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Apr 17, 2025
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The Smell of Baking
Arms painted white with flour. Apples bubbling bitter in a pan.
Mammy smiled, ‘want to help me?’
Of course I did. I loved to rub my hands through that silky mixture,
feel the crumbs thicken beneath my finger nails,
cold butter surrendering to my hot pressing thumbs.
We’d peel apples whole so I could throw the skins behind me
and uncover the initials of who I’d marry.
I rolled pastry on the old butter-stained table.
‘Doesn’t matter if it’s torn,’ she’d say, ‘we can patch it.’
‘Yours is better than mine,’ Mammy peered over her teacup,
and I believed her, every time.
Mine never won prizes for looking good,
but Mammy beamed, mouth full.
Before I knew it, I was making apple pies,
without her.
About This Poem
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Geezer
2 months 1 week ago
I think...
this is the best told story of this nature, posted this week. I was caught right away with the inter-action between "mammy" and the writer. The sparse but direct lines, give the sense of the conversation without long discourse. I read slowly toward the last, because I didn't want to see the end and feel the grief, but too late... you sprung it so suddenly. Nicely done. ~ Geez.
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Ruby Lord
2 months 1 week ago
Hi Geezer, thank you for
Hi Geezer, thank you for reading and feeling my intention. I'm sorry I sprung it on you, but sometimes, it's the details we experience that makes a poem come to life. And your comments always make me smile, like apple pie when I rub the butter into the flour and remember how my mammy used to say, I make the best apple pie. Ruby xx
mark
2 months 1 week ago
The pie of life...
This poem is a beautiful exploration of memory, love, and the bittersweet passage of time, centered around the simple act of baking. Here are some of the things that stand out to me:
Sensory Detail: The poem is rich with sensory detail, particularly the tactile experience of baking ("silky mixture," "crumbs thicken," "cold butter surrendering") and the evocative scent implied in the title. This immerses the reader in the memory and makes it feel vivid and real.
Emotional Core: The poem's emotional core is the relationship between the speaker and "Mammy." It's a relationship built on shared activity, gentle encouragement ("Doesn’t matter if it’s torn, we can patch it"), and unconditional love ("Yours is better than mine," even if not strictly true).
Symbolism: The baking itself becomes a symbol of this relationship and the passing down of tradition. The act of making apple pies, first with Mammy and then alone, represents both connection and loss. Even the "butter-stained table" speaks volumes.
Nostalgia and Loss: The final line, "Before I knew it, I was making apple pies, without her," delivers a powerful emotional punch. It encapsulates the feeling of growing up, the loss of a loved one, and the way memories can be both comforting and painful.
The poem's strength lies in its simplicity and its ability to evoke deep emotions through everyday actions and sensory details. It's a touching tribute to the power of shared experiences and the enduring nature of love.
Very nice Ruby!
Mark
Ruby Lord
2 months 1 week ago
Hi Mark, thank you for
Hi Mark, thank you for reading and commenting. I'm sure you'll understand when I say wow, your comments are fantastic. I think you picked out every detail I felt and more when I wrote this. I wanted the reader to experience my emotions. From your summary, I think I did that? I much appreciate your comment, it feels as if you have read every word, felt every space, and formed that pastry with me, as I intended. Ruby xx
Candlewitch
2 months 1 week ago
Dear Ruby,
I love the way you told your story of the love between Mammy and yourself. I find it bittersweet. It makes me wish I'd someone to teach me to bake pies. Beautiful interaction going on here. You always write the most enjoyable things. Good luck on the contest.
very fondly, Cat
Ruby Lord
2 months 1 week ago
Hi Cat, thank you for reading
Hi Cat, thank you for reading and commenting. The bittersweet memories of making apple pies with my mammy never leaves me. She was such a clever woman. She'd tell me wrong just to make me react and do the right thing. If she was here today, I think she'd be always winding me up with those little talks. Ruby xx