Polacco’s vivid memories of her grandmother’s endearing answer to a child’s fear, accompanied by her bright folk-art illustrations, turn a frightening thunderstorm into an adventure and ultimately. Reaching once again into her rich childhood experience, Patricia Polacco tells the memorable story of how her grandma–her Babushka–helped her overcome her fear of thunder when she was a little girl. and the storm is coming closer all the time! But the list of ingredients is long and not easy to find. A real Thunder Cake must reach the oven before the storm arrives. “This is Thunder Cake baking weather,” calls Grandma, as she and her granddaughter hurry to gather the ingredients around the farm. “How would you describe a storm?” I push.Īnd between bites and crumbs and frosting swoops, they comply.A loud clap of thunder booms, and rattles the windows of Grandma’s old farmhouse. “Yes,” Brody nods, “Sometimes,” Chloe hedges, “No,” Kayli trumps.Ī smile plays on my lips as they reveal the way that they puzzle piece to each other. Thunder Cake, the stunning book that we love so very much and home of this recipe, is about a little girl whose Grandmother helps her get over a fear of storms. “Do you guys think thunderstorms are scary?” I ask. Our circle complete, they appreciate what they’ve made. Soon, chocolate cake (with tomatoes!) draws them right back into the kitchen. Once every ingredient is poured, every step complete, they play in newfound snow as I get lost in Busy Quiet – wiping and cleaning and checking. The smells and the sounds and even the spills are (inexplicably) soothing. “Yes, tomatoes.” I answer, raising my eyebrows in the most serious of ways.

“Tomatoes?” They ask, wrinkling their noses. Our kitchen fills with cocoa and flour and sugar, vanilla and eggs and tomatoes.

Their partnership overlapped, and cemented. “Really?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but choosing these Mothering Words anyway. So very sure and definite and right, simply because they’re side by side. “We know it’s not storming, but- can we?” They tilt the book my way. “Mom?” They lilt, standing shoulder to shoulder, a staircase of matching eyes and cheeks and hope.

Thundercakes book