My Story in Lists/Memories I have as a Child

Growing up, our weekends and holidays were filled with family time. Not just immediate family time, but Aunts, Uncles, cousins and Grandparents family time. There was always someone at someone's house. Mostly no one bothered calling, we just got in the car, arrived at the door and rang the bell.

Before our family got older, the family would mostly gather around my grandparents' house. Grandpa and grandma were almost sure to be home and, if luck would have it, grandma had baked that day. My grandma's pies and puddings were delicious to say the least.

If grandma ever wanted to be sure to have everyone visit, all she would have to do is call one of her children and tell them what she was baking that day. Word would travel fast and, one by one, each family would arrive eager to eat dinner to get to the dessert.

Nothing brought the family running faster than when word got out that grandma had made pumpkin empanadas. Now these were scrumptious works of art. Grandma's pastry was flakey, delicate with a crispy layer of sugar that grazed the top. Inside was the perfect texture of pumpkin puree that was both sweet and savory. My mouth still waters just at the thought of them. I could never get enough.

Sharing these were hard. Selfishly I loved when we were living away and grandma would come visit because she would always make us pumpkin empanadas that we didn't have to share with the whole family. Which meant more for us!

As grandma grew older, she lost her zest for making the empanadas. They took a lot of time to make and standing so long was hard on her. One day, my sister, Eliz and I were bemoaning the fact that it had been too long since we had empanadas and that no one knew how to make them but grandma. We decided to ask grandma to come over and show us how it's done.

Grandma graciously obliged. We were so excited. I'll never forget, we were standing in the kitchen, side by side by side, ready to start with making the pastry. The ingredients and measuring cups and spoons lined up at attention. When right before our eyes, Grandma whipped her cupped hand into the can of crisco, saying, "first I start with a handful of Crisco."

We were flabbergasted. But how much is a handful? We actually made grandma take the crisco she had in the palm of her hand and try to shove it into a measuring cup. Grandma couldn't tell us a measurement. She made her pastry by feel and the pumpkin puree by taste. It was the last time we ever had grandma's empanadas. She had not lost her touch, they were as wonderful as always, but she was already in her 80's and it was just too much work for her.

We didn't end up with a recipe we could use so we've never made them again either. I just have to hope that in heaven, there will be pumpkin empanadas. I know grandma will be there.