A long time ago (okay only about seven years) in a faraway kingdom (Switzer Elementary) I volunteered to bring in a special homemade dish for my classmates to try. The extra-credit assignment was to bake something from another nationality all by yourself and then bring in delicious samples for your fellow princesses and princes (aka classmates). It seems like schools these days are always trying to make kids more diverse, to broaden their horizons and show them that there’s more to life than the cafeteria’s finest chicken fingers and French fries. I guess there’s nothing wrong with that though. I am a girl who loves food. Food of all kinds, from many different cultures. Comfort foods, spicy foods, sweet foods, and plenty other foods. Thanks to my Italian ancestry, food is one of the most important things in my life. Eating is my pride and joy. Cooking, on the other hand, is not my strong suit. I am more like the queen who enjoys being served food, unlike the servants doing the actual cooking. Being the straight- A student that I am, I volunteered to put my culinary skills (wait, what culinary skills?) to the test anyways. I knew right then and there that I was going to bake Russian tea cakes.
The first time I was introduced to Russian tea cakes was at Christmastime when I was a little girl frolicking around in my favorite holiday dress. It was cookie baking day and I was more than excited for cookie eating time. I stood on the kitchen chair so I could see onto the counter as my mom baked the Russian tea cakes with ease. She let me lick the batter off the spoon when she was done. I was the happiest girl in the world. My mom always baked the decadent cookies for me to compliment the generic sugar and gingerbread stereotypes of the holiday season.
Russian tea cakes were, and still are, absolutely delicious. Definitely more advanced than the store bought Chips Ahoy cookies I was used to. Ignoring the fact that I was never the Betty Crocker type of girl, I went home from Switzer Elementary School that day eager to put my cooking skills to work. My mom fetched me the famous Russian tea cake recipe from her cookbook of favorites and then left me alone in the kitchen to explore the world of cooking – a world that was not destined for me.
First things first; I preheated the oven to four-hundred degrees. Next, I collected all of the supplies and ingredients. I felt like I was gathering materials for a science experiment, a tedious task that no one ever wants to volunteer for. Then I measured out the ingredients like a math student perfecting a problem. Never mind a pinch here, and a pinch there. I am a perfectionist and cooking certainly wasn’t an activity excused from this trait. I placed the ingredients into the bowl. Then I mixed everything together. I placed the cookies onto the sheet, popped them into the oven and voila! Russian tea cakes. These tasks didn’t seem too bad. I sat patiently and proudly waiting the ten minutes for the cookies to bake. I felt like I had succeeded in cooking for once, until I actually tasted one of my cookies that is.
In no time at all the beep of the oven filled my ears and the aroma of freshly baked cookies took over my senses like the smell of a deliciously scented holiday candle. I carefully removed the cookies from the oven and set them on the stove to cool. This was something my mother always did. One by one, I dipped the cookies into powdered sugar, anticipating the moment when I could put my superb eating skills to the test and see if my own work as a baker would reach my mother’s A+ level. It wasn’t exactly love at first bite. I put the cookie into my mouth expecting to taste the warmth and sweetness of a soft, doughy sugar cookie. To my shock, the taste was totally different. The cookie tasted bland and boring, something like a stale cracker. I knew something must have gone wrong during the production process. The cookies seemed to be missing something, but I had no clue what that missing ingredient could have been. From the look on my mother’s face as she bit into the legendary cookies, I was sure I had made a mistake.
