The blue tin sits there alone on the counter, pictures of buttery cookies and a serene Danish cookie factory stare back at you from the lid.
The cookies were dry and bland, yet they held a magical aura. They were the thread that went from one family to another, the cookies stacked neatly in their ruffled paper cups - they symbolized our extended family, and as long as we left the cookies untouched in the tin we were complete.
* Aiya: Chinese for "Oh for Lord's Sake" or "Jebezus!" or "Crimminy!"
Image: George Chong / My mother Josephine, sister Dinah and me. Winter Toronto
18 Comments
That is hilarious! It reminds me of the fruitcake in our circle, I think we passed the same one around for about 10 years. Although, my Dad would be the one to literally "crack" it open, by breaking it against the counter. Thanks for the memory.:-)
Fruitcake. There is a secret place deep inside me that LOVES fruitcake. Those glassy sweet surgary bits of fruit, the brown stuff that holds it all together, the nuts...bliss. In public I will say "HA, fruitcake...pshaw!", but hidden in my Vons bag in the car is a 9 pound fruitcake.
Thanks for visiting and commenting Tracy!!! :O)
Feya, you are GOOD!
Well, once Auntie Liz got them, we had no problem demolishing the cookies, especially since the major culprit was my Dad. I remember all those empty Danish Butter tins. We never threw them away. We used them to keep dried mushrooms and scallops, coins, rubber bands, and old stamps. Lots of "valuable stuff" went into those tins. Most likely worth millions now.
Hi Ada!
Of course I forgot how useful those tins were after they were empty. I think there a bunch of them in my parent's basement up in Toronto, filled with "stuff". Oh yes, and the dried scallops! I remember that after a couple of the cookies, I got so parched that I stopped and moved a few cookies around so that it looked untouched.
Thanks for commenting and sharing those memories, I remember them all fondly and the part you played in all of them,
:O) ophelia
big lol. Danish butter cookies were a holiday staple at my Haitian American household, too. I saw my mom for thanksgiving and she had a giant tin sitting on the counter. My mom also bakes a traditional Bûche de Noël - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B%C3%BBche_de_No%C3%ABl - only soaked in Haitian rum rumcake style.
I'm trying to start any ethnic/national beef with anyone, but it's a know fact that Haitian rum - http://www.barbancourt.net/ - is the best rum on the planet, basically. (I'm just saying.)
The alcohol of choice in my parent's home was Courvoisier XO, that my mother would bring back from her trips to Hong Kong for my Dad. We had bottles lined up on the shelves. We even cooked with it, a dash into the Chinese Broccoli and beef. My father brought back Rum from a family trip to St. Lucia. It was a close favorite to the cognac.
We should have a Blue Tin trade off one day, everyone brings in their favorite holiday tin of cookies.
Happy days, Gary....happy days. :O) ophelia
My parents told us only rich people ate those cookies, along with Ritz crackers and French's mustard. We were usually subjected to the annual trash can size tin of tri-flavored stale popcorn. The cheese flavoring was quite orange and left a thick film of sticky chemical cheese on our fingers. Very good for sticking in my brother's ear to hear him squeal. Then he would run to tell on me. Then came the belt. Christmas is delightful.
Dear Jeff,
Back my day, the cookies were "Imported", which meant "super special". And they were actually made with some butter, rather than palm or coconut oils. We never got the Tri-flavor popcorn, I think that was too exotic for us, also it was too "out of the box" for my family.
I could never figure out the Popcorn garlands, I thought it was a waste of food to string it up and not eat it. In grade school we made Clove Oranges, after a visit to the MacKenzie House (First Liberal Prime Minister) our class learned how to make those early settler (rich enough to afford an orange in winter) decorations.
I never stuck stuff to my sister, but we did add up in our heads who got more than the other.
Thanks for visiting and commenting! :O) ophelia
I remember the smell of fresh Achiras - they always took me back at least 100 years to remind me of those turcos (as Marquez called them) that arrived to the humid city of Honda in the Magdalena river where my ancestors settled to forget something I never really knew...
dear calistar,
what you wrote brought back memories of jasmine and humidity of Hong Kong, where i went ever summer. thank you for that beautiful memory, :O) ophelia
Ah, the ol' blue tin of cookies that accumulated during Christmas were fun times. They would last till April but I love those dang cookies!
It must be an Asian thing cause we also tried to give them away. I think I'm going to the store later to get me one. Such memories.
Dear Danh,
In a weird way now I want to go to the store and get a tin. But I have to find one that has real butter and not palm oil. I love the sound of the ruffled paper cups, and the digging down to the second layer for the favorites. After it's all gone, you clean out the crumbs and fill the tin with stuff. Ahhh...the memories.
Thanks Danh for your memory of the Blue Tin.:O) ophelia
awwww, i love that story! beautifully written. and i love the childhood picture.
Dear Diana,
Thank you! We all have wonderful photos from "way back", we should post them more often to share with our families and friends. :O)
Ophelia
Theoretically, it would be possible to devour a layer of the "good" sugar crystal-topped cookies, redistribute the "bad" ones, leaving a depth of one cookie per doily, reseal tin and let auntie liz have her re-gift. I'm just sayin.'
dear ishak,
I've done that, but you can't fool a Chinese Mom, they have x-ray vision and they can also see behind their heads. I know...
Thanks for visiting!
:O) ophelia
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mr trail safety says :
At least you were spared the waxy wonderment of Whitman Samplers. The Danish Butter cookies were a step up in my childhood recollections.