Testimony: Poem

The past is always coming back.

Can it help or hurt me?

What a heck.

It does not sting like a bee.

The past is always very present.

Almost eighty percent of claim

Comes from social history aim.

The mind is going back and force,

Because the memory does not have any remorse.

When I travel down the timeline,

Here is an interesting point, to decline

The information online.

instead, I remember the person I used to be.

There is no service fee

To marvel on at the person I have become.

I am not afraid of the judgement to overcome.

What happened? The past is counted down

The years, the moments,

The promises, the usual standard grants.

I try to tell the personal story

To express my gratitude,

For more than half century overdue

As a way to reconcile the attitude

From past to present.

Thit is all how far I went,

With my letter of gratitude to be sent

From an angel to saint,

Following the imagery from the past

The reappears later at large,

Because when I trust,

My instincts saying, "You must!"

My mixed media includes

The artist's book

Illustrated in fiber and wood.

What did she write?

A wrinkle in time, a bite,

The memory contains

And embrace

The diaspora's courtesy.

The record of life from European ecstasy

To American complicity -

Next signal,

Take out.

Kids, eats,

And fits.

Apartments for rent,

There is not any end.

Lott's to lease,

Many lists everybody to please.

Tires for sale,

Money to bail.

Available space -

Take the chance.

There is not any shortage

Of any storage.

Headings and subtitles

To guide the stories' front lines.

Pop up memory's signposts of previous,

Stating the obvious

in the sky, in clever way

Describing the day

And making the testimony in bold

As the stories began to be told.

Ida Tomshinsk@2024

Hospital Adventures Affairs

Hospital Adventures Affairs. This year, my friend took leave of absence throughout her workplace, which allowed her to stay with her mother as long as she needed help after operation and the recovery time period. Unfortunately, her grandson and his wife needed continue to work. Both of them were government contractors for a special project in development of some miracle pharmaceutical meds involved medical marihuana under a due date line. 

My friend was scared and did not know too much about anything what is going on. She waited long hours in the cold hospital hallways for the operation to be finished and later, for the anesthesia to be warned off. She looked old, like she aged in the process. But hey, all what is matter that after long hours of operation she opened her eyes and was alive. I asked all kind of question about the operation, the hospital, and how it was for my friend. She was impressed and amused by the iRobot nurse who delivered pillboxes for each patient in their rooms, straight to the little table at the bad, that the patients could help themselves. My resourceful friend found free coffee for visitors and nurses. I can imagine that this not only gave her so needed energy and warmth to her little body, but probably made her happier too. We had together not one cup of coffee, and I learned how she enjoys every sip of the beverage. She had such a way to appreciate both the aroma and the taste to celebrate her happiness to have her mommy next to her. Nurses and medical assistance aids were coming and doing their job. Recovery included a lot of things to make the body functioning. And when the body obtained strength, the physiotherapy exercises were introduced. Social worker provided the necessary equipment to be used at home. Nurses were surprised to learn that my friend never did any needle shuts and gave her a quick course on a piece of bread. It was of vital importance to avoid blood clocks after operation. Any time she passed the hospital chapel, she would pray for the fast recovery of her beloved mother. After a week, she finally left the room and found the hospital cafeteria. She was hungry, and wanted to eat the real warm food that she did not have for few weeks now. She survived on leftovers from mother's food. Because the mother was not from Baltimore, the food was not provided by the hospital, and she had to order it from a daily menu. My friend was so thankful for all the blessings of her mother's health improvement. The small things like a soft armchair in the room was a blessing as it allowed her to cuddle up and sleep on it, next to her mother. She was washing her in the mornings and cleaned her before the aid would show up, not because she did not trust them, no. She simply wanted to take care of her mother.

Good that her mother had a travel insurance on her ticket that covered the cost of operation. The insurance discovered a strange mistake as the paperwork included the cost of the hip operation and the two knees were attached as well, intentionally or not. Who knows? Good that it was caught in time and removed. 

Later, she looked for her mother at the grandson's place. She was cooking for the mother and the entire family. She was playing with their son, Shean, while the mother was watching them all. When the mother was strong enough, her son came and took her home. She lived another twenty years and thanks to the hip operation, her mobility was restored, and she was on the go to take care of herself.

