My daughter, Sloan, is baking today. Last night she sorted through all my mother's old recipes, written by hand on little recipe cards and stored in a large baggie. Even without remembering the cookies themselves, we could tell which ones were her favorites by the condition of the cards. The more stained and crusty, the better!
My mother loved to bake Christmas cookies. For many years I would join her for a full day of baking which seemed to me, the unenthusiastic cook, to be excessive. She couldn't just make three or four different types of cookies, she had to make about a dozen, and carmel corn, and fudge and sometimes peanut brittle.
It is the strongest Christmas memory I have of my mother. Now my daughter, who is an enthusiastic cook, is baking from these same recipes. In this first Christmas season of not having mom with us, I will get to taste her cookies once again. It's one of the best presents Sloan could give me.
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