This measuring cup is the measuring cup I’ve used since I started baking at the age of 6. I still remember doing my first cake. I was inspired by my brother who was just one year older than me, but at that age I saw him as a grown up and I wanted to be like him. Maybe he had made only one or two cakes with the help of our mom, but for me he was already a baker.
That same measuring cup lived in our kitchen for years, it has measured every single cake and cookie I’ve made. I didn’t bring it with me when I moved to the US. It was my mom’s measuring cup, from her kitchen. I don’t know where she got it but since I remember it has always been dented.
When my parents sold the house where we grow up and packed things to move they also threw and gave away many things. It was a detachment exercise for them. So my mother made a package with things that were mine and were still in their house. This measuring cup was in that package. I didn’t ask her for it, but she assumed I wanted to keep it. I felt bad for a minute because I thought maybe my brother would also want it or even my mother would need it in her new house. But maybe it was special only for me.
And now, again, I use it for every cake or bread I make. And just seeing it in my kitchen makes me feel at home.