To our mothers, who are the most beautiful stars in the sky. Cheers to their warm smiles, laughs, soft voice, and warm hugs!

Ladies, What Are You Doing in Chicago Anyway?

Ladies, what are you doing in Chicago anyway? For her mother, it was important to split the visiting time between two households - her daughter's family in Miami, helping her with grandchildren during the summertime and her oldest grandson's family in Baltimore. He had an adorable boy. It would be her grand grandson that she missed to see, growing from a baby into a smart toddler. But this was not the only idea her mother had, as she wanted to treat her grandson and his wife with her special fish dish. The young couple did not have a grading machine for meat processing in their household. Because of this, her mother prepared it in advance, put it in plastic bag, inside a lunch box, with a cooler to keep it fresh. Her carrying mother was holding up to the lunchbox with a special treat at all the time during this unusual trip. Her accompanied daughter did not check her luggage in to save time at the exit to town and kept it with her. It was a rookie mistake and the worst decision ever she made.

So far, the two ladies, mother and daughter, had such a good time together, by catching up on small talks. They missed each other a lot. The mother was happy to have her daughter by her side as she did not speak English well. She studied it when she was young but did not practice it. However, she was fluent in other languages, including German that could be also handy at the international airport.

The mother was in front, and the daughter followed her from behind at the escalator. It is difficult to know and tell, if her shoe stocked at the stairs, or she was too slowly to step up on the steady ground. She fell down. The daughter's hands were busy with the bag, and she could not catch her from behind. The crowd of people were coming up from the moving escalator, and it was a disaster. The daughter did not have any physical force to pick her mother up. She understood that the situation is serious as her mom could not move on her own. But people are good. Good Samarian genuine strong young men helped the mother to the bench. One man identify himself as a doctor, and he quickly tried to examine her to see if she could make it to Baltimore's flight's gate on her own. He commanded to call for a wheelchair to continue with the long airport walk. Some other caring people called and arranged the wheelchair delivery. Thanks God, it was enough time, and they were not at a hurry. When the plane came, the boarding people stepped up again, and the miracles and people's goodwill continue to follow. The seats were in the middle of the plane but a man from the first-class area gave up his expensive comfortable seat. The old lady had a good care and lunch, not from her lunch box. She did not give it to the flight attended to put on the shelf above her seat, not even for an hour, as she guarded her special gift by her side of all time. 

Ha, let you tell you something. I was sharing this story with my friend, a Homeland Security professional who was teaching the course on airport security at the University to students of the Criminal Justice program, and nobody was laughing from the foxy seventy-year-old lady on the plane, with a raw fish food item inside her lunch box that she sneaked inside the plane, with all the rules and restrictions that airport provided. In Baltimore, the mother arrived and rolled out in the wheelchair into happy strong hands of her grandson that simply lifted her and carried her to his SUV car. Yeah, you probably guessed it, they went straight from the airport to the emergency room at the Baltimore's Mount Sinai Hospital.

Chicago Airport: Story

 I run into an old friend. We did not see each other for some time. I ask how she is doing and how the family is doing. I ask how her mother is doing, which was always very nice and kind to me. This is the story my friend told me about her mom. He said that she hates the Chicago Airport because her mother fell down the escalator stairs and broke her hip. She got her to Baltimore, the city of her destination and stayed with her till full recovery. "I still have guilt," - she added. From my side, I said that I am really sorry to hear about her mother's accident. "It must be tough time for both of you. Don't be too hard on yourself, you were there for her when she needed you. That's what truly matters." 

"Well, I did few mistakes, but God wanted us to be together for each other." She stayed in the hospital with her, sleeping in the armchair in her room and, later, in the grandson's apartment in Baltimore. She learned to make needle shuts to avoid the blood clocks. I learned that she took an economical flight with two planes to change, and she did not have a proper luggage on wheels, just a large-size bag from the seventies. Her hands were busy, and she could not catch her mother's body under the pressure of the crowd coming up from the same escalator. I told her that it sounds like they both had some precious moments together, despite the circumstances. I insured her that she did her best out of a difficult situation and demonstrated a lot of strength and love. I put my hand around her and said: "Your dedication is really touching."

I totally get it! Traveling with multiply planes and managing luggage can be quite a challenge, especially when you have hands full. But hey, she made it work and that's what matters.

