MY GRANDMOTHER had a cookie closet. It held table linens too, which I suppose was its primary function, but to my sister and I, it was the place from which we could sneak cookies, always either molasses or coconut macaroon. Located in the formal dining room, it was possible to tiptoe in and steal a couple of cookies without being seen. There was a big 'however' to this, however. The closet door squeaked. Consequently, late in the afternoon when we were getting hungry for dinner and my grandmother was around the corner in the kitchen getting it ready, she knew very well when the little thieves were about.
S-Q-U-E-A-K!!!
“Get out of those cookies,” my grandmother would yell good-naturedly from where she stood at the stove. “It’s almost time for dinner.”
Of course, in those days, no couple of cookies was about to stem my active little boy’s appetite. The molasses cookies were soft and wonderfully flavorful. The sweet aroma hit you as soon as the closet door was opened. However many I could fit in my hand I would carry off and savor like life itself.
The macaroons had a special chewy consistency that made them fun to eat. The coconut was shredded from fruit of the trees in the yard. This was Miami. Sometimes I even got to drink non-alcoholic piña coladas concocted from coconut milk and pineapple juice.
The cookie closet was just one of the wonderful nooks and crannies abounding in my grandparent’s old home. But it was definitely the most aromatic when my grandmother had been baking for us kids.