Showing posts with label cookies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cookies. Show all posts
08 April 2014
weird state of life, but oatmeal chocolate chip cookies
These past three months have most certainly been a time of transition. Changing from one country to another, relearning American culture, adjusting to the countless differences, experiencing the heaviness of American schooling versus that of Italy. Constant schedules, crazy busy, any hopeful spare time spent on life-giving sources. When all I really want to do is spend my days with the friends I love in this city in which I've taken root for the last four years, cooking and eating glorious food and celebrating life in general.
In the midst of my reacquaintance, I've been itching to return to writing and photographing and cooking, but the traction to do so collaboratively has been completely absent. So I'm sorry, and I thank you for your patience as I rally myself and my life together again.
03 April 2013
trisha and suzi's no-bake cookies
Funny how certain things just take you right back, wherever that destination actually is.
I can't recall a certain memory of eating these cookies, but everything about them sent me to the guilty pleasure I can always remember when eating them. I'm telling you, these cookies are not great for you. But they are so unbelievably delicious.
My mom has perfected these over the years, beginning in her youth as she grew up in the No-Bake Wonderland that is western Pennsylvania. She and Trisha, the best friend with whom I am so acquainted due to stories of childhood, would whip these up and then eat pizza (since there was no such delicacy in the Duryea household) and have themselves the best of times. Sometimes I'll ask my mom about these stories. Sometimes they just come up. Or sometimes we visit family and she points out all the places of her childhood. Whatever the situation, her eyes unfailingly brighten when she recounts her memories. She grins in genuine nostalgia, and it's as if she's reliving it all right then and there. The pizza. The laughter. The snow-dampened socks. And the bonus spoonfuls of sugar tossed into the cookies because they were ten years old and nothing else mattered but the extra grit it gave.
I can't recall a certain memory of eating these cookies, but everything about them sent me to the guilty pleasure I can always remember when eating them. I'm telling you, these cookies are not great for you. But they are so unbelievably delicious.
My mom has perfected these over the years, beginning in her youth as she grew up in the No-Bake Wonderland that is western Pennsylvania. She and Trisha, the best friend with whom I am so acquainted due to stories of childhood, would whip these up and then eat pizza (since there was no such delicacy in the Duryea household) and have themselves the best of times. Sometimes I'll ask my mom about these stories. Sometimes they just come up. Or sometimes we visit family and she points out all the places of her childhood. Whatever the situation, her eyes unfailingly brighten when she recounts her memories. She grins in genuine nostalgia, and it's as if she's reliving it all right then and there. The pizza. The laughter. The snow-dampened socks. And the bonus spoonfuls of sugar tossed into the cookies because they were ten years old and nothing else mattered but the extra grit it gave.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)