 When the school is over at the long summertime break the children as usual are home alone as parents have to work. What options do parents have? Perhaps they can sign up them for summer camp or take the two weeks of vacation to spend quality time with the children at the beach, with swimming activities. Children can play videogames, watch TV, listen to the music, and catch up on sleeping without looking at the clock. Also, every year, children bring the list of recommended books for summer reading for the book report to present on the first day of the new school year. As usual, this reading activity is not a priority, and could be waited for a rainy day or two when they cannot play in the great outdoors and have to stay inside. So, you can imagine how helpful it was for my friend to have her mother to come to visit her and to help with the children during the summertime.

On This Day: April 23 1564/23rd April 1616

 

On this day ~23rd April 1564/23rd April 1616

.

Birth and death of William Shakespeare

.

William Shakespeare was a renowned English poet, playwright, and actor, born in Stratford~upon~Avon.

His birthday is most commonly celebrated on 23 April, which is also believed to be the date he died in 1616.

William Shakespeare married Anne Hathaway on 28th November 1582, and they remained married until Shakespeare's death.

At the time of their marriage William was 18, while Anne was 26, and pregnant with their first child.

Anne and William's first daughter Susanna, was born six months after their marriage, and they would go on to have twins Judith and Hamnet a few years later.

Hamnet died at the age of 11 during the Plague.

Susanna married a local physician, Dr. John Hall and Judith married a vintner, Thomas Quinney.

Altogether Shakespeare's works include 38 plays, 2 narrative poems, 154 sonnets, and a variety of other poems.

No original manuscripts of Shakespeare's plays are known to exist today.

It is actually thanks to a group of actors from Shakespeare's company that we have about half of the plays at all.

Shakespeare died in Stratford-upon-Avon on 23rd April 1616, at the age of 52.

Shakespeare’s grave is in the Holy Trinity Church, his local parish church in Stratford upon Avon.

Shakespeare’s grave is famous for having a curse as an epitaph on the gravestone, which Shakespeare himself wrote.

Relic hunting was popular in Shakespeare’s day, and Shakespeare was aware his status as a leading writer, may have meant his bones would be dug up by one of the hunters.

The curse on Shakespeare’s grave warns:

"Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare,

To dig the dust enclosed here.

Blessed be the man that spares these stones,

And cursed be he that moves my bones"

It was unusual for anyone to be buried inside the church, and Shakespeare managed this by buying a tithe deed for £440, which gave him the right to have a grave in the chancel of the church.

Shakespeare’s legacy is as rich and diverse as his work.

His plays have spawned countless adaptations across multiple genres and cultures.

His plays have had an enduring presence on stage and film.

William Shakespeare is well-known as a romantic poet, who had a fulfilling love life with his wife.

Reportedly, some of his last words to his wife were~

"Life is too short to love you in one,

I promise to look for you in the next life"

.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/537859523834021

.

Sources ~ shakespeare. Org.

nosweatshakespeare. com

Snickerdoodle Muffins

 https://bellyfull.net/snickerdoodle-muffins/

My goodness!! Delicious and tender 

Snickerdoodle Muffins that taste like a snickerdoodle cookie. 

Baking goals this weekend!

Your comment was submitted

The Ruby Ring Story: Epilog

Epilog

In case you wondering what happened to the ring, with the beautiful ruby stone. When I left the country and followed my husband to live in the United States, my mother took it off from her finger and gave it to me. Possibly, she benchmarked not only her finger... but the history, and the end for the story for now. It is still too big for me. I wear it on the same finger where is my wedding ring. It became a part of me, first goes the ring with the ruby stone and then the wedding ring. Now, you too, my friend, know why my ring was a story and a history behind it. 

One of my history professors at the university compared the history to a spiral with progress and regress my making one step forward and scooping from the past at the same time. In my story the ring represents a cycle of life. The meaning of it is symbolic. Throughout the story, the ring connects the family's past with the present and makes room for the future continuation. I think that I have it for a reason. I believe that the fact that I own it is provisional. The future will take over, and a new twist will take a new wrinkle on the history and will create new stories to tell.

P.S. Fact. Five days later after a wrote this story, my daughter got her first professional job. I am not in a hurry to pass my ring to her. The time is not right yet...

