Hour Nine: Soda Bread<\/b><\/p>\n
I keep the recipe tucked into a cookbook A fresh loaf of soda bread was always on the table, Her recipe is not very precise: As many raisins as you like. Maybe a full box.<\/span><\/p>\n Bake for an hour or so. She scrawled it quickly for me, And now she\u2019s no longer there to answer the phone, <\/p>\n
\n<\/span>a cookbook I rarely use, of old Irish recipes.
\n<\/span>This recipe is written
\n<\/span>in ballpoint blue ink, just beginning to fade,
\n<\/span>on a 5×7 sheet of unlined paper,
\n<\/span>paper I recognize as the pad she always used,
\n<\/span>kept stored in the kitchen drawer
\n<\/span>where pencils, scissors, thimbles,
\n<\/span>other odds and ends were tossed.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>one of our staples.
\n<\/span>It was served to guests.
\n<\/span>It was a late night snack,
\n<\/span>a dessert with milky tea,
\n<\/span>a quick breakfast with coffee.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>1 \u00bd cups of buttermilk, or a cup of milk and \u00bd cup of sour cream,
\n<\/span>or a cup of sour cream and some milk, or whatever you have on hand.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>Be sure to cover with tin foil so the top doesn\u2019t burn.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>when I asked her to write it down.
\n<\/span>She\u2019d learned it from her mother,
\n<\/span>but I hadn\u2019t quite learned it from her,
\n<\/span>and I wanted to make it for a St. Patrick\u2019s Day gathering
\n<\/span>at school.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>to repeat directions, to correct my errors.
\n<\/span>But I have her words, inscribed on the page,
\n<\/span>and I can hear her soft voice
\n<\/span>as I follow her steps,
\n<\/span>measuring and mixing and kneading just slightly.
\n<\/span>Every slice of that bread,
\n<\/span>filled with raisins and
\n<\/span>dripping with butter
\n<\/span>tastes like a visit back home
\n<\/span>and I\u2019m back at the kitchen table
\n<\/span>with Mom.<\/span><\/p>\n