The Best Snickerdoodles

Spring break. The kitchen at home is mine for a week, and I am using it the way a painter uses a studio — with ambition and mess and the freedom that comes from not having four hundred lunches to make. I deep-cleaned again, same as every spring. Scrubbed the oven, organized the pantry, washed every surface. Found a bag of lentils from 2015 that I composted because even I have limits. Rearranged the spice rack by frequency of use, which means salt and cayenne are at eye level and the turmeric I bought in a moment of optimism is on the top shelf where it belongs.

Denise and I went through Hattie Pearl's recipe box on Saturday. Not the whole box — just the section I'd been avoiding, the cards I haven't looked at since Mama died in 2008. There were recipes in her handwriting that I'd never seen. A recipe for molasses cookies that I don't remember her making. A recipe for sweet potato biscuits with a note in the margin: "James likes these warm." James. My daddy. A note about what he liked. I held that card and I could smell Mama's kitchen — the cast iron, the cornbread, the Vaseline she put on her hands — and I missed her with a force that knocked the breath out of me.

I made the molasses cookies. I followed her handwriting exactly, even where it was hard to read, even where she'd crossed things out and rewritten them. The cookies came out dark and chewy and spicy with ginger and cloves, and they tasted like a kitchen I haven't stood in since 1955. I ate one and I cried. I ate another and I stopped crying. By the third one I was okay. Grief is like that — it comes in waves, and cookies help you ride them.

I also made the sweet potato biscuits. They were perfect. Tender, slightly sweet, golden. James likes these warm. I served them warm, to no one in particular and everyone who's ever been at my table. The dead eat with us, baby. They always do.

Earl ate four biscuits. He said, "These are new." I said, "They're old. They're Mama's." He said, "They're perfect." I said, "They're James's." He understood. He ate a fifth. Some things don't need more explanation than a warm biscuit and a quiet kitchen.

Now go on and feed somebody.

Mama’s molasses cookies aren’t a recipe I can hand you today — those cards belong to the box, to Denise, to the handwriting I’m still learning to read again. But the feeling they gave me? That I can pass on. These snickerdoodles are cut from the same cloth: chewy at the center, crinkled at the top, warm with spice, and best eaten in threes while standing in a quiet kitchen. Bake them for the people sitting at your table. Bake them for the ones who aren’t.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 11 min | Total Time: 26 min (plus 30 min chill) | Servings: 36 cookies

Ingredients

2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon fine salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
For the cinnamon sugar coating:
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

Instructions

Whisk the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cream of tartar, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl using a hand mixer or stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar together on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
Add eggs and vanilla. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the vanilla extract and mix until fully combined.
Combine wet and dry. Reduce mixer speed to low and gradually add the flour mixture, mixing just until no dry streaks remain. Do not overmix.
Chill the dough. Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or up to 24 hours. Chilling is key to keeping the cookies thick and chewy.
Preheat the oven. When ready to bake, preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C). Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper.
Make the cinnamon sugar. In a small shallow bowl, stir together the 3 tablespoons sugar and 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon.
Portion and roll. Scoop the dough into balls about 1 1/2 tablespoons each (roughly the size of a walnut). Roll each ball generously in the cinnamon sugar until fully coated. Place 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets.
Bake. Bake one sheet at a time on the center rack for 10 to 12 minutes, until the edges are just set and the centers look slightly underdone and puffy. They will firm up as they cool. Do not overbake — the chew lives in that soft center.
Cool. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. They are best warm, but they keep their chew for days in an airtight container at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

The Best Snickerdoodles — Baked From Memory, Made With Grief and Love