Ida Tomshinsky@2005-2024

The Ruby Ring Story: Part IV Sasha and Paula

Part IV: Sasha and Paula

What else I know about Paula? My father always called her "an angel" for her kindness and soft character. My father's mother, and my grandmother, Rachel, passed away young at age of thirty-seven from a heart disease. Sasha who became motherless at seven years old was very close to his sister. Their friendship and love for each other was very touching. Her letters written during the war years on the covers of the old school notebooks were warm and moving. She loved and worried deeply about her brother and my father, Sasha, in the years of separation. Every word was sincere as only a loving sister can express. She was "an angel." Paula was a very special sister for my father. He always cherished the warm memories of his sister. He saved all her war correspondences. He even kept a piece of her cloth as a spiritual object till his death. Upon his request, it was thrown in his grave to unite them after death. 

When I think about Paula, my memory always brings up a photo from my family album. I picture a nice summer day. On the porch of the summer house sits a young woman with three beautiful children, two girls and a boy in sailors suites in Art Deco fashion style. The photo, probably, was taken in late twenties or early thirties. Both girls have loosened hair with big bows, and a boy of two or three years old peacefully sits on his mother's lap. This boy is my father, little Sasha, and the two girls were, my aunts, Paula and Amalia. I did not know Paula. She never became an aunt to me. At the present time, all three siblings passed away. I want Paula to be remembered for what a wonderful human being she was.

The Ruby Ring Story: Part III Aunt Paula

Part III: Aunt Paula

I know very little about Paula. If she would be alive, she would by my aunt. Paula was my father's middle sister. She was only twenty-nine years old when she died. She was married right before the World War II for one of the Perlow's brothers. Both of them, Michael and Jacob, voluntarily joint the Soviet army and went on front in nineteen forty-one. Both of them came home alive: Jacob, without any scratch, and Michael was limping. They were heroes like every young man of their generation. Paula evacuated from Riga in a hurry, with the family of her older sister, Amalia.

At that time, many Latvian families took a chance of evacuation going out of the eastern part of Soviet Union to the south, known as Kazakhstan, to avoid the Nazy invasion. Among the evacuee were women with children, elderly men and women, parents of military personal, etc. Paula was not alone. She was with friends, neighbors, and a part of her older sister's Amalia family. Unfortunately, they left behind their father, my grandfather, who refused to leave the country and stayed back home at the occupied territory by German military forces. There were two adorable toddlers in their community - the kids who were born in nineteen-forty, Nat and Abby. They were the inspiration of the community. Both Paula and Amalia were working at a kindergarten daycare center of pre-school children of immigrants and the locals. At the military time, every strong man, who was capable to operate a rifle, was in the army protecting the motherland from unwanted enemy invaded the country. At the same time, women went to work and worked at the plants and factories replacing the men. At every workplace, women-workers got paid with food and food coupons in exchange for their labor. Paula was proud to bring home vital products from her workplace such as flour, margarine, and potatoes. She was very devoted to the wellbeing of the children. She always was making sure that the two little boys have enough food and are healthy and happy. In fall, when all staff at the daycare got a typhus vaccination, Paula got sick. Her body was weak and did not resist the deadly disease. The hospitals were full of wounded soldiers. The epidemics of typhus and cholera were not unusual. Paula passed away very fast. The family did not have the time to grieve. On the windy-cold winter day was a fast funeral because of the sanitary issues of war time. The soil was hard and rocky. In these conditions the grave digging is almost impossible. As usual, the dead bodies were covered with rocks, and the graves were rising at the cemetery from far away. It would not be unusual, if the hungry coyotes would finish the prey. The story makes me sad that nothing left to remember sweet Pauline, not even a stone with her name.

The Ruby Ring Story: Part II Mrs. Ina Perlow

Part II: Ina Perlow

Who is Ina Perlow? How my father gets to know this blond petite with blue eyes and pale make up woman? She had a good modern manicure and a stylish diamond ring next to her wedding ring. I think, it goes as a package with the uniform for the salesgirl's appearance. Did not she work at the Jewelry store?!

