上週末在家做了蛋黃酥。我其實有一段時間沒做這種技術含量高的點心了，這次會心血來潮，一來是因為我們終於安頓下來，我開始思考著要怎麼答謝那些幫忙我們搬家的人，二來是因為爸爸告訴我家裡的凍庫中還有媽媽之前留下烏豆沙和鹹蛋黃，他還沒想好要怎麼消耗，所以我想這次就當個暖身，要是我下次回家時那些食材還在，我就可以幫爸爸把它們用完。
烘焙是媽媽領我入門的。她的身體還健朗時，每年我回台灣，我們都花好多時間一起做各種點心：鳳梨酥、蛋黃酥、綠豆椪、蟹殼黃、冬瓜餡餅，還有她自己發明的三Q餅……等等。後來我大學主修了化學，秤量、混合、加熱對我來說是家常便飯，媽媽也是科學家，所以我們把廚房當成科學實驗室一樣管理得井井有條，我們烤的餅也都有嚴謹程序和品管。每次我上飛機前，她一定會在我的行李箱中裝滿這些美味的點心，夠我吃好幾個月，也讓我在千里之外依然能嚐到她的愛心。逢年過節時，即使我不在台灣，她也會自己做好多糕餅點心，分送給親戚朋友——我猜我喜歡做點心送人的習慣大概是無意中跟她學的。她的癌症轉移之後，大規模的烘焙對她來說越來越吃力了，我回家時她也不太讓我做，因為與其讓我一個人在廚房忙得滿頭大汗，她寧願我花時間陪她做點其他的事情。即使如此，我自己在美國還是每年做鳳梨酥，一來希望延續她的精神，二來讓她不要擔心我沒有好吃鳳梨酥吃（自從我們自己做餅開始，我基本上很少吃外面賣的鳳梨酥或蛋黃酥了，因為口味和用料完全不是一個檔次的）。
蛋黃酥比鳳梨酥費工得多，每一個蛋黃酥都要獨立桿一張酥皮，所以即使我年年做鳳梨酥，我在美國好像還沒有自己做過蛋黃酥。功夫擱下了幾年，一開始心裡其實有些忐忑，但是開始備料之後，我心中的猶豫和遲疑立刻就煙消雲散了。或許有一些東西，特別是有著強烈情感連結的事物，學過了就一輩子都不會忘記。雖然這麼多年沒做蛋黃酥，但是我本能似地還是知道油皮應該多有彈性、油酥的質地應該如何、蛋黃應該烤多熟、要怎麼桿酥皮。蛋黃酥的工序比較繁複，所以以前我和媽媽都會分工：我把油酥包進油皮後交給她桿，她桿完之後再交給我包豆沙餡和蛋黃。這次我一個人包攬了所有的步驟，就像在她離開後，我嘗試著接過她之前肩上的擔子一樣。
四十個蛋黃酥，我一個人做了兩個多小時才送進烤箱。在這期間，我沒有一刻不是想著媽媽，但是我的心情卻是平靜的，雙手如行雲流水般桿皮包餡，俐落一如往常。比起幾個月前，任何一點小小的睹物思人都能讓我丟下手邊所有事放聲大哭，現在的我或許已經來到了另外一個階段——我對媽媽的愛和思念並沒有減少一絲一毫，只是表達的方式變了，從無法克制的外放情緒變成了在腦海中的反覆琢磨和思索。蛋黃酥在烤箱裡的空檔，我開始著手清理廚房。烘焙時趁著空檔收拾打掃的習慣也是跟媽媽學的，如此一來烤好時，我們就可以放心地大快朵頤，不用煩惱後續的清潔工作。午後溫暖的陽光、烤箱中傳出的淡淡香氣、洗碗精的雪白泡沫，彷彿一下子把我拉回了美好的舊時光。
蛋黃酥烤好後，我迫不及待切了一個來嚐。層次分明的酥皮和鹹甜適中的內餡，都是我記憶中溫暖的好滋味——幸好，媽媽教給我的手藝沒有落下。最後一個步驟是包裝，以前我們做餅，有好一部分是要送人的，所以我們一定會把所有東西包得乾乾淨淨、整整齊齊。媽媽從小就教導我做事情要有始有終，所以即使在費盡心力做完一大批糕餅之後，包裝似乎是一件微不足道的小事，我們都還是堅持一定要認真做好，不能隨便用夾鏈袋一裝了事。我在美國做鳳梨酥送人時，最常聽到的回應是：「這真的是妳自己做的嗎？包裝得好像外面賣的！」總是令我有些哭笑不得，後來我先生會趁我烘焙時拍照紀錄，以證明我的「清白」。當我把所有的蛋黃酥包得整整齊齊放進保鮮盒時，我似乎有點明白為什麼有人曾經告訴我媽媽不曾離去。雖然她不在我身邊了，但是透過我的雙手，我們依然有口福享受她的的好手藝，我的親朋好友依然可以透過我做的點心感受到我對他們的愛和關懷，我的廚房也依然是按照她教給我的方式打理。她依然活在我心中，她的氣息充斥著我生活中的每個角落，不知不覺間，我也一點一滴地把自己活成她的模樣。
I made yolk pastries (a traditional Taiwanese pastry with red bean and salty egg yolk fillings) last weekend. It has been a while since I baked anything this technical, but I still decided to make them because we are finally more settled, and I started to think about how to thank those who helped us move. In addition, my dad mentioned that my mom left behind a lot of red bean paste and salty egg yolks in our freezer. He has yet to decide how to use them up, so I thought I would do a trial run – in case these ingredients are still there when I go home next time, I can help my dad use them up.
