KNEAD

            "You sure are rough on it, Grammie." Jen Jen giggled. "Let me try! Let me try!" Doe eyes wide, flour powdered palms on floral apron, like sun lit daisy a dance in end of spring breeze, Jen Jen swayed to AM radio polka-eeze.

            Next flour dusted counter top, with back of wrist Grammie dabbed forehead perspiration, took step aside.  A step filled by grandchild Jen Jen, who with back of wrist dabbed forehead perspiration.

            "A kolache just is not a kolache unless kneaded." Grammie smiled like a persimmon eatin' possum.

            "But why, Grammie?" Jen Jen doe eyed wondered. "Oooh, it's so soft, yet heavy." Jen Jen partly answered own question.

            "Cause the quality of the kolache lies in the texture of the dough." Grammie wiped hands on apron.

            "How, Grammie?" Jen Jen kneaded dough like a kitten kneading milk.

            "Kolaches is kind a like people.  The warmth we put in is the warmth we get out." As grace of life she did impart, Grammie loved watching her little shadow happily knead dough. "Remember the list of ingredients: 3 packages dry yeast with 1/2 cup warm water, 1 tsp sugar; and 2 sticks butter with 3/4 cup of sugar, 3 egg yolks, 2 3/4 cups scalded milk, a tad over 7 cups flour and 3 tsp salt?"

            "Like duh, I remember ever word you've ever said." Jen Jen kneaded merrily away.

            "Lord help me, I hope not." Grammie chuckled.

            "Every word, Grammie." Jen Jen tee-hee-ed.

            "Getting back to the ingredients." Grammie looked to heaven for that help.

            "Yeah, that's all good quality stuff." Jen Jen plowed a tad ahead of Grammie furrow of thought. "We get out what we put in.  I would have no kolache dough to knead, had we not used the right stuff.  And it takes effort." Jen Jen kind a trailed off into rhythm of kneading.

            "That's right! A kolache just is not a kolache un..." Grammie almost finished refinished sentence.

            "Unless kneaded." Jen Jen sneezed, kneaded and flour dusted her own pug nose with back of hand.

            "Bless you," Grammie reflex responded, but rolled eyes and added, "good thing we will bake out all those Jen Jen germs later in the oven."

            Jen Jen just giggled, rubbed nose again.

            "Sooo, how did we get here... to the kneading part?" Grammie schoolmarm prodded.

            "Well duh," Jen Jen kept on kneading, "first, in a tall glass we dessolved the 3 packets of yeast in 1/2 cup of warm water and sprinkled on top the tsp sugar, then set it aside to proof.  While that was bubbling, we then in a large bowl creamed the 2 sticks butter with 3/4 cup cup sugar, then added 3 egg yolks, 3 tsp salt and mixed well." Jen Jen took a breath. "Then, like double duh, we added in the yeast sugar water and put the electric mixer to work, slowly mixing all that good stuff together."

            "You amaze me. Grammie wishes she had your smarts." Grammie twern't a kidding.

            "Yeah, like triple duh." Jen Jen bobbled head, sighed. "Oh, but we were not kneading dough yet! Then it was add the milk and gradually add in the remaining flour as much as could be mixed with a wooden spoon.  Until, we be kneading this dough by hand on flour dusted counter top, til smooth and elastic, just like as in now."

            "There is a difference between being smart and being a smarty pants, little sneezy duh girl!" Grammie side eyed smiled.

            "Yeah, that's true.  But you love me anyway." Jen Jen giggled, added, "Duh! Or as in this case: Dough!" She giggled again.

            Grammie hugged her smirking shadow, asked, "So, like what's next?"

            "Well this is the part where you usually make some analogy, like following a recipe in the kitchen is like following the Bible in real life, if you want to do it right." Jen Jen wide eye grinned. "So the recipe says we place the dough in a butter coated bowl, flip it to coat the other side, then cover with cheese cloth and let rise somewhere between an hour and an hour and a half."

            "While that analogy is rising, we have time for some sweet tea sippin' in the swing outback." Grammie invited; under arm hugged that sweet little shadow again.

            Under the oak, the kolache creating two kept swing in sync with the breeze rustling leaves, until Jen Jen ground heels in turf. "What is Cooter cat doing? Is he about to eat one of Grammie's chickens?"

