I love sweets, but cookies are my weakness. The aroma, the texture, the taste. And a world of choices: bar, drop, filled, molded, rolled, sandwich. If there were no repercussions, I’d probably enjoy a handful every day.
My love of cookies started young, but not with the misshapen, slightly burned rejects from my mom’s December bake-a-thons for holiday giving. It blossomed with the boxes of ginger snaps my grandparents would bring, just for me, during their oft impromptu Sunday afternoon visits.
My cookie cravings have gotten a bit haughty since then. I now prefer my cookies fresh baked and homemade or from a really great bakery (as I nibble a ginger snap from a box).
I’ve been blessed, or maybe cursed, with a few fantastically talented baker friends who have introduced me to cookies I’d never known: John and his pistachio cranberry biscotti; Betsey and her twisted macaroons; and Lisa and her hamantaschen.
These triangular filled pastry cookies are served during the Jewish holiday of Purim to deliciously commemorate the deliverance of the Jews from the evil Haman.
I was taking a bit of a break from baked goods last week and vowing to stick to the rolls and cinnamon bread on my list when these beauties nearly jumped out of the display case at me: traditional poppy seed and eight or nine other innovative varieties. Oh. My. Goodness.
I must have one. I’ll break the fast I had going. Just one. Maybe two.
Instead I took four – to share with my husband and daughter. Or so I thought.
That 10 minute car ride was just too much.