Slice of Life: #52 Stories, 1/52: The Roots of my Obsession

I'm attempting to write 52 stories from my life during the year 2020. One story a week, in no particular order, to remember and document some of the memories of my life. 

If you know me, then you must know of my cookie obsession. If I stop at a bakery, I'm eying the cookies. If it's my birthday, I prefer cookies over cake (though it is tough to put candles in a cookie). If it's December, then you'll find me in the kitchen baking cookies to share with friends and family. Actually, I share cookies year round, but December finds me with several tins of cookies in the freezer ready for whoever needs or wants a cookie or two.

This particular obsession had its roots in 4-H. I was one of those small town kids who participated in 4-H. We met in the courthouse on the 3rd floor.

One of the first things we did was learn to sew. Two sewing projects I remember? A scarf that wasn't even sewn, it was merely a piece of fabric fringed on four sides by pulling out threads and a wrist pincushion made of felt, with a piece of cardboard inserted before we stuffed it with cotton. A piece of elastic secured it to the wrist, with pins at the ready for the budding seamstress. All the sewing for this project was done by hand. Was it the beginning of a long career of sewing? Nope, I never made it to the 4-H runway in a stunning handmade dress. With a mom who worked in a fabric store and two older sisters who were accomplished seamstresses, I could always find someone else to sew for me. 

Sewing was not to be my chosen hobby, but 4-H did lead me to a favorite hobby, baking. I remember fondly the cooking demonstrations by our local county extension agent which we willingly devoured at the end of the 4-H meetings. So it should come as no surprise that in third grade, Kay Benham and I decided on our demonstration project - How to Make Chocolate Chip Cookies. 

We practiced often, or as often as our moms would allow us. We copied the recipe on a poster so we could refer to it during the demonstration, we measured the ingredients ahead of time and  arranged them in containers on the cookie sheet. We showed how to make perfect drop cookies with a spoon and a knife, no fancy cookie scoops were in use at our houses. This was the 60s and you made do with what you had. We even included a wet washcloth for wiping the cookie sheet or table in case of spills. 

We were prepared. We had practiced. We rocked the demonstration. So why were our mothers quietly chuckling as we returned to our seats? They had both noticed that the cloth we used to wipe down our cookie sheet was the same one we had used to wipe down the table at the beginning of our demonstration after another member's dog demonstration. In spite of this hygienic blunder, we took home a blue ribbon! And I took home an obsession for baking cookies that continues to this day.

Slice of Life: Kitchen Memories

Today I join my fellow bloggers in "serving up a slice" 

to the Tuesday Slice of Life (SOL) community.

Thanks to Stacey, Betsy, Beth, Kathleen, Deb, Melanie, and Lanny

 for hosting this meeting place each Tuesday and nurturing our writing lives.

Sears Cooky Press box
Memories fill my kitchen
As Spritz cookies bake

Decked in reindeer red

Our musician in training,

Jack, shakes jingle bells

The Sears cooky press box in the picture is the original box of my mother's cooky press (more than 50 years old). And inside the box is the Spritz recipe from my mother's Betty Crocker cookbook. My sister has the cookbook, but I convinced her that this page (loose, like many in the cookbook) belonged with the cookie press. Each year when I open the box and pull out the recipe for holiday baking, I feel the presence of those whose hands have touched this press and those whose fingers followed the lines of this recipe.

My daughter and I enjoy baking together.  The cookies go into the freezer in holiday tins ready for assembling into trays and plates to share with friends.  This year the addition of a certain young man sweetened our time together.  Sara let him have his first bite of cookie, a buttery Spritz cookie made from great-grandma's cooky press.