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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Off the Cuff / My Other Journal #536958 added September 22, 2007 at 7:08pm
Restrictions: None
Cinnamon Babka
On our way home from the beach, today, we stopped at the supermarket. Just when we were passing through the baked products section, I braked suddenly. I couldn’t believe my eyes. They had cinnamon babka.
Cinnamon babka reminds me of my childhood kitchen and the drifting aroma of cinnamon, when my grandmother used to bake it. I guess the older we get, the more childlike we get. My grandmother was, by no means, a religious person, and she probably learned the recipe from her Greek neighbor and best friend, but later, babka set a tradition of its own in our household. It was the primary cake-like goody to be served with tea.
My grandmother’s pastry was a tall cylinder-shaped one, probably because of the shape of her baking utensil. I believe babka is originally Russian, from baba meaning grandmother. No wonder it reminds me of my grandmother.
There is a Seinfeld episode where the three main characters go to a dinner party and they want to bring a babka. The lady before Elaine got the last chocolate babka and Elaine got stuck with the cinnamon babka, “The lesser babka” as she called it.
To me cinnamon babka is the supreme babka, not the lesser one, and right now, I am enjoying a slice with a late afternoon tea. It is not too sweet, but just right for my taste, and even if this one’s flavor isn’t the same as my grandmother’s, it still delights me.
Funny how foodstuffs manage to make a person feel years younger!
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