It has been one year since my mother suddenly and horrifically died. One year on January 22nd. I want to have something worthy of the occasion to write; something profoundly important and insightful, or perhaps inspiring. I want to tell you the year was long or short or that I had a deeply meaningful spiritual revelation.
Nada.
I was just sad a lot. I was sad with, but grateful for, my sisters and my Dad. I was grateful for my husband and children and for two gentle friends who kept reassuring me it was alright to be sad for as long as I needed. After a while I was also grateful for my work, which held my focus away from what had happened and away from my sadness for increasing amounts of time as the months passed.
Twelve months now.
But even work couldn’t always prevent it all from slipping in, and sometimes work made it come tumbling over me like rocks falling down a mountain, and I crumbled beneath the bruising weight. Ginger set off many such avalanches. Ginger, which I love in its own right, and also because my mother did.
My mother was like ginger: spicy, sassy and nuanced.
A long time ago, I was going to visit my parents and my mother had been sick. (Regular sick, not life-threatening sick. That seems like something you need to clarify when someone has died.) I created these ginger cookies and brought them to her in a pretty tin, layered in ivory-colored tissue paper.
She told me she liked them a lot. I know she did: she would have liked them even if they were a little dry or too chewy or not gingery enough or too sweet. My mother would have genuinely liked them anyway, simply because I made them for her.
If you have a mother like that, go tell her you love her.
Jane’s Ginger Cookies
1 1/3 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup chopped crystallized ginger
4 tablespoons butter
1 large egg
3 tablespoons molasses
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1. Combine the flour, baking soda, ground ginger, and crystallized ginger in a bowl.
2. Mix the butter, egg, molasses and brown sugar with an electric mixer. Add the dry ingredients and mix until just blended. (Do not overwork the batter.). Cover dough in plastic wrap and chill two hours.
3. Preheat the oven to 350f and coat two baking sheet pans with cooking spray.
4. Place a bowl of cold water next to you. Place another bowl with the granulated sugar on your other side. Dampen your hands in the water and for a 1-inch ball of dough; roll it in the sugar and place on the baking sheet. Continue the process, making a total of 28 cookies.
5. Bake 18 minutes, rotating the two pans top to bottom and front to back halfway through. Remove from the pan and cool on a wire rack.
Makes 28 cookies
Note: for a crisper, larger cookie, flatten the balls to a 2-inch wide disk prior to baking.
Yeah… likeI said. Not just a great food writer. A great writer period!
That is the highest compliment, thank you, Ed.
Marge, this is simply beautiful. Thinking of you. The year of firsts is the most difficult, in my estimation. That you can mark that period with the celebration of something your mother would have liked is powerful. Thank you for sharing.
The cards of Richard’s photograph , the piece of twine still around them, sit facing out in a cabinet just above my desk. The picture echoes what your words throughout this year have taught me. At times, the photo depicts a journey towards the unknown; other times the path comes towards me. It speaks of openness and possibility, or something vanishing. The trees have lost their leaves– or laid a soft golden carpet for the journey. The photo is whatever I need it to be, just as you have so many times said that we must honor our grief by allowing it to take whatever form it shows.
Thank you, Kimberly.
Oh..Marge…The first year is usually the hardest. Time passes and memories sweeten with age. There will always be those things that are impossible to think about clearly without crying and then some thoughts will just bring a kind of warm feeling of remembrance. This is said after 27 years- 2 months -and 10 days…but whose counting?
Amy, your support this year has meant the world to me. You are a true and loving friend, and I love you back.
Marge, I remember being so touched by your post about your mother’s tragic passing. Little did I know I would face my own mom’s passing just weeks after that. It is so lovely and reassuring to have things — be they recipes, foods, jewelry, music, whatever — that raise the volume of remembrance and bring a level of comfort to your being.
And so, Anne, you are also going through your year of firsts. I am truly sorry for your sadness, your pain, for that piece of you that is now missing.
My friend Kimberly (who commented here) offered me (sadly) sage words of comfort throughout this year, as have so many other friends and family. And former strangers, as you once were.
I remember when you first wrote me, through my article in Newsday. The fact that you would reach out to me– a stranger then– with your kind words, truly touched me and was part of my circle of compassion.
I do hope you have a similar circle of compassion around you. And I do hope you can mark the first year with just a little peace and comfort attached to your sadness.
Marge, a lovely post – wishing you continued comfort as the time passes. Thanks for sharing so much from the heart, and so many wonderful cooking insights that make all our lives better!
Thank you, PJ. So nice to hear from you. I was thinking of you, of course, during the inauguration. I wondered if you were there, or at home hosting a wonderful party.
Sitting here with tears in my eyes trying to get some work done. I love that the qualities of ginger and the qualities of Jane are so intertwined. I think heaven is the good deeds that a person has done and left behind, and what greater good deed is there than a mother’s love. Please see today’s Anolon FB page.
Thank you, Peggy, for all your ongoing, heartfelt support.
Thanks Marge. THinking of you, and now I’m crying. xoKaren
Dear Marge,
Touched by your openness and elegance. Following your blog this year invites your friends and followers to peep through a window into a very personal corner of your life. Your words touch the hearts of many. Look forward to see you in SF unless you manage to come to CT sooner.
Stephanie, thank you. Thank you for patiently sharing my year…
Thank you for sharing. Beautifully written. Made me cry and makes me want to send ginger cookies to everyone I love. I’m so happy I took a class with you. Bobbi
Marge,
You did write something insightful and inspiring. Hoping this year brings you peace and contentment. Your mom would have wanted it.
Ann
Gingerbread, ginger snaps, or molasses cookies I love them all. This recipe looks great and I’ll give it a try soon. I’d do it now but don’t have the crystalized ginger.
I lost my mother in 1995 way before her time and still tell her that I love her often as she is with me always. After all she is the one who first taught me to cook.
From my several summers as a grief counselor in Colorado I learned one very important thing. We all grieve in our own way. Good luck with your journey. It appears you are doing well, and honoring your mother along the way.
I just discovered your website and going wonderfully nuts with all your recipes.
Before my question, you have my sympathy for the loss of your mother. I was very close with my dad when he passed away, also suddenly an unexpectedly. For awhile, thinking of him made me sad, seeing photos of him made me sad. Years have passed, but I can now think of him and smile, and look at photos and have wonderful memories brought to me. I wish the same for you.
In these wonderful cookies that I MUST surprise my wife with. She loves molasses and ginger cookies, but she’s not fond of crystallized ginger in general, nor anything unnecessarily chewy in her food.
How essential is the crystallized ginger?
Thank you, Scott, for your kind and thoughtful words. I look forward to the time when photos of my Mom with simply bring pleasure– without these pangs of sorrow and grief.
On a much happier note– by all means make the cookies without the crystallized ginger!It might be nice to grate a little fresh ginger and squeeze the juice from it into the batter (discard the solids) to pump up the ginger flavor. But it is an option, and the cookies will be dandy without it.