ice box cookies

May 21, 2020

Growing up, Christmas wasn’t exciting for me for the prospect of presents or Santa coming down the chimney. My excitement was in knowing I would spend the better part of every afternoon in the kitchen with my Aunt Betty. We made swiss cake rolls, gingerbread cookies, bourbon balls, apple and pumpkin pies, and almost every other dessert one could think of. But for our family, the Holy Grail of desserts were the ice box cookies. This recipe has existed in our family for over 60 years and I remember that I felt like I was part of some long line of bakers when we would carefully mix the ingredients, press the dough down, and wait with bated breath for the next day when we could finally cut and bake the cookies.

It’s only recently that I’ve begun to truly appreciate these memories and what my aunt has taught me. She is now 95 years old, and we haven’t missed a Christmas that I’m in the kitchen with her, even if it has slowed down over the years. The reality of Covid-19 didn’t stick with me until I realized how vulnerable she really was to such a virus; I tried to think less morbid thoughts, but I worried nevertheless. What if we don’t have another Christmas to perfect these cookies?

I don’t think this recipe is unique to our family or some long held secret. These are simple cookies that remind me of a joyful time, a time that felt perfect because no matter what, we could let go of the stressors of the outside world and bake. My sister and brother never showed much interest in this side of Christmas, and so it fell to me.

And I loved every moment of it; the baking was secondary. I could sit with someone who had lived through enough history for a hundred lifetimes and listen to the stories she shared. I didn’t cherish it at the time, and maybe I even took it for granted. This is what aunts are for, especially ones I lived my whole life alongside! But as we all grew older, I understood my rare luck. I have spent twenty two Christmases as my aunt’s assistant in the kitchen, and these past few years it has been hard to ignore that I am far less an assistant than before.

So, while I know this recipe is not unique, it is unique to me. It has been rewritten only once, in 1985 - the original copy fell apart from such heavy use, yet it lives on. The recipe itself is simple enough: eggs, brown sugar, flour, baking soda, etc., but it is not a normal recipe. In fact, the actual cooking portion has never been written down. It has, I’m sure, been cooked at various temperatures and for different times over the past six or seven decades, but we’ve always been quite content at 350 degrees, for 10 or 12 minutes.

I suppose it is an effect of the times we’re living through, but I long for the Christmases I would spend listening and laughing as we baked cookies that are so loved by our family. I’ve heard a lot about “simpler times”, and how so many of us wish to return there. For me, it isn’t simpler times; it is the heat of the stove and the crowded house, the smell of the Christmas tree and the baking cookies, and the feeling that I was quite content to know that surely I would do this for the rest of my life. I never considered a Christmas without my aunt to guide me, “Don’t cut it too thick!”, “Don’t burn yourself, use oven mitts!” My aunt is stubborn and kind. And she is old. Covid-19 terrifies me because I don’t know how, one day, I can bake these cookies alone in the kitchen.

But, maybe, now I won’t be alone - as I leave this recipe in good hands with all of you.

Ingredients:

• 2 eggs (beaten well)

• 3 ½ cups bread flour

• 1 tsp baking soda

• 2 cups brown sugar

• 1 cup melted butter

• 1 cup chopped walnuts

• 1 tsp vanilla

Directions:

Mix ingredients well together and pack into a deep pan. Let sit overnight in refridgerator. The next day, cut them thin with a very sharp knife and “bake like any other cookie” (sic.)

Bake "like any other cookie” - bake these at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes.

Connor Campbell graduated from Salem State University in May 2020 with a B.A. in History.

This post is part of a series of student reflections by Salem State's Spring 2020 Introduction to Public History students.