By Lynn Haraldson-Bering
Yesterday, my little brother turned 43, and my mom made his favorite dessert: chocolate chip cookies.
Now these aren’t just any cookies made from a recipe on the back of a bag of chips. These are the only chocolate chip cookies I knew existed until I’d grown up, moved out of the house and discovered Mrs. Fields at the mall.
I have no idea where mom got the recipe, but it’s been in the family as long as I’ve been alive. They’re made with shortening and oatmeal, which makes them crispy, not chewy. Perfect for dunking in milk. They were a staple in Mom’s cookie repertoire, which included peanut cookies, peanut butter cookies, M&M cookies, peanut blossom cookies (the ones with the Hershey Kiss in the middle), and sugar cookies. If cookies were a symphony, Mom’s CCCs were the fourth movement, the ones that got the most attention, whose “melody of flavor” stuck most in our memories.
When I was a kid, I knew the minute I walked through the door that CCCs were cooling on the counter. I’d drop my books, grab some milk and a couple of cookies, and sit and watch “Guiding Light” with Mom. CCCs didn’t last long, but always tasted better the next day, and even better on day two, which they rarely made it to.
When Mom wrote in her email that she’d made CCCs for Matthew, I started thinking about how long it had been since I’d had one, let alone baked them. I can’t remember, but I’m sure it’s been 10 years at least. I didn’t even have the recipe anymore. My oldest daughter makes them for her sister once in awhile, but I’d not laid eyes on them in a long, long time. Especially not since embarking on this weight-loss/weight-maintenance odyssey. But the thought of them nagged me all morning, so I emailed Mom, got the recipe, and made a batch “for the kids.”
Yesterday was a day off from exercise and, for whatever reason, when I don’t exercise, I’m more hungry than when I do. I worried that creating my favorite cookie would create temptation I couldn’t resist. Not that I binge, but I had visions of my husband finding me passed out on the kitchen floor in a CCC coma, crumbs all around me and chocolate smeared over my smiling lips.
Maybe I shouldn’t do this, I thought as I threw the chips in my shopping basket. But surely I have the will power, right?
I honestly wasn’t sure. I hadn’t made these cookies in years, and I remembered them in an almost reverent way. I salivated just thinking about their sweet crispness. What the heck was I doing tempting fate this way?
With all the ingredients mixed, I dug out a dough-covered chip and ate it. Salmonella shamonella…there was a day not so long ago when I thought cookie dough should be a food group.
Once the CCCs were baked and cooled, I took a bite. Just as crispy and yummy as I remembered. When I swallowed, though, it left behind a thin film of fat on the roof of my mouth. I didn’t remember that being an issue before. Very curious. I waited a half an hour and took another bite. Same thing, only this time, my stomach felt full, like I’d eaten butter straight up from the tub, which, in essence, I had. Did my tastes change that much in four years? Or was I just more aware of the sensations certain foods (like fat) created in my mouth? My cookie baking had turned into a serendipitous science experiment.
I didn’t like the feeling of fat on the roof of my mouth. It felt unnatural and tasted strange. Ergo, two bites of a fat-laden cookie cured my craving for Mom’s CCCs!
Ah….not quite. When I looked beyond the physical elements of the cookie, I realized was that it wasn’t the taste I craved. It was the memory of coming home from school and eating CCCs with my mom. I craved the ritual of baking cookies and seeing my children’s eyes light up when they came home from school and saw (and smelled) that I’d baked their grandma’s CCCs.
Food is a more pressing subject in our minds than on our palates. Our relationship is complicated and deserves vetting. Here’s my question to you: What makes some foods so enticing, and how, as people who have lost weight and are keeping it off, do we engage in this relationship in a way different from the rest of the world?
For me it’s evolutionary – a constantly changing and educational bond. I’m just glad I’ve evolved to the point where I can no longer eat an entire chocolate chip cookie. So why does it make me happy to make them and share them with my kids and with my husband’s students (that’s where this batch is heading)? Perhaps as someone who is maintaining a large weight loss, I shouldn’t be making cookies at all? It hardly promotes the healthy eating I engage in. Shouldn’t I practice what I preach? Live my words?
I don’t know how I think about it all. I haven’t made any conclusions yet except to say, sometimes a girl just needs a cookie.