pound_cake tender_square i left the eggs and butter and margarine out overnight to silk soften when whipped. that's a step in the recipe that grandmamma never wrote down, but it makes all the difference, my mother-in-law once told me. in a large metal bowl, i beat the batter with pirouetting whisks that twirled in tandem: grandma kay's mixmaster, handed down to me when her alzheimer's caused her self-sufficiency to rot. i took the blunt edge of a butter knife that was my mother's and leveled the sugar, the flour, cup after cup, and let the yolks and albumen congeal ingredients. i wish i had grandma grace's bundt pan, the one with the latching corset that allowed the cake to breathe after it rose. the house expands with the softness of vanilla, with the memories of magic living through me, the women who sifted me into their palms and left to grow. 230727 what's it to you? who go blather from