Every time I came home from college, I knew two things would be waiting for me, my people and a big plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies. My mom doesn’t use a secret family recipe or anything, but her cookies are home. They’ve always been a warm, sweet symbol of love and comfort in our lives.
I grew up in a household with a busy single mother who didn’t always have the extra time, yet she always found time for my family. Maybe it is just “chocolate chip cookies”, but this was a time we could connect when life became busy, through baking or eating.
Even when life got hectic, there was something about baking (or just sitting around eating the cookies she made) that gave us a chance to slow down and reconnect.
Personally, I love her cookies best with a cold glass of milk. The best part is the milk after, when there are little floaty bits of chocolate and cookie dough left behind.
Her cookies never sat neatly on a plate, they’d pile up in this warm, gooey mountain on the kitchen counter. Now, years later, my nephew calls her “Cookie.” Supposedly it has nothing to do with her baking skills. My family swears it was just coincidental.

Food has always been at the heart of my family. In my family, food isn’t just about nourishment. It is also a language of care, a way of saying “I’m thinking of you” or “I’m so proud of you”.
Baking with my mom or just enjoying what she made was one of the ways we stayed connected, especially once I moved away. The kitchen became this little warm bubble of love and joy.
My mom might be known as “Cookie” for a totally random reason, but in my heart, it’ll always be because of the way her cookies make everything feel just a little bit better.
Food is never just food. It’s a memory. It’s connection. It’s love you can taste.

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