I recently found a cherished recipe my mother had lost tucked away in my scrapbook cookbook. It brought back many happy memories—the aroma of my childhood kitchen, my mother humming while she baked, her hands in motion, and the little flowers she placed on her windowsill. Comfort food does that; it takes one back to the cocoon.
The recipe has a certain order, which is a challenge for me because I’m not one to follow directions carefully. But I wanted to taste one, craving the taste, so I decided to give it a try, stay focused, and follow the steps, though I did go off script by soaking the raisins in cognac/water to satisfy my creative rebellious side. My mom would say there she goes, shake her head, and walk away.
Whether you add a splash of cognac to a recipe or toss in an unexpected ingredient, being daring gives the recipe your twist, making it uniquely yours. Or, as my mother would say, a sure way to flop a good dish. Then she would utter, “Carob,” under her breath. But that is another story for another day.
Here’s the recipe I followed:
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons of packed brown sugar,
½ teaspoon of cinnamon; (I ground a cinnamon stick, just for fun.)
½ teaspoon of salt,
½ teaspoon of clove powder,
½ teaspoon of nutmeg,
½ teaspoon of allspice. I didn’t have it, so I used pumpkin spice.
¾ cup of vegetable oil, I used sunflower oil.
1 ⅓ cups of water, but a third I used cognac instead or maybe more… you see how I roll.
1 pound of raisins; this is not for you if you do not like raisins.
1 ½ cups of flour: my mother always sifts her Gold Medal flour. So I do it too.
1 ¼ teaspoons of baking powder,
1 ¼ teaspoons of baking soda,
1 ⅔ cups of brown oats or bran, I used oatmeal because I had it on hand.
Egg whites that are slightly beaten,
¾ cup of chopped walnuts. (That is one thing that is always in my suitcase when I come back from Willows: Walnuts from local farmers that we shell ourselves.
To make these, I started by combining the oil, brown sugar, raisins, spices, water, cognac, and salt in a heavy pan. I brought it all to a boil, then set it aside overnight. The next day, I mixed the remaining dry ingredients—flour, baking powder, baking soda, and all the spices—except for the oats. When it was time to assemble, I added the beaten egg whites to the raisin mixture and then combined that with the dry ingredients, mixing gently for about two minutes. Afterward, I added the oats and mixed them in well. I filled paper cups nearly to the top and baked them at 300°F for 20 minutes, followed by 10 minutes at 350°F.
I admit, I was so pleased with how they turned out. I wanted to eat them all, but I resisted. Even Yann, who usually dislikes gingerbread flavor, loved them, and I assured him there was no ginger in the recipe! If you ever try one of my recipes, I’d love to see a photo. Please feel free to send me one, as I’d like to add them to my collection here.
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