            Grammie chuckled. "Old black and white Cooter?" She chuckled again. "Those chickens are his sheep.  Years ago in this very swing I sat Cooter in my lap, pointed to the chickens at my feet, and told him these are Grammie's babies.  Watch over and protect them, I told him.  Cooter has been faithful in his duties ever since."

            "But he is crouching, as in cat attack?" Jen Jen still invisioned Cooter with mouth full of feathers.

            "No," Grammie smiled, "Cooter is lying down like a border collie tending his sheep.  But yes, he is ready to attack, attack any predator that messes with his chickens.  Just last fall Grammie walked out kitchen door and wondered why all the chickens were clustered close behind Cooter's butt."

            "You said butt." Jen Jen snickered like a cartoon hound.

            "Yes, they had clustered in a bunch behind Cooter, who ready to pounce stared straight ahead." Grammie looked into Jen Jen rapt doe brown eyes.

            "What did Cooter see?" Jen Jen wiggled in seat.

            "A huge evil stray gray, he was, an enormous tom cat with brain a itching for a poultry lyching." Grammie paused her story of paws, loved making her smarty pants duh girl squirm.

            "What happened?" Jen Jen slapped swing seat with both hands, shook shoulders, huffed. "Did Cooter fight the evil stray gray?  Was he hurt?  What happened!"

            "Grammie screamed!" Grammie did not try to hide sideways lips a smirk.

            "Tell me. Tell me!" Jen Jen whined.

            "Paw Paw heard me.  Came running out back door with broom in hand." Grammie took sweet ice tea sip.

            "Did Paw Paw swat the evil stray gray?"

            "Didn't get a swing.  When he ran out kitchen door it spooked the stray gray.  Cooter tore out after him hot on his tail.  Paw Paw couldn't swing the broom for fear of hitting Cooter.  So here they went, the three of them, one right after the other, running cross pasture toward the creek." Grammie took breath.

            "Breathe later Grammie! What happened?" Jen Jen blurted.

            "Do you want me to finish this story or not, smarty pants?  Grammie feigned irk.

            "Gotta love me." Jen Jen snuggled under Grammie arm. Gave her like the best doe eyed look ever.

            "You little twerp, God bless, I do love you." Grammie hugged Jen Jen. "I remember like it was tomorrow forever, when you were a baby, how when you spilled milk or potted in drawers, you'd point that cute little baby finger straight at pug nose and offer the most precious excuse, 'Bebe-Bebe! Bebe?'"

            "But you digress, Grammie.  Evil stray gray, Cooter, Paw Paw, broom, chasing?" Jen Jen reminded.

            "Oh, lucky for old Paw Paw the creek wasn't far or he'd a had a heart attack.  That stray gray ran down to the creek bank and made mighty leap, but the opposing bank was just too far.  Paw Paw said he would have splashed smack dab down in the middle accept fer..."

            "Did he swat the stray gray?  Did Paw Paw swat the stray gray in mid air?"

            "Never got the chance.  The stray gray landed square on the snout of a seventeen feet long  dirty gray-green gator.  City folks don't understand such is life on the ranch an every day struggle twixt the the eater and the eaten.  At times even the eater gets eaten."

            "That's really gross, Grammie.  But chickens were saved; justice was done." Jen Jen tittered twixt the icky and profound. "Tee-hee-ed," her way back to smirk city.

            Approximately one hour twenty-nine minutes, fifty nine seconds, 33.3 nano-seconds, and somewhat of a tad later, the tea sipping two rejoined kitchen.

            "Time to punch some dough!" Grammie might a been a tad too enthusiastic.

            "You sure got a violent streak, Grammie." Jen Jen laughed. "What did that dough ever do to you?"

            "Made me to buy bloomers two sizes bigger." Grammie snickered.

            Too much information!" Jen Jen arched left brow in Grammie direction. "How bout we administer some justice and punch down that dough.  Although I am wondering why?"

            "Remember we placed it in this greased bowl to let it rise.  But kolaches at this stage require a deflated dough.  So punch that dough little duh girl."

            Jen Jen let out a few tennis serve grunts, aced the dough punching, more like dough squishing.

