There are rituals and little habits to friendship and, lucky for me, many of the rituals that I have with my friends involve food.
I know my friends favorite ice cream flavors and if they prefer Diet Coke to La Croix, gummy or chocolate candies, white wine to red. With a few of my friends we have habits of seeking out a cupcake place wherever we travel and I know which pal to enlist if there are multiple flavors of cake at a wedding and we want to try them all. Even when apart, I can try a food or even just see a menu item and know I need to snap a pic and send a text letting a friend know I am thinking of them because of it. I love how food isn’t just something we have enjoyed while together, but it is also something that has connected us and become a part of our memories together.
It’s hard to play favorites with my food memories with friends, but if I had to pick some of the best it’s the food memories I have made with Rachel and Laura.
Fate had the three of us land in the same fifth grade class all as “new girls.” We became good friends quickly, all the oldest daughters of families of five. Our parents became friends thanks to putting us in similar activities in the neighborhood and at school. Even our siblings became pals, each set close to each other in grades as well.
Truthfully, writing about Laura and Rachel is overwhelming.
When Rachel’s husband died in 2019, so many people told me “Thanks for being such a good friend.” It was a fine and kind thing to say, but it made something inside me rage a bit. “Friend” seemed like too small of a word and almost like they had it wrong. That wasn’t what this was. That night I told my dad how much it angered– but also confused me. He reminded me that a “friend” really is a great, special thing. I knew this. I know this. But still, somewhere along the way there was a commitment the three of us made to each other that feels bigger than just friendship.
So what’s the word?
Many, many times deep, longtime friendship is compared to sisterhood. “We are more like sisters!” is a common refrain. Even this doesn’t sit right with me because the three of each have great sisters and I know that relationship to be something of its own. Sisterhood (or just “Siblinghood”) is an intimate, life long relationship where your life experiences are shared within the walls of a home and through your parents. It can be similar to friendship, and it’s really special when siblings become friends, but still it’s different. Laura, Rachel, and I shared so much–growing up together while being the same age at the same time; but, it’s not the same thing as what is shared together in siblinghood, a relationship precious on its own with it’s own unique dynamics that it deserves it’s own space and it’s own word.
But also, what does it all mean when in just one year, Laura and Rachel will have been in my life longer than my own brother was?
What is the word for a relationship that is not just the holding of each other’s hearts, but a complete understanding of it? A shared history and shared perspectives? A knowing that we are so linked making each others joy, stress, worry, sadness, love our own. There is love, a support system, and a belief in one another that is always there making us brave, smarter, and open in big ways and in small ways, too.
I don’t know the word. I sometimes say “sister-friend.” But, who knows? What I do know is that there is something here that feels like scaffolding, a stickiness, and a surge of power that is pretty unique.
When it comes to Laura and Rach, my sister-friends, there is so much to say and there are so many stories.
And, many of them involve cookies.
In the years before we could drive, we were at Rachel’s. She was the afterschool and summer caretaker for her sisters. During the school year, I would get on my bike, after checking in at home, and head to her house. Sometimes we would even just walk with her or take her bus back to her house, calling our moms with my change in plans when we got there. In the summer, we would head there after our early morning swim team practice at the neighborhood pool where the three of us would have shared a lane, lined up in a row, arms reaching out for each others toes with each stroke, as we got through the assigned workout.
Without parental supervision, things were a little looser at Rachel’s. Nothing crazy because the three of us were definitely oldest, high achieving daughters and we knew all our parents cared a whole lot. We would do homework… and also watch TRL (MTV not available at Laura’s or my house.) The basement computer had all of our AIM usernames saved and we would take turns logging in in hopes of hearing the opening door chime noting the arrival of that days particular crush. However, no matter what we were up do, there were plenty of trips out to the deep freezer to grab an iced sugar cookie (or three) for a snack.
Rachel’s mom made these sugar cookies that were more like cake with the way she was heavy handed with the icing. (We have already covered my affinity for good icing.) She would make big batches and store them in the freezer so they could be ready to go for an event. The problem is, we snacked on those cookies so often she probably still had to make them for any event that came up despite her well intended prep.
And yet, she never got on us about it, asking us to stop, or lecturing Rachel to tell us to cut it out. The cookies were always there in the freezer. And, at swim banquets. And, on our birthdays. And, at the Fourth of July fireworks. And, at graduation parties. And they were even there when we came back from college.
These cookies are a part of us, but more so Rachel’s mom’s legacy. They were “her” cookies. Say “Mrs. Roberts Cookies” and we knew exactly what that meant. Now nearly thirteen years since Mrs. Roberts passed away, we still know. Even Adam and my kids know.
To me, these cookies represent our girlhood and I can’t help but wonder if Mrs. Roberts knew that. We could have been sneaking a lot of other things, but we were sneaking cookies. She let us.
Sharon was a good friend, a good time, a hard worker, and a great shopper. She knew we were good girls and was quick to compliment us on everything from our creative, clever minds to our outfit. She made simple things fun and even sometimes let us break the rules. In her action, it was clear she wanted us to be smart and have fun, to love each other well, and be easily excited. And, we were.
And, we still are.
