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Description
Holly Cakes

Holly cakes. Green and red and white. To be honest, I don't eat them often, even if they're my favourite food. They have a sweet taste, a bit like marzipan but more full, more heavy. Every Christmas Eve, my grandmother would bake them and the house would be filled with the aroma coming from the oven.

They are marble sponge cakes, but instead of being brown and white, they're red and green with soft white whipped cream on top. Sometimes, I would help draw the snowman with chocolate sauce. Other times, I would just stand by until I could lick the bowl. After they are done and baked until the smell was totally irresistible, my mother would take them out of the oven wearing those pink, thick gloves that prevented her hands from burning.

They have a funny texture. Smooth, yet rough. One second, you'd feel the warmth from the freshly-baked cake. Another, the coldness of the whipped cream would touch your tongue. I might have been imagining it, but there was this faint taste of happiness mixed into the flour. That taste gives you a light feeling, making the world seem to suddenly turn brighter. My grandmother never told me the recipe for it. "It's a secret!" she'd say, with a twinkle in her eye.

I haven't seen my grandmother for three years now, ever since she died on my ninth birthday, unless the grey slab in the cemetery bearing her name counts. I didn't even see her get lowered into her grave since she always disapproved of having a funeral. To her, death was supposed to be a doorway to another world and that people shouldn't be crying over her body because of it. I did feel like bursting into tears, but I tried my hardest to feel positive, to be happy for her. I miss you so much, dear granny.

Since granny died, every Christmas Eve I'd sit at the table in our dining room, trying to remember all those little details about her. People say that if you want something badly enough, it'll come true. Well, so far that hasn't happened to me. Yet. If I could have any wish, I'd wish for my grandmother to live again.

Description
Holly Cakes

Holly cakes. Green and red and white. To be honest, I don't eat them often, even if they're my favourite food. They have a sweet taste, a bit like marzipan but more full, more heavy. Every Christmas Eve, my grandmother would bake them and the house would be filled with the aroma coming from the oven.

They are marble sponge cakes, but instead of being brown and white, they're red and green with soft white whipped cream on top. Sometimes, I would help draw the snowman with chocolate sauce. Other times, I would just stand by until I could lick the bowl. After they are done and baked until the smell was totally irresistible, my mother would take them out of the oven wearing those pink, thick gloves that prevented her hands from burning.

They have a funny texture. Smooth, yet rough. One second, you'd feel the warmth from the freshly-baked cake. Another, the coldness of the whipped cream would touch your tongue. I might have been imagining it, but there was this faint taste of happiness mixed into the flour. That taste gives you a light feeling, making the world seem to suddenly turn brighter. My grandmother never told me the recipe for it. "It's a secret!" she'd say, with a twinkle in her eye.

I haven't seen my grandmother for three years now, ever since she died on my ninth birthday, unless the grey slab in the cemetery bearing her name counts. I didn't even see her get lowered into her grave since she always disapproved of having a funeral. To her, death was supposed to be a doorway to another world and that people shouldn't be crying over her body because of it. I did feel like bursting into tears, but I tried my hardest to feel positive, to be happy for her. I miss you so much, dear granny.

Since granny died, every Christmas Eve I'd sit at the table in our dining room, trying to remember all those little details about her. People say that if you want something badly enough, it'll come true. Well, so far that hasn't happened to me. Yet. If I could have any wish, I'd wish for my grandmother to live again.