A Sweet Moment With My Grandma
By Sylvie Goldner
I love when I visit my grandma in her white house, where the kitchen is always full of food, and I know we are going to make our special chocolate chip cookies. My grandma and I have always made chocolate chip cookies together since I could open my mouth and hold a spoon. My grandma and I are really close, I call her all the time, it’s my favorite time of day. I look forward to her visits and when she comes, I run into her arms; when she leaves, I call her the second she walks out the door. Making chocolate chip cookies with my grandma is a tradition, something we have always done together.
Before I even step inside my grandma’s house, we go to the supermarket — with its long aisles of food displayed. I push the cart and she lets me pick out all the ingredients for the chocolate chip cookies. I scan the shelf, looking at all the food I can buy. I love knowing there is so much food, even though I can’t have it all. After we purchase the ingredients, I help my grandma carry them to the car. She asks me, “Do you want a piece of gum?” Of course my reply is, “yes”. She hands me a pack of gum. I tear open a piece, which is the color of a pillow with splotches of pink all over. I pop it into my mouth and slowly suck out the flavor. The bubble gum and mint melting into one another, making my tastebuds go wild. Before I know it, we have arrived at her house. We put the bags full of groceries in the kitchen and my grandma lets me pick any CD I like from her collection. I stare at all the colorful CDs but always know I’m going to chose the Lion King. I gently put the CD in the player and start dancing to the music. Then I hear my grandma say, “Sylvie, I need help making the cookies!” I dance over to her and start taking out all the ingredients from our bags. My grandma starts dancing too, and soon we are both dancing and singing while we mix the batter. We are just two duo bakers with a whisk and a song. Before my grandma puts the chocolate chips in the bowl, she hands me a cupful. I cup them in my hand and starting popping each one into my mouth to the rhythm of the music. We soon take all the cookie dough and form it into small balls. Then we place them on the tin tray and put them in the oven. My grandma hands me the bowl which is full of cookie dough extras, which in five minutes is just glittering clear glass. When the cookies come out of the oven, I reach for one right away. When I touch the cookie, my fingers turn a light shade of pink, a magenta. My grandma says, “You are going to burn yourself silly!” She then smiles, all her teeth like the tips of waves in the ocean. I gently break off a small piece of the warm cookie and toss it in my mouth. The gooey cookie dough slowly slides down my throat, the smooth texture of the dough and the warm chocolate. I take a cup from the cabinet and pour some milk in. The cold white cream fills my mouth. The taste of the cookie dough slowly dissolves until I can’t taste anything besides the milk. My grandma asks me, “Are the chocolate chip cookies good?” I grab another cookie in response.
My grandma’s fairy tale kitchen is where most of our memories take place. The chocolate chip cookies we make aren’t special, we use the recipe on the bag of chocolate chips. But if a recipe can bring us together, it doesn’t matter if it’s original. What matters is that we are together, there is no other recipe in the world I would rather make, and there is no one I would rather be spending time with.
