On Blessings: Strawberries and Flying Children

 

 

 

You know that sweet saying about giving your child wings? I used to think it was cute, too, when I was still zipping my babies into footie pajamas. Back then, I fueled myself with aphorisms, imagining myself slam-dunking the parenting thing (imagine a very nice pat on the back here--"Oh, yes, I'm raising my children so that they will ffffllllllyyyyyyyyy!"). People who write darling little embroidery-worthy witticisms like this obviously haven't had children who are born in flight mode. My third child emerged in take-off position, landing gear raised and flight plan plotted. At first, she wanted to fly out of her high chair, and then across the ice, and then down the field. When her plan took her out of our nest,  being her mother morphed into a bittersweet combination of wonder and angst.

Once I wrote this:
 

My body does not forget. Missing her wells in me, rough waters threatening to pull me under. At the sound of my morning alarm, I imagine her still asleep, curled on her side, three hours behind me. We are connected by phone lines, divided by time differences. She calls me while riding her bike home, my mind tangled in the three lanes of traffic she has to cross with a phone held to one ear. Sometimes she calls me while in line at Starbucks, saying "Bye...love you" as she reaches the register.

If I had one of those big world maps, I could track her with push pins. Sacramento, Tokyo, Chicago, Florence, Cinque Terre, Rome, Paris, Washington, D.C., Pittsburgh. Last week, she took off again, this time for Helena, Arkansas where she'll spend two years teaching chemistry in a modular classroom.

Guess who bought the luggage tag?

A little of mom goes with her by way of a teacher's box, including the same kind of book I've used to plan my classes for years.

  

Meet Momma Bear, who had to ride for 14 hours wedged between the front seats. Excuse her ragged looks, please--she's been on the road quite a bit over the last 24 years.

 

 

 

This may be one of those you-had-to-be-there kind of pics. Here's a play-by-play in case you missed it. I'm standing on the front steps yelling mother-love kinds of things (drink your orange juice, call me any time, park in well-lit spaces, the first days will be really hard--but it will get better, let me know when you get in!), and Gary is driving along side of Laura. Yes, you are seeing correctly. He drives down the street with her, forcing her to take up the on-coming traffic lane. He follows her down the hill to our plan exit, where he honks like a mad goose to send her off.

 



And where do the strawberries come in?

The thing is that Laura loves strawberries. Once, at a graduation party for one of her brother's friends, she stood by a silver tray of plump strawberries dressed in white and dark chocolate tuxedos, plopping them into her mouth until the hostess lifted the tray and placed it on another table. Laura really, really loves frozen strawberries mixed with Jello and layered on top of baked and buttered pretzel crumbs, the whole sweet thing slathered with cream cheese, Cool Whip, and sugar. The making of Strawberry Pretzel Salad annoys me with its mashing of pretzels and sloshing of Jello, So, when we went to a family gathering just two days before she left for Arkansas, I decided to try a more grown-up berry recipe, a Pinterest-proclaimed marvel: the Strawberry Blessing.

 

Here's how I conjured up a Strawberry Blessing:

You'll need to gather a few goodies.
 

1 cup strawberry jam (I had only enough strawberry to fill 3/4 of the cup, so I filled it up with a lovely mixed berry jam I'd picked up at a local farm market.)

 

1/2 cup warm water

 

1/3 cup orange juice

 

1/4 cup Cointreau (divided in half), plus one extra tablespoon

 

1-1/4 pounds mascarpone, at room temperature

 

1-1/3 cups whipping cream

 

3 tablespoons sugar

 

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

 

Savoiardi--also known as ladyfingers!  (You'll need three packages of Savoiardi. Twenty-four come in a pack, and I used exactly 52 in my 9 x 13 pan. You might be more Savoiardi-savvy than I, but, after a hunt through the bakery and cookie section in my grocery store, I finally found these in the specialty Italian aisle. Just a note: the bakery lady did not a) remember the bakery ever carrying ladyfingers and b) know that the furtive Savoiardi could be found in her store.)

 

1-1/2 to 2 pounds strawberries, washed, dried and sliced (And, oh!, it is strawberry season!)

 

2 tablespoons lemon zest (Use one plump lemon for this amount of zest. Naked lemons can be used for all kinds of other lovely, lemony things.)

 

 

Fourteen Steps to a Strawberry Blessing: 



 (None of which involve the annoying pretzel crunching or Jello sloshing!)

 

1. Mix the jam, water, orange juice, and 1/8 cup of the Cointreau.

 

2. In another bowl, whip together the mascarpone and the second 1/8 cup of Cointreau. 

 

  

3. Beat the whipping cream, sugar, vanilla extract and remaining 1 tablespoon of Cointreau until stiff peaks form. 

  

4. Stir 1/4 of the whipped cream mixture into the mascarpone to soften the mixture. Then, carefully fold in the remaining whipped cream mixture.

 

5. Spread 1/2 of the jam mixture in the bottom of a 9 x 13 dish. The Savoiardi will absorb all of this lovely liquid.

  

 

6. Behold the naked lemon! Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of the lemon zest over the jam mixture. (I've learned that a little of the bitter makes the sweet so much more delicious.)  

 

 

7. Line the bottom of the dish with Savoiardi, covering the entire pan. You may have to break the ladyfingers into smaller pieces to fill small spaces.
 

8. Spread half of the mascarpone mixture evenly over the Savoiardi.

9. Layer half of the sliced strawberries over the mascarpone.

10. Spread the second half of the jam mixture over the strawberries. (You might want to lick the bowl.)
 

 

11. Sprinkle the remaining tablespoon of lemon zest over the strawberries and jam.

 

12. Repeat the process with the remaining ingredients, laying a second row of Savoiardi over the  strawberries and jam, then spreading the mascarpone mixture over those, and last,  covering with the  sliced strawberries and lemon zest.

 

13. Refrigerate for at least 12 hours. (I suspect this is when the blessing happens.)

  

14. Enjoy your blessings: strawberry and otherwise. 

 

 

You can find the recipe I adapted at Cream Puffs in Venice. Here's the Pinterest description that made me think Laura might like it:

"It was glorious. Angels sang. I think there were even harps. As far as I’m concerned you can call it whatever you like. I call it good."  

 

And we did think it was glorious, all of us--my sister's family and mine, from the oldest cousin (my son) to my nephew's baby boy (blessing number five for Jeff and Heather, and, well, okay, he's a little young to eat cake). What did Laura think? I'm pretty sure she still likes the Strawberry Pretzel Salad more, but, then, again, you'll have to ask her. I'll let you know when she's back in town.