For my entire youth, my mother was known for her cookies. The weekly, sometimes daily, creations which escaped her kitchen and were gifted to every person to cross her path. They became her signature item. I loved those cookies, with 1/2 chocolate chips and 1/2 butterscotch chips the way she'd make them just for me. My childhood is in those cookies, and though they remind me of my mother, they remind me more of my grandmother.
My Grandma is the most saintly person to walk this earth. If I were catholic, I'd nominate her to be canonized for her lifetime of selfless giving to others. The patron-saint of selfless love: that would be her. Can women be patron saints? Hmmm. I'll have to think on that one.
The now-famous-within-family-circles recipe that my mother produced for years, was actually a recipe of my grandmother's. Mom learned to make them at my Father's request shortly after they were married. They were his favorite too, and one of those instances where a husband asks his wife to learn one of his mom's special treats.
Now, 10 years after my stepmom entered the picture, dad has asked her to learn the art that is Grandma's prized cookie. Who can blame him? I'm only surprised it took 10 years. But I must say, it's proving to be an emotional experience for me.
No one wants to be compared to someone who came before, and yet I can't help it. Every time a plate of cookies makes it's way to the basement I find myself thinking "hmmm, mom's were squishier" or "mom's had more chocolate" or "mom's had a better balance of oatmeal to other goodness." Somewhere along the way, my thinking that the recipe reminded me of Grandma has been confused.
The reality is that it doesn't matter who the recipe comes from. My two favorite people in the world have that in common. My two favorite people took me in the kitchen and shared their love of baking. My two favorite people used the same recipe, in different ways, to show love for others. And my two favorite people would now tell me to eat up, be grateful, and graciously receive the cookie offerings brought my way.
Isn't it interesting that my two favorite people are so completely alike, come from entirely different family lines, and are both famous for the same cookie? I don't know that I'll ever get how that happened. I don't have to get it either, I'll just sit here with chocolate on my lips and be grateful.
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4 comments:
Your mom sounds like a wonderful lady. There aren't too many women who willingly take on their MIL's recipes, knowing there will be endless comparisons. She must have really loved ya'll.
Do you know that she counted the chocolate chips? As she put each cookie on the sheet she would make sure there were enough chips on each cookie; if they weren't enough she added some.
I have enjoyed your last few posts (sorry I haven't been blogging like I should lately) :)... and especially this one.
I like this post. I consider myself a sentimental person and I understand how one item, one scent, or one place can be attributed to one person. Even with other variations mixed in... it'll always be that one person you think of. And you know what? I think that's okay. I think you can have your cookie and eat it too... haha.. It can be your mother's trademark (graciously handed down from her MIL) and still be appreciated when another makes the same cookie in her own way.
You are such a sweet person Michelle... I want to be like you when I grow up. :)
What? You're not going to share the recipe with us? J/K! Thanks for always sharing your thoughts, it makes me feel less of a slacker for not seeing you like I used to. Love ya, Michelle, don't worry about comparing anything! And yes, I get to say this as a stepmom whose kids compare everything, lol.
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