Entering a virtual cookie-making contest called Tasty Tidings inspired this trek down memory lane, and I'm sharing here as submitted. I wish you all could taste these gems! Happy holidays!
--------
Choosing what kind of cookies to make for this competition was simple. I knew right away that my entry would be an homage to the late Jean Carter Cannon. Jean had a razor-sharp wit and loved to laugh, she slayed on the golf course and at the Bridge table, she was tall and gorgeous, resilient AF, frequently and for no apparent reason broke out in song (show tunes, Bible hymns, nursery rhymes, what have you), and delighted her grandchildren (the youngest one being me) by screech-hollering “Judas Priest!!” whenever she was startled, appalled, excited, or generally awash with the absurdity of life (kind of the modern day “what in the actual f*#%”). Grandma excelled at many things. What she was not good at? Cooking. She hated it, but as a 1940’s housewife, she dutifully tied on her apron (her Vassar class of ’34 apron, just to make that point clear) and followed her recipes, mastering a handful that she considered a good enough offering, thereby fulfilling her culinary responsibilities while affording her as little time in the kitchen as possible, and more time with a glass of bourbon and a crossword puzzle.
 |
| Jean Carter Cannon back in the day |
For this competition, I found one of her old recipe tins for reference, filled with tattered index cards, each one carefully typed or written in nearly illegible cursive. I thumbed through each card – some stained with butter and others with what I imagine/hope to be steak juice. There were two resounding themes; “Cream of _______ Soup” (fill in the blank with literally anything), and some variation of meringue. Side note: should the Tasty Tidings theme be soup next year, I am going to bring it hard. She loved meringue – cakes, cookies, lemon, coffee, chocolate… her recipes were a menagerie of meringue. It was clear, then, that I’d make her meringue cookies – the ones she often made for church bake sales – and which I remembered as light, crunchy, melt-in-your-mouth delicious.
Yet in the Tasty Tidings spirit, I also wanted to try my hand at Grandma Jean’s Oatmeal Lace cookies. I remember less clearly how these cookies tasted, likely because she made them every Christmas just for my Uncle John. A big, round tin, loaded with thin, delicate and sweet goodness was under the tree every year for him, and he would cradle the tin lovingly and slap any hand away that reached for a singular crumb. The recipe originally came from Grandma’s older sister, my great Aunt Dot, and its first iteration contained copious amounts of lard. Beyond the lard, though, the recipe seems to have been lost - no typed index card nor scrawled cursive. Alas, it is the family recipe that got away, the one we will wonder about, attempt to recreate, and ultimately turn defeatedly to Google search for. But, wait, dear Judge, don’t despair – my tasters agreed Google came through, and my memories of Grandma’s holiday tin loaded with lard-laced oats is with me even more this Christmas season (could it be the decades-old steak juice lingering on index cards is working some extra holiday magic?).
Now that you have the backstory (don’t you wish you could click “jump to recipe”?), here’s the low down on the Jean Carter Cannon cookie recreation:
Meringue Cookies
Challenges: This recipe requires beating egg whites until they form “stiff peaks.” It is my belief that stiff peaks is a very subjective term. How does one know exactly when stiff peaks have formed? Upon taking my first batch out of the oven, I realized for certain that I was not born with the “stiff peaks awareness” Jean (oh, I mean, gene). My meringue cookies were flat and sad. Attempt number two was met with a bitter determination to overcome my missing gene disability and turn those egg whites into stiff peaks that would put Julia Childs to shame. I watched carefully as the clear, mucous-y liquid became lighter, fluffier, whiter. I asked myself – now? Is it time? Are those stiff peaks? Patience, I answered, not yet. And, then…perhaps it was the fossilized steak juice talking…but suddenly I knew. The way one knows. Stiff peaks had been formed. Powdered sugar was folded in, a teaspoon of vanilla was added, and little light bits of white air were gently placed on a cookie sheet. 1.5 hours later, the lightest mounds of meringue emerged from the oven- Judas Priest!! Success!
Reviews: “Like eating a cloud.” “It melts in your mouth- you don’t even have to chew these cookies.” “Heavenly.” “Ethereal.” “Like a unicorn softly whispered to me the moment my lips met this exquisite cookie.” “Like cotton candy in cookie form.” It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t include less-rave reviews, plus I want to brag about my 16 year old for a moment. This is exactly what he said: “I don’t know, there’s something about it. I like a cookie with a chewy center. I prefer a more nuanced texture.” Seriously. Verbatim. I hope he incorporates that quote into his college applications in a couple years, because hello Harvard!
Oatmeal Lace Cookies
Recipe Description/Noteworthy mentions: You are now aware of the tragic lost recipe story. I also wanted to make these gluten free, so I chose a recipe with as little flour as possible (3 tablespoons) for which I subbed in GF flour. That way, I could fully take part in the tasting and fill myself with sugary goodness. And, at the risk of causing my Great Aunt Dot to cringe in her grave, I replaced lard with butter. Hey, had she passed down the “stiff peaks” gene, perhaps I would be more compliant with my ancestors’ baking creations.
Challenges: Okay, this one is embarrassing. Keeping with the “simple” theme, this recipe had only 6 ingredients: brown sugar, oats, GF flour, an egg, vanilla and butter. Yet in my haste, I read “1 cup of butter” and blissfully added 1 stick of butter. Which, as you know, dear Judge, is half the amount of butter called for. So the first batch came out of the oven as little mounds of oats (oat turds, one might say. It’s me, I said it), not the flat, “lacey” cookie I was expecting. I realized my grave error and melted the last bit of butter I had (about half a stick) into the remaining dough, crossing my fingers and calling upon my lard-loving ancestors for good luck as I placed the last cookie sheet in the oven. 7 minutes later…Judas Priest again! Could it be? I pulled out a sheet of crispy-edged, wafer-thin beauties, that smelled like burned caramel and hope.
Reviews: “Yum, caramel!! Or is it toffee…?” “Delicious, crunchy and light but so tasty.” “A light taste of molasses that melts in your mouth.” “These are MINE!” *slaps hand away* (that’s my imagined review from my Uncle John). And, from my 16 year old, “I like this one better. Really good. Tastes less like chalk.” Dammit, dreams of Harvard were as fleeting as a mouthful of meringue.
