When I was young, my grandma had a cookie jar. It was a dingy yellow with brown swirls that might actually have been flowers on the belly. There were two handles, one on each side firmly attached. I can still here the deep cla-clank as the lid settled into place. I wish I had a picture! I need a picture. I’m sure she still has it because it was grandkid indestructible.
This cookie jar was always full. Not full to the brim – but to the mid-belly point. Sometimes there were homemade cookies. Sometimes they were store-bought delights. What amazed me about this jar was its ability to make even the hardest, store cookies as soft as homemade.
My favorite thing to find inside said jar was graham cracker cookies made from extra frosting. Oh the goodness. If you got them too fresh, the frosting oozed out the sides and made a lickable mess; if you got them one or two days old --- oh – oh the goodness. The crackers had time to absorb the frosting’s moisture and soften up. Then you could bite through the whole thing as one, not three separate hard and soft parts.
I had extra frosting and my Hubby was hiding a box of grams in the pantry so I put together a memory. I dipped my edges in nuts so no one in this nut-fearing house would even try to sneak off with them.
The rest I frosted all plain and brown. I half-filled my Mother's Day cookie jar (Thanks Hubby) for the picture.
The next time I make them, I'm dipping them in sprinkles for the kids – a nice yellow as a nod to my grandma and her wonderful cookie jar.
The rest I frosted all plain and brown. I half-filled my Mother's Day cookie jar (Thanks Hubby) for the picture.
The next time I make them, I'm dipping them in sprinkles for the kids – a nice yellow as a nod to my grandma and her wonderful cookie jar.
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