laurushka.org/blog

My memories of Valentine’s Day as a kid involve two things: one, the paper decorations we always hung up in the windows (and can’t find in the stores anymore), and two, my mom’s Rolled Sour Cream Sugar Cookies, cut out in the shape of a heart.

I haven’t made cut out cookies by myself EVER. I don’t have a lot of room in my house. Cats tend to jump up on things. I didn’t have a rolling pin or a place to roll the dough. So, I didn’t do it. But I always wanted to try to recreate my mom’s cookies.

Over ten years ago, my sister gave me a computer file with recipes, including the Rolled Sour Cream Sugar Cookies. I had to convert it to a rich text file and clean it up, because the programs have changed since then. But I didn’t have the supplies to make them. Then, Last year, my sister gave me two rolling pins (my mom’s old rolling pin with peeling paint on the handles, and a heavy marble one), the mat she used for rolling out dough, and the old cookie cutters we used.

Since Valentine’s Day is coming up, and since we were about to get hit with our second blizzard in less than a week, I decided to finally make them. I told Lilia, I have never done this before, but it is always good to TRY NEW THINGS. She helped out immensely.

These are the cookie cutters we used:

They were quite tough to use– hard to pull back up. I don’t think it was just because I’m not an expert. I think I will get some plain metal cookie cutters in various shapes– I think that would be much easier.

Okay, on to the recipe. I actually googled to see if anyone else had the recipe out there, since I was not 100% sure I had it right (the files had added symbols between all the words and numbers!). I found a scan of the recipe card on a site called Noble Recipes, which has a note that it was from St. Lawrence Dairy– which was (or maybe is?) a dairy in Berks County, Penna., which makes sense. Here’s the recipe:

Rolled Sour Cream Sugar Cookies

2 cups sugar
2/3 cup butter
2 large or 3 small eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup sour cream

5 cups sifted flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

Gradually add sugar to butter, creaming thoroughly; add eggs and beat until fluffy.
Add vanilla and sour cream.
Sift dry ingredients together and add, mixing to a smooth soft dough.
Chill thoroughly, then roll out 1/3″ thick on floured board, and cut in large 3″ to 4″ cookies.
Place on greased baking sheet and sprinkle with sugar. Bake in moderate hot oven (375 to 400 degrees) until lightly browned. Makes about 3 dozen fat, soft cookies. If you want crisp cookies, roll the dough very thin.

Instead of sprinkling with sugar, I decided to ice them. I used this recipe:
Sugar Cookie Frosting
Ingredients for 4 dozen:
• 4 cups confectioners’ sugar
• 1/2 cup shortening
• 5 tablespoons milk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• food coloring
but I halved it:
Ingredients for 2 dozen:
• 2 cups confectioners’ sugar
• 1/4 cup shortening
• 2 tablespoons and 1-1/2 teaspoons milk
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• food coloring
•
Directions
1. In a large bowl, cream together the confectioners’ sugar and shortening until smooth. Gradually mix in the milk and vanilla with an electric mixer until smooth and stiff, about 5 minutes. Color with food coloring if desired.

I googled natural food colors, and found a suggestion to use Pomegranate Juice to color the icing pink.
Here is how they turned out. My disclaimer: I am not a food photographer. I’ve seen luscious photos of my friends’ meals and treats, but I cannot do it. I think part of it is that the cookies themselves are sloppy. The cookie cutters were VERY difficult. And I assigned the icing to Lilia and Joe. And, we don’t have a lot of room to store cookies and cool them– so the cookies stuck together once the icing was on. They still tasted pretty good!

Alright– here’s one of the personal stories I wrote up for class:

Mom was driving me to piano lessons, and as usual, I had my nose in a book. A string of geese flew overhead, and Mom pointed them out—“Laura, Look at the Geese!” I grunted and kept reading. Mom saw my reaction, and said, “You know what you are? You’re jaded!” Jaded? I looked up and asked, “What does that mean?” Of course Mom wouldn’t tell me—it was time to play “Look it up!” But this wasn’t fair—I had no dictionary, and was heading to piano lessons. I wouldn’t be able to look it up! What had she called me? I rushed through piano lessons, and we drove home. I begged Mom, “Please, what does ‘jaded’ mean? Does it mean I’m a bookworm?” But Mom just let me suffer. I pulled out Webster’s and went to the J’s…Jab Jac… there it was… Jaded: made dull, apathetic, uninterested or cynical by too much of something. What? Mom thought I wasn’t interested in geese? I cried out, “But Mom, I love geese! I’m not jaded!” And I’ve never forgotten the meaning of that word.

