Let me tell you something about my childhood. Just one little snapshot memory. Much more than that and I would exceed the bounds of a single blog post.
Daddy’s sneaky smile always gave it away. Before the smell had a chance to get to you.
Daddy has a lot of smiles. There’s the someone-is-taking-my-picture smile. Grr! The I-think-I’m-hilarious smile. The half-face-smile you’d get if something were just mildly funny. Or if he was sleepy. There’s seriously a hundred different smiles from Dad – and I know the meaning behind each one of them. You become adept at reading faces over the years I suppose. I liked his smiles too. It was fun to figure them out.
But the apple crisp smile – good things were always coming when he smiled the apple crisp smile. For some reason, and I honestly do not know what it is, Daddy makes apple crisp. I can remember sitting “on the line” in the kitchen, that tile line that marked whether you were in the kitchen or out of it, and watching him slice what seemed like 35 apples. Sometimes I helped peel them. Beautiful memory, but I hate peeling apples! haha! He had a magical recipe. He always put piles and piles of crumble topping. Must be where I developed my lifelong love affair with all things crumble topping. There were often surprise ingredients. Like nuts. Or more recently, craisins….yum.
I have never, ever, ever ordered apple crisp at a restaurant. Why bother? It’s not gonna measure up. I have never even had a serving of it at a friend’s house. Seriously, there is no point in putting it in your mouth if Daddy didn’t make it. His apple crisp smells the best of all apple crisps I’ve ever smelled. It’s that warm, cinnamon-y, apple-y, joyful, comfortable, happy smell. It’s the smell of Daddy’s home. It’s the smell of fall/winter/spring….whenever he felt like making it.
When I was home last week Daddy made apple crisp with craisins and lots of crumble topping. It was like eating a bowl full of happy childhood memories.
I love my Daddy…and his apple crisp.