My sister and family came up from Chicago and brought a special Swedish coffee cake. When she opened the bag so that I could smell it, the memories came flooding back. Uncle Marty, my mom's older brother, used to come by bus from Chicago to visit us in Park Ridge. I have a memory that he came about once a week or so....always dressed in a suit with tie, or nice sweater. He was a gentle, quiet man.....and after dinner he would go sit in the leather chair in the TV room and snooze. I don't remember that he was much for conversation......but he was Uncle Marty, a special part of our small family.
And every time he came he would bring goodies from the Swedish bakery in Andersonville.....the neighborhood in Chicago where Swedish immigrants settled and my mom grew up. I think the bakery was on Clark Street....and frankly, there was nothing as good as their sweet rolls and coffee cakes. Nothing. And I've never found anything equal in any of the places Dave and I called home.
I didn't know it but, after 88 years in business, the bakery closed in February. Before the doors shut for good my sister drove over to purchase a few of the specialties. She froze one of the coffee cakes and brought it up for Easter. That Andersonville coffeecake was made from cardamom dough, with almond and cinamon sugar filling plus chopped almonds and crystal sugar sprinkled on top. Slathered with butter it was heaven.
I had my last piece for breakfast this morning.......
The taste brought back memories and send me searching through an old box of photographs. I wish I could say I'd found dozens of pictures of Uncle Marty......but I only found one. Small, black and white with mom's beautiful cursive on the back...."1 month - Christmas '46". Uncle Marty, white dress shirt and tie holding me on his lap. No coffee cake in sight......that would come later.
Family memories......you never know when one will pop up......but I'm so glad this one did, and I thank my sister for prompting it!
Lovely memory, Linn.
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