Ginger cookies have always been a favorite of Erika Trafton and they taste even better when her son makes them.
I never thought a cookie could make me cry.
These are my favorite cookies from my childhood. My mother baked them regularly. She would let me lick the beaters but not take a swipe of batter with my fingers. There were rules. Always rules.
I rolled the batter into balls and covered them in sugar, placing them on the cookie sheet. They were best when just out of the oven: hot and a little raw in the middle. I was allowed only one after dinner. Rules. Always rules.
I am too lazy to bake. I think about getting all the ingredients together and the depressive in me just feels overwhelmed. But lately my 17-year-old son has begun baking cookies every Saturday. He knows ginger cookies are my favorite. I sit at the table and watch him work. It’s like a chemistry experiment to him. He also saves the beater for me. I also take large finger-fulls of batter, savoring the spices. Ginger, allspice, cinnamon, cloves, molasses. There are no rules except that he is the boss.