Kitchen Talk

“Have you updated that story blog lately?” Linda asked.

“Nope,” I answered.

Then I started cooking aebleskiver, telling Linda about how my home church always has an aebleskiver meal around Christmas.

The women of the church would always bring their batter from home, cooking the aebleskiver on the large gas stove in the church’s kitchen.  My mom told me once that she had a big bowl of batter in the front seat of the car.  I was standing next to the bowl (there were no car seat laws), and I put my foot right in the batter.  My mom didn’t take her bowl into the church that night.

“There’s a story you can share,”  Linda said.

My father-in-law gave me our aebleskiver pan.  It was his mother’s, and Paul asked me if I wanted it when Grandma Sarah’s house was being emptied after she died.  When I got the pan, there was a piece of white string tied through the hole in the pan’s handle.  I told my mom about the pan and its string, thinking it was pretty smart of Grandma Sarah to mark her cast iron pan like that.

My mom laughed.  “Everybody marked her pan with a piece of string through the handle.”

“There’s another story you can share,” Linda said again.

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Photo credit:  Linda Fenton

Mom used a hat pin to turn her aebleskiver.  I met a really cranky old Dane in Wisconsin when we lived there right after Keith and I got married.  Trying to win her over with my Danishness, I started talking aebelskiver with her.

“What do you use to turn them?”  she asked.

I told her I had a metal skewer that we’d used otherwise to cook kabobs.

She stood up at that point, grumbling that what I really needed was a knitting needle.  Going to her kitchen, she gave me her own aebleskiver turner, a long knitting needle I use today.

“There’s another story,” said Linda.

I’m taking Linda up on her suggestions.  None of these stories share anything earth shattering or life changing.  But the more I think about it, the more I wonder about just how many of the stories we share in our day-to-day conversations are earth shattering or life changing.

Or do stories simply add up over the course of a relationship?  Each time someone shares a small, seemingly insignificant story, the listener gets to know the sharer just a little bit more.  We get glimpses of each other’s childhoods, family histories, tactics we use to get along with others.

Maybe sharing a story is enough.  Maybe I don’t have to reveal some startling truth.

There’s a story you can share.  What will it be today?

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