My daughter has a friend – possibly the nicest, sweetest person you could hope your daughter would be friends with – who, years ago, would offer to cookie-taste whenever she came to our house. To be honest, I was not baking much back then, though I sometimes had a small batch of chocolate chip cookies or the occasional pan of brownies. 

But she spurred a ritual for me. I started baking more so that, whenever she was coming over, I would have something there for her to try. Peanut Butter Blossoms. Buckeyes. Shortbread. Oatmeal Scotchies. Fast Fixin' Cake. Nothing outrageous but her interest made me want to try.

My daughter got into it and would start telling me as soon as she knew that her friend was stopping by so that I could make something. I also started freezing cookies for her and would give my daughter treats to take to the friend's house. (Last weekend it was Nonna's Cookies with citrus glaze and a batch of vanilla meringue cookies.)

At some point, I realized that I wasn't just doing it for this wonderful friend. I was baking again for my community, sharing treats with the next door neighbor, taking treats to our friends at the local diner. 

Maybe Ken's illness is to blame. He stopped liking food and sometimes even hated the smell of food which drove me to be more of a cooking minimalist. I'd make whatever sounded good to him, no matter how weird. And often the rest of us would make do with sandwiches or a bowl of cereal for dinner.

Jello? He got it, in every flavor. Sliced avocados with hummus. I'd go to the store and buy out the hummus flavors he liked. Some weird dish a friend at work mentioned. I made that, too. Most of the time he'd take a few bites and then reject it. It was frustrating to see him struggle and watch his weight drop. I collaborated with the oncology staff to find foods that would taste okay. We tried every nutrition shake on the market. I made smoothies, milkshakes, puddings, anything and everything.

But that didn't leave a lot of emotional energy or time for creative meals for the rest of us and so, gradually, I stopped baking, except for holidays. Even then, we didn't have any celebrations or real togetherness because he was just too sick. And frankly, when you're watching someone dying, it's hard to live.

And here's where I type the pithy lesson. But I don't really have one. Gradually, with Haley's and her friend's encouragement I've regained my enthusiasm for baking. I've tried so many new recipes – some complete failures, some in regular rotation now. And even though I'm struggling to like gluten free flour, I tried a new recipe today that I think might be fantastic gluten free. 

Yesterday, I picked up my mom's 1950s Good Housekeeping cookbook and looked for cookie recipes specifically with her handwritten notes in the margins. When I touch those margin notes, knowing that she wrote them for herself, probably long before I was born, I feel that continuity, that connectedness, like handing down the family recipe to the next generation as you stand in the kitchen, teaching them how to make it. 

So, anyway, I owe more than a cookie's debt of gratitude to Haley and her friend. Maybe I would have picked the baking back up again at some point but Haley's friend encouraged me, probably without knowing it. And my daughter embraced my weird enthusiasm, as I started pushing cookies into the hands of every individual who visited our house.

Haley's friend reads this blog sometimes  … Yes, darling girl, it's you. Duh. … so, thank you. 

Next time, I'll share some cookie recipes. Today's baking exploration was Corn Cookies which I saw in a cooking TikTok from @bdylanhollis. It ended up being a lovely cookie and I'm going to try making it gluten free. But first Haley's friend has to try it.

Much love.

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