I was planning to write a story, or an essay– anything really– since Papa Bob is at my sister’s house today, but there is a lot going on. The first Southeast Alaska State Fair in two years began yesterday here in Haines, just as all around us Covid-19 Delta strain cases are surging at an alarming rate ( the region is on high alert, as is the state.) Haines has no known active cases and hasn’t in a long time. We dodged tragedy so far with just 24 total reported cases, and very few of those were symptomatic (they were caught in routine testing), no one died or was hospitalized and we had in-person school all year. Now, there are hundreds of people in town and some of us are wearing masks again, but a lot aren’t.
In the Hospice of Haines dessert booth we all are, of course, and we are all vaxxed, and all hoping for the best and washing hands a lot and letting the breeze blow through. Still, for right now, it feels so normal, so summer-y, so right, that I’m trying not to let my worries ruin a fine time. I just hope everyone follows the Golden Rule. It’s too much to expect (as Mary Chapin Carpenter sings) but not too much to ask.
I also have houseguests from Seattle (vaxxed and healthy) and I just made them some breakfast and baked another cake for the Hospice booth. I have baked during breakfast on fair mornings for about 30 years, maybe more. There is comfort in that. (The smell of chocolate cake with coffee is better than bacon, too.)
Although I think it might be time for a new Fiddlehead Cookbook.(My go-to birthday, special occasion cake is the North Douglas recipe from the old Juneau restaurant but I make it with lighter chocolate, and use balsamic vinegar and 1/2 & 1/2 in place of the buttermilk. It’s not easy to find buttermilk in Haines.) Don’t be impressed. I really am not much of a baker. I have two specialties, chocolate cake and a Christmas sour cream coffee cake. But the crazy part is, when I do bake either one, I make multiples (for gifts at Christmas and daily for the fair booth.) This time, I even made some banana bread because the old bananas were a fruit fly nursery and the oven was hot. Also, everyone loves the cake and the bread. It’s nice to make people happy, and kind of easy. It also doesn’t take any more time than surfing the morning websites, and is much better for your heart.
This must be what Grace Paley was getting at when she wrote about baking a pie instead of writing a poem in The Poet’s Occasional Alternative— (Look it up. I love this poem.) Here’s part of it:
“…many friends
will say why in the world did you
make only one
this does not happen with poems
because of unreportable
sadness I decided to
settle this morning for a re-
sponsive eatership…”
(That’s her punctuation and line breaks.)
And now, I have sort of written something, too. I know what she means about that tinge of sadness, but that’s life isn’t it? There’s always a little more you’d wished you’d done at the end of each day, and yet, so much to be grateful for. Cake. Flowers. A small-town fair. This. Now.
