Granny T's Molasses Cookies

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!

The ONE Thing

It's easy to say: "Be good at ONE thing, and let go of the rest." But quite another task to implement that philosophy. As household coordinators, moms especially suffer this plight. Allow me to elaborate:

"Ah - Wendy. The checkbook is overdrawn!" 

"Mom! I need pit stick - can you find the 

green Twist-Up kind?" 

"Lip balm! Mine are sore and cracked!" 

"Game in Hackensack Saturday. Just scheduled." 

"You put my sweatshirt in the dryer, didn't you? It shrunk. Can you get me a new one?"

Yes! Those "Oh, crap!" moments to which this mom rides the wave and replies: 

"I've done the research and found the bank is still taking out $227.47 each month for a car loan that's been paid off since July. Now do you see why I was hesitant about an automatic with-drawl loan? I'll handle it..."

"Sure, I'll spend 10 minutes in the hygiene aisle ruling out the new Twist-Up body spray, gel and roll-on (all in deodorant form) until I finally locate the solid antiperspirant!"

"Ah, you lost the three lip balms I bought you last winter? Well... the local market carries a beeswax kind with the school logo on it for $2. What? You don't have two bucks? Well... I'll see what I can do when I run in to mail the seven bills I have to send out."

"Flag football THIS Saturday morning in a town an hour away?! That's NOT happenin'! Dad signed up the WHOLE family to work at the church Scandinavian supper all day!"

"Sweatshirt? Yes... I suppose I did put it in the dryer. Sorry. I only do five laundry loads a day, and with five people, it's hard to remember who's what gets dried and who's gets hung up. You'll have to hang on with the replacement, I just spent $30 getting you non-fishing-logo T-shirts last week to stop your friends' teasing."

Sigh... One might say: I've suffered plenty when it comes to being good at ONE thing. In fact, those T-shirts I mentioned are ones I - just now - pulled out of the DRYER. I can hardly wait until Aaron gets home so I can say, "Sorry, honey. I shrunk your clothes again!"


If there's ONE Thing these lessons are teaching me, it's FORGIVENESS - of myself, my family and others!


Today I fully forgive my own mother for an "oops" moment that until this very moment I never understood. She washed, dried and shrunk the off-white virgin-wool v-neck sweater which I'd chosen after winning a gift certificate from a clothing store that offered the prize to the county 4-H member with the best conservation records. I wore the $30 sweater - maybe twice - before it became felted to toddler size. 

I got over the loss but couldn't fathom why someone would stick a wool sweater in the dryer. Today,
I GET IT! (I'm constantly shrinking my kids' clothes.) We are all human and make mistakes.

My own mother suffered from multi-tasking for a family with four active children. Well...
Dan and I have just three! 

I am hopeful. 


Today I understand The ONE Thing I can work to be good at is FORGIVENESS, something that - by its very nature -
requires LETTING GO!

The Sorting

Saturday we sorted roads, restaurants, activities, words and ways.
Today we sort memories to hold until we meet again.

Our Norway Bound Tour 2008 ladies met up in Fargo with our Eidskog guide who was on a two-week bus tour from Minneapolis across South Dakota to the Black Hills, out to Montana's Yellowstone Park, and returned through North Dakota via Minot's Høstfest, Fargo-Moorhead, Watertown S.D. and back to Minneapolis to fly out today.




This photo shows Sverre lunching with five women at Fargo's Ruby Tuesday's where his fellow Norwegian tourist was lunching with his own party. After taking our group photo, he told Sverre, "See you back in Norway," to hint that we just might kidnap him.

Following lunch,
we drove to

the Dakota
Carriage
Company

for
a
horse-dawn
ride

to
the

pumpkin
patch.

I choose one larger than a basketball to fit the specifications of my fourth-grader. Noah will use the pumpkin for a class assignment on weighing, counting seeds, graphing and decoratively carving a jack-o-lantern. Sverre played along picking his own pumpkin. Too heavy to haul home to Norway, he generously loaded his beast into my car's trunk for our family carving party.

Next,

our
group

headed
into

the
corn
field

for
a
hike

through
the

corn
maze

and
back

to
the spider's

pumpkin
patch

to
load

onto
the

horse-drawn
wagon

for
a
lift

back
to

the
farm

where we shared
Norwegian MILK
chocolate bars

-thanks to Sverre-

and drank
hot cocoa.

We drove Sverre
back to his hotel,

parted ways
and headed home.

Half-way through my trek, I stopped by a lakeside to rest. During the commute from the hotel to the farm and back, Sverre had let loose a load of ideas. The combination of navigating unfamiliar roads and communicating in Norwegian had taken its toll. I used a half hour to sort thoughts.

One stood out. As a retired education professional, Sverre explained he recently returned to the classroom to teach - very part-time - one English course to an upper-elementary class. "Back on the stage!" he smiled, clearly enjoying his choice.

He stressed how we all are responsible for our own choices. And even more than teaching his students their subject matter, he hoped to help them understand how to sort out what is important and to let go of the rest.

Hmmm... Let The Sorting begin!

It's Here!

Autumn

has

arrived

in

its

full

color

glory!