Bud Zimmerman escaped the Holocaust in Germany by taking a slow boat to Shanghai. He stayed there for many years, and as a teenager apprenticed in a bakery. After the war he settled in San Francisco and when he retired, took daily walk around Spreckels Lake at the Golden Gate Park.
There were always a few familiar faces at the lake. Bud noticed a new regular, my father, who walked around the lake leaning on a cane. They became friends and talked about their war experiences. When my father found out Bud was a baker, he asked for some tips.
Since his stroke, my father turned vegetarian. He started making soy milk but didn’t want to trash the residue. Bud suggested blending the residue into a flour mixture and bake a cake. So my father did, baking soy cakes and taking them to the park and sharing them with Bud. Bud would in turn critique each attempt, offer suggestions in adding and subtracting various ingredients.
Bud died a few years ago. My father now ride to Spreckels Lake in an electric scooter. He still makes soy cakes, experimenting with new ideas each time. Instead of using the residue, he now grinds the beans into a paste. Yesterday two young friends came by to assist him. We sat down to afternoon tea, tasting fresh baked soy cakes filled with raisins.
