|My beautiful grandma and her tasty cookies|
My grandma isn’t your typical floral housecoat-wearing, quilt-sewing, rolling-pin waving sort of grandma. When she’s not driving herself to Monday morning Tai Chi class, she’s lunching with friends while wearing hip-skimming jeans most likely purchased at Target and, if she’s feeling really spry, red cowboy boots. Even after 89 years, my grandma has style–especially when it comes to shoes. It’s a fetish she and I share, even if she prefers these days to scuttle around in sensible sneakers, her balance not what it once was, she tells me.
The other passion we share, something she has yet to lose and I have yet to master, is her knack for baking chocolate chip cookies. I recall her avocado green stand mixer resting on her kitchen counter. I would watch, mesmerized, as the enchanted bowl seemingly turned on its own while the beater twirled like a dervish inside. At the time, I thought my grandma to be magic incarnate, that she’d cast some sort of kitchen spell. Occasionally she’d jab her wand—okay, her spatula–into the bowl, scraping the cookie dough from the sides and pushing it into the dancer’s path.
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Do you have a favorite food memory of childhood?
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