Oatmeal cookies are one of God's greatest gifts to mankind, and kidkind. I'm not talking about just any oatmeal cookies, but the homemade kind from my childhood. They are big and brown and full of raisins and walnuts. The whole neighborhood came around when Mom made oatmeal cookies. In our old age, they are still remembered.
I've made the cookies in the years between then and now, but it was brought to my attention yesterday that I have failed to teach my youngest offspring the secrets of making them successfully. There goes Mother of the Year right out the window - again.
When I got married 40 years ago, at the tender age of 18, cookies were the only thing I knew how to make. I figured that between my mom's oatmeal cookies and his mom's sugar cookies, the major food groups were covered. Can you see that my 40 year old recipe has been rode hard and put away wet? I can still read it just fine.
I went through the routine of mixing and sifting and measuring with daughter and her children. The dough tasted just right, so I knew we were in good shape. We used to only cook about half the dough, because we (six of us or more) ate the rest raw. Mmmmmm.
Did I tell you they smell wonderful, even before they are cooked? They do. After they are cooked, there is no smell that can compare, unless it is a new baby's little noggin, but that's not part of this story.
This, my dears, is a vision from my childhood. This is heaven on earth. This is oatmeal cookies.
It is a good thing we have lots of people in this family to help eat these, because if we didn't, I'd be obliged to eat them myself. Today.