I don’t remember very many firsts.
But I do remember the day my eldest daughter, Julia, started to read on her own. I was a single mom and we were renting a house from my parents that we have since affectionately dubbed “the tiny house.”
I was sitting in the living room when suddenly it struck me how quiet the house had grown. I could feel my stomach tightening around the icy pebble of Mother Guilt that every mom receives free of charge when she brings her first child home. I looked up from what I was doing, expecting the worst.
And there she was, head bent over a book — something from the Junie B. Jones series, if I recall — her dark curls spilling onto the pages. She was fine. Not only fine, but reading. By herself. Silently. Glory, hallelujah!
That day was the beginning of her love affair with books, but our house did not remain silent, as we were soon joined by my husband (Dispatch managing editor) Zack and daughter Zayley … and, about a year later, another daughter, Pfeiffer.
Julia is 12 now and has recently begun another first: baking on her own. Julia has food allergies and so hasn’t tried many of the foods the rest of us take for granted. We were at church a few weeks ago when she revealed that she had never tried gingersnaps.
I’ll be honest with you: There is nothing about the taste or texture of a gingersnap out of a cardboard box that appeals to me. Too spicy, too crunchy, and too hard, they are high on my list of completely resistible holiday treats. But, much like tasting a slice of ancient fruitcake or detangling Christmas tree lights or getting one’s cheeks pinched by Great Aunt Myrtle, they felt like a Christmas tradition that she should be able to reject for herself.
And so that afternoon, I pulled out the flour and butter and salt and molasses and a dog-eared thrifted copy of an old King Arthur flour cookbook. I prepared to sacrifice my semi-clean kitchen on the altar of Christmas Present for the sake of Christmas Future.
And I was shocked to discover how delicious gingersnaps — the real ones, the kind that destroy your kitchen — really are. They are crunchy on the edges and chewy in the middle, the way I think a cookie should be. The spice is subtle and rich without being overwhelming. And so we decorated the tree and drank my husband’s world-famous apple cider and ate cookies until we smelled faintly of cinnamon and ginger three days later.
I’m happy to share the recipe with you and hope you’ll try them, too. If I see you next week, I’ll sniff your hair to find out whether you liked them as much as we did.
Amelia Plair is a mom and high school teacher in Starkville. Email reaches her at [email protected].
GINGERSNAPS
Yield: 10-12 dozen cookies
1 1/2 cups butter
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla (optional; the original recipe does not call for vanilla)
2 eggs
1/2 cup molasses
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons salt
5 teaspoons ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
(Source: The King Arthur Flour 200th Anniversary Cookbook, with Amelia Plair’s alterations)
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