Cheesecakes sweet and dry ebook

Renata Czelny-Kawa„Cheesecakes sweet and dry”

Copyright © by Renata Czelny-Kawa, 2018

Copyright © by Wydawnictwo Psychoskok Sp. z o.o. 2018

 Copyright © for translation by Ryszard Stoecker, 2018

Reserved copyright.

None of this publication can be reproduced, copied and shared in any

form without a written document from the publisher

Correction: Janusz i Bożena Sigismundowie

Composition and graphic: MAG

Photos: © Renata Czelny-Kawa,

© ave_mario, IvicaNS - www.fotolia.com,

© Magda Moniczewska

Composition epub, mobi: Kamil Skitek

ISBN: 978-83-8119-221-7

Wydawnictwo Psychoskok Sp. z o.o.

ul. Spółdzielców 3, pok. 325, 62-510 Konin

tel. (63) 242 02 02, kom. 695-943-706

http://www.psychoskok.pl/ e-mail:[email protected]

“Who once dealt with fulfillment of desires,

will never feel entirely free of such responses”

(J. Harris: “Chocolat”)

For My Husband

I don’t remember, when I baked my first cake. Neither do I remember which cake was the first one.

I have known, since I was a small girl, that I will bake something really good a certain day, although, only my beloved Grandparents really believed it would happen. My Mom seriously doubted I could achieve my attempts.

Being in the kitchen, I adored sitting at the table. I used to sit accompanied by a book, a cup of tea, further on - by my precious coffee. I loved to surveil how other people cooked and baked. I watched how work-worn hands of my Granny kneaded the dough for un apple-pie, I nodded appreciatively, observing how my Mom was decorating homemade layer cakes.

The fact that, on a certain day, I stood up off the table and I decided to act in the kitchen, without asking for advice and tips, resulted from (undoubtedly) I knew what was to be done after years of passive observations. When I heard around me: “in future in her home you will not find anything to eat”, I knew I would reveal fun in joining tastes and colours of the food, I would work magic sweetness of desserts… I knew that and I wanted it very much!

Now I know one thing – I surprised all of them.

Mom

For my Mom, everything always turned out right in the kitchen. Nothing was ever burnt, nothing went sour, nothing was unsuccessful. Never had she cooked anything distasteful. Never had she baked anything which was slack-baked cake or simply unsuccessful baking.

She always did everything quickly and practically. Without conviction that she indulged herself in culinary arts, without magic in the course of stirring inside the pot. Simply!

My Mom seems to remind me Her apple-pie, which was so full of apples, as a basket in the garden in the season of rich harvest from orchards. The apple-pie smelled of cinnamon, it was based on a delicate, fragile butter cake. From the hand of my Mom, delicious, prepared for Christmas, poppy seedcakes, honey cakes, colourful name-day biscuits or layer cakes were brought to life. Just layer cakes, close to apple-pies, were Her specialty. Delicious, beautifully decorated, sweet brilliancies.

And when I came back from school during the day when the certificates were given to the pupils, I knew there is something waiting for me in the fringe: marvelous, creamy delicious cake with biscuits, pudding and strawberries sunk in it… Such a sweet welcome to summer… 

My Mom’s heart wasn’t in making small confectionery creations. She preferred baking something specific. That’s why I don’t have childhood memories connected with baking cookies by mother and daughter together, and there was no way to see the kitchen beautified by scattered flour!

I will probably always connote my Mom with a certain evening when my pregnancy didn’t allow me to come from Cracow to visit her in Rzeszów. Having been sad, resentful and disappointed by this fact, in tears, I had opportunity to reveal Her peculiarity; nothing constituted an obstacle to stop Her – later that day, late in the evening, she appeared at the threshold of my home, literally two hours after my sloppy telephone, bringing my favourite food, which was still warm! Because Her duties called to return, the taxi-driver who was waiting for Her at my block of flats, before cooling the engine of his cab, was ordered to go back. This is my Mom! 

Grandparents

I adored to hang out Saturdays at my Grandparents. I used to sit at the table, accompanied by an inherent book or a note-book. Granny was brewing the tea; after a while, something, which was sweet, appeared on the small plates. We talked about the passing week and plans for the next. Then, Grandpa took me for a stroll. We were buying my favourite magazine, often we had a short spin by the car. Just during one of them, I took a driver’s place for the first time and the wheels were under my control. Early in the afternoon, when we were coming back, Granny was already preparing dinner. Sitting at the table, writing something, or reading, I watched each Her move. Simultaneously, Grandpa was repairing things, sticking together, installing something. 

Such Saturdays were accumulating over the years…

Grandpa has taught me to ride a bike, and then to drive a car. He explained me many matters; no question was left without the answer. He assisted me faithfully to camouflage my child’s pranks, keeping His mouth shut. When I became a growing up girl, having had His head down, He listened to my stories about my philandering… Granny had always supported me with just a kind word, she had always defended me. She had taken care of me, she had always encouraged me, during common shopping, to choose something from the shop.

I owe Her – my Granny – art of baking cheesecakes. Although she had always baked one and the same, traditional, with lack of new components share, its taste, of one and the same, caused that a cheesecake has conquered my heart for, probably, all my life.

It honoured all Her Name Days, every family celebration. Fluffy, lightly lemon, with raisins and orange peel, topped with chocolate icing and, sprinkled with grated coconut at last touch. That was the cheesecake!

It causes that if I am questioned on my favourite cake – I always reply: cheesecake!

It has caused that today I can pride myself on my own collection of recipes for the cheesecakes in various tastes and different types. 

Thanks to it this book was born.

Help yourselves!

Since my birthday I have lived in a city. At the beginning, for over 25 years, I lived in my beloved Rzeszów; currently, with my Husband and Daughter I dwell in Cracow. 

As a little girl, I was very frequently spending my holidays in a family house of my Grandpa, in the country, near Krosno, in the Podkarpacie region. Precisely, this place, left the strongest trace in my heart and in my memories… Whenever I was sad and down, in my imagination I recalled the image of the old house near the forest, possessing expansive orchard, flowery garden, near the river. That place – surely simple for many people, constituted an idyll for me. Time flew in the simple way, but that place caused its flight seemed different. Matters which had different meaning in the city, lost their priorities, transferring them to the magic of serenity that governed around. Everything seemed so distant, remote and negligible. I got the impression that it was my hiding place to conceal me from the world. Up till now, I have taken with me there only the most important for me persons…

The staff of the past left fantabulous memories in my mind, which I scroll like in a colourful childish kaleidoscope.

I close my eyes and I can still see…

...White cupboard in the kitchen, big, commemorative clock, round wooden table, which could never accommodate all of us, wild rose stems nearly knocking at bedroom’s shutters. There are small piles of uncountable embroidered handkerchiefs and tapestries. There is an old coffer, standing in the hall, there is a century-old, great grandmother’s sewing machine. Everything was exclusive, one of a kind.

I