This Blonde Bakes?

Now, I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me-- I am not domestic. It's not that I can't do domestic things or don't think they're valuable: I can and I do. It's that I hate doing domestic things like cooking, baking, cleaning, sewing (that one I actually can't do), etc. All I'm saying is, they're called chores for a reason and now that I don't get an allowance, I'm just not interested. 

Even with my domestic aversions (I think I might be allergic), I actually baked this past weekend. As per usual, I had a craving for chocolate and something had to be done about it! Perhaps I was feeling sorry for my husband who, when he wants something homemade, has to make it himself, so I decided to bake some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies-- my absolute favorite vessel for delivering chocolate to my mouth.

Besides a wife's guilt, my reason for choosing to make these cookies was sentimental. When we were younger, my grandmother (Claudymom's mom) would bake cookies for my siblings and me when we would come visit. She baked oatmeal chocolate chip for my sister and me and oatmeal raisin for my brother (Which is a lesser cookie, let's be honest. What's the point of a cookie without chocolate? She obviously liked my sister and me better).

Claudymom never let me bake growing up because she said I made a huge mess.

As I was baking, I thought about my Grandmother, or "Gram," as we called her. Just like her daughter, she was one of the quirkiest quirks that ever quirked. Whether she was mispronouncing words, chewing uncommonly loudly or singing Carly Simon's version of "Itsy, Bitsy Spider" in her car off of the only tape she owned (given to her at the dealer so she see the "caliber" of the sound system, I guess), this woman was full of life. As I made those cookies, I felt her presence and may have even sang a few bars of the song good old Carly made such a classic. Obviously, it sounded awesome.

They were ridiculously tasty. They're all gone now.

I felt really close to Gram that day because I was doing something she had done, over and over again, for us. She wasn't just a memory or a concept, she was an action: baking oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. The tangibility of the baking process helped me remember her in a new way, especially because this was the first time I baked these cookies since she died ten years ago.

Even though I wished she was there so much, it was nice not to have to share the privilege of licking the bowl with my sister. I never did like to share.

As we near the holidays, I hope I can pursue actions that connect me with my loved ones that are gone, as well as the ones that I am lucky to still have with me. What will you do this season to connect with those you love?

If you want the recipe, I've posted it here. This whole "writing about baking and posting recipes" is not going to be a habit. I will leave that to the fabulous Lady Gouda, who knows a whole lot more than I do about the "kitchen" subject.