Here's our next installment. This one is from Bentzi.
Back in the '60s, when I was growing up, who thought that too much cake was something to avoid?
I can remember coming in from playing on the street for hours and getting a whiff of some warm fresh chocolate danishes just out of the oven. I can still picture my mother in the kitchen with a rolling pin in her hand sprinkling flour on this large stretched out dough, ready to cut them into little squares and add chocolate or cheese filling, as a fresh batch was already piled on a pan next to the stove.
One was never enough, how about four or five, or some to share with my friends waiting out front on their bikes. They were just outside the front door, licking their lips, waiting for me to come out with a plate of steaming hot mini danishes. You should have seen their faces when I opened the door; it was like they hadn’t eaten in a month. “We want more, we want more and bring something to drink when you come out," they would shout as I ran back to the kitchen, empty plate in hand.
I could have eaten a hundred if I had been alone, but my sisters and father loved them too. Today, many years later, I would be happy with one, come to think of it, I would probably settle for just a whiff. I can almost smell them now.
No one mentioned fat or cholesterol, people smoked cigarettes, drank bottle after bottle of soda pop and ate bags of potato chips and my mom’s fresh danishes. Life was just that simple.
Happy Mother's Day