I just finished my first summer session course, Storytelling. For one of the assignments, I had to write up 10 personal stories from throughout my life. I wrote them up, and asked Joe to look them over, since he has heard most of them, and was there for some of them– they were too boring for him to get through! I submitted them without another pair of eyes looking at them. Fast-forward to yesterday… Joe was going through boxes of scraps of paper we’ve saved over the years… and he finds this story I wrote for a class I had in Fall 1995. He says, “It’s better than anything you wrote for your assignment– go type this up now!” I was on a self-imposed computer break all weekend, so I will type it up now.

——

When I was growing up, my family didn’t have a lot of money, but my mother always gave me anything I wanted, from trombone lessons to tickets to see Rod Stewart when I was six. She also gave me everything she had always wanted, from dance lessons to the opportunity to be more than a nurse. In the summer between fifth and sixth grades, I hounded my parents to send me to a two-week camp. I think my mother worked over-time to send me. And the second I got there, I had one thing on my mind– going home.

I became hysterical. “I miss my mommy and I want to go home,” I’d wail. I knew if I just asked her, she would come and get me. My letter writing campaign began: Please, please come get me, I’m sick, my toe’s infected, my nose won’t stop bleeding, my head aches, my throat is sore, I hate swimming, I have no friends here, and I want to go home now!! For the first week, I was convinced she would come get me on Parent’s Day. Parents’ Day came and went– I cried to her all day long, but she held firm. One more week to go.

The next three days I continued the letter-writing, the complaining and the crying. And then I am not sure exactly what changed, but I did stop crying and complaining, and almost had fun (although I still won the camp’s homesickness award!) This is when I began to resent my mother and became independent from her.

I also started to notice the way the other girls dressed, did their hair and talked about boys. I was still wearing my older-by-eight-years sister’s hand-me downs. When I got home, my sister took me shopping at the mall and I bought fashion-conscious clothes.

Sixth grade started and my best friend and I became boy-crazy, period-anticipating mall-rats, who didn’t need parents to tell us what to do. When I was about 14, I decided to throw a lot of my things away. I came across a group of letters addressed to Pioneer Village– the letters my mom wrote me at camp! I might have re-read them at the time, I might not have. Even three years later, I was still very embarrassed by my actions at camp and extremely resentful towards my mother for not letting me go home. I threw out the letters.

Five years later, when my mother died, I came across a plastic bag marked “By ALL means SAVE!!!” Inside were the letters I had written to her. This time, I carefully placed them in a box with my first blanket and kindergarten drawings.

Lyrics from a Woody Guthrie song I never heard:

Dear Mother, you’re gone to your heavenly home
Where heartaches can’t enter in…
Tonite all alone in spirit I’ve flown
To kiss my mother again.

–

Tuesday marks an unbelievable 16 years since I’ve seen my Mother. Funny that when she died, I didn’t notice how close it was to Mother’s Day, and how that would feel over the years.

Something I posted to a parenting community online…

My mother, who was my best friend in many ways, died at age 49 in 1992 . I had finished one year of college before I withdrew to care for her, and that event (caring for her till her death) has shaped my life more than anything.
I always thought I shouldn’t have any children since I wouldn’t have her support, but over the years, I slowly started to change my mind. I have an amazing husband, and we finally decided to take the plunge into parenthood. Our first attempt was a missed miscarriage, and made me want my mommy more than anything. But, we were lucky and our second attempt was successful, and I have my beautiful 5 month old daughter. I am sure that becoming a mother now will be the second event that will shape my life more than anything. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier (even though as I’m typing, I’m a little teary!).

I still, 14 years later, wish I could talk to her everyday. Right now I’d like to ask her things about her 3 babies… did we teeth early? Was I breastfed? How did she manage to work when my brother and sister were little, and how did she manage to stay home when I was born? I wish I had that insight, but I have long ago gotten over feeling too sorry for myself– I have too many friends who have living mothers who don’t give them that kind of insight, or support, and I decided I am thankful that I had MY mother even if she died too young. Of course, I have sainted my mom… ask my older sister about her, and you’ll get a completely different story.

Well, that was a long intro! Take care, everyone!