You want a cookie?

Welcome to the new blog! (Edited to add that Pretty has decided that two blogs were silly. She merged the two in December, 2012.) If you have come from a link I've posted, you probably already know that I am Pretty.  If not, Hi!  I'm Pretty, and this is my new blog!  If you want to know a little bit more about me, please check out the "About" page, and maybe the "Meet the Family" page.  There will be more detail as we get to know each other.  :)

Since there's lots of time for us to get acquainted, I thought I'd start with a cookie recipe.  Everyone loves cookies, right?  Right.  So, check out this link for Grandpa Joe's Anise Cookies.  I'll wait while you go and have a look...

Here's a picture, too!

Now, looking at these cookies, you might have guessed that they don't have chocolate, or creme centers, or oatmeal in them.  This is a cookie that my very Italian grandparents kept on the kitchen table at all times.  As kids, we would come in, sit down and open the round, white, cardboard cookie container (the kind that comes filled with sugar-sprinkled Christmas cookies in December) and have a cookie. They were always dry, not too sweet, and tasted faintly of black licorice...that's the anise.

Sometimes, if you timed it just right, Grandpa Joe would come into the kitchen to refill his coffee cup while you sat there with your cookie.  He would add milk from the quart in the fridge,   filling his cup to the very top, and then he would bend down to the counter to take the first, slurpy sip without lifting it.  Then, he would take a cookie and there you were, eating cookies in the kitchen with Grandpa.

Of course, it was usually about this time that Grandma came in to shoo Grandpa out, and rush around the kitchen to cook the pasta and toss the salad so that we could all eat!  I don't remember her ever shooing me out of that kitchen, tho.  And I don't remember her ever telling me that I couldn't have a second cookie...or a third, or a fourth.  

I love the memory of my grandparents' kitchen, and these cookies are only a part of the magic.  I love knowing that my Grandfather baked ridiculously large batches of these cookies, and stored them in a box in the pantry, covered with a towel.  Most of all, I love the way being in that kitchen with my grandparents made me feel loved. 

What's your favorite cookie?