Recently, a very special gift was given to me. "the cooky book" that belonged to my grandmother, who passed away years ago. Many pages have yellowed and the spiral bound pages are completely detached from its cover. But this is the book that grandma kept on a little white bookshelf, just inside the kitchen door. It's the book she would ask me to retrieve and we would use for making special treats during the many afternoons I spent there. In fact, the book still naturally falls open to my favorite, snickerdoodles. And something I never noticed as a child but treasure as an adult are her handwritten notes, filling the inside cover and many margins. Her perfectly formed, beautiful pennmanship records favorite recipes from friends or even her own mother and comments like "this is the one" and "double this". She was such an amazing lady and I can't even describe what this old and worn out book means to me.
I spent today doing some holiday baking, with some occasional "help" from the girls. ("What my job mom?" says the little girl who loves to help, especially when chocolate is involved). I used a few familiar recipes, the tried and true favorites I know neighbors will enjoy. And having invited grandma to join me, she taught me the family fudge recipe plus a few other favorites. And after pouring through "the cooky book" and reading her notes, I even made one I've never tasted before but apparently is a favorite of my dad. (shh, its a surprise).
My counters are full of tasty treats, to be finished and delivered tomorrow. And I am one happy girl.
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