Salt-Based Cookies
The sweetness of revenge.
The sweetness of revenge.
Ingredients
2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
¾ cup salted butter at room temperature
¾ cup granulated sugar
¾ cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
I spent most of my early adolescence in the darkened confines of my bedroom. Whether seeking solace or peace, I was in solitude. What was I doing? My memories of back then are like, tiny, minute building blocks leading up to the wholeness of my life, much like the ingredients of the cookies that saved me from that loneliness.
However, I have a memory of once my mother entered the room. I hurriedly tried to look busy as lying in bed could be in an attempt to hide the fact that I wasn’t in my room just to waste away. Luckily, the book on my nightstand was able to deter suspicion. “Want to help me make cookies?” I remember just nodding, thinking how abnormal it was for her to interact with me. Perhaps she was just worried for her child, spending hours alone in a bedroom with the lights off.
Gathering the ingredients was easy, just as easy as a betrayal. I poured granulated and brown sugar into the mixing bowl and tossed in the butter. I beat the concoction of sugars and butter with the pent-up emotions of the day John shattered me. John was supposed to be my friend. My best friend, in fact. Until that day…
Once the mixture was nice and fluffy, my mother added the flour and baking soda and took her turn beating. She motioned, and I passed the vanilla and eggs. Turning around to look at something entertain to myself, I noticed the salt container on the counter behind us. And with the crack of the eggs I had an idea. I swiped the salt off the counter and hid it in my sleeve.
I’ve always been weak minded and had a frail heart, and back then it quite a while to gain my trust, and only John persisted talk to me as I was really quiet. I wouldn’t call him friendly per se, he was actually pretty vulgar and rude, but we had fun together, and he often brought me out of my shell…
I threw the egg shells away, and my mother put the bowl down to heat the oven behind me, I stepped away and towards the bowl and unsheaved the salt shaker. I wanted to punish him with these cookies, and poured, emptying the shaker’s contents into the bowl. I picked up the whisk and beat, my mom turned around with a puzzled look, “why are you mixing it again?” That was an easy question to answer actually, “We forgot the salt.”
As the cookies were baking, I reflected upon the day that John had lost my trust. Just an ordinary elementary school recess, where I was balancing on the wooden boarder of the barkchip area. I liked to observe the students and watch how the interacted with each other. I was never fully aware of how people talk behind peoples’ backs before that day. John was talking to his group of friends and I heard my name pop up, so naturally I balanced my way to the part closest to where they were standing. “Honestly, I just hangout with her because she does anything in I say, and gets in trouble instead of me.”
My frustration rose with the cookies, and I grew impatient. Once they had finally lost luster, my mother took the cookies out and gave me a ZipLock bag, “Why don’t you give some to John?” As always, mothers know what you want. I bagged several cookies headed to his house.