LINKING

Three years ago my step-son and his life-long buddies started a tradition at our place the first weekend of November: boys’ weekend. I started a tradition that weekend too: go somewhere else. This year I drove to the city and had a chance to catch up with some friends, see a play, and most importantly enrich my family bonds.

On Sunday morning, I met my mother, aunt, and five cousins at my sister’s house and after a time of catching up, we got to the business at hand: linking these three generations to those that came before us through the process of making cinnamon buns.

When my grandmother taught me how to make the buns twenty years ago, I was the sixth generation in the family to learn – well technically, the fifth because my mother and her cousins were never taught. Today I was going to connect the links and extend the chain by teaching not only my mother and aunt, but also by teaching my aunt’s two grand-daughters – the seventh generation.

The word religion is from the Latin, re ligio, meaning linking back: linking back through our ancestors, to the animals, to the earth, to the solar system, to the universe, and all the way back to the big bang and the Creator of life itself. And so in repeating this recipe in the manner it had always been prepared, we were about to perform an act of linking: a religious act.

Feeling this reverence, I circled the women and girls around the table and led a ceremony using candles, ritual and prayer. We then began by each putting a cup of flour into the pot, thus linking us all with our creation and with all creation involved in making this flour, and these baked goods, possible: the sun, the rain, the earth, the wheat, the farmers, the grain millers, the truck drivers, the grocers and everyone and everything else involved in helping this happen.

Salt, sugar, oil, butter, and sour cream were added and then Melanie, the youngest, cracked the eggs open, one by one, first into a bowl to make sure they were okay. My grandmother told me this was done because if an egg was bad, the other ingredients would be spoiled and the process would have to start all over again. Nanny Ray grew up with very little, so waste was to be avoided at all costs. Kari, a recent bride, then began mixing it all together – “one way,” my grandmother had said and I now found myself repeating, “stir only one way.” I hadn’t figured that one out until I disobeyed and ended up with flour flying everywhere.
The yeast was added, the dough kneaded, then the big mixing pot was put on the stove beside a small pot of simmering water. I then covered both with one of my grandmother’s tea towels, just as I was taught, and then passed on to the others that this was done to help the dough rise quicker.

I shortened the first rising so those who had to leave early could help cut the dough into buns. When this was completed, we put the pans back on the stove by the simmering water and went for a long lunch.

The best part of the process, the part the older ones remembered and were often allowed to help with, was adding the cinnamon. When the buns came out of the oven, they were broken apart and cinnamon sugar was sprinkled over the steamy dough. After a few minutes back in the oven for browning, and a moment to thank and remember Nanny Ray and Baba (my grandmother’s mother), we linked seven generations by nourishing our bodies and souls with those heavenly treats.
I don’t know if the others will carry on in the traditional way. We joked about the significance of the number seven and how it seemed to suggest something evolutionary. Mechanical kneading machines and other time-saving devices were mentioned but somehow they just didn’t seem right to me. I guess I’m a bit reluctant to let go of some of the old ways; I seem to be rooted in what’s natural - and that changes slowly. Simplicity, patience, and conservation are what worked for those who came before me, and now as I keep expanding in my knowledge and understanding, I try to ward off chaos by staying rooted in those ideals.

From the feedback I received, the day was a success. Linking back and linking together, the girls – and from what I hear, the boys too - had a most enriching experience.