(381) The Apron — A “Beautiful” Shadow of Childhood
They say a broken childhood can take a lifetime to repair or heal. I’m not so sure. Of course, that is simply my personal view. Hmm… even if everyone agrees that I was handed a rather unglamorous script for life, I can still choose, right here in the present moment, to rewrite the less-than-beautiful version and give even the ugliest parts of my childhood a fresh new look. Why not? Mindset determines everything. It’s my world, and I’m the one who gets to write it!
Speaking of which, when I was little, whenever I stayed with one family or another in an effort to please the adults, the very first thing I would do was put on an apron and start helping with the chores. Once the host saw how hardworking and capable I was, they would naturally be happy to let me stay a little longer. And there it was — the habit was formed. From my early teens onward, whenever I stayed in another country, whether at a close friend’s home or with an older relative, I would naturally head straight for the kitchen, put on an apron, and start cooking and washing up together with everyone else.
“Oh dear, you’re a guest. How can we let you work?” I would immediately reply, “It’s okay. I just can’t seem to shake this strange apron habit of mine. Besides, it’s more fun when the whole family works together!” Childhood trauma? None. I had long since transformed it into the wonderful magic of becoming “one family.”
And so, when I stepped into Ziboliškės village of Lithuania this time, once I had settled in, I wasted no time putting on an apron and getting busy with this and that. Ruta was equally taken aback: “But you came here as a guest…” I quickly cut in, “But I love sneaking into the kitchen even more!”
She smiled and casually pointed toward the corner of the room. “All right then. I hear you’ve developed some pretty decent baking skills. We’ve just harvested these from the fields. Let’s see what delicious thing you can make with them!”
I took one look and my heart leapt. “This is my first time seeing a yellow one! The ones in Canada and Hong Kong are all green. Maybe I can make some kind of bread or cake with it. Let me give it a try.”
With a new mission in hand, I immediately went online and searched through a pile of zucchini-bread recipes to study. Oh dear — everything in this new place was unfamiliar: the ingredients, the utensils, the measuring cups, even the oven. Baking requires precise measurements, yet numbers and calculations have always been my fatal weakness. I felt much safer having a male assistant around to help with the math. And so, I invited Esau to bake a cake with me.
Esau said frankly, “Miss, I hardly ever go into the kitchen. Baking really isn’t my area.”
I immediately reassured him, “Don’t worry. You just help me with the calculations. This is my first time trying it too. As long as we put our hearts into it, we’ll be fine.”
Following an online tutorial, I kept throwing questions his way: “How many grams is two-thirds of a cup? And how do we convert the flour in this recipe to this whole-wheat flour?”
Luckily, he was there. Really, having someone to discuss things with made me feel much more at ease.
Then came the moment to put the cake into the oven, and I almost let my mind wander. I confidently declared, “Put it on the middle rack and bake for one hour. It’ll be foolproof. But something’s strange — why does this oven only go up to a little over 200 degrees?”
Esau looked puzzled. “That’s true. My mom’s oven is similar. She says that’s pretty normal.”
Standing there in front of the oven, I gathered my thoughts. Less than ten seconds later, a thought suddenly flashed through my mind: “Oh! My oven at home uses Fahrenheit. Could this one be Celsius?”
We looked at each other — and immediately corrected the setting. Thank goodness I realized it in time; otherwise, after an hour in the oven, the cake would have turned into biscuits!
At last, the fragrant zucchini cake was successfully born. Wow — what a relief! Thank goodness Esau was there to lend a hand, or I might not have made it to the finish line. And when I saw everyone eating with beaming smiles, I couldn’t help but laugh. My first attempt at baking in a foreign country had somehow passed the test amid all that chaos. What an adventure!
Before leaving, I asked Ruta if I could keep the apron. She agreed and gave it to me. Why? Because I had already formed a special bond with this beautiful stretch of Lithuania, and I wanted the apron to accompany me and carry that connection forward wherever I went.
Yes, whenever I find myself thinking fondly of a particular country, there is no better way to revisit it than by making its local food. Thinking of Shanghai, I make shengjian bao; thinking of Hong Kong, egg tarts, of course. And Lithuania… here comes its traditional national dessert, Tinginys — the “Lazy Cake”!
I had tried it once or twice at cafés in Lithuania, and after returning to Canada, I decided to learn how to make it myself online. Haha! Putting on Ruta’s Lithuanian apron made me feel even more immersed in the local spirit, and I had even more fun making it, with a smile on my face the whole time. Every bite tasted sweet all the way to my heart — all because one apron connects two places, and one sweet treat connects our hearts.
https://youtu.be/EoVNsE197DI?si=TA49QNJQUynDBxjG
