$100 Cookies

picture: www.sweetsugarbelle.com

Baking dessert has never been my thing. Every brownie batch is burned and every cupcake tin I attempt at serving usually comes out lopsided. 

But despite my failings, I decided a few days ago that I wanted to make Ben deliciously perfect sugar cookies, and send them to him via snail-mail. Once I found a recipe online, I peaked around the ingredients in my kitchen, seeing what I already own.... and found, to my surprise, that we actually didn't have anything I needed.

You see, this recipe called for special flour, special sugar, and almond extract-- which is not something people who suck at dessert making usually own. So I naively ran to the store, ready to purchase everything on the list to make flawless cookies. 

The bill was outrageous. 

I don't really want to get into exactly how much money I spent, but let's just say that between the icing, sprinkles, various sweetening products, and flour-- it wasn't pretty.

Although I was a little shaken by my experience at the grocer,  I went home determined to make these the best batch of cookies I've ever attempted (which in comparison isn't even that great, lol). 

I read each line of the recipe twice before doing anything. I measured out everything exactly. I even sat in front of the oven while they were baking, constantly watching for any signs of burns. 

After letting them cool for a few hours, I began frosting them. I made each one different and took a lot of time arranging the sprinkles and making little icing hearts on the surface. 

When I finally sent it out in overnight mail (didn't want them to get stale), I found out that the price of the delivery plus the price of the ingredients set these cookies at a value of over $100. Oh My! I mean come on, who has that kind of money to spend on cookies?

But no matter the price, I was really looking forward to hearing from Ben once he opened the package. 
The next day, Friday, I checked my phone every hour-- the anticipation rising by the minute.  There was nothing at lunch time and still nothing by mid-afternoon. I was getting nervous because both Ben and I are shomer shabbat, meaning that we don't use electricity (like phones) on the Sabbath. I figured that maybe the package got delayed and would be delivered on Saturday. 

I was really upset. I wanted to cookies to arrive on Friday-- that's why I had paid that obscene price at the UPS store. 

But no matter—life would have to go on. Before lighting candles, to signify the beginning of the Sabbath, I called Ben to wish him Shabbat Shalom. 

The conversation went like this: 
Me: Hi. Shabbat Shalom.
Ben. Hey. Shabbat Shalom to you too. By the way-- I got the cookies this morning, thanks. 

WAHM. I don't know why-- but suddenly I just felt crushed. I almost cried when he said that. 

But here's the thing though: I wasn't even upset about the fact he just received $100 cookies and didn't bother to call me up and say thanks. No, that wasn't it at all.

When Ben opened the box and found cookies inside, maybe he thought it was just a nice gesture...something sweet I wanted to send him. But to me it was more than that. My whole day was centered around those cookies-- not because I wanted them to taste good, but because I wanted Ben to feel special, to feel like even though we are so far apart, that we are still as close as we ever were. I don't know why I thought this-- because they are just stupid cookies-- but I wanted them to mean something. 

I guess I got upset when Ben saw them for what they were...just sugar cookies that taste like almonds. Something that in reality, isn't actually a big deal. 

I think that deep inside, I've been very lonely. Sometimes I feel like I miss Ben so much that I can't breathe, and sometimes I feel like maybe there is someone else out there for me; someone who gets excited about things, and loves to talk, and wants to live not in some random part of the country, but in a place filled with family and childhood friends. 

This constant confusion of how I feel and what I want to do about it, makes me really sad sometimes. God gave me Ben, such a wonderful gift. So why do I feel like although I love him so much, I just need and want someone else? 

I know that this whole fiasco with the cookies is mostly just in my head. But I don't want to feel this way forever. I need some certainty, and that's not something you can buy, even for $100. 

Well, next time I’ll just make cookies from the mix.
-Loni

Making Challah

original picture of my freshly baked challot

Every Friday, my mom and I make a challah. Sometimes we swirl in some raisins. Other times we sprinkle the crust with sesame seeds. In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, challah is a braided egg bread that Jewish people eat on the Sabbath (Shabbat).

In all Jewish traditions, there is a set order of rituals. On Friday Night, first we light the candles, then bless the children, bless the wine, wash hands and lastly, bless the challot (plural challah).

 It's an old Jewish tradition to cover the challot once they are placed on the table so they wont be embarrassed or shamed by their status as "last blessed item."
 I know what you're thinking: it's probably along the lines of what the...?

Realistically speaking, I know that challah can't actually get embarrassed.  I mean it's a piece of bread for darns sake.However I think whoever came up with this slightly silly tradition had it right: Sometimes others can do things before you can...and even though we hate to admit it, that can be extremely embarrassing or shameful.

When I was in third grade, I was an atrocious reader. I loved stories and books themselves, but I couldn't actually read on grade-level. My parents took pity on me and spent many hours at my bedside reading library books out loud. I found that I was entranced by the characters and even the rhythm of the words themselves.

However, despite how much I loved stories, it seemed as though every time I practiced reading, the letters would get all jumbled up and flipped around in my head.
At school I was constantly reminded that my inability to read was not the norm. All around me other kids were reading chapter books under their desks, while I was still struggling to finish the books in the "easy readers" section.

I know that I was only in the third grade, but lets be honest here: I was embarrassed. 
All the other students could read before me...and in my little eight year old heart, the shame was unbearable.

One day our teacher, Mrs. Wallberg, gave us a book report project. She had this big basket of books and called us up one by one to pick out which one we wanted to read. When it was my turn, I took a deep breath and chose a historical fiction story, complete with tiny print and CHAPTERS (the best thing ever to a third grader).

Mrs. Walberg smiled politely at me and then asked, "Loni, are you sure this is the book you want to read?"
I looked at her, my cheeks blushing. "Yes," I said, trying to appear confident.

Any other teacher would have probably forced me to choose another book. But Ms. Wallberg wasn't like that. Instead she nodded and called up the next student to her desk.

For weeks, I struggled through that book. I sat down on the couch and read at my unbelievable slow pace until I got pins and needles in my butt. However, as the story progressed, so did my reading pace and ability. With each passing day I could feel my progress. By the time I reached the end, I would say that my reading level was on par with all the other kids in my third grade class.

I was very proud of myself (and I have a feeling Mrs. Wallberg was too).

Anyhow, I'm saying this because in a way, I know how the challah feels as it sits blessing-less, watching as the wine soaks up all the fancy Hebrew words. But I also know that if the challah is patient and waits its turn,  eventually we will bless her golden brown crust as well. And when that happens, the wait will be way worth it-- challah is absolutely delicious (in fact in my opinion, it's the best part of the meal).

So Challah, hang in there. It's all going to be ok in the end.
-Loni