A recipe slipped out of my
late grandmother’s Betty
Crocker’s Picture Cookbook as
I paged though it last week. Hand-written on lined notebook paper, it was
a recipe for cherry bars. The letters were clear and slanted; the paper
was crisp, as though grandma had written it a week ago.
My apartment smelled like a bakery after I put a pan of them in the oven. For the rest of the afternoon, I was happy indoors.
Was it Grandma Eleanor’s
handwriting? I wondered. It was
possible. I read the instructions and imagined her voice—cheerful, but raspy
from cigarettes—guiding me though the instructions.
Sift flour, sugar. Cut
in Oleo. And press into an 11” x17” pan.
Grandma Eleanor was my
father’s mother. Her hair was bobbed and white and she wore oversized
gray glasses. I was convinced that she was Mrs. Claus and, come December,
was extra cautious in her presence. She died when I was seven,
before I really knew her, but some of my fondest memories include baking cut-out
cookies in her kitchen.
The cherry bar recipe
was like a conversation she and I never had. Grandma dictated the instructions,
and I visualized myself following them. The handwriting mesmerized me, I
could have looked at it for hours. A handwritten recipe is different from
letters on a computer screen or a cookbook’s printed text; it’s personal and
undeniably the words of another human. A cook communicates her
personality in the way she loops her Ls and ends her words with an upward
swoop. A happy, organized woman penned this recipe, of that I was
certain. I added cherry bars to the top of my must-try list, for purely
sentimental reasons.
It was a strange
recipe. Grandma listed baking powder, flour, and flaked coconut as
ingredients for the cherry filling. The shortbread crust called for powdered
sugar. I shrugged at the ingredients and gathered them anyway, Grandma
was the expert. I followed the recipe exactly. Well almost. The sugar I
reduced by half, the maraschino cherries I replaced with Trader Joe’s Dark
Morello Cherries in Light Syrup. Instead of Oleo, I used my favorite
baking fat, unsalted butter.
My apartment smelled like a bakery after I put a pan of them in the oven. For the rest of the afternoon, I was happy indoors.
The next day my mother
dropped by and I cut her a piece.“Mmmm. It
tastes like a moist cherry shortbread,” she said, picking it up with her hands.
“I want another piece.”
I handed her the recipe and asked if the writing was Grandma’s. Mom
glanced at it.
“No, Honey, I’m sorry,”
she said. “That’s not her writing at all.”
Sometimes I’m too romantic
for my own good.
Still, it is a wonderful
recipe, perfect for breakfast or a late afternoon snack. The crust is a powdery
pastry, the kind that clings to the sides of your mouth and begs for a glass of
milk. Laden with toasted almonds and held together with chewy coconut, it
is a most satisfying treat.
Cherry Coconut Shortbread Bars
2 cups flour
½ cup powdered sugar
1 cup butter, unsalted
Preheat the oven to 350oF.
In a large mixing bowl, stir together the flour and sugar. With a pastry
cutter, paddle attachment of a standing mixer, or two knives cut in the butter
until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Press the mixture into an
11”x17” pan and bake for 10 minutes. Be careful not to overbake the
crust. It should be underdone at this point, to allow for more baking
later.
Filling:
½ cup flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
4 eggs
1 cup chopped cherries in
light syrup
1 cup flaked coconut
¾ cup chopped, toasted almonds
Combine the dry ingredients
in a medium mixing bowl and beat in the eggs. Fold in the cherries,
coconut and nuts. Spread over the half-baked dough and bake for 30-40
minutes at 350oF. Serve plain or topped with sweetened whipped
cream.
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