Sunday, March 27, 2011

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I HAVE AN OLD FRIEND who was here to see me today. She came with her husband to visit the yard man and me. Because they arrived a bit earlier than expected, she took over the job of peeling apples for the French Apple Cobbler I was in the process of making. Their arrival slowed down my preparations to a snail's pace! (I can't visit and keep my wits about me simultaneously). By the time we had eaten the long-delayed dinner, that cobbler was coming from the oven--hot and nicely browned. I served it up, the yard man added a scoop of vanilla ice cream atop each serving, and my friend took the first bite.
"Mmmm, this is good", she declared. "It tastes just like an Amish kitchen!"

Hmm. Je suis fascinated.
It's supposed to be French apple cobbler. What would give it the taste of an Amish kitchen?

I plum forgot to ask my friend--what does she know about Amish kitchens? She lives in the hills of West Virginia!








Later, while I loaded the dishwasher, she cleaned my big glass salad bowl. She spent a long time at it--fastidiously scrubbing and rubbing every little smudge and fingerprint (just as I would imagine a good Amish homemaker might do). And now! Now it is eye-poppingly shiny. It sparkles like a long and true friendship!

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