Chocolate Chip Cookies

Chocolate Chip Cookies

I couldn’t do it.  There was an accident on the highway that blocked two lanes of traffic.  I was already an hour into my drive.  The police were just arriving.  I veered onto the exit ramp.  By that time a steady drizzle commenced.  The exit was also congested.  I lost my resolve to make it home.  Mom sounded relieved, and I blamed it on the accident.  We’ll be fine she said more than twice.  Grandma would have insisted I came home.  

You need to be here; your mother needs you she would say.

I beg to differ, Grandma.  She hasn’t needed me since I decided not to get married.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop wondering if Grandma would side with Mom or if she would still be the same Grandma towards me.  

The longer I sat in the car the fidgeter I became.  Cousin Elizabeth had sent me an email.  Mom said she and her husband came to the hospital immediately after they heard the news.  She and her family live two hours away.  Like the professional homemaker that she is, she came with a picnic basket of chicken noodle soup, cheddar biscuits and carrot cake muffins.  There was no way Dad was allowed to eat any of that, but the rest of the family got to enjoy it.  She wrote that she and her country club friends are lifting Dad up in prayer and that she hoped to see me soon.

Rarely does anyone end up with a perfect life.  Elizabeth was the crowning model of perfection.  Perfect teeth, perfect fingernails, perfect education, perfect husband, perfect house, perfect children, perfect suburban neighborhood.  Her blog prattled about her children’s scholastic achievements (in Kindergarten and 2nd grade) and her new muffin recipes and her school fundraiser involvements.  Morbid curiosity propelled me to read her posts that one time.  Things just seemed too good in Elizabeth’s world.  Coming from a cousin who barely had any involvement in my life, the ‘hoping me to see you soon’ came across more like a jab than a sincere wish.  Why should she care if she saw me?  She’s never been interested before.  

Grandma never pitted her grandchildren one against the other, although she obviously had her preferences.  Grandma came from a large family of six brothers and four sisters.  They grew up on a farm where everyone pitched in and worked hard.  Grandma’s hands were thick and sturdy.  They were nimble at shucking corn, shelling peas, snapping green beans.  They could also be delicate when peeling boiled tomatoes, peaches or plums.  The first cooking lesson she taught me was how to boil and egg.  If the egg has been refrigerated let it get use to the room temperature.  Put it into a pot of water and turn on the heat.  Once the water begins to boil, turn off the heat and leave the egg in the pot for six minutes.  Transfer the egg immediately into an ice bath, then peel it.  You’ll have a delicately boiled egg with a semi-hard yoke.

My favorite cookies are chocolate chip, and Grandma loved chocolate.  The first time we baked together was a Sunday evening.  Mom and Dad were out, and it was just the two of us at the house.  That was when she taught me how to separate the egg yoke from the egg white.  It looked tricky, but she held my hands in hers as we transferred the yoke back and forth from one half of the cracked shell to the other, until we had a perfectly egg white free yolk.  To get a chocolate chip cookie with great texture, and by great texture I mean one that has a crinkled top and a chewy finish, is to only use the egg yolk in the recipe.  I dumped in more chocolate chips than was necessary, and that was when she said: too much of a good thing is not always best.  The chocolate needs room to melt she said.  It needs to share the space with the walnuts and the dough.  That’s what gives the cookie it’s great flavor.  At the time I was thinking, not so Grandma; the chocolate gives the cookie it’s great flavor.  

There was another great memory tied to chocolate chip cookies, but I don’t remember.  Rainier didn’t care for cookies.  

By the time I made it back to the apartment it was after 11 p.m.  I stopped by the nearest grocery store and picked up a bag of chocolate chips and chopped walnuts.  My butt was tired of sitting, but other than that I was wide awake.  I turned on every light and began pulling ingredients from the pantry.  These are for you, Grandma.  I poured water into the coffee maker, filled it with coffee grounds and turned it one.  I left my bag in the trunk.  Somehow I knew the day was soon approaching.

My favorite cookies are chocolate chip, and Grandma loved chocolate.