Who is Ina Perlow? Is she one of my father's clients? It is a strong possibility. No, she is not. Turned out, she was a wife of Michael Perlow. Once upon a time, Michael was married to my father's middle sister, Pauline. I do not know how to say it. I am in inconvenience to explain because I am not quite understanding it. Is Ina Parlow a relative to us? No, she cannot be a relative. She is a second wife of Michael Perlow. There is not any blood relationship between our and the Perlow family. We did not write greeting cards to them on holidays. Well, there was some kind relationship. For example, when we stopped to say 'hello,' walking by on the street, I would want to know how her sons are, and what they are doing, how smart they are, and all kind of these type of questions. Why? Because, somewhere deep in my heart, I would like to imagine and fantasized that they could be my cousins, if only my Auntie Paula would be alive. 

The Ruby Ring Story: Introduction and Part 1.

This a short documentary story written on June 18, 2005, 

in the memory of Sacha, Paula, and Amalia 

to their children and grandchildren.

 Introduction 

Every person has a story to tell. Every story has an element of history. There more than one definition of the history. It is a 'his story' or 'her story' of an event, which is making the history. In this story I will refer to the continuum of events that were occurring in succession leading from the past to the present, and, who knows, even into the future.

The small size ring on the Ina's left hand was different from the merchandise you usually see in the jewelry stores. Even with a brief look you would thing that it is different and, probably, it is special; and, of course, every special object of design or an accessory piece of an unusual presents would have a mystery meaning and a story to tell.

Part 1: Sasha and His Daughter

In one ordinary spring day of nineteen-sixty-eight, on the weekend, after the breakfast, approximately at 11 o'clock am, Sasha asked his daughter, Ina, if she would be so kind and join him to take a walk-in town.  The offer was too good to turn off. The day was gorgeous, one of a kind. The snow on the side of the walking streets has been melting under the strong, bright sun. The old trees at the Krishian Barona street were leafless, but the branches had the strength and power to deliver the birth of the baby leaves. At this time of the year, the trees have the great wood aroma and if you touch them your fingers would feel the moist and the stickiness of clay, which you have to rub off.

Sasha stopped at the Sakta store. We passed the gifts section. our destination had been the Jewelry section of the store that had a display of alpaca, silver, pearls, precious stones, and gold. Sasha greets the salesgirl. Her name is Ina Perlow. Sasha asked for a ring for his daughter, without any special occasion.  Wow, that would be for me! All the 'good' rings are in big sizes. What is new?! The small size ones do not make the statement. No worth to invest the money into them. Mrs. Ina Perlow recommended a beautiful ring with a very dark red stone. It looked like a garnet, but it was an elegant ruby with 'a secret.' It would be giving away the beautiful transformation of color changes and stone shines only if the person would be in a positive statement of mood.

Well, the ring was purchased for me. I was sweet fifteen, and according to the reference books on human body development, I was still growing. Meantime, my mother was wearing it on her middle finger. It was a little too big for her, too.

Lilly and Max: Technical Ballad Episode 2

Lilly and Max were surrounded by passage of time. They were not young anymore; time was not on their side. They lived their lives and did what a clock does. Keep going forward with their daily routine and activities. Their hearts were strangely attached, even their hands never could hold anything physically in online communication. Max's feelings were strange as he was thinking about Lilly even when he was working. He was not only a great listener but after many years, for the first time started to talk and even express himself in conversations. The biggest gift that Max gave to Lilly the commitment of teaching her in his own unique way that she is enough: the permission to feel safe in her own skin, to feel her worthiness. The online distance communication brought out the best of their selves, based on daily support and encouragements.

As time passed, their unselfish wholesome platonic love and care took a positive turn, where the hearts show the way. This type of relationships is on the higher end of humanity, when you do not ask anything in return, just wish and support the other person to be on their best: kind, happy, positive, and simply well-being. The Beatles proclaimed that "all we need is love." O' yeah! Loving hearts are unstoppable. In communication online, Lilly is the dreamy woman, with a heart full of thoughts, emotions, and stories to tell. Her creativity rules and moves by her imagination and her love for words in ink and paper in digital format. Max is a great listener, has a lot of wisdom to share, and he is glad to get a honey bunny to take care in the distant communication. When he is not occupied with work and his busy schedule, he checks in to read dropped messages and always answers every paragraph.

