

Ellen gave Ande one last pet, left him on the sofa, and washed her hands at the kitchen sink. She sat across the table from Chris and rubbed the lemon against a grater before twisting the lemon around a glass citric juicer.

Fragrance of lemon saturated the air. I could almost lick the fragrance with my tongue.

Ellen squinted at the pile of rind shavings she’d made. “Mary Berry  wouldn’t approve. These pieces are too big. I’ll cut them smaller.” She reached for a knife. Snap. Snap Snap.

Beside Ellen, I fitted the black walnuts I’d harvested last fall (See “Ah, Black Walnuts” November 4 & 11. 2018) into our Amish walnut cracker. Crack. Crack. Crack.

Chris powered the hand mixer. Whirrrrrrrrrrr.

Chris and Gilbert

Napping kittens blinked, yawned, then resumed their sleep.

With a spatula, Chris folded chopped walnuts into his mix. “The liquid batter is perfect for light cupcakes but will make it hard to suspend the walnuts evenly―Mary Berry’s standard.” He measured batter into tins lined with cupcake papers. Not a single drip on the sides of the paper or tin. Impressive.

While putting away ingredients and clearing utensils, I picked up the citrus juicer. A tablespoon of lemon juice sloshed in the bottom. Too little to save, but too much to waste. I lifted the juicer and drank. POW! The tangy juice puckered my lips and jolted every taste bud into tingling-high-acid alert.

Chris laughed and shoved the cupcakes into the oven.

Ellen laughed and snatched Ande off the sofa.

Later, when the cupcakes had cooled for frosting, Chris said. “They’re baked right. But Mary Berry wouldn’t approve of the uneven sizes.”

Ellen and Chris had mentioned Mary Berry three times. I looked from her to him. “Who is Mary Berry?”

Ellen put her hands on her hips. “She’s a judge on The Great British Baking Show. Haven’t you watched it on Netflix?”

I hadn’t.

Chris beat sugar and egg whites in a double boiler for Betty Crocker’s Seven Minute frosting.

I dumped in two and a half times the suggested amount of almond flavoring.

Ellen shook a dollop of fluffy frosting off her spoon and onto a cupcake. “Mom needs to watch the baking show.”

Chris picked up the dish of left over chopped black walnuts. “We can find an exciting episode for her.”

“The first episode would be better.” Ellen smoothed frosting with a knife. “She can see the set up and learn the rules.”

Ellen Frosting Cupcakes

After all twenty-two cupcakes had frosting and black walnuts, we climbed to the loft and watched the first episode about baking cakes―appropriate for our morning’s adventure.

At dinner that night, while I savored ever bite of my husband’s homemade pizza, my mind anticipated the lemon cupcakes.

Ellen had something different on her mind. She waved her fork in the air and said, “Give me one adjective to describe living with three kittens.”

Her dad answered first. “Rambunctious.”

I swallowed. “Entertaining.”

Chris grinned at Ellen. “Adorable.”

“That’s what I would have said.” She grinned back. “And you, the only one of us who’s allergic to cats, pick them up the most.”

“We should get four kittens.” Chris’s eyes sparkled like the sparkler candles he’d bought for the cupcakes.

I watched one of those candles spark on top of my cupcake then removed the blackened wick and stub of wax for my first bite of lemon cupcake.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. I’d never eaten a more flavorful cupcake! Armed with Mary Berry’s evaluations of the thirty-six cakes she’d sampled, I said, “Strong flavors. The tangy lemon enhances the cake. The almond cuts the sugary sweetness of the frosting, and the black walnuts add a taste of the wild. The flavors blend without overpowering each other.”

Chris munched. “But we’d get points taken off because we didn’t make the almond flavoring by roasting almonds. And Mary Berry would say the cupcakes were too small.”

“She’d approve of moist texture.” Ellen licked the frosting off her fingertips.

Since the cupcakes were small, I reached for a second. “It was special of you to bake cupcakes for celebrating my birthday a couple weeks early.”

Pulling the paper off his second cupcake, Chris jerked his head up and stared at Ellen. “Early birthday celebration? I thought it was a late July Fourth celebration―”

Ellen blurted, “Of course the cupcakes are for Mom’s birthday.” Ellen stared back at Chris.

The next morning they gathered their gear while three kittens scampered around our feet. Like Chris had done many times during their visit, I picked up Gilbert when he ran past and handed him to Ellen.

She touched her nose to his then wrapped her diaphanous, multi-colored scarf around his body. She reached for the door handle.

I grabbed purring Gilbert. “I thought you might want to give him a good bye hug.”

She smirked.

Leaving Gilbert on the sofa, I followed Ellen and Chris outside to wave them off.

Instead of shivering on the deck in frigid temperatures, we’d basked in the warmth of fresh baked cupcakes and cuddly kittens. Two memorable, bonding activities for this visit. Maybe their next visit will spark more memorable events.

Ellen Holding Ande and Rills