Thanks to Cheryl Doyle-Ruffing for this heart-touching and entertaining story!
Mom had a little, yellow, recipe book published by Pillsbury. It was chock-a-block with cookie recipes. The recipes for the all-time greatest sugar cookies were on page 30. Page 31 contained a recipe (with a picture!) of Circle-O-Rangers. Mom made these a few times, but more than anything, the picture of those cookies encircling a bowl of applesauce(?) with a cinnamon stick in the center is forever etched in my mind. I dug out that little, yellow, recipe book the other day, thinking we’d mix some sugar cookie dough, cut it into Christmas shapes, and hope that our Better Batter Gluten-free Flour would work as well as the real stuff Mom used. When I saw the picture of those Circle-O-Rangers, though, I knew the sugar cookies could wait. My kids needed to share the memory of those bow-legged, little men with me.
I started the process of mixing up the dough with Jack. When his interest waned, and Stella decided she needed to be in my arms, I abdicated the role of pastry chef to Luke/Henry/Bridget. Luke humored me and shaped the cookies the way they were supposed to be shaped. Bridget and Henry (and Sam, too) got more creative, with gingerbread men and women, stars, etc. Henry, of course, made spacemen. The kids loved their creations when they emerged from the oven, and Luke saved his specially shaped, circle-o-ranger cookie for me.
It wasn’t very good. It contained molasses, but all I could taste was the ginger. I’m not a fan of ginger.
Today, Henry pestered me about making more cookies with the cutters they rarely saw, and even more seldom used. “Sure, Henry, you can make cookies, but today they’re going to be Nana’s molasses cookies. Those really are delicious. They’re soft and taste like molasses and are especially good when slathered with butter and paired with a cup of tea — just like Grampy used to do it.”
I found the recipe, helped Henry decipher it, cajoled him into letting Sam and Jack help, cracked the eggs, and put the dough in the refrigerator to harden. Henry had taken care of the rest. For the next two hours, we ate homemade potato chips and chicken sandwiches for lunch, I read two more chapters of Anne of Avonlea to Luke and Bridget (finally, Mom!), and then it was time.
When I took the dough from the chiller and stuck in a spatula, I knew something was wrong. It was more like batter. Rats! I reviewed the recipe and realized we had shortchanged things by a cup of flour. “It’s okay, Henry,” I reassured him. “We’ll add more flour and make it work.” And it did!
I cut out the first round of cookies, using a large circle cutter like Mom always did. Then, I turned Luke and Henry loose. They cut out hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades, along with a Christmas tree or two. I put on the tea kettle.
When it whistled, I made a cup of tea, took two, warm, gorgeously puffy, round cookies from the pan, buttered one, then sat down to enjoy my snack while I entertained Stella with a lift-the-flap book.
The first bite was nearly perfect. The tea tasted better than on most days. I finished off cookie number one and lifted the second, buttered one to my lips. It was perfect. Mmmmm. A sigh of contentment escaped my lips, and I told Stella I wished I could give her a bite. I know she wanted one. She’ll have to wait at least a few months to learn this lesson, though.
Luke, Bridget, Henry, Sam, and Jack, on the other hand, became privy to the secret today: memories taste like molasses.
