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  • Writer's pictureWendy Elizabeth

The Cookie Jar and the Biscuit Tin

As a mom who has spent way too much time baking these last few months, I often find myself piling homemade cookies into a glass jar. Being in the kitchen is relaxing for me; I put on music, I am not organized in the least, and I wear an apron. I absently tie the strings as I search through the cupboards, never quite sure what I am planning to make; flicking through cookbooks, getting stuck on the stories, and caring more about the life of the person who wrote the book than the actual recipe.

My daughter laughs that I will start to bake after dinner, making sure we have something sweet to end the evening with; not good for my waist, but good for my soul (and does anything taste better than a warm cookie?). Easier than most people think, I add whatever I feel like from the pantry, but usually begin with a combination of butter, sugar and flour. I could never be a stand-up comedian, but I will happily improvise a recipe at 9:15pm in my nightgown.

Once they are cool, I pop what is left in a large glass jar, with a really tight lid. It takes a few seconds to screw open the top (and the noise will always get someone’s attention) but it feels a little more special to reach in and take a cookie from inside the jar.

Regular cookie jars (you know, the ones that say Cookie Jar on them) while lovely if you are on Sesame Street, don’t quite work in the real world. The seals (if they have them) never seal, and they are quite heavy and clunky; not good for a midnight raid with milk and a spoonful of peanut butter.

Growing up, we called them biscuits, and they lived in the Biscuit Tin. It was usually an old tin from Christmas, filled with very fancy English Biscuits or Chocolates, carefully sitting in folded paper cups. Once finished, the tin was filled with biscuits for the following week – usually one packet of plain, and one chocolate. It was sealed tight, and there was a measure of excitement to opening it up, never quite knowing what was inside. Disappointment set in if our favorite was gone, and we had to decide between something we didn’t like, and having nothing at all. If there was only one left, we had to ask if it was okay to take it. In hindsight, it was more about the ritual, than about seeing how many you could scoff when no-one was looking.

I think, we should celebrate the most sweetest moments, and bring back the Cookie Jar and the Biscuit Tin…

For more by Wendy and the Blue Giraffe, go to:

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