Despite all that life has thrown us, there is still such a big piece of girlhood that lives in us. We hold space for tears, anger, worries, and frustrations; but, are still quick to laugh, play, and be delighted. There is so much that could have changed us. We could be jaded, bitter, or reserved. Instead, I think because of the love and experiences we built over the decades together, we have the power to still be brave and to push one another to live big. Our hearts are still just as soft and open as they were twenty five years ago when we smelled like chlorine and were headed back out to the garage for a little something sweet.
Rachel has carried on her mother’s legacy in many ways so well, but especially with these cookies. She tested and retested the recipe to make them egg and dairy free for Laura’s bachelorette– an event in a season when Laura had some dietary restrictions.
I even got to help her ice the cookies the night before Laura’s baby shower just last fall. (Though Rachel says her mom would have kicked me out of the kitchen with my poor technique… It was just then that I learned that though Sharon was breezy about us snacking on them, she was very much a stickler about these cookies in other ways!)
(Note how their initials still include only maiden names in my phone…)
And, one my my favorite rituals of the Holiday season is when a box of “Mrs. Roberts Cookies” arrives in my mailbox in mid December, inevitably always on the day I need them the most. That little tin causes whirlwind and overwhelm of the season to slow and reminds me to take a beat… and a bite. It reminds me remember the festive magic of the season. They remind me of the delight and excitement in the moment and of my past. And, of course, of love and friendship.
(Or whatever this is.)
Sorry! You don’t get Mrs. Roberts cookie recipe. It’s Rachels to share, not mine. But, instead you get a second food story. Don’t worry, this one is lighter– in length and kind of food. (It felt a little redundant sharing another dessert so soon after birthday cake.) It’s about Caesar Salad and I chose it because that silly, classic salad always makes me think of Laura and Rachel, but also other friends who have grow into this same kind of sisterhood/friendship thing. It even links to Adam, another piece of my scaffolding, who also finds it to be one of his favorite foods, too. We make the recipe you will find below often in our home.
A note: This story is more so a story with Rachel and that is only because it happened in school hours. Laura went to the nearby Catholic school starting in ninth grade. (A reality I still have not totally forgiven her for since she told me her plans for high school in band class, where we were solidly second chair clarinets, in the spring of 8th grade. Our maiden names went down to the third letter in alphabetical order– I knew I wasn’t losing her as a friend, the stickiness was there then, too. But, I did feel a little angsty that I was losing my locker and homeroom buddy!) I feel it is important to make it clear here that Laura likely would have been right there with us had she gone to our school. (And, honestly, if you asked random acquaintances from our high school today, they probably would think Laura did go to our public high school for how much she was around. We often joke she should just come to our reunions. Don’t tell anyone. We may make her for 20!)
The AP History test was the Friday before Junior Prom. The test was similar to the SAT in the sense that it was hours long and semi-standardized test, with the exception of one essay. Students taking the test had to go to our school’s Athletic Complex in the morning, not the main building. We were told we would be released around noon after the test. School started at 7:25. Noon left us with two class periods left in the day, one of which for me was yearbook.
There was a lot of rumbling in the weeks prior to the test of students who wouldn’t be going back to school after the test. Rachel and I thought this seemed fair. It was a big test. We had to study and work hard in the weeks leading up to it. And really, we had worked hard for years. We were athletes, held leadership roles at school, and did well in aggressive courses. We snuck cookies, not beers. When it came to “risky” behavior like… I don’t know, cutting class? We were little cupcakes.
Well. That is until we played hooky the day before prom.
We walked out of the AP test bleary eyed, ready for a chill afternoon, and so excited for the weekend. Many people stopped at their cars on the way, but as we pulled out in Rachel’s Jeep Cherokee we didn’t notice many other cars heading out. In fact, everyone else seemed to be filing back in to school.
I recall a slight hesitation. Are we really doing this? But, we had a plan and we stuck to it. We hightailed it to Panera Bread for our regular order: Chicken Caesar Salad (To-Go. The better option. We had done the leg work and had *opinions* on that one.) and a caramel frappuccino and went back to my house, eating our salads in the basement, and probably waited for Laura to get out of school.
And then went to Rachel’s for a cookie.
Rachel and I have shared countless salads since then. But still, nearly 20 years later, everytime I eat a Caesar I giggle a little inside my mind at the memory of the one “bad” thing we did. (Well… until college.)
And, like I mentioned, a Caesar is a favorite of Betsy’s, my college best friend. As well as Adam. I love that this simple salad holds so much history with me and the people I get to love. These days, I make the best Caesar. And, it’s all because of this dressing that I now know by heart and taste.
Know that Anchovies freak people out. They may freak you out. Don’t be freaked out. They are so good. But, if you need a way to ease into the idea, they make anchovy paste which lessens the “slimy, tinned fish” thing and still works great.
Caesar Salad Dressing
- 2 small garlic cloves
- 1 teaspoon anchovy paste or three anchovy fillets
- 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice, from one lemon
- 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
- 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1 cup mayonnaise
- ½ cup freshly grated Parmigiano
- ¼ teaspoon salt
- ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Place all items into a food processor and process until smooth and creamy. Adjust amounts for taste. (I often find I can get to heavy handed with the acid in the lemon and the worcestershire balances it really well. More cracked pepper often helps, too.)
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