3/4 boiling water with 4 tsp of baking soda
Every Christmas, when my Grandmother was alive, we'd bake Molasses cookies for Santa.
That of course stopped when she passed away on Halloween of '97.
No one really wanted to bake cookies with me.
On top of that, due to a poorly hidden Christmas present, and the lack of....I guess what can only be described as "Christmas Magic", that was also the Christmas where I came to the conclusion that Santa was not real, and was most likely instead my Grandmother.
Even if she was alive that year, and had I figured it out eventually anyways, I wouldn't have minded so much because I had actually convinced myself that Mama (my grandmother), had to be a close friend of Santa's, and was letting him into my Grandparent's house.
So I guess, in a way, when she died so did Santa.
Anyways, back to the cookies.
I haven't really made them since she passed away.
I am now in the process of cooking up a batch, as a Christmas present for someone.
Not gonna lie, it's made me choke up and get teary eyed twice already.
It's really weird being at home, using my ingredients and not hers. There's no flowery cheesecloth, not a wooden rolling pin....it wasn't her mixer, her oven, her cookies cutters...
The only thing about it that is hers is the recipe. I guess in the end, some would say that's all that would matter. But you know, it makes a difference, I think.
The cookies are coming out just fine, and even though I didn't have enough ginger they still taste good.
I just feel disappointed because they don't feel like HER cookies. I know I can never repeat that (third time), but...you know.
There's a lot of things about her that I really miss.
I still find myself waking up at 6 am, because I thought I heard her open my door to wake me up.
I still remember the smell of her makeup, watching her munch on toast, curling her hair, and putting on lipstick. The tiniest of things, her everyday habits. Her smile, her quiet laugh. Never yelling. No matter how mad she got, she would just sigh and resolve whatever the issue was, she would never raise her voice, she would never yell.
Some people think that losing a Grandparent is nothing to get sad about years later.
To hell with those people, she meant the world to me and I never got to tell her beacause I was too young.
That of course stopped when she passed away on Halloween of '97.
No one really wanted to bake cookies with me.
On top of that, due to a poorly hidden Christmas present, and the lack of....I guess what can only be described as "Christmas Magic", that was also the Christmas where I came to the conclusion that Santa was not real, and was most likely instead my Grandmother.
Even if she was alive that year, and had I figured it out eventually anyways, I wouldn't have minded so much because I had actually convinced myself that Mama (my grandmother), had to be a close friend of Santa's, and was letting him into my Grandparent's house.
So I guess, in a way, when she died so did Santa.
Anyways, back to the cookies.
I haven't really made them since she passed away.
I am now in the process of cooking up a batch, as a Christmas present for someone.
Not gonna lie, it's made me choke up and get teary eyed twice already.
It's really weird being at home, using my ingredients and not hers. There's no flowery cheesecloth, not a wooden rolling pin....it wasn't her mixer, her oven, her cookies cutters...
The only thing about it that is hers is the recipe. I guess in the end, some would say that's all that would matter. But you know, it makes a difference, I think.
The cookies are coming out just fine, and even though I didn't have enough ginger they still taste good.
I just feel disappointed because they don't feel like HER cookies. I know I can never repeat that (third time), but...you know.
There's a lot of things about her that I really miss.
I still find myself waking up at 6 am, because I thought I heard her open my door to wake me up.
I still remember the smell of her makeup, watching her munch on toast, curling her hair, and putting on lipstick. The tiniest of things, her everyday habits. Her smile, her quiet laugh. Never yelling. No matter how mad she got, she would just sigh and resolve whatever the issue was, she would never raise her voice, she would never yell.
Some people think that losing a Grandparent is nothing to get sad about years later.
To hell with those people, she meant the world to me and I never got to tell her beacause I was too young.