It's true, love stories often reflect the journey of finding oneself and growing through connections with others. Friendship can be just as profound as romance. It's all about that genuine respect, care, support. Love, in all its forms, is powerful and transformative. It's all about the bond and the journey they share, not just labels. Lilly and Max developed a strong friendship for life that is makes the hearts feel strange and unusual, but not impossible. Their naked souls found love that continue to shine through the pages of digital communication.

The essence of Lilly and Max's story is about connection and growth. To find friendship on the journey is a positive and powerful force. Also, there is no rush, because the characters are mature. They are surrounded by time and do what a clock does: keep going.

Tree: Poem

 If the trees could feel,

They would tell.

If the trees could talk,

They would speak to all.

I love nature and trees -

The big and the tiny,

With green leaves,

With needles and spines,

From pines

With birds and bees,

With apples and pears,

And sometimes, with bears.

People say that from trees

You can make many things -

That is true:

Toys, houses, and swings,

Boats and stables,

And paper, and tables.

Green-green trees,

They help us with shades,

In hot summers.

Tomshinsky@2024

Contemporary Story of Time: Short Story

 After all, this was not a winning haircut. It was sharp and short, and very elegant. The stylist did a good job with her hair. It developed a contemporary look and a great spirit, which was created above it. This is of something extra for what you pay your tips for. Where to draw the line between losers and winners? Is it the oral interview? The professional appearance can give you some extra credits. Unfortunately, the mind is made up and the administration or the panel of the authorities know exactly for what they job-hunt.

The tone of the story based on a true story. The purpose of it is motivation, and to help to come out of growing symptoms of depression. Also, to reflect and sort the thoughts and perhaps to learn from the mistakes. What a hake?! It is worse to make mistakes but have to learn from them and move on. Her vision was farsighted, and she was always living in one-step ahead, looking into the future. Besides, this is someone who's favorite phrase is "Hurry up!"

Past, present, and future once again merged together in this situation. The past gave strength of years of experience. The present gave a comfort, that was built up step-by-step of previous events and happenings. It was always enough of projects and major tasks, which challenged the professional ego and fitted the comfort the soul. As for the future, was she played safe was not brave enough to look into the changes that surrounded the uncertainty of the future. Did she look far enough for the future path? Who would imagine that after it was given once, it could be taken away? It came out of nowhere. Now, deal with this situation.

Traces of Summer Now Fade

Traces of summer now faded. I slipped into the warmth of fall. Days of work and heat gave way to memories of pale green, and orange, and crimson under my feet. The glow of the horizon shifted to the brightness of the days spent in thoughts and selfness. Steam from the sauna of leaves wafted from asphalt to complete my rustic surrender. Long days became nights of revelry. long nights became days of splendor. Friends now gone, yet a new day faded into the warmth of my past and gave birth to my future. Traces of me faded in the portrait of us. As we became one of many yet one of none. Together out forces split time and matter, as days of fun and cool gave way to memories of salty ocean, frozen lakes, and barbecue. 

The sunset never came, and darkness was eternal. The respite now done where we traveled on. Valleys of kings and the mountains of queens lay before me. The walkway lined with the young, old, and those of neither but once of one, nor one day of the other. Out path was clear, yet we were separated from the valley and the mountain. Large of wing and slight of foot, the guardian of the path bade us split for our paths to stay separate. We turned from the guardian as we turned from him other approached. The grass rose up against me as time stopped. When I awoke, I was in the valley of queens looking up upon the mountain of kings. Guided by your handed we found another route to the beginning of our destination. The guardian of the path slight of wing yet large of foot bade us continue for we had gone backward to progress. Yet as I looked back, I saw the others who forged forward yet those who went backward yet we were all here. Yet the young joined the old. Yet the old and the young ignored finding favor with those of one, and soon to be both. The warmth of fall faded as the chill of winter warmed my face.

Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins

 

Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins

Ingredients:

3 ripe bananas

1/2 cup sugar

1/3 cup melted butter

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon baking soda

Pinch of salt

1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour

1 cup chocolate chips

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C) and line a muffin tin with paper liners.

In a large bowl, mash the bananas with a fork. Stir in the sugar, melted butter, egg, and vanilla extract.

Mix in the baking soda and salt, then add the flour and mix until just combined. Fold in the chocolate chips.

Spoon the batter into the muffin tin, filling each cup about 3/4 full.

Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Allow to cool in the tin for a few minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.