When I was a kindergartner, bus kids teasingly called me, "Wendy the Witch," in reference to Casper the Friendly Ghost's sidekick. The red-caped, wand-waving gal was of the good and friendly sort. Her knack for magic-making came in handy during their cartoon adventures.
I'd forgotten about that nickname until this week when I began my own magical adventure, attempting to resurrect my Granny T's Molasses Cookies from a more-than-a-century-old tradition.
What enabled this experiment was my recent procurement of a key component from a neighbor. First, I learned to process this component into very special sort of butter. The 20-cup yield inspired me to use one cup toward the cookie recipe.
What bewildered me about the project's timing was how I woke that morning with my voice having been transformed into a raspy hoarseness - very similar to Granny T's at her life's end. Call it: In-tu-WITCH-in???
I pulled out Granny T's long, white cookie-storage box. It held her glass measuring cup which I used to level out portions of molasses and sugar. I added an egg, melted and stirred in the special butter. Next, I took one cup of flour and mixed in soda, salt, cinnamon and ginger. I sifted this dry-ingredient mixture into the batter, alternating with splashes of sour milk. Then I added just enough flour to gain a consistency that could be handled.
I patted a handful of dough into a 1/4-inch-thick circle and used a tumbler, 4-inches diameter, to cut the cookie on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. (Sorry, Granny! No excess flour on these cookie bottoms.) Finally, I sprinkled sugar on each of the seven cookies that fit on the pan.
As prescribed, I'd preheated the oven to 325°F. Now Granny T claimed her oven baked these cookies in eight minutes. But I discovered 15 minutes as the perfect time to gain a spring-back effect with the finger-tip test.
More than a decade had passed since I last tasted one of Granny T's Molasses Cookies. Who could resist a fresh one from the oven? Not I! But, I should have. Ugh!
The pasty taste caused me to phone my mother - Granny T's daughter-in-law - who'd initiated this cookie-resurrection attempt one year ago and failed. I explained my process this far and Mom provided the final enlightenment to Granny's methods.
"I remember she always set her cookies out on a dish towel on the counter overnight," Mom said. "Then she would put them in that Tupperware container and share them to eat."
Ah-ha!
The aging process allowed all the ingredients to seep together into an unforgettable taste -
one that came rushing back to me the following afternoon when I performed the day-old taste taste.
Here in this cookie shape, I'd recaptured not only the flaky flavor of gingerbread from years past but also many memories:
Moments sitting by Granny's dining-room table breaking the cookie in parts and dunking it in a tiny, blue-plastic cup filled with a splash of coffee, topped with milk and sweetened with a spoonful of sugar; Time stolen from lawn mowing by sneaking into Granny's house, lifting the long white lid, grabbing a cookie and rushing out the back door to fill my grumbling tummy with satisfying goodness.
"Hunny! Where are you?" Granny would come looking for her absent grandchild sitting behind the peony bushes and find her with brown crumbs around her mouth's corners. Granny would smile knowingly. "Why are you out here? How 'bout a glass of lemonade to wash down the crumbs?"
Having taken
that first bite,
I called
my mother
and hoarsely
announced:
"We've unlocked the secret!
I hold in my hand a true
Granny T Molasses Cookie!"
Now, I wonder: "How long will Granny's raspy voice linger with me?"
Sharing the magic here Along Life's Road with Wendy the (Good Little) Witch!
