Canadian Latvian Bacon Buns

Visiting Mrs. Celmainis at her home two weeks ago was a serendipitous experience. I met Anita at a Slow Food Edmonton meeting several months ago, and when she said she was from Latvia, I mentioned that I had known a Latvian family from Red Deer several hundred years ago. Eureka! She knew them. She must be mistaken. It was too much of an amazing coincidence. But, it was true. I had to see Mrs. Celmainis. I could remember how her husband looked, but could not visualize Linda. However, the moment she opened her door, the memories from my past layered over my present reality. There she stood, that little grin on her face, her twinkly eyes. Yes, at 94 she had changed. So had I. Yet, she was still the same. What a miracle that I was able to see her again. I was not going to disregard this miracle. And, Anita was such a blessing. She arranged our meeting, came with me, and facilitated the entire visit. So innately kind of her.

We sat and I had to have a cup of Linda’s wonderfully strong freshly brewed coffee. As I recounted the vivid pictures in my head, Linda just shook her head and laughed now and then. “I remember somebody. I guess it could have been you. I remember having you to dinner.” Linda had a vague recollection. Vague. She didn’t recall me going with her and her husband to Diney and Bob’s first home on Belamy Hill in Edmonton. She didn’t recall very much. I really thought I had made more of an impression. And, that was quite an incredulous awakening for me. This family had made such a fundamental impression on me as a youth, and Mrs, Celmainis didn’t even recall more than a shadow of my existence in her life. That just makes me smile that smile of quiet understanding. Life is a really beautiful adventure and here is yet another lesson I am learning. And, now I have the opportunity to touch this woman’s life back.

Anita brought Linda Celmainis to lunch Sunday to make Bacon Buns. I was so pleased to be able to host her in my home, and to learn from her hand. When I was 16 years old, Linda’s daughter, Sal met me, and hooked me up with her mother and father as they had a young man boarding at their house at the time. He was mentally handicapped and they asked me if I would tutor him a couple of times a week in Spelling and in working to pass his Driver’s Licence Test. I was honored. And the pay? Five dollars an hour. Five dollars and hour! I was 16 and this was in 1971 and 1972. That was big, big money in those days. I was never late and really enjoyed my time with Bruce. I later found out that they were more interested in perking up his week with time from a young gal than in anything to do with tutoring. And here I was working so hard preparing my lessons!

My relationship with the Celmainises strengthened. They had escaped Latvia and come to Canada several years earlier. I listened to their story, and was truly moved by their passion. They were such a loving couple. What impressed me the most was that I was treated as an adult by them. I would come in, and was always offered a coffee and Linda (Mrs. Celmainis to me, at that time) always had time for a visit with me. She made the best coffee. It was strong and black and she served it in a silver perculator. I always looked forward to her coffee. And there was often some kind of ethnic bite to go with it. Just a bite. Just perfect.

Through our friendship, I helped her with Diney and Bob’s wedding preparations and learned to spread the butter all the way to the edges of the crust of the bread when making my first open faced Latvian sandwiches. I was invited to dinner and ate my first Beef Stroganoff and warm braised purple cabbage with bacon. I was enchanted with her food, her family, and the warm sparkle in her eye. But, Bruce moved back to Provost, I went to University in Edmonton, and though we did keep in touch for awhile, eventually, we lost track of one another. At least I lost track of them. Clearly, she didn’t think of me through the years as I thought of them.

Sal, her daughter, had been my counsellor for one week at the University of Alberta during the summer of 1971 when I attended a High School Student Council Training Workshop with other High School Student Council members throughout the province of Alberta. She also didn’t recall me when I sent her a message through Facebook, again facilitated through Anita. Do you see me grinning?

As I was unpacking my memories with the Clemainises, the memory of Linda’s Bacon Buns, still as fresh as if it was yesterday, wafted through my darkness and erupted my sensory awareness. I don’t really remember the first time I was introduced to these. I have not even thought of them, nor have I come across them, for thirty eight years, but I do remember that Mrs. Celmainis always had one saved for me somewhere in the back of her bread box after a special holiday dinner. She knew I loved them, and she never forgot me. I had to have her teach me how to make these. I love them, and I want to have the knowledge and the connection with her through this special food.

When I greeted Linda Sunday and asked her how she was as she was coming in my door with Anita, her answer. “Well, I’m still alive.” and she grinned. It was a beautiful sunny fall day, and a wonderful day to be out. As she was walking into my kitchen she fussed about me making lunch for her. “You shouldn’t have done that. I don’t eat much.” And, she didn’t, but she did manage to eat a bun sized portion of the fresh bread I had made for her with about 1/2 a cup of some homemade yam soup. I was so happy I had made that bread. I could see she enjoyed it. She was sitting up at the island, and we were all sipping our soup and so happy to be having a little visit on this gorgeous day. I didn’t know her stamina, and didn’t want to tire her, so I had made her dough recipe already, and Anita (bless her heart) had brought the filling pre-made. While they were still eating, I got out the dough to let Linda have a feel and she was impressed, so I got started portioning the dough.

When I asked her if my portions were the right size, she took it and right away started to make a bacon bun. She said it was huge, but it would have made her husband happy. I made it smaller, and then she said they were perfect. Anita said they were still about double the size they should be. And, after they rose, and were baked, they were exactly how I remembered them. But, certainly far too big for appetizer size. So, if you want appetizer size, make them 1/2 ounce portions.

I was having guests for dinner Sunday evening. Anita was tired, and neither of us were sure about Linda’s stamina, but it became clear that she was not ready to go home when the time came. We had a hearty visit after our baking. I showed her around the house. She was curious, and interested. Anita had told her that it was time to leave, but Linda was just not interested in going. I felt quite guilty. Why had I planned another event on the same day? As I walked her to the car, I told her we would take her for a drive, and for lunch next time. She told us how much she enjoys going for drives and how good her son-in-law Bob is to her as he takes her for often. She did add that she was pretty sure he didn’t enjoy shopping for women’s clothing or lingerie. (So, maybe we’ll take her to do some girly shopping, too.) She was adamant. “Oh, for goodness sake. You don’t need to bother with me!” Anita grinned, “Didn’t you have a nice time?” Linda didn’t miss a beat, bantering back, “Well, yes, I guess I did!” with her little twinkly-eyed grin. “Ok, then! We’ll do it again!”

And, the Bacon Buns? Vanja loves me even more. They are so delicious, and exactly how I remember them. The bun is fragrant and eggy and the filling – well, it’s bacon. Need I say more?