Memere's Kitchen

I didn't name myself cookieMOMster for nothing.  I have been in a funk lately.  Writers call it writers block, I call it unable to think.  I have not been able to create a piece for my blog.  But today this hit me as I chewed my third, actually, most likely my fifth Chips Ahoy cookie.

The pure delight of reaching into that bright blue package.  Hearing the crinkle of the bag.  Grabbing the cookie, then biting off a piece.  The hard crunchy bite mixed in with the sweet taste of chocolate from those cute little chips brought me back to Memere's kitchen.

Every time I went over to visit her and Pep I knew I could reach in to the cookie jar and there would be a bunch of the round yummy cookies.  I always was taught to ask first, say please and thank you and not to be a pig.  The first three were easy.  But I'd always try to get more, sometime reaching in when Mem was in the living room while Pepere was outside.

It wasn't until my early adult age that I realized Mem tricked me.  I'd always grab two cookies and chew and smile.  Explaining to Mem with every bite how good these cookies are.  She'd say, "well it's because I made them."  Never did I question.  Memere was an excellent cook.  So why would I doubt the cookie?  Time moved on and one day this cookie got smart.  "Hey, those aren't home made." 

But to this day that cookie brings me a warm, happy, cozy feeling.  With each bite I am back in Memere's kitchen.  I can still see the paneling.  The Noah's Ark picture.  The dryer.  The window over the sink.  The round kitchen table in the center of the small room.  I can hear Pep outside doing some sort of work and I can see Mem in the kitchen cooking or folding laundry in the loving room.

It has been years since I have been inside fifty Mulberry Street- but today I went back. 
It was delicious.