Feeling the defeat of a student who studied all night for a test just to receive a failing grade, I was ready to give up and tell my teacher I accidently burnt the cookies, an excuse much like “my dog ate my homework.” Instead, my mom volunteered to help me remake the Russian tea cakes step by step so I could hopefully discover what I did wrong. Since all of the supplies were already laid neatly on the kitchen counter, my mom and I started the remake of the cookies by measuring out all of the ingredients (which I was confident I had done just right on my own). ½ cup confectioner’s sugar. 2 ½ cups flour. 1 cup margarine. 1/4 tsp salt. 1 tsp vanilla. ¾ cup crushed walnuts. As my mom was pouring the ingredients into the bowl I noticed her scooping out a powdery white substance from a brown container, something that I had failed to do. But what could be in that brown container? I was sure I had used all of the right ingredients. Wait a minute: go back to the very beginning. To the first item on the list. That’s right, sugar. I forgot the sugar. Come to find out, I had substituted the sugar for extra flour. Both white, both stored in similar containers, and both sitting on the kitchen counter. The difference was, one was flour and one was the required confectioner’s sugar that the delicious cookies craved. I couldn’t believe my mistake. I attempted to get by making sugarless cookies! I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t ever crave the taste of a sugar-free cookie.
The day I volunteered to make Russian tea cakes for my class still remains a memorable time in my life. I was young, and naïve, and ready to take on anything- even cooking. Now that I am older and more cultured I can accept the fact that cooking isn’t for me. The cookie catastrophe was somewhat embarrassing, but don’t get me wrong, every time I eat Russian tea cakes I don’t think of pure humiliation, instead I think about how people learn to get over the mistakes they make (or bake). This is very important to me considering I have a hard time letting things go. The not-so-sweet cookies made me embarrassed because I was so used to success and thought I would have no problem perfecting the Russian tea cakes. However, I learned to grow from my mistake and accept the fact that perfection is not always possible.
Each and every year when the weather begins to change and the snow starts to fall, I know exactly what will soon be at my reach to devour bite by bite- Russian tea cakes. The baking of Russian tea cakes always takes me back to the time when I tried making them by myself. The time when I failed to perfect something, when I learned to laugh at my mistakes, when I learned to let someone else help me. Most importantly, when I learned that it’s ok to be less than perfect.
Every year at Christmastime my mom makes me Russian tea cakes because she knows they are my favorite. This makes me so happy. As my mom carefully measures out the ingredients, never forgetting the sugar, I sit there and watch offering a helping hand. She gives me the easy job of dipping the cookies into the powdered sugar after they come out of the oven, a task I cannot mess up. Well, at least I don’t think I can. My mom spends nearly all day and then some baking Christmas cookies. She buys the ingredients days in advance so she is all set to bake and is prepared to make whatever kinds of cookies my siblings and I request. It’s no surprise that I ask for the tea cakes year after year. My mom wakes up early on Christmas cookie baking day and spends almost every waking hour in the kitchen. Walking through the door after a long, tiring day of school to the smell of just-out-of-the-oven Russian tea cakes gives me the same level of happiness as waking up to gifts under the tree on Christmas morning.
Just as the seasons change and Christmas comes and goes, so too do my feelings about Russian tea cakes. Sometimes when I think about them, I think about the upset and embarrassment I had after trying to make them. Other times, a world of soft delicacy floods my mind as I slowly bite into the perfectly flaky, warm sugar-filled cookies. Sometimes when I make a mistake or get humiliated about something, I think about the feeling I got from making Russian tea cakes and the feeling I get from eating Russian tea cakes today. This reminds me that there is a positive side to everything. Humiliation can be cured. By something simple, something sweet- just like sugar. I still haven’t perfected the art of cooking at age 18; in fact I can barely even make mac n cheese. But that’s okay, food is still very important to my life. Eating is the perfect job for me. Maybe someday when I get older and have a kitchen to cook in, a family to cook for, I will succeed in baking Russian tea cakes all by myself. And to those of you who aren’t afraid of making mistakes and trying new things, here’s the recipe for Russian tea cakes. (Don’t forget the sugar!)
Russian Tea Cakes
1 cup margarine
½ cup confectioner’s sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 ½ cups flour
¼ tsp salt
¾ cup crushed walnuts
Bake at 400 degrees for 10-12 minutes.
Dip warm cookies into powdered sugar.
Let cool.
Enjoy.
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