Every year around Passover, my kitchen smells like apples, cinnamon, and chaos.
Not the dramatic kind of chaos. The gentle, familiar kind. The kind where...
Swirled Banana Bread.........You know the ones. Freckled. Soft. Smelling a little like regret.
Most people would toss them. I, however, took it as a sign...
I didn’t grow up eating Apfelstrudel.
It started on a cold afternoon when I was supposed to be doing something productive. Taxes? Laundry? Answering emails...
