When I close my eyes, I can remember what it was like to smell those crisp, powdered sugar cookies. I must try not to salivate while explaining this childhood treasure. Tears flow down my cheeks as I type this because I realize that I will never get to taste those special Czech cookies again. But for now, I would like to go back to that moment…
Me: “Baba, can we make cookies now?”
My grandmother: “Let me make sure we have everything Misa and then,…Yes we can start to make cookies.”
Me “Baba, how come you have to put so many things into the bowl to make a cookie?”
My grandmother: “Well, every ingredient is necessary to make the cookie taste the way you like.”
All the ingredients were carefully poured into the mixing bowl by Baba and I was there determined to help her as best I could. I was not old enough to crack the eggs, but I was given the opportunity to roll the dough and poke holes in the cookie balls. I took my position very seriously and I even refrained from eating the cookie dough (my willpower has diminished over the years). Baba had an old a scale in which she carefully would weigh each ingredient. Every Christmas the scale came out for the first time, I felt like a dog hearing kibbles of food being poured into her dog dish and I would immediately ask if I could help her make the special Czech cookies.
I miss Baba and I enjoy remembering our precious baking time together.