You should know that I wanted to name my daughter Cherry. The reality is that I should have done so. Instead, I named her Grace and call her Chaya and in her heart she knows what her Mommy wants to be calling her.
When I first started learning to sew I took classes from a 79 year-old woman named Cherry.
She had white hair that was red for most of her years and she was still a firecracker of a woman. It was then that I knew what I wanted to name my daughter if ever I was to have one.
The name Cherry denotes something alive and bright red, my favorite color; it refers to something sweet and delicious. It means dear one.
Unfortunately, everyone I know thinks Cherry is a stripper name. My husband refused to name his daughter Cherry. My family implored me to stop being weird.
True story: I was at Panera many months back ordering something at a very busy time of day. Instead of an orderly line, there were several people crammed around the register asking for things. For some reason, people were smiling at each other. It must have been late Spring or something. We were all giddy.
One woman was trying to decide on a sweet and the man behind the register pointed out their latest special pastry. It was a cherry turnover. The woman wrinkled her nose.
"I don't like cherries," she said.
The man behind the counter, several nearby customers and I all exchanged looks of disbelief and then we all burst out laughing at having had the exact same thought. Who doesn't like cherries?
So yesterday I made a cherry pie. You know how I cook and I'll tell you that, yes it was delicious. The topping I made for it was especially decadent but the filling was too wet and runny. Did I just not add enough cornstarch?