My mom was the one who taught me how to bake. When she was still healthy, we always spent a lot of time making all kinds of tasty pastries together when I went home every year: pineapple cakes, yolk pastries, mung bean pastries, scallion sesame biscuits, winter melon cakes, and “3Q cakes” she invented herself…etc. After I decided to major in chemistry in college, weighing, measuring, mixing and heating became transferrable skills from the lab to the kitchen. My mom was also a scientist, so we managed our kitchen like a research laboratory, and we had rigorous processes and quality control for the pastries we made. Before I boarded my flight to the US, my mom would always stuff my suitcases with delicious homemade pastries so that I could always taste her love thousands of miles away. During holidays, even if I was not at home, she would bake large batches of pastries to share with friends and families. (I guess I must have picked up my habit of giving my friends my homemade pastries from her.) After she was diagnosed with metathesized cancer, large-scale baking became too strenuous for her. When I went home every year, she wouldn’t really let me do all the baking myself either because she would rather spend time with me doing something else than watching me spinning around in the kitchen. Even so, I make pineapple cakes in the US every year. This way I can continue her spirits, and she would not have to worry about me not having tasty pastries to eat. (Ever since we started to make our own pastries, I rarely eat store-bought pineapple cakes and yolk pastries since our homemade ones are so much better, in my opinion.)
Yolk pastries are much more technical and time-consuming than pineapple cakes – each yolk pastry requires its individual piece of puff pastry. Therefore, even though I make pineapple cakes every year, I don’t think I have ever made yolk pastries in the US. Initially, I was not very confident in my skills since I felt like I was out of practice. However, once I started to prepare the ingredients, all of my self-doubt and hesitation went away. Perhaps there are some things, especially things with strong emotional connections, that I will just never forget how to do once I have learned them. Although I have not made yolk pastries in years, I seemed to still know intuitively the right elasticity of the dough, the optimal texture of the shortbread, how cooked the salty egg yolks should be, and how to make puff pastries. Since making yolk pastries involves many steps, my mom and I used to split up the tasks: I would wrap the shortbread in the dough and hand over to her to roll, and she would give the wrapping back to me to fill with red bean paste and a piece of salty egg yolk. This time I took on all the tasks myself, just like how I have been trying to take over other burdens she used to carry little by little since she left.
It took me over two hours to assemble forty pastries before I started to bake them in the oven. During this entire period, there wasn’t a second that went by without me thinking of her. Yet my heart was at peace, and my hands were as efficient at rolling and wrapping as always. Unlike a few months ago, when any bit of emotional trigger would make me drop everything and burst into tears, perhaps I have come to another stage after my mom’s passing – my love and grief for her did not diminish a single bit, but how they are expressed have evolved from uncontrollable emotional outbreaks into endless pondering and reflection in my head. While the pastries were cooking in the oven, I started to clean up the kitchen. Cleaning up during downtime while I bake is another habit I learned from my mom. This way by the time we are done baking, we could just feast without worrying about cleaning. The golden, warm afternoon sunshine, the light aroma from the oven, and the snowy white foams of the dish detergent all seemed to pull me right back into the good old days.
After the pastries were done, I tried one immediately. The pastry was flaky and the filling had the perfect balance of sweetness and savory, just like how I remembered – thankfully, I have not forgotten the skills that my mom taught me. The last step was wrapping them up. When I used to make pastries with my mom, we gave a good portion of them to our friends and families, so we would always wrap everything up nicely. My mom taught me no matter what I do, I should always carry it through the end. Therefore, even though wrapping seems to be the most trivial detail after spending hours making a large batch of pastries, we would always insist on giving everything a nice final touch. In the US, when I give my friends pineapple cakes I made, the most common response I get is, “Did you actually made these yourself? They are wrapped so professionally like the ones you see in the stores!” I never really know how to respond, so nowadays Steve will sometimes take pictures for me when I bake to prove the authenticity of the “homemade-ness” of my pastries. After I packed all the nicely-wrapped yolk pastries into tupperwares, I seem to start to understand a little why people told me my mom never really left. Although she is no longer by my side, we still have the fortune to enjoy the fruits of her baking skills through my hands, my friends and families can still feel my love and care for them through the pastries I bake for them, and I continue to manage my kitchen the way that she taught me to. She lives in me.
