TAFFATY TART- From Godfrey

Worzel here,  Summer rolls  too quickly down on “Steinbeck’s Half Acre”..bittersweet days, my memories oft ebb and at times, tears have mingled with the ever present, cool breeze over the harbor. 

Inspired this day to cheer up, I decided to bake a “Taffaty Tart”, from the sticky old cookbook Godfrey treasured. The book never stayed flat, it always opened to page 67, and I noticed the tart recipe, scrawled on a bakery bag, and glued down with barley malt syrup, had come loose, was crumbling with age…

Gently I peeled the paper free, found remnants of nutmeg and poppy seeds, and there on the back of the bag, this poem. Leaving my apples to brown, I snecked in my turquoise chair, gob smacked by Godfrey once more…

An “Amaranthine”…she was, with doe like  grace, feet bare, eyes blue as flax flowers grew on the Manitoba Prairie.

She placed a firm hand on my shoulder, and a sun warmed plate of Taffaty Tart she set before me.

The pastry was of golden crumb butter sweet and salty. Apples picked that morning ..Pippens from her cottage glade. Layers of apple baked with fresh spice and brushed with marmalade.

Each pie had a sugared top, heart shape cut in the center, I watched her forage the garden edge, pick wild strawberries for her own pleasure. From a handmade, ancient cup, she spooned for us fresh cream…she baked for me a Taffaty Tart..my friend, my “Amaranthine”..

The remainder of this poem was sadly illegible, as was the missing page 86, left too close to an open flame. Godfrey was hopeless as a romantic chap, loved with all heart, yet preferred to be the one doing the baking. I would love to know who this lovely woman was, the bag remnant was from a bakeshop in “Watrous”…

5 thoughts on “TAFFATY TART- From Godfrey

  1. The first paragraph clutched at my heart, Sheila. I understand bittersweet days, ebbing memories and tears. I’m glad a Taffety Tart food it’s way into the day. What a beautiful ode Godfrey wrote to his Amaranthine and what a lovely name she had. But my favorite string of words is “…a romantic chap, loved with all heart, yet preferred to be the one doing the baking,” because it so perfect matches what I know about Godfrey and much of what I loved about my mother.

    • Thanks Janet- I found the word “Amaranthine” meaning a woman who becomes more beautiful with age. Godfrey was shy with affection, found comfort in words and baking, we had that in common alright..

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