Morning Crispies

Snow on the ground all week. Not a lot, three inches, but enough that it stayed, and the world outside the window was white-edged and the driveway needed salting every morning and the mornings smelled like nothing because it was too cold for smells to travel. I drove a Rapid City run Wednesday through Friday — a winter run, the kind I used to dread in my 30s and now love in my 40s because I have driven this stretch of I-29 in every weather there is and nothing surprises me anymore — and I ate a pot of chili I made in the cab and listened to a Willa Cather audiobook and thought about the cookbook doing its slow, quiet work back in New York. The book is being copyedited. Copyeditors are kind and ruthless. They will fix my commas. They will leave my voice. I hope.

The Christmas tree went up Saturday. Dave hauled it in from the lot. Josie and Tyler decorated it with supervision from Amber and no help at all from Justin, who was at a weight lifting session, and then came home and fell asleep on the couch next to the half-decorated tree and nobody woke him up for dinner because his face was peaceful and his body was earned. I covered him with a blanket. I made dinner for five. He woke up at midnight and ate cold casserole at the counter in the kitchen the way we Novaks eat cold casserole at the counter in the kitchen.

Amber's scholarship essay results came in Friday. She got one — the Mildred Berkhamer Foundation scholarship, two thousand dollars, for "commitment to community service in rural Nebraska." The essay she wrote was the one I read in November, the one about children in foster care and adoption transitions. She told us at dinner. She did not say, "I won a scholarship." She said, "The Berkhamer came through." Dave had to ask what it was. Amber showed him the letter. Dave read it. Dave said, "Amber. This is a lot of money." Amber said, "I know." Dave said, "You earned this." Amber said, "Thanks, Dad." He called her Dad. He does not always. When he does, it means he's proud. We all know. Nobody commented. We ate the casserole. That's a Novak dinner.

I made a gingerbread recipe Sunday that Gayle gave me on a card in the shoebox — an old recipe, written in pencil, the handwriting not Gayle's but someone older's, probably her own mother's, with "from Grandma Marta, 1962" at the top. I followed it. The gingerbread came out dark and dense and warm and tasted exactly like a kitchen in 1962 that I never stood in but know by inheritance. I wrote about it in my journal. That chapter is not in the cookbook. The cookbook is done. Maybe the next one. There might be a next one. I have not said that out loud. I am saying it in writing for the first time right now. I might write another book. I will not know for a while. I will see what the first one does first. One thing at a time. That is the Brenda Novak way.

The gingerbread from Grandma Marta’s card got me thinking about all the recipes that live in shoeboxes and on index cards and in the margins of church cookbooks — the ones nobody digitized because nobody thought they needed to be. Morning Crispies is that kind of recipe: simple, a little plain-looking on paper, and exactly right when you pull them out of the oven on a cold morning when the driveway still needs salting and the kids are asleep and the house is yours for twenty quiet minutes. It’s the recipe I reach for when I want something that tastes like it has always existed and always will.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 18 minutes | Total Time: 28 minutes | Servings: 24 crispies

Ingredients

1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 large egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons whole milk

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
Combine the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the oats, flour, granulated sugar, brown sugar, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon until evenly mixed.
Mix in the wet ingredients. Add the melted butter, egg, vanilla, and milk to the dry ingredients. Stir with a wooden spoon until the dough just comes together — it will be slightly stiff and crumbly at the edges, which is right.
Portion the dough. Scoop rounded teaspoons of dough onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing them about 2 inches apart. Press each one down gently with the palm of your hand to flatten slightly.
Bake until golden. Bake for 15 to 18 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until the edges are deep golden brown and the centers look set. They will crisp up as they cool — don’t pull them early.
Cool on the pan. Let the crispies cool on the baking sheets for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. They keep well in a tin for up to five days, though they rarely last that long.

Nutrition (per serving)

Morning Crispies — The Kind of Recipe That Gets Written on a Card and Kept in a Shoebox