Coffee Cake Queen
Eating it when it first comes out of the oven is an
extraordinary experience. The steam rises, omitting a delightful aroma that
will make any mouth water. The gooey pools of cinnamon and brown sugar sit atop
a moist, firm cake. Sliding a knife through the warm cake in order to retrieve
a piece from the center; which is the most delectable part, is a much
anticipated moment. Placing a piece in the mouth and feeling its soft yet crunchy
texture as well as its sweet and spicy flavors, creates a wonderful feeling of
love and joy. Eating it with tall glass of ice cold milk makes the cake even
more enjoyable.
As far back as I can remember my mother had always made coffee
cake on snow days. My mother would get up early and make the family coffee cake
for breakfast. So as a child I remember waking up to the smell of the sweet,
spicy treat and knowing that there was no school that day. This would
automatically create a feeling of over-joy that I could play outside in the
snow all day. My mom would make batches and batches of coffee cakes this made
the whole house’s aroma smell of sweet sugar and cinnamon. All day I would call
her the coffee cake queen sometimes we would play around and we wore dress up
crowns. I would be her coffee cake princess.
I remember running downstairs in my pajamas to grab a piece of
coffee cake, but the piece would have to be out of the center since that is
where the cinnamon and sugar collected into puddles of sweet heaven. The coffee
cake next to the edge of the pan was too crunchy for me so I always left those pieces
for my dad, he’d eat anything. I would put my center piece of coffee cake on a
small plate, pour myself a glass of milk and run into the living room to watch
weekday cartoons. I remember always having to race my dad into the living room
to get the god couch where the clicker was so I could pick the shows we would
watch.
Every time I beat him, I knew he let me win; that’s my dad and i
love him. As I grabbed the remote and scanned through the channels I could see
my dad staring at me because he knew I’m going to choose something he doesn’t like.
Rugrats, I would choose, he would shake his head and leave the room. I would be
eating my coffee cake eating it like a little mouse piece, by piece. Giggling out
loud because I was child, obviously I thought everything they said or did was
funny. I loved snow days when I was little, that day my mom would always make
the best treats, I could be in my pajamas all day, drink hot chocolate and
watch Rugrats.
After a nice day of playing
in the snow hearing my mom’s light delicate voice yell out, “Chelsea, time to
come in for some hot chocolate.” I’d tell my friend I have to go and that I would
see them later. Running towards the door falling because my boots keep getting
caught in the high snow, getting to the door and taking off all my wet snow
clothes as my mom pours me my hot chocolate. She puts it on the table, as it
sits there with nothing around it. I can smell the warm sweetness of the
chocolate as I go over to grab the cup but it’s too hot, I blow on it a little
and notice the marshmallows floating on top, pretending there boats on the
ocean going through a terrible chocolate storm. Everyone had a crazy
imagination when they were children.
To this day I still have dreams
of my mom’s old coffee cake, she doesn’t make it anymore. Sadly she has moved
on to bigger and better things. Although she tries to make some fancy treats
now-a-days, it’s always good to try something new. But nothing will ever be the
same as that coffee cake.
