Every time my family and I visited my Norwegian grandmother we would have coffee hour after dinner. This was a special time where we had dessert and coffee (or at least the adults had coffee) as we listened to my grandmother tell stories of her life in Norway. In Norway coming of age used to be marked by the privilege of drinking coffee, not unlike the American tradition of consuming alcohol at age 21. I remember the proud moment when I had my first cup of coffee-which I stopped drinking frequently to add more sugar and cream until it reached a tolerable flavor. I felt so grown up holding that cup of bittersweet goodness. My grandmother was so proud, she loved seeing all of us grow up and teaching us her traditions; coffee was just one small step towards adulthood. Learning to bake was a whole different story.
The traditional baked goods that were consumed during coffee hour were created from recipes that had been passed down from generation to generation. Each cookie, pastry, and doughnut symbolized a little piece of history, my heritage. I didn’t realize how valuable these traditions were at the time; I was too mesmerized by the smells and tastes to really appreciate the history and tradition behind them. Now that my grandmother can no longer bake I value it so much more. It wasn’t like having ice cream at Baskin Robins or a sundae at Dairy Queen- an impersonal ‘minute-made’ sugar overdose with screaming toddlers in the background. Coffee hour was its own moment; a time of reminiscing and ‘counting your blessings’ where you could forget your worries and just melt into the comfort of good food, memories and fellowship with family. Now I must make the delightful food, memories and moments myself. It may look a little different because recreating something so unique and wonderful is difficult, but it will be meaningful nonetheless.
The traditional baked goods that were consumed during coffee hour were created from recipes that had been passed down from generation to generation. Each cookie, pastry, and doughnut symbolized a little piece of history, my heritage. I didn’t realize how valuable these traditions were at the time; I was too mesmerized by the smells and tastes to really appreciate the history and tradition behind them. Now that my grandmother can no longer bake I value it so much more. It wasn’t like having ice cream at Baskin Robins or a sundae at Dairy Queen- an impersonal ‘minute-made’ sugar overdose with screaming toddlers in the background. Coffee hour was its own moment; a time of reminiscing and ‘counting your blessings’ where you could forget your worries and just melt into the comfort of good food, memories and fellowship with family. Now I must make the delightful food, memories and moments myself. It may look a little different because recreating something so unique and wonderful is difficult, but it will be meaningful nonetheless.
I really enjoyed reading "Coffee Hour". I found it really interesting how in Norway coming of age was marked by the privilege of drinking coffee. I also really enjoyed your E-Portfolio. I liked the colors you used and the borders. You obviously put a lot of time and effort into this project. Good job!
ReplyDeleteIt is cool that your coming of age is when you get to drink coffee! It is so different from here. That's something you can pass down to your children someday, aside from the baked goods unless you learn how to make them!
ReplyDelete