Community Greens

People of all colors discussing evergreen ideas.

An Angel in an Apron

I remember being hungry on occasion as a child. I was hungry, not starving or food insecure. Hungry, not having enough to eat and feeling I needed something else. I can’t recall ever missing a meal as a child but sometimes we had very meager servings. I often eat like that now and call it a “diet”.

I complained to my grandmother once (okay, more than once) about being hungry. There was nothing but a lot of electric light in the refrigerator. Grandma said, “ Baby, go wash your hands”, and when I came out of the bathroom she was drying her hands on the white-with-cornflower-blue-flowers apron I had picked for her Christmas present a few years earlier.

She didn’t look in the ‘fridge. She knew what wasn’t there. She had a sparkle in her smile when she asked me if I would like to make cookies. She asked me to get her mixing bowl, measuring cups, spoons, sifter and egg beater which I did as quickly and dutifully as a kid can. She then made a Santa Claus type glance around the kitchen and asked me to get this canister and that and before you knew it there on the table was an assemblage of tools and ingredients.

She had me measure and mix the dry ingredients in the bowl and the wet ingredients went into a measuring cup. I made a hollow in the dry and dumped in the wet and with several beats of a wooden spoon there was this wonderful batter that promised to be cookies. She asked me to get the cookie sheets as she checked the temperature of the oven on a thermometer that resembled a small clock. She had me grease the sheets and sprinkle them with flour and with a tablespoon and sticky fingers drop cookie goodness on them at soldier-like intervals.

Cookies only take a moment to make, but to a kid watching the clock, it seems like forever. “When the big hand gets to 3, in about 15 minutes, we can take them out,” she said. It seems Grandma also taught me to tell time. When ready, with oven mitts to big for me, I removed the sheets, careful not to burn myself, waited for a few of the longest minutes ever and used a spatula to gently lift the still hot morsels onto a platter.

I ate at least two more cookies than I should. I wasn’t hungry any more. I was happy. My grandmother was an angel in an apron who taught me the meaning of cooking and was called to glory when I was 10 years old.

This Whole Wheat Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe reminds me of Grandma, especially the melt in your mouth puddles of chocolate. It has the warmth of her smile, the touch of her hands and the twinkle of her eyes. My granddaughter and I made these on Christmas Eve. I see lots of my grandmother in my granddaughter.

Have you got a memory of cooking with your grandmother, granddaughter or an oatmeal cookie recipe you want to share? Send it along!


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One Response

  1. […] I don’t know how I began but she needed help and I was always ready to do anything for my Angel in an Apron. She was always hobbling around the kitchen making all sorts of wonderful this and that’s. I […]


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