Too many cooks can spoil the broth.
I found this, oh so true.
The tale that I'm about to tell took place in '62.
We had a mini-farm back then,
with pigs and goats and hens,
and many, many children--
Our family numbered ten.
'Twas was nearing Valentine's Day.
I'd make "Hubby" a treat.
It was his mother's recipe?
Her cookies, "Spicy Sweet."
SUGAR AND SPICE SURPRISE COOKIES
* 3/4 cups shortening
* 1 cup brown sugar
* 1 egg
* 1/4 cup molasses
* 2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
* 1 tsp. Baking soda
* 1-1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
* 1 tsp. each: ground ginger and nutmeg
* 1/4 tsp each: black pepper and allspice
* Granulated sugar to roll the dough in
In a large bowl cream brown sugar and shortening until fluffy, beat in egg and molasses. In a separate bowl, mix together flour, baking soda and spices. Beat about half of the flour mixture into creamed mixture using medium speed; stir in remaining flour. Shape dough into 1-inch balls; roll in granulated sugar. Place 2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheet. Bake in 375 oven for 8 to 10 minutes, or until tops are cracked. Cool on wire rack. Makes 55 cookies.
They are supposed to be a mildly spiced, chewy cookie with a crinkly top, and having a surprising "secret" ingredient.
Well, as it turned out, these cookies certainly did have a "secret ingredient", which didn't remain a secret too long. In fact, it has been something my husband has never been able to live down, and it has been almost fifty years since this incident happened. It was the day when: TOO MANY COOKS SPOILED THE "BROTH"
It was close to Valentine's Day. I had a surprise for Hubby, but to put him off, I told him I was going to make his favorite cookies, "Sugar and Spice Surprise". (The real surprise was that his mother was flying in for a visit, and I was waiting for a phone call to go pick her up.) It was to be a surprise for the kids, too. The children were foster children, and had never met their new Grandma.
I gathered my materials for the cookies, thinking I could quickly stir them up before I left, leaving the cooking of them to Hubby and the children. I had all the ingredients in, except for the final one--the allspice--when the phone rang. It was Mom. Her plane had arrived early. Not wanting to spoil the secret, I said to Hubby, who had just come into the house, "You'll have to finish these cookies up. Everything is in except for the allspice. The kids can help you. The girls know how to mix up the cookies. I have to go to town."
It was after I had left the house that the fun began. Hubby called the kids in from their play. "Ellie," he said, "Mom told me to get you kids to help finish these cookies up and get them into the oven. She said all I had to do was add all spice. Do you know what she meant?"
Ellie looked blank. She called her older sister, "Sissy, Mom said to add all the spices to the cookies. Do you know where the spices are?"
"I do. I do." squealed eight-year-old Deana. Mom keeps them up there in that cupboard.
By that time all eight children had come in from play, and had gathered in the kitchen. After learning what was going on, they chimed in. "Can we help? Can we help?"
Ellie, with her strident voice piped up: "We have to add all the spices to the cookies and get them into the oven, real fast. Hurry up. Get down all the spices. Hand them to Daddy."
"Well, you can all help," Daddy said. "Each of you pick one spice and add it to the cookies." The recipe says to add one-quarter teaspoon of all spice. A quarter teaspoon isn't very much," he instructed the little ones, handing them each a spoon. The children stood with a spoon in one hand and a spice bottle in the other, waiting their turn at the cookies.
Four-year-old Donny, the youngest, was first to add his spice. Daddy helped him measure the CAYENNE into the spoon. Donny carefully dropped it into the flour. Then it was Dirk's turn. His spice was GARLIC POWDER. In it went. Then Deana, wanting to pick the prettiest, measured out some CURRY POWDER. Davie, lagging behind a bit, unsure of himself, picked out TUMERIC to add. Dane came along with his contribution, OREGANO. He took a deep sniff. "Boy that smells great!" he said, dropping his spice into the flour. Now it was Ellie's turn. She picked CUMIN, again because of its pretty color. Sissy, looking doubtful, was sure that MACE would make a good addition. She carefully measured out her quarter spoonful. She'd helped Mom with the cooking a lot, and had learned the importance of exact measurements. All of a sudden, Denny, realizing that he was missing out on something, came bounding into the kitchen to find out what was going on. He grabbed a spoon, picking MUSTARD as his choice of spice. Now it was Dad's turn. He was dubious about all the additions, but he knew that PAPRIKA wouldn't hurt, so he put in a generous quarter spoonful of paprika. It added to the pretty mixture already in the flour.
Daddy stirred up the flour, dumped it into the shortening, sugar and egg mixture, and beat it up. Now it was time for the dough to be rolled into balls and placed on to the cookie sheets. He instructed the kids that they were not to taste the dough, or lick their fingers while they were shaping the cookies, as that would not be sanitary. Following Sissy's direction, the children placed the dough balls correctly onto the cookie sheet. It was Sissy's job to place the sheet into the oven, which she had pre-heated to 350, remembering that's what Mommy did. She turned the timer on to 10 minutes.
Mission accomplished! Daddy got out 9 glasses and poured out the milk. The kids all sat around waiting for the cookies to come out of the oven. The first batch finished, Daddy carefully removed them from the pan, but warned the children they would have to wait a few minutes before they would be cool enough. As he lifted the cookies from the sheet, he told the children, "When I was a little boy my mommy made these cookies for me a lot. They are my favorite cookies. Before I even got into the house I could tell she had made them. I could smell them a block away."
Hubby confided in me later--much later--that while he was telling the children this, his mind was not registering the same wonderful aroma. In fact, in thinking back on the incident, which he never liked to talk about, he wondered at the strange smell permeating the kitchen while the cookies baked.
But in the meantime, I came home with my "surprise." Cookies and cookie smells were forgotten. The room exploded with excitement of Daddy greeting his Mama and the children meeting their Grandma for the first time. Nobody thought further of the cookies until supper was over.
"Oh!" I said suddenly. "The surprise cookies! Grandma's favorites." And I explained to Grandma that I had left the project to the family to finish. "Let's sample them." More milk was poured into fresh glasses, and everyone took a cookie.
I will never forget the look on the faces of everyone when they took their first bite of cookie...I think it was Hubby who made it to the kitchen sink first, to spit out his cookie and to rinse his mouth out with water to rid himself of the taste of those disastrous cookies, the result of TOO MANY COOKS SPOILING THE "BROTH."
Oh those cookies, those horrible, horrible cookies. For years and years they were a lark, of which Hubby would not talk. And Grandma nearly split her sides, telling folks of how her pride and joy--her only boy--had nearly killed his family off by adding spices to the dough. … And now, if ever you should go into his house, there's row on row of books for cooking special things: things for paupers, or for kings. But always, for the rest of life he'll be reminded by his wife how on that day in '62 he did the best that he could do: TO ADD A LITTLE SPICE TO LIFE
© Helen Dowd
