Beneath the Crusts
by Barbara Bald
I would watch her sometimes
select perfect, unbruised apples—Cortlands.
Not Macs—mushy when cooked.
Not Fuji—no tartness to balance sweetness.
Watch her hand-peel, then slice
each red orb to the same thickness.
Thick slices take too long to cook,
thin ones overcook.
Setting them aside in a covered bowl,
she’d put a cotton sleeve on her rolling pin,
flour both it and the plastic pad with its red marks
showing the exact diameter required for a 9 inch pie.
It makes the rolling easier, guarantees dough
will drape over the sides for fluting.
She’d grease and flour the bottom of the plate,
so there’d be no sticking, cut chilled-dough
precisely in half for two pies, painstakingly
roll it out inch by inch.
When done, she’d slide her palms up
under the doughy scrim, lower it into the tin
as gently as if handling a baby bird.
Should it split in the lifting, she’d re-form the ball,
chill it again and re-roll.
With bricklayer precision, she’d lay down apples
one row at a time, sprinkle cinnamon and flour
between each layer, pile white moons above the rim.
Spicy aromas already making my mouth water.
I still savor the sweetness of those pies,
regret missing the love hidden under her crusts.
Only now am I starting to realize how,
like a pinch of nutmeg sprinkled between layers,
love’s subtle flavor is often so easy to miss.
Photo by Elena Veselova.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: My mother grew up under the thumb of a stern Old Country father and the lessons of harsh city living. The only way she could survive and protect the love inside herself was to develop a hard outer crust. Since I developed a different way of seeing the world and a strong independent spirit, our interactions were often very rocky. It has taken me a lifetime to see the love hiding under her shielding and has left me with much to regret. This poem helped me see her through fresh eyes and clarify the mixed feelings inside myself.
PHOTO: The author’s mother as a young woman.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Barbara Bald is a retired educator from New Hampshire who served as a PSNH Board Member. Her poetry books include Drive-Through Window, Other Voices/Other Lives, and Running on Empty. She assisted with Maine’s Sense of Place program, worked at the Frost Place in Franconia, New Hampshire, and served as an outreach coordinator for NHPTV. Barb is most interested in helping folks who think they can’t write, write. Find her at barbarabald.com.