Molasses Cookies

My friend, Todd’s mother, made the best Molasses spice cookies in the universe. I’d detour to Portland solely to say hi to Todd and get some of those phenomenal cookies. As a treat I’d take them over anything else.

Our friendship ruptured over disagreements about the Vietnam War. My Navy service had not involved deployment to Vietnam, but I had had a front-row seat to its effects on vets. Todd, on the other hand, saw my disagreement as a sort of betrayal of our government. I suggested that we agree to disagree, but that didn’t work. 

Hungry for my favorite treat I asked all the ladies who volunteered at the Gate Coffeehouse about their cookie recipes. Everyone had a favored molasses cookie recipe. All were good—some exceptional. But, none matched those of Todd’s mother. With the rift being so severe, I didn’t dare call his house, ask for his mother, and beg for the recipe. My hand did drift near the phone once in a while, but I didn’t call.

It’s been decades. But every time I visit Portland, it’s inevitable that I’ll think about those cookies. Losing a good friend is always hard, but losing a great molasses cookie. That’s tragic.

But as they say in Yiddish: Azoy vert dos kichel tzekrochen! (That’s how the cookie crumbles!)