            "Now we turn out our deflated dough onto lightly floured counter top," Grammie demonstrated, "then we pinch off egg sized pieces and using the palms of our hands roll them into balls, and then indent each one with thumb to make the heart of the kolache," Jen Jen copied Grammie, "and then we place each one on our butter coated baking pan."

            A tad latter, "Mission accomplished!" Jen Jen, like lunar landing astronaut, said.

            "Not quite, now my precious grandchild brushes dough tops with melted butter, then we cover again and let rise for about an hour."

            "Sure is a whole lotta risin' goin' on," Jen Jen sang.

            "That is one sad Elvis impression." Grammie chuckled like the cluckle of henhouse hen.

            "So Grammie, time for more swing, sweet tea and a story?" Jen Jen wiggled like puppy dog tail.

            "Hey, are we going to make kolaches or what?"

            "There's more?" Jen Jen arched that left brow, raised right corner of lips, pointed her finger at own pug nose. "Bebe - Bebe!" Made excuse for break.

            "No time to give up when the finish line, the poppy seed filling, is in sight." Grammie encouraged.

            "I'm just a tired widdle girl." Jen Jen morphed doe eyes wide into liquid pools of soul.

            "Kolaches done done in my little helper?" Grammie nearly caved, hugged her, kissed her forehead.

            "Yeah, but I think I might be more hungry than tired.  So what do we do with this bag of poopy seed?" Jen Jen tee-hee-ed.

            "Poppy seed, not poopy seed, you little scamp!" Grammie giggled. Hugged Jen Jen gain.

            "No time for hugging, Grammie.  My tummy is growling.  The recipe says we need 1 1/2 cup poppy seeds, 1 cup sugar, 2 cups milk, 1 tbsp flour, 2 tbsp butter.  Let's do it!"

            So they did: combine the poppy seeds, milk and sugar and cook till early thickening; then added the butter, then the dissolved in a bit of water flour.  Grammie and Jen Jen took turns stirring as needed for near 30 minutes.

            "Done?" Jen Jen sighed, hoped.

            "Will be as soon as it cools a bit." Grammie sat it aside.

            Jen Jen retrieved and set up Paw Paws desk fan from his study to expedite cooling.

            "Smart girl." Grammie complemented.

            "Starved girl." Jen Jen tummy g-r-r-r-gled.

            In a tad of a while Grammie lifted cheese cloth, unveiled risen kolaches. "Ah the heart of the kolache needs filling.  Just like all us little kolaches need Jesus."

            "You fill my heart Grammie, but I may have to ask Jesus to feed me." Jen Jen almost was not kidding.

           "You fill the hearts while Grammie prepares the posypka topping and we will get to the oven sooner." Grammie turned on the oven to preheat to 425 degrees.

            While filling kolache hearts with poppy seed filling, Jen Jen kept learning eye on the Grammie-a-nator in fast forward.

            "Let's see, 1 cup sugar, 1/2 cup flour, heaping tsp cinnamon, 2 tbsp butter, mix till resembling coarse meal.  Viola, posypka!" Grammie eyes grew wide. "Oops, one little thingy."

            "Let's bake 'em!" Jen Jen was one hungry critter.

            "Just one more little thingy." Grammie smirked.

            "Noooo! No more one little thingies! Bake 'em. Please bake 'em." Jen Jen wound down as if from lack of energy.

            "But we must baptize the kolache poppy seed heart with posypka. Takes just a sec." Grammie sprinkled with zest, while Jen Jen clutching baking pan danced impatient polka. The sec Grammie ran out of posypka, Jen Jen almost got open oven door to pop kolaches laden pan in, when...

            "Needs 20 minutes rising." Grammie apologetically explained, "The sugar in the posypka reactivates the yeast."

            Jen Jen froze, eyes crossed, along with her legs.

            "Are you ok?"

            "Sweet tea on the swing!" Jen Jen sat down baking pan, hopped like a roo round kitchen corner to loo.

            After the river rapids of time whizzed by, Jen Jen had barely re-entered kitchen, when pug nose went to twitchin' and she spied on kitchen table, "Oh yeah, freshly nuked leftover Czech goulash, praha heaven. Thank you Grammie.  You are the best Grammie like ever."

