"It tastes like more"

April 23, 2020

“It tastes like more.” That’s what my Great Grandma and my Grandma Cindy used to say when they liked something. And then they’d wait to see my reaction and just laugh like they had heard the funniest joke. At this point they had probably said this to me at least once earlier in the day if not earlier in the week. And if it wasn't this statement then it would be expressed in another, usually in the follow-up questions they had after meals (except breakfast because we didn’t eat dessert in the morning, an arbitrary rule to me, but anyway). Our post-meal conversations usually went something like this:

“What’s for dessert?”

"I don't know. I can go check!" I'd say.

“What do you mean you don't know? Haven't you done any baking? What have you got? I want something sweet. Have we got any pies? How about cookies? Is there any ice cream? Yes? Wonderful.”

“How much do you want? Is that enough?” I’d ask.

“Let me see…what am I on a diet? More please.”

Growing up I lived with my mom and my Grandma Cindy, and eventually my Great Grandma came to live with us too. I spent a lot of time with my Grandma Cindy after school and with my Great Grandma on weekends and holidays, and during church. Having two grandmas in close proximity to me growing up meant that I always had someone to listen to my stories, someone to tell me jokes, someone to play cards games with (usually Old Maid, 31, or Go Fish!) and someone to bake with me. Baking is something I’ve been doing since before I could write full sentences. Indeed, my grandmas were notorious for trying to get my cousins and me into the kitchen as early as possible. So, I started baking and cooking with them at age 4. And by 8, I could bake banana breads, pies, cookies, and pound cakes all by myself.

My family baked every weekend. Honestly, it’s how I made friends in elementary school. I’d invite them over to bake cookies or Rice Krispies with me. My house was THE place to be. And my mom and my Grandma Cindy were the cool parents. They’d let you put on any apron, give you a personal baking station (a very specific section of the counter or the table) and let you go. You had full reign. My Grandma Cindy never stood over your shoulder or questioned you. She’d work right alongside you, elbow-to-elbow, flour-marred apron to flour-marred apron.

Her mantra was always: if you’re not making a mess, you’re not doing it right. She definitely underestimated my 8-year-old propensity for mess-making, but she stood behind those words. And I do, too. If you haven’t got flour all up your arms, cookie dough covered hands, and a sticky spot on the counter after you have cleaned everywhere, then you’ve done it wrong.

Aside from pies, my favourite thing to bake is cookies. And my favourite recipe is wheat germ cookies. To me, they taste like my childhood. They taste like our apartment in Kitchener. They taste like more.

When COVID-19 was declared a pandemic my first instinct was to buy groceries and baking supplies. I'm what they call a stress baker. So, I bought tart shells, chocolate chips, baking powder, and butter. I bought all the things I wanted. But these last few weeks, I've been missing my family. I live in an apartment by myself several hours away from my family. And as the days and weeks blur together I find myself looking for things I never considered essential before. A soccer ball? Essential. Cocoa powder? Essential. Wheat germ? Essential.

"I need to have a piece of home with me," I told myself. I did not care how, or who, or when I got wheat germ. I just needed to know it was there and that I could use it when I needed it. I googled it. I tried to get it delivered, but couldn't find it. Last week I decided to add it to my list of essential goods and trekked over to Bulk Barn, crossing my fingers and hoping it would be in stock. And it was. I left that store with a bag full of wheat germ and a huge sigh of relief.

I have yet to make these cookies. Time has gotten away from me. But I'm excited to make them again. And when I do, I will have more, when everything else in the world feels like less.

Ingredients:

1 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1½ tsp vanilla extract
1½ cups rolled oats
1 cup wheat germ
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp teaspoon salt

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 325 °F (165 °C).

In a large bowl, mix butter, white sugar, and brown sugar until the lumps are gone.

Beat in eggs, one at a time. Stir in vanilla.

Add in oats, wheat germ, flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

Wash your hands and then mix it all together with your fingers.

Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheet and bake for 8-10 minutes.

Sali Lafrenie is a second-year MA student in Public History at Carleton University. She is also a pasta maker and a stress baker.