...or great-grandma cookies. This one goes way back in my family:
Ruth Bishop Falconer 1876-1976 ("Grandma Falconer")
Tinka Dickinson Falconer 1917-2010 ("Grandma")
Barbara Falconer Newhall 1941- (My Mom)
Christina Falconer Newhall 1983- (Me)
I had to start with Grandma Cookies. This is my most quintessential family recipe. I mean, it says “Grandma” right there in the name of the recipe. Not only that, but the title has referred to two grandmas, for two generations. If I’m looking for a connection to my family’s Michigan roots, this is it.
The oldest written version of this recipe was taken down by my grandmother, as my great-grandmother dictated. The wording she chose smacks of her 19th century sensibilities. “Sweet milk,” “lard,” “soda” – for a farmer’s wife like Grandma Falconer, buttermilk was the default, lard needed no apology, and “soda” meant baking soda, not soda pop.
Maybe it’s sacrilegious to tamper with some old recipes, but not this one. Change is part of the tradition. Where Grandma Falconer used lard, Grandma used Crisco. In the 80s and 90s, my mother attempted the cookies once or twice with canola oil, ‘cause Saturated Fat was Evil. All this leaves me pretty free to experiment.
Though who wants to bet that by the time my (hypothetical) daughter’s making these for her grandkids, she’ll be back to lard?
Early in her marriage, Grandma attempted her new mother-in-law’s oatmeal cookie recipe several times, but each time, my grandfather shook his head: “not my mother’s cookies” he said. Finally, Grandma made the drive across Michigan to Scottville, and insisted she watch Grandma Falconer bake. And that’s where she learned what Grandma Falconer never bothered to write down. The recipe called for a cup of oats and a cup of melted lard, sure. But what it doesn’t say is that you should melt the lard (later shortening, etc.) in a heavy pot, add the oats and let them soak (or fry, really) for 10 minutes. That is the family secret.
About two weeks before I flew back to my grandmother’s ancestral home on Lake Michigan to lay her ashes to rest, I was seized by the urge to bake up some Grandma Cookies. I worked with what I had on hand: the basics were easy: I pretty much always have flour, butter, sugar, oats. I had golden raisins, and figured they would do. But what to use in place of the lard?
Lard and Crisco solid fats, and both yielded much better results than my mother’s canola oil attempts. I remembered a jar of coconut oil on the top of my pantry. Perhaps this is the solid oil of my generation, because this stuff was probably unavailable in Mason County, Michigan in my great-grandmother’s time, expensive in Grandma’s era, Evil Due To Saturated Fat Content in my mother’s kitchen, and finally pardoned around 2000 due to the fact that it’s Refined Sugars That Are Killing Us After All (though trying to make a recipe that calls for lard any healthier seems to me to be missing the point.)
I baked a half-batch of cookies with the coconut oil. They were good. But the flavors seemed sort of subdued when the cookies came out of the oven. Need more cinnamon? Hmmm.
Maybe coconut oil is for the next generation. When I returned from Michigan, after swapping stories of Grandma Cookies with all my relatives, I decided I needed to give them another whirl. This time, I stuck with the baking fat I know and love best: BUTTER.
The only reason butter wouldn’t work in these cookies is that it’s about 20% water. But clarified butter, maybe that’s the stuff. I pulled a half-pound and change of butter out of the fridge and set it to simmering on the stovetop. (The half stick would compensate to stand in for the 20% water lost in clarification).
When the butter was clarified, I added a cup of oats, and let it keep simmering. About 8 minutes later, the butter was brown, the oats were toasted, and the kitchen had a nice nutty aroma. Wary of burning, I didn't go the whole 10 minutes, but smell matters way more than math when baking.
The rest of the dough is pretty easy to put together. It’s really more of a batter – the result is thin cookies that are still soft after baking.
Thanks to the browned butter, this batch of cookies turned out dark – I pulled the first sheet out of the oven a little early, because they were already turning that color Toll House cookies turn when you’ve baked them a couple of minutes too long. So I pulled them early, and they were a little too soft. I baked the next couple of batches a little darker, to allow them to cook up fully.
So, how’d they turn out? Well, they were quite tasty right out of the oven. But after they cooled, the cookies were a little greasy. Butter does spread more when baking than margarine, so I think next time, I’ll skip the extra half-stick I started with before clarifying.
I figure I’ve got at least 30-35 years before I’m a grandma myself, so I’ll keep experimenting.
Oatmeal Cookies (Grandma Cookies)
This recipe is verbatim from Grandma Falconer’s dictation to my Grandma, Christmas 1967. My translations and notes are in italics. Aside from the aforementioned lard, sweet milk and soda, the other mystery of this recipe is the appearance of ground raisins. No one can remember these cookies with ground raisins, not even during Grandma’s pilgrimage to Scottville.
