Our Grammie Hodgdon was a story book grandmother. The kind all children wish they could have. She treated the three of us precisely the same, and at the time made each of us feel as if we were her favorite.
Gram was a wonderful cook, and our favorites were always ready and waiting even if we just dropped by. She made the most delicious molasses cookies, and again, made sure that each of us had them cooked exactly the way we wanted. The thin and crispy ones, my favorite, were in the big, ceramic pig cookie jar with the big red bow around his neck, while some were kept soft and chewy in the yellow, enameled soup kettle by keeping a slice of bread on the top. As a matter of fact, I don’t ever remember going to Grammie’s when there were not homemade cookies of one kind or another in those containers. We loved to sit and watch while she tied one of her many handmade aprons around her waist, pulled out the pastry board that was built in just above the silverware drawer and started to cook. She measured, stirred, rolled and cut those cookies while never too busy to let little hands help even when it made a mess or took double the time. We anxiously waited our first taste of the dough before we put them on the pan and into the oven. Finally delicious spicy, sweet aromas surrounded us. We ate the cookies right from the oven.
Sometimes, she used the same recipe to make her “filled” cookies. Each of these used two cookies - molasses or sugar which she filled with a thick, rich, sweet cooked mixture made with either raisins or dates. I loved the date, but not the raisin. However, it was still worth the effort to nibble to get every single bit of the cookies without touching the filling. Cookies were not the only delicious things our Grammie made, but they might well have been our favorite.
