Dedicated to Lora who is more than a cookie to me

History is not what you thought;
It is what you ate.
My mother

“You are ten years old, Lynn Ruth,” said my mother. “It’s time you learned a few culinary skills. Wash your hands. Jessica and Friedell are coming over in ten minutes to help us make hamantashen.”

“What are hamantashen?” I asked. “Some kind of funny houses?”

My mother shook her head. “What do they teach you in that Sunday School?” she asked. “Hamantashen are cookies shaped like Haman’s hat. We need to bake them for the Purim Masquerade Ball this Saturday night at the Temple.”

“Miss Singal said that we were supposed to write Haman’s name on the bottom of our shoes so we could step on him and wipe him out of Jewish life. Do we have to step on the hamantashen too?”

“Of course not. Everyone eats the little hats to remind us that Queen Esther was very clever and made Haman eat his,” said my mother. “Hamantashen remind us that good women who can cook always triumph over evil. It’s time you realized the immense historical importance of food in Jewish History. I ask you, what is a holiday without dinner?”

“A funeral?” I asked.

“We cook for that, too,” said my mother. “We make comfort food like chicken soup with knadloch, brisket, roast potatoes and tsimmis to console the mourners.”

“It sounds more like the kind of food you give them so they can join the departed,” I said.

My mother looked out her window. “Go downstairs and open the door. I see your aunt coming up the driveway. My God! It looks like she brought the whole family with her.”

“I couldn’t get a baby sitter so I brought Penny and Ricky,” said Aunt Tick.

She kicked the door open with her foot . “Penny started crying because we were leaving Dell behind and Jessica slipped Albert the Alligator in her pocket before I could stop her. Ricky brought his Coronet. He just learned Three Blind Mice. Can someone take this playpen so I can haul in the bottle warmer?”

“How can you tell what Penny wants? She can barely talk,” said my mother. “Set up her equipment in the living room and try to keep Dell out of the kitchen. The last time you brought him over he ate my main course before I got it in the oven.”

“I can’t seem to train him,” said Aunt Tick. “The trouble is his size. He weighs 145 pounds and has the vigor of a long distance runner. When we go out for a walk I feel like I should strap myself into a parachute.”

“Catch him!” shouted Jessica. “He just bit the handle off Aunt Ida’s refrigerator door.”

“Albert crawled in my coronet!” said Ricky.

“Don’t worry, honey,” said my aunt. “Once you start practicing, he’ll come right out. Nothing alive can withstand that sound, I assure you. I brought the eggs, Ida. Shall I show the girls how to sift flour?”

“Not yet,” said my mother. “Hazel isn’t here.”

“There’s her car now,” said Ricky. “I’ll play my song for her.”

He put the coronet up to his lips and the alligator sailed out of the horn. It landed on the kitchen counter, paused to get its bearings and began crawling toward the opened jar of honey on the counter. Dell galloped to counter and jumped. Jessica burst into tears. “HE ATE MY ALLIGATOR!” she cried.

“No he didn’t honey,” said Aunt Tick. “He’ll spit Albert out as soon as he tastes him. He doesn’t like fish.”

Jessica’s eyes filled with tears." I don’t see him anywhere,” she wailed. “Where did Dell spit him?”

“In the dining room,” said my mother. “We’ll find him later. Lynnie Ruth will help you.”

Aunt Hazel and her two daughters walked into the kitchen. “I don’t know why you couldn’t get a Chihuahua, Tick,” said Aunt Hazel.

“Harry likes big dogs,” said Aunt Tick. ”It gives him a sense of power. I think it’s a man thing. She paused and took a deep breath. “Everyone put on their aprons. It’s time to begin baking!”

Lois Ann scowled. “I want to play football in the park,” she said.

“No, she doesn’t ,” said Friedell. “She wants to smoke stogies behind Aunt Ida’s garage.”

My mother paled. “She is developing some very bad habits, Hazel.,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s pregnant before she’s ten.”

“I would,” said my aunt “I don’t think she’s the romantic type. She likes to do little boy things. I caught her smoking cigars with the three Kelly kids in the alley behind our house yesterday. ”

”The best way to handle Lois Ann is make her feel comfortable doing feminine activities; then she’ll prefer dolls to football.”

“You try to handle her, Ida,” said my aunt. “The last time I put her on my lap she bit me.”

“She bit me, too,” said Jessica. “I want to go home.”

“NO YOU DON’T” said my mother. “You want to bake hamantashen!”

“I have the dough ready,” said Aunt Tick “Who wants to roll it out?”

She held up a rolling pin and Dell grabbed it from her hand. He bolted out the screen door with Lois Ann behind him. My mother slammed the door shut and smiled at the rest of us. She cleared her throat. “Now then,” she said.” Who wants to shape this dough?”

Ricky blew four notes on his coronet and my aunt smiled. “Isn’t he talented?” she said . “That was the beginning of Beethoven’s Fifth.”

”It sounded like he stuffed a sick cat up there,” said my mother.

Aunt Tick put her arms around Ricky “Play darling,” she said. “Mama is very proud of you.”

“I WANT ALBERT,” said Jessica.

My mother gave each of us a mound of dough and we began molding little hats. I made one that was three cornered, one that looked like a top hat and three cute French berets. Jessica made two bonnets, one beanie and three babushkas. Friedell sucked her thumb.

“Very good, girls,” said my mother. “Now let’s decorate the hats with strawberry jam, gum drops and chocolate chips before I put them in the oven.”

My Aunt Tick looked at the two cookie sheets filled with blobs of dough blackened by children’s fingers and shaped into strange oblongs and globes with red strawberry spots. She shook her head. “Those things look like victims of the plague,” she said.

“Don’t be so negative,” said my mother. “They’ll bake up just fine. We can taste them at my dinner before the party. ”

“What else are you serving?” asked Aunt Hazel.

“I thought I’d start with Oeufs a la Tripe for the appetizer, then do up some Veal Provencal for the main course, with riz basmati and buttered brioche. Then maybe a nice mousse au chocolate for dessert with a soupcon of Manichevitz for flavor.”

“That sounds awfully French to me,” said Aunt Hazel “Purim is Jewish Holiday.”

“It IS French,” said my mother. “There is a very large Jewish Population in France, Hazel, and this his how they eat on Purim. I got the menu in the latest issue of Paris Match.”

“That’s a lot of food,” I said. “Will anyone want our cute cookies?”

"I’ll serve them with our coffee,” said my mother. “That way, everyone will get to taste them… and she winked at my aunts. “If they have room.”

One more bite
And I’ll be under the table
My mother’s guests