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COMFORT FOOD From smallest girlhood, well into teen years, now with accelerating age, cookies have comforted me. My grandmother’s “receets”— her only tangible legacy— made chewy molasses cookies a family legend. Any self-respecting nutritionist recommends a handful of oatmeal cookies heavily laced with raisins as a healthful breakfast. Cookie-baking lessons are the first for young cooks. Holiday cookies decorated by small, eager hands are treasured by all. All chocolate addicts appreciate that melting madness called “Toll House.” At desperate times, some of us will finish a batch from the bowl, unbaked. Named “biscuit” by our British mothers, accompanied by tea, cookies are the highlight of a civilized day or ought to be. Children of careering mothers will settle for an after-school welcome—a treasure-hunting dive into the cookie jar. I’m still wearing on my small frame the globular residue of every comforting cookie I ever ate. Barbara J. Rios, Santa Cruz, California © http://blog.dancingdeer.com/index.php/455/