Title A couple of days ago, I realized that March is Women’s History Month.  This works out well for me. For the last week,  I have wanted to write an article with the working title, “Cream Puffs.”  Because of various slangy connotations, that title didn’t work.  I really am writing about literal cream puffs, but also about my mother. So now that I realize it is Women’s History Month, I can comfortably talk about this remarkable woman under (the above) title.*

Cream Puffs I have been competent baker for most of my life.  It started when I helped my mother by making date bars and apple turnovers (both from mixes). Also, my brothers and I were free to make cookies pretty much whenever we wanted during summer vacations. From my mother I learned about pie crusts, the sanitary way to drop cookies onto the cookie sheet, how to make those crisscross marks on the peanut butter cookies, and much more. One thing I never got around to learning was how to make cream puffs.  That amazing woman–mother of five, school teacher, late-night reader and New York Times puzzle solver–would occasionally  make us cream puffs. We’ve never forgotten the generosity of those extravagant treats or of their baker.

I have wanted to make cream puffs for a long time.  I often watch television cooking shows where cooks go on about choux pastry and I wanted to try my hand.  Mostly, though, I have wanted to remember my mother.  Finally, last Saturday, I made cream puffs. They were easy and they were well-received.

If I ever had my mother’s cream puff recipe, I don’t have it at hand now. So, I used Marion Cunningham’s recipe from the 1984 edition of The Fannie Farmer Baking Book. Instead of Cunningham’s frosting suggestion, I used frosting similar to what I think my mother used: melted dark chocolate with vanilla and a small amount of confectioner’s sugar.

cream puffs

The Fannie Farmer Baking Book, 1984

It isn’t about the magic puffs with their rich pastry cream and dark chocolate. They are just a tasty metaphor for caring.**

Cream Puffs 1990s In the mid-1990s, I traveled to the Harrisburg, Pennsylvania area for work.  I stayed at my brother Dan’s and sister-in-law Jeanne’s home nearby.  I arrived there in the afternoon after (the always) hectic drive from the D.C. area.  Jeanne and Dan made a wonderful meal.  For dessert, Dan had made cream puffs. From our mother, we learned how to bake and how to care.

*I think about titles, bylines, and datelines.  I am not obsessed; it’s just an observation pattern formed back about when I was learning how to form the peanut butter cookies.

**Next time, I think I am going try Mom’s lemon meringue pie.