BAKING COOKIES - S. McFadden 2008
It is a short walk through single lane streets in a small berg in Pennsylvania from my house
to my Gram’s. Today is Christmas cookie baking day! The aromas of vanilla, chocolate,
cinnamon, and sugar wafting out of her small oven flood my brain. My red rubber boots crunch
on cracked, ice covered snow.
I slide up the last block of sidewalk like a knife over sugar icing. I’m dreaming of lard cans
full of sweet, crunchy or soft cookies.
Gram’s kitchen sits on the backside of her old house. The floor boards creak under my feet.
Not a square corner in the place. I’ve heard Mom call it charming. I feel very much at home
here.
Gram is sitting at her kitchen table having a smoke and a cup of black coffee. She rattles her
newspaper as she unfolds it to continue her crossword puzzle. She smiles. I smile.
Winking she says, “Shall we get started?”
Her old fashioned refrigerator is full of cookie dough packed in shiny cold bowls and in
snugly wrapped foil logs. My mouth waters at the various cookie odors. It is just as I had
imagined and remembered on my walk there.
Gram says, “Which one do you want to start with?”
“Sugar cookies, please?”, I reply!
Quickly I unwrap white, stiff cookie dough. Gram pats flour on the top of the enameled,
kitchen table top. I pinch off a hunk of soft dough. Carefully we flatten it with our hands, then
pound it a bit with the side of a heavy, wooden, rolling pin. Gram demonstrates how to roll the
rolling pin back and forth over the dough using a light hand. She stops and allows me to continue
the rolling pin rhythm. Ready for cookie cutters the dough is about one quarter inch thick. I
select an angel cutter to start. There’s something about her wings. I hear them whoosh in flight to
my mouth after the cookie’s are baked. I swoop my angel cutter down into the outer edge of the
dough. It gives way. My cutter makes contact with the table top. I cut again and again through the
dough slab. It reminds me of a puzzle.
Meantime, Gram has preheated the oven and greased cookie sheets. I excitedly peel away the
excess dough from the angel shapes and place them on the cookie sheets. Gram slides them into
the hot oven. While they bake we move onto more dough and Santa shapes. The smell of baked
cookies signal us to remove them from the oven. It only magnifies as Gram opens the door; a
blast of heat washing over our faces. Spatula in hand I move them onto wire racks to cool.
Proudly I think, one batch done!
When all the cookies are baked we’ll ice and decorate them with thick, butter cream icing and
sparkly, rainbow colored sugars. It’s been a hard wait to this point. I know where that first angel
cookie is headed. Straight to my mouth!
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