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[personal profile] queenriley
Fandom: House MD
Title: The Best Cookies in the World
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I only wish they belonged to me. Alas, no such luck.
Summary: Chris Taub’s mother makes the best hamantaschen around.
Written for Purim Gifts 2009

Chris Taub was five years old and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, he loved more than Purim. Purim meant costumes and swords. Purim meant stories and games, carnivals and plays. Purim meant spring was coming. Purim meant, best of all things, hamantaschen. Some people swore by chocolate chip or shortbreads, but Chris would argue them into the ground. Hamantaschen was the best kind of cookie ever and this year he got to help make them.

He strutted into the kitchen, chest stuck out and head held as high as he could. None of his cousins were big enough to help, but he was in kindergarten now and that meant he could help his mom. He was more than just the taste-tester this year. He was a Big Boy. He’d put on his best Superman shirt and his lucky Scooby Doo underwear. He couldn’t risk getting his pants all dirty, so he’d laid them carefully on his bed to be worn later that day. He was sure the delighted smile his mother gave him was due to his careful planning of the best possible outfit to wear to ensure the most effective baking. These cookies would surely be the tastiest ever because he had the forethought to wear his lucky underwear.

“Ready to get started, baby?” his mother asked. She nodded to the kitchen chair pushed up to the counter. She’d already measured out most of the ingredients, all in little cups scattered about the counter. There was a big bowl in front of him.

“Did you wash your hands?” she asked. He nodded. Everybody knew you had to wash your hands before you could cook. She tied a small apron around his waist, clapped her hands, and pushed the first batch of ingredients towards him. She did all the mixing, but it was Chris’ job to add ingredients whenever she said. It was a very important job, you see. If he left anything out or didn’t get every last drop from the measuring cup, the cookies wouldn’t taste just right.

His mother wouldn’t let him spoon the filling into the middle, but at least he got to pick out which jellies to use. His mother insisted on making some of those yucky prune ones. “For your father” she had said, but Chris knew better. His father didn’t like them either. Prune. Blech.

He was given the most important task of all, once all the filling had been spooned in. He, Chris Taub, got to pinch the edges into that familiar triangle shape. It took nearly an hour, but he did them all by himself, every last one. His mother put the pans in the oven, cleaned the flour off his forehead, and kissed his cheek. She smelled like apricots and butter.

Hours later, after the baking, after a bath, after an excited afternoon at a carnival and a rousing evening play, Chris got to eat the first of his mother’s hamantaschen. He was right. They were especially tasty this year. His mother bragged to everybody that he had helped her this year and wasn’t it such a blessing, to have such a helpful big boy in the house? He beamed with pride, jelly on his face and crumbs on his shirt.

Purim was the best holiday EVER.


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May 2012

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