That’s:
2 eggs, beaten
1 cup brown sugar
2 “ Oatmeal (rolled oats - not instant, not steel-cut)
2 “ melted lard (or shortening, or coconut oil, or clarified butter)
2 “ flour
1 “ ground raisins
1 “ sweet milk (regular milk, whole or 2%)
1 teaspoon soda
1 “ cinnamon (I'd go ahead and use a little more, to pump up the flavors a bit)
Add more flour if needed. (try to resist this temptation, if you can, the cookies are supposed to be thin)
Spread thin on cookie sheet
Bake at 375 till edge is brown. (About 12 minutes - if using butter, they'll be pretty brown even when underdone. Go by time, and check to see when the edge is set).
 |
| Grandma's recipe, and the key ingredient (and my microwave. I don't have much counter space) |
Cast of Cooks:
Ruth Bishop Falconer 1876-1976 ("Grandma Falconer")
Tinka Dickinson Falconer 1917-2010 ("Grandma")
Barbara Falconer Newhall 1941- (My Mom)
Christina Falconer Newhall 1983- (Me)
I had to start with Grandma Cookies. This is my most quintessential family recipe. I mean, it says “Grandma” right there in the name of the recipe. Not only that, but the title has referred to two grandmas, for two generations. If I’m looking for a connection to my family’s Michigan roots, this is it.
The oldest written version of this recipe was taken down by my grandmother, as my great-grandmother dictated. The wording she chose smacks of her 19th century sensibilities. “Sweet milk,” “lard,” “soda” – for a farmer’s wife like Grandma Falconer, buttermilk was the default, lard needed no apology, and “soda” meant baking soda, not soda pop.
Maybe it’s sacrilegious to tamper with some old recipes, but not this one. Change is part of the tradition. Where Grandma Falconer used lard, Grandma used Crisco. In the 80s and 90s, my mother attempted the cookies once or twice with canola oil, ‘cause Saturated Fat was Evil. All this leaves me pretty free to experiment.
Though who wants to bet that by the time my (hypothetical) daughter’s making these for her grandkids, she’ll be back to lard?
Early in her marriage, Grandma attempted her new mother-in-law’s oatmeal cookie recipe several times, but each time, my grandfather shook his head: “not my mother’s cookies” he said. Finally, Grandma made the drive across Michigan to Scottville, and insisted she watch Grandma Falconer bake. And that’s where she learned what Grandma Falconer never bothered to write down. The recipe called for a cup of oats and a cup of melted lard, sure. But what it doesn’t say is that you should melt the lard (later shortening, etc.) in a heavy pot, add the oats and let them soak (or fry, really) for 10 minutes. That is the family secret.
About two weeks before I flew back to my grandmother’s ancestral home on Lake Michigan to lay her ashes to rest, I was seized by the urge to bake up some Grandma Cookies. I worked with what I had on hand: the basics were easy: I pretty much always have flour, butter, sugar, oats. I had golden raisins, and figured they would do. But what to use in place of the lard?
Lard and Crisco solid fats, and both yielded much better results than my mother’s canola oil attempts. I remembered a jar of coconut oil on the top of my pantry. Perhaps this is the solid oil of my generation, because this stuff was probably unavailable in Mason County, Michigan in my great-grandmother’s time, expensive in Grandma’s era, Evil Due To Saturated Fat Content in my mother’s kitchen, and finally pardoned around 2000 due to the fact that it’s Refined Sugars That Are Killing Us After All (though trying to make a recipe that calls for lard any healthier seems to me to be missing the point.)
I baked a half-batch of cookies with the coconut oil. They were good. But the flavors seemed sort of subdued when the cookies came out of the oven. Need more cinnamon? Hmmm.
Maybe coconut oil is for the next generation. When I returned from Michigan, after swapping stories of Grandma Cookies with all my relatives, I decided I needed to give them another whirl. This time, I stuck with the baking fat I know and love best: BUTTER.
The only reason butter wouldn’t work in these cookies is that it’s about 20% water. But clarified butter, maybe that’s the stuff. I pulled a half-pound and change of butter out of the fridge and set it to simmering on the stovetop. (The half stick would compensate to stand in for the 20% water lost in clarification).
When the butter was clarified, I added a cup of oats, and let it keep simmering. About 8 minutes later, the butter was brown, the oats were toasted, and the kitchen had a nice nutty aroma. Wary of burning, I didn't go the whole 10 minutes, but smell matters way more than math when baking.
The rest of the dough is pretty easy to put together. It’s really more of a batter – the result is thin cookies that are still soft after baking.
So, how’d they turn out? Well, they were quite tasty right out of the oven. But after they cooled, the cookies were a little greasy. Butter does spread more when baking than margarine, so I think next time, I’ll skip the extra half-stick I started with before clarifying.
I figure I’ve got at least 30-35 years before I’m a grandma myself, so I’ll keep experimenting.
Oatmeal Cookies (Grandma Cookies)
This recipe is verbatim from Grandma Falconer’s dictation to my Grandma, Christmas 1967. My translations and notes are in italics. Aside from the aforementioned lard, sweet milk and soda, the other mystery of this recipe is the appearance of ground raisins. No one can remember these cookies with ground raisins, not even during Grandma’s pilgrimage to Scottville.
That’s:
2 eggs, beaten
1 cup brown sugar
2 “ Oatmeal (rolled oats - not instant, not steel-cut)
2 “ melted lard (or shortening, or coconut oil, or clarified butter)
2 “ flour
1 “ ground raisins
1 “ sweet milk (regular milk, whole or 2%)
1 teaspoon soda
1 “ cinnamon (I'd go ahead and use a little more, to pump up the flavors a bit)
Add more flour if needed. (try to resist this temptation, if you can, the cookies are supposed to be thin)
Spread thin on cookie sheet
Bake at 375 till edge is brown. (About 12 minutes - if using butter, they'll be pretty brown even when underdone. Go by time, and check to see when the edge is set).
