PRESSED BETWEEN THE PAGES
Rolling in Memories
DeAnn (Wolkow) Kruempel
“DeAnn, I want you to bring in apples. Pick up the ones on the ground first. We don’t want them going to waste.”
I grabbed the metal pail from the porch and ambled to the orchard. The late trees bore a
striped, juicy apple. There were quite a few grounders which I hunted from the grass and tossed in the bucket. Mom thanked me as I lugged them into the kitchen and dumped them into the sink. I located the peeler, because when God gave us apples, we made apple pie!
My goal was to peel the apple in one continuous strip without breaking it. So, Mom let me pick all the unblemished ones and peel away. She cut out the cores and sliced them into a big bowl. Then came the best part! I opened the top cabinet drawer and reached for the rolling pin. It fit perfectly on the curved wooden corn cutter and creamer. I hefted the pin out with both hands and clunked it on the kitchen table next to the rolling board.
Our mother could roll pie crusts into perfect circles that fit the Goldilocks standard—just
right, for thinness and size for pie pans. I knew one reason she was so good at it. In her teen years, she and her sisters and their mom baked a ton of pies. Threshers and other hired help often added mouths to feed, besides her farmer brothers and father. It was a given that pies were the dessert. Not A pie, but many pies. So, by the time Mom married Dad, she was already a perfect pie maker.
I watched as she wielded that rolling pin over the blob of dough. Quickly, she lined a pan
with a thin circle of crust and filled it with apples, sugar, spices and a bit of flour. Her hand served as measuring cup and spoon. Then the remarkable roller whipped out another circle that quickly topped the apples. She sealed and cut off the excess crust, then fluted the edges.
My job was to roll out the trimmings, place them on a cookie sheet and sprinkle sugar on
top. Baked after the pies, the flaky strips were our treat when Mom decided we should “sit down for a minute.”
Our mother’s rolling pin logged a lot of miles as it turned smoothly between her fingers.
Crusts, cookies, rolls, donuts, biscuits, lefse. Baking done, she lovingly wiped it with the
dishcloth and placed it back in the drawer. Rolling pins assumed different roles in television cartoons of the time. The audience laughed as “Looney Tunes” characters and Wilma Flintstone chased adversaries (or Fred) with the rolling pin hefted overhead.
Though not made for head-bonking, humans have utilized some type of roller to flatten
food for a long time. It evolved from simple stone and wooden cylinders in ancient Egypt, Rome and Etruria (Italy). In the Middle Ages the tool was carved from a single piece of wood. Handles were added. Glass and marble types were introduced in the 18 th century and mass marketing began. Rolling pins remain in bakers’ arsenals today.
As I write this, I have beside me a wooden rolling pin. The handles fit solidly into the
smooth roller. I am guessing it is a hard maple or maybe cherry wood. I know it has logged a lot of miles in its lifetime. It is beautiful to me. It was our mother’s.
I think later today I will amble out to the apple orchard with my metal pail, maybe pick
up some grounders.
It’s ready!
“Candles and Mirrors,” all the column stories from the last year plus pictures and recipes, is now available on Amazon. Contact Kruempel at deannkruempelauthor@gmail.com.
