I first developed my lifelong spoon-licking habit in my great-grandmother’s kitchen, as she baked sour cream coffeecake using the recipe from the old country and she and my mother filled my head with stories about my headstrong female ancestors. Their favorite was one about the coffeecake’s origins. An ancestor they called Rachel baked it for a village fair contest — apparently they took breaks from fleeing persecution in 19th century Russia from time to time for such festivities — and the judge was so impressed that he asked Rachel to marry him. Although this story seemed less viable as my mom and I prepared the coffeecake a few weekends ago, I did realize all the values three generations of women instilled in me. From self-sufficiency and self-preservation to the importance of putting education before just about anything else, there are a lot of life lessons in the hardy yet heavenly coffeecake.
As I prepared the cake, I realized that, without my mother by my side, I would never have known to blatantly disregard the nuts for the topping, and just how precisely to fold in the sour cream. We both indulged in the batter — which may actually taste better than the end result — as we shared insights from the goings ons of our lives, no differently from the generations before us.
When we visit my Baba over winter break, I hope to make the coffeecake with her and gain wisdom and stories about the women who came before us — fictional or not — that are still so applicable to our lives today. I hope my mother will tell me about her grandmother, who received an education and married the man who promised to take her away from Russia, and how they sold the family coffeecake when they settled in Canada. I hope one day I can stand in her kitchen with my daughter, telling her stories as we bake the coffeecake from the old country that is so rich in both flavor and tradition.
By Vanessa Pius
