Baking Spirits Bright!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

 

I am getting ready for my Christmas cookie party in a couple of weeks and frankly, I think it is going to kill me. I have been baking and baking and have decided that it is a real shame that when my grandma passed down her recipes, none of them happened to be easy cookies to make like Chocolate Chip cookies. Leading the pack is one cookie that I hate making above all the others. Proving that I come from a long line of creative thinkers and bakers, these cookies are simply called The Brown Cookies. I have added one word to the title that sums up beautifully what I feel about these cookies and I say it a lot when I am making them.  Don’t worry, my daughters know what name they should be looking for in the recipe box, if after I am gone, anyone is stupid enough to add these cookies to their repertoire.

 

My grandma made these cookies every year at Christmas and kept them in a tin under her bed. When we would visit, she would pull that tin out from under the bed and frost a few for me. I loved those cookies when I was young, but don't much care for them now.  The cookies are made with cardamom and you either love them or hate them. There is no middle ground with these cookies. When I met my husband, my grandma turned him on to these cookies and so, when we first married we made them for a couple of years, but then started our family, got busy, and it seemed the tradition would not continue. Everyone remembers my Grandma’s Brown Cookies, but no one wanted to make them. Years later, I decided to give it another go and when I first mixed them up, the smell of the dough reminded me so much of my grandma, it made me smile.

 

At some point, my uncle had re-worked the recipe and halved it and converted it to easier measurements, but you still have to weigh the molasses and Karo syrup. The original recipe also called for lard and a half recipe still calls for 6 cups of flour. The dough has to be mixed up and kept in a warm place for eight days or longer before the cookies can be rolled out. By the time, you start working with the dough; it is like rolling out tar. Why do I do it, you might ask? Well, this year I told my husband I wasn’t going to make them and he looked so sad and said maybe I could just make half of the recipe. I can probably count on one hand the things my husband has ever asked me to do, and so when he said that, I knew I would be making another batch of my Grandma’s Brown Cookies this year and probably every year to come.

 

Another recipe from my Grandma that she passed down is a cookie called Sand Tarts. All of her recipes and my mom’s recipes are tedious. None of them are just drop with a spoon onto the cookie sheet, but all involve rolling in something or sprinkling on something or both. For years, my mom was the only one left who made the Sand Tarts and my sisters and I fought over them like they were gold and I really believe those cookies had the power to make good people go bad.   One year, when I visited my mom near Christmas, she sent along a tin of Sand Tarts for me to take home to my sister and I think the cookies made it almost to the Ohio line. My sister was not happy when I handed her a perfectly lovely, empty tin and said, “these are for you.”

 

Another year, I was at work when my daughters called to tell me a package had arrived from Grandma and could they open it. I told them, “absolutely not,” and a strict punishment would be doled out in they did. You see, I knew, inside that package were Sand Tarts and there was not a prayer that I would get one if that package got opened before I got home. Later, when I did get home, I told them it had Christmas presents inside and I hid those cookies in the oven. I knew no one would ever look in there and it was only, much later, after ¾ of the cookies were gone that they emerged from their hiding place. After the kids told on me, my mom would send the cookies in individual tins marked by name and taped up with enough tape that it looked like the contents contained some kind of hazardous material. I guess my mom never took into consideration that I owned a sharp scissors and a box cutter and I had already proven that the honor system did not work where those cookies were concerned.

 

The older my mother got, the harder it became to make those Sand Tarts and one of the last years she made them, she was at my house.  Poor mom kept going on and on about how her back was killing her and she didn’t know how much longer she could continue without sitting down and I finally said, “less chatter, woman, more baking please,” and got her a stool. Well, fate stepped in and taught me a lesson and shortly thereafter I was diagnosed with Diabetes. I have always blamed those Sand Tarts. My sisters, and for the purposes of this blog and to conceal their identities, from here on out will be referred to as Anastasia and Drizella, were absolutely devastated when I told them the news and I think the first thing they asked me was, “does this mean you can’t eat Sand Tarts and there will me more for us?” 

 

Well, guess what? Now, I make the Sand Tarts for my mom and I even share with my family and friends.  I also hate to brag, (wink wink) but these cookies are so good, I don't even enter them in contests, because it would not be fair to the other contestants. I feel a little like Rumpelstiltskin must have felt when he got done spinning the straw into gold, after I bake a batch from scratch. Since I have been making them, they do not tempt me in the least.  My mom is always shocked when I tell her they are my give-a-way cookies for the cookie party. So far, my daughters have not shown any interest in baking any of the Christmas cookies that have been passed down from grandma to mother to daughter, but I hope that changes. There is just something about the smell of a familiar cookie that can make us feel better. Meanwhile, I am going to start promising them one extra gift at Christmas if they start making those Brown Cookies for me. Or, better yet, their very own tin of Sand Tarts.

 

 

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Leslie, How funny is that? LOL

[Leslie and Halas]

Laurie, my guy's sister is about 5'11", and she was Marge Simpson for Halloween.  So she was clearing 7' with the giant Marge Simpson wig.  I think she had to duck through doorways.

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Ricki, I figured that out...LOL!

[Ricki and Tara (doodle)]

Oops that was supposed to be BAKING and not BACKING! :(

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Oh dear...I think I just saw an episode of That 70's Show about funny brownies. Don't tell me they got that idea from Oregon. Yes, with heels I am about 6'5".....very attractive and a little frightening. I loved Ricky Nelson, even with a girly name..LOL.

[Ricki and Tara (doodle)]

I hear that the mind gets confused after eating the cookies from the Country Fairs. That might explain it!  I am sure you were joyful backing in your dress and high heels along with Donna Reed, June Cleaver and don't forget Harriet NELSON (Ricky's mommy!) (I always felt badly for Ricky being named a GIRL"S name! Poor thing!)

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Ricki, LOL....I hope the bakers of those cookies did it with as much joy as I did when she was younger. She has her memories mixed up :)

[Ricki and Tara (doodle)]

I hear she buys her cookies at Oregon Country Fairs now! ;)

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Thank you, Lisa! I was probably so busy sacrificing for my DD that I had to put my dream of a Kitchen Aid on hold, until she moved out :)

[Lisa, Daisy & Dexter]

Megan, that's because she didn't have her Kitchen Aid yet!