The Heart of the Table | The Art of Gathering
"Just a Little Something"
There is a specific, quiet rebellion in the way we end a meal. For years, my late best friend Doreen had it down to an art form. No matter where we were dining... whether we were deep in the South or sitting at a white-tablecloth restaurant in the Big Apple... when the waiter approached with the dessert menu, Doreen would flash an unmistakable, mischievous, knowing grin. She would politely decline the heavy New York cheesecakes or massive bowls of Carolina fruit crumble. Instead, she would look the waiter in the eye and ask for “just a little something.”
Usually, that meant a single biscotti to dip into her cappuccino, or a simple shortbread cookie. She must have known there was a law to ordering dessert and she was breaking it! But that was the magic of Doreen. She didn't want the grand finale. She just wanted a sweet, lingering excuse to keep the conversation going.
"She may be gone, but her habits live on in my world and make me miss her every day. I find myself craving just a little something after most meals, too. It is how I keep her at the table."
Grief has a funny way of settling into our daily routines. Today, I no longer wait for a restaurant to provide that sweet ending. I bake the cookies myself! Keeping a full cookie jar on the counter has become my own personal act of readiness. I JUST LIKE COOKIES!
It means I am always prepared to offer a sweet comfort to my grandkids when they run through the front door expecting Nana's cookies... or to hand a treat to the delivery driver dropping off an Amazon box... or to offer a homemade hostess gift when invited to dinner. It is a small, quiet way of passing Doreen’s joy outward into the neighborhood.
Recently, while wandering through a local spice shop, I sniffed a jar of wild berry sugar and got a wild idea. The vibrant, fruity scent instantly sparked a connection. Berries and chocolate! So I took things to a deep, dark place... a black cocoa powder place. By dusting a profoundly dark, rich chocolate cookie with that bright, tart berry sugar, I created a complex bite full of contrast.
It is exactly the kind of unexpected, perfect little something Doreen would have requested with her afternoon espresso.
From the Memoir to the Kitchen
To bring this memory to your own table, explore the Master Blueprint for the profoundly dark, Dutch-processed cookies that inspired this story.
View the Recipe in The Estate VaultThe Heart of the Table | Generations & Legacy
"Just a Little Something"
There is a specific, quiet rebellion in the way we end a meal. For years, my late best friend Doreen had it down to an art form. No matter where we were dining... whether we were deep in the South or sitting at a white-tablecloth restaurant in the Big Apple... when the waiter approached with the dessert menu, Doreen would flash an unmistakable, mischievous, knowing grin. She would politely decline the heavy New York cheesecakes or massive bowls of Carolina fruit crumble. Instead, she would look the waiter in the eye and ask for “just a little something.”
Usually, that meant a single biscotti to dip into her cappuccino, or a simple shortbread cookie. She must have known there was a law to ordering dessert and she was breaking it! But that was the magic of Doreen. She didn't want the grand finale. She just wanted a sweet, lingering excuse to keep the conversation going.
"She may be gone, but her habits live on in my world and make me miss her every day. I find myself craving just a little something after most meals, too. It is how I keep her at the table."
Grief has a funny way of settling into our daily routines. Today, I no longer wait for a restaurant to provide that sweet ending. I bake the cookies myself! Keeping a full cookie jar on the counter has become my own personal act of readiness. I JUST LIKE COOKIES!
And it means I am always prepared to offer a sweet comfort to my grandkids when they run through the front door expecting Nana's cookies... or to hand a treat to the delivery driver dropping off an Amazon box... or to offer a homemade hostess gift when invited to dinner. It is a small, quiet way of passing Doreen’s joy outward into the neighborhood.
It is exactly the kind of unexpected, perfect little something Doreen would have requested with her afternoon espresso.
From the Memoir to the Kitchen
To bring this memory to your own table, explore the Master Blueprint for the profoundly dark, Dutch-processed cookies that inspired this story.
View the Recipe in The Estate Vault