2014-05-12



My Aunt Hester was a one in a million Kentucky cook. I only had her around until 1981, the year I was married, but I can still taste her fried chicken, her hot dog Coney sauce, her Red Velvet Cake, and most especially, her M&M’s cookies. We’re talking real people food here, family reunion food. When I wrote about Betsie Troyer, a young Amish woman in the 70s, I gifted her with Aunt Hester’s recipes—recipes I recall from 1971, the year my novel
The Bargain takes place.

Family—it’s so important to the Amish that they eschew modern conveniences like the automobile to keep members close to hearth and home. Oddly enough, a cable provider outage last night zapped our TV, phone, and Internet access in one fell swoop. What did we do? We entertained one another with stories about our day as we ate dinner. Then we retired to the living room and responded to a text from our daughter just before she began an hour-long journey home. When we told her the cable was out so no rush, surprise—she was sad to miss out on the unplugged family time.

Several years ago, I interviewed an elderly lady who lived in Plain City, Ohio, about twenty minutes from me (or one hour in a buggy). It was Rachel’s harness shop I was interested in as I researched a book about the Underground Railroad. When I snapped a picture of the rolls of leather she worked with, the flash of my camera alarmed Rachel. Only then did I ascertain her heritage: camera-shy Old Order Amish. Lest you think the name of the town should have tipped me off, Plain City refers to the terrain, not the Plain people who once lived there. At any rate, Rachel (my inspiration for Betsie) spoke lovingly of her father, her cousin, and her eight sisters—her family. At the time of the interview, only one sister still lived with Rachel, and together they made up two of the nine remaining Amish in Plain City, a population so obscure that I didn’t know it existed until my camera flashed. How this Amish woman longed for times past, when she was surrounded by her friends and family.

Family is also important to the ‘English,’ of course. Long before I met him, my father-in-law worked those flat plains on his grandpa’s Plain City farm every summer, so I’m sure he knew about the Amish. I can’t ask him, though. He passed away before I started writing about Rachel. I miss him very much, and I think of him whenever I make chili for my husband because Dad loved to make a big pot of chili when the weather turned cold. Food and family; there’s definitely a strong connection.

I wish I could be wrapped in one of Aunt Hester’s loving hugs once more, but I’m reminded of her loving-kindness every time I use her recipes. Well, and also I owe my first name to her: Aunt Hester suggested to my mom that while Jetta was a nice name, Stephanie was even nicer. See, she didn’t like her own name: Belle Tennessee Hester. Anyway, as much as I loved my aunt, I worried that I was cheating to use her M&M’s cookie recipe for Betsie until I found this authentic Amish Monster Cookie recipe—it uses M&M’s! Perhaps English and Amish have more in common than I first thought.



Why don’t you give this Amish Monster Cookie recipe a try and unplug tonight? You may be surprised to feel your stress level dwindle as you give your family undivided attention and unlimited hugs. I guarantee you that someday you’ll be glad you took my advice.

Amish Monster Cookies

3 eggs

1 C. white sugar

2 t. soda

1 1/2 C. peanut butter

1/2 C. chocolate chips

1 t. vanilla

1 C. brown sugar

1 T. Karo

1/2 C. Oleo

4 1/2 C. oatmeal

1/2 C. M & M’s

Directions

Mix everything together and bake at 350 for 12 minutes.

Note: You can tell this is a real Amish recipe—whack everything in a bowl, mix it up, and bake, done that way for generations. Let me translate: combine all the ingredients except the flour and oatmeal, mix well. Lastly, add the flour and oatmeal. Dough will be very stiff, so a standard mixer will help. Drop cookies by tablespoon onto ungreased cookie sheet and flatten with the bottom of a flat cup.

Yield: Four to five dozen. Karo is Karo syrup, soda is baking soda, and oleo is margarine (I used softened butter). Got a big family? The version that makes 18-20 dozen calls for twelve eggs. Happy baking!

Wouldn't you agree there is a strong connection between food & family? @stefreedbooks
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