             "Maybe this will elevate Grammie to sainthood." Grammie glowed, as she sat down tall glass of cold milk on kitchen table; while gathering memories to savor forever.

            In a tad less than a while Jen Jen had scarfed down the praha and, "Mm-mmm good," ed thru milk mustache, when...

            Grammie interrupted, "Got time to pop these kolaches in the oven?"

            "Does a wild grandchild pee in the loo?" Jen Jen hopped from seat.

             "You scampered over here like a gerbil to cheese." Grammie smile sighed mixture of amusement and pure love.

            In both hands Jen Jen grasped kolache laden baking sheet,  Grammie opened oven.  Jen Jen sat in baking sheet. Grammie gently closed door.

            "How long?" Jen Jen still had that hungry squirrel drooling over an acorn look.

            "At 425 preheated degrees, about 12 to 15 minutes till we polka down the Posypka Road to Kolache Land." Grammie teased.

            Jen Jen groaned, took her arm, "Duh, your metaphors have slapped your similes silly, Grammie."

            14 minutes, 53 seconds later, Jen Jen opened oven, released intoxicating fresh baked kolache aroma,  Oven mitten clad Grammie reached in, pulled out, "Just a little bit of the promised land." She proclaimed. Jen Jen brushed on melted butter, then the mouth watering waiting to semi-cooling began.

            One eye on kolaches, the other tending clean-up, Jen Jen and Grammie polka-ed from flour dusted mess to sparkling kitchen land, while sharing tasty tid bits of family history:

            "You know it took your Mommy nine months to bake her little kolache in tummy oven."

            "Duh, and she stirred in a whole lotta sugar to make me." Jen Jen was in mid tee-hee, when...

            Screen door abruptly swung open, cap wearing head stuck in, "My kolache radar never fails."

            "If you mean by radar that big old Paw Paw snoozola of yours." Jen Jen squealed, ran into his arms, knocked cap off his head, squeezed till Paw Paw eyes near popped out.

            Jen Jen blessed his nose with kisses, hopped down, grabbed kolache in each hand, gave one to Paw Paw, one to Grammie, hopped back, grabbed two more and... took starving scarf out of each one. Poppy seed and posypka squished out mouth, ran down her chin.

            Grammie praised, "Serving Paw Paw and me first; Jen Jen, you are so preciously unselfish."

            "I'm no sailfish!" Jen Jen tee-hee-ed right into nother delicious kolache double bite.

            "Did you see?" Paw Paw lovingly kneaded Grammie shoulder and neck.

            "The kolache in each hand." Grammie felt it too.

            "Think the Lord is telling us to tell her?" Paw Paw tad more than wondered.

            "Tell me what?" Jen Jen took nother double bite.

            Grammie and Paw Paw into each others eyes looked; took turn of tee-hee all their own.

            "What?" Jen Jen mumbled thru mouthful of poppy seed posypka sweet kolache heart.

            Grammie patted flour dusted apron over swollen tummy, gave blessed answer, "You may be getting a new aunt or uncle soon."

            "Maybe one of each," Paw Paw eyes beamed.

            As Jen Jen's kolache munching slowed, so grew her doe eyes wide... into liquid pools of soul... Jen Jen hugged her Grammie, said, "I thought you were just getting fat!" The giggling ensued.

            "Lord help us all," Grammie laughed for joy, looked to heaven, "thank you Jesus."


            The sweet heart of pillow soft supple dough... the kolache filled with fruit...

            So should we be all... kneaded by the Creator... filled with Jesus...


            Where did the inspiration for this little story come from? In the Bible, the adventures of 100 year Abraham and 90 year old wife Sarah are totally true and like totally awesome. Why would Sarah knead meal to cake? Why would she laugh within her heart? Were they at advanced age to have a son named Isaac, whose name meant laughter? And why? And why, O'My!!!  Will you read and also laugh within your heart: Genesis 18:1-15; 21:1-5...

            And why, O'MY!!!   2000 years later a certain descendant of Abraham and Sarah would be blessed with child. That young lady was and is Mary, whose name in Hebrew means: Wished For Child... Thank you Jesus...

                                     ...No thing is too difficult for the LORD...