In the Kitchen

 

A FEW DAYS LATER, Grandma Sissy came downstairs to the bakery. Dad walked in front of her, and Grandma Sissy used his shoulder as support, clutching the railing with her other hand, and Mom walked right behind her, keeping her hands on Grandma Sissy’s waist just in case she lost her balance.

Odette watched from the bottom of the staircase, holding open the door that led to the bakery. She thought about all the times she’d run up and down stairs in her life, never giving it a thought.

When at last Grandma Sissy reached the bottom, Mom lowered her into a chair that they’d moved into the kitchen area. She breathed out slowly, her lips pursed together, her breath making a shaky whistling sound. “Okay,” she said. “All right.”

After a minute, she looked up and smiled. “Are you ready to bake?”

That was why Grandma Sissy was down here—she wanted to show Odette and Rex how to bake their favorite cookies.

“Me first,” said Rex.

Gary had laid out everything they’d need to make snickerdoodles and double chocolate chip cookies, the flour and the right number of eggs and baking soda and cubes of yellow butter. Grandma Sissy sat in her chair and directed them, but she wouldn’t touch a thing. “You’ll need to be able to do this yourselves, after I’m gone.” She wouldn’t even let Mom help Rex, other than pouring the liquids.

When he cracked an egg and got some on his fingers, Rex freaked out for a couple of minutes. He hated anything slimy on his hands. But Grandma Sissy told him, “It’s just eggs—go wash your hands and buck up, little soldier,” which Rex thought was funny. He double-washed his hands and went back to work.

Textures were just something that freaked Rex out. And snickerdoodles weren’t cookies you could make without getting your hands dirty. Odette watched, amazed, as Rex scooped a handful of cookie dough, rolling it into a ball, and then dipping it in a sugar-cinnamon mix before placing it on a cookie sheet.

“Well done, little soldier,” Grandma Sissy said when his cookies were finished and in the oven. Then it was Odette’s turn.

Mom and Dad took Rex out for a walk and left Odette alone with Grandma Sissy.

“Don’t let my cookies burn,” Rex told Odette.

Technically, Odette didn’t even need Grandma Sissy there. She could just follow the recipe, written out in Grandma Sissy’s loopy script on an index card. But she listened as Grandma Sissy walked her through the steps.

“Always use real butter,” Grandma Sissy said. “Never margarine. And let it soften to room temperature on its own. Set it out at least an hour before you plan to bake. The cookies turn out better that way.” She motioned for Odette to hand her a cube of butter, and she squeezed it a little. Underneath the wax paper, the butter dented in the shape of Grandma Sissy’s thumb.

“Perfect,” Grandma Sissy said as Odette unwrapped the cube and dropped it into the bowl. She shook in a cup of fine white sugar and turned on the mixer, creaming the butter and sugar together.

“Now,” Grandma Sissy said, “the recipe says to add in the eggs and vanilla. But let me share a secret with you. Add the vanilla first, before the eggs. And then stop.”

Odette measured out a teaspoonful of vanilla extract, smelling it before she tipped it into the bowl. She blended it into the sugar and butter mixture and then turned to Grandma Sissy. “Get two spoons,” Grandma Sissy said.

Odette did, and Grandma Sissy told her, “Scrape out a little bit onto each spoon. Not a whole spoonful. That would throw off the recipe. Just a taste.”

Then Grandma Sissy motioned for Odette to bring her a spoon. “This is my favorite thing in the world,” she said, taking one of the spoons.

Odette tasted the mixture. Smooth butter, granular sugar, vanilla. That was all.

It was perfection.

Grandma Sissy smiled. “Baker’s privilege,” she said. “I think this is even yummier than the cookies.”