Archives for posts with tag: cookies

still-life-with-cookies john stuart ingle
Presbyterian Cookies
by Penelope Moffet

First be born into
a Presbyterian family
or be born again
or just find yourself
a red-jacketed cookbook
printed 60 years ago.
Turn to page 60.
You do not need to be 60
or prone to finding
meaning in numbers
or Julia Child.
You may be a child
or a teen or a surly
young woman or
doddering saint.
Little depends on this.
Little depends on having
all the ingredients
or following instructions
as they are written but
don’t skimp on butter or sugar
or you will regret it
the rest of your days
which may be few
or many
or none at all,
your mouth full of sawdust.

PAINTING: Still Life with Cookies by John Stuart Ingle (late 20th century).

recipe 1

cookbook 1

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: During my high school and college years, my family lived in Placentia, California, where both of my parents were very involved with Placentia Presbyterian Church. I was, too, even teaching Sunday school to very small children, until I abruptly lost my faith midway through college. I did not, however, lose faith in the church’s cookbooks. I make these oatmeal-raisin-walnut cookies about once a month, frequently messing with the recipe—egg whites instead of whole eggs, half the sugar and half the margarine the recipe calls for, etc. One of these days I’ll use cranberries instead of raisins and try gluten-free flour. The oat bran isn’t essential. I almost never use it because I almost never have any around. You can substitute a couple of ripe bananas for the sugar. That’s pretty good. But don’t leave out all the fat (e.g., margarine, butter) and sweetener.

PHOTOS: Old-Fashioned Oat Cookie Recipe (above, center) and cover of Placentia Presbyterian Church recipe book, Galley Goodies (above, right). 

MOFFET 1

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Penelope Moffet is the author of two chapbooks, most recently It Isn’t That They Mean to Kill You (Arroyo Seco Press, 2018). She works for a small law firm in Los Angeles, takes lots of solitary walks, and is entertained by two rambunctious cats.

Hernandez Door
An offering
by Jennifer Hernandez

At my doorstep
four boxes of Samoas
delivered by my friend,
mother of Girl Scouts.

An envelope taped
to the door, $20 cash.
The virus can survive
5 days on paper.

She rang the bell to seal
delivery. We smiled weakly
through the glass outer door
& waved.

I gathered the wafers,
sold on scarcity principles
long before TP shortages,
carried them gently inside.

Small comfort.
Holy Communion
for the three sons,
near-adults, who now live

cloistered lives in dark rooms
murmuring prayers, incantations
hypnotized by flickering screens
waiting, waiting for deliverance.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: A Facebook post from a teacher/writer friend about Girl Scout cookies turned into a special delivery turned into a poem. As a person fortunate enough to be waiting out the coronavirus in my own home with my family, I am grateful for the silver lining of having the time and space to reflect and write about the experience. There are many small pleasures of human connection that I hope to never take quite so much for granted again.

HernandezAuthor

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jennifer Hernandez, Minnesota teacher/writer, has performed her poetry at a non-profit garage and a taxidermy-filled bike shop. Currently, she’s on a crash course to implement distance learning with middle school English learners, while simultaneously homeschooling her high school sons. She didn’t sign up for this. Recent publications include Three Drops in a Cauldron, Talking Stick, Writers Resist, Sleet Magazine, and Poetry in the Park in the Dark. She is overjoyed at the return of Silver Birch Press.