Rosettes
October 22, 2013, 7:55 pm
“Smell goes into the emotional parts of the brain and the memory parts, whereas words go into the thinking parts of the brain.”
My grandmother lived downwind from a large cookie factory. Her neighborhood of tightly packed, austere German flats was populated by blue collar workers and their families. Delicious cookie aromas enveloped the neighborhood at almost all hours of the day and night.
Once every week or so, a small sign appeared on the door of the factory: “Broken Cookies Today”. Crowds would begin lining up and snaking down the sidewalk hours before the door opened. No fancy marketing here.
Once inside, you handed $2.00 to a man standing behind a counter and received in return a large, brown, grease-spotted bag. The bag was stapled firmly shut, its contents a mystery. And since adults ruled the world back then, the bag remained closed until it was safely home.
Then… bliss! Or maybe not. If the coconut “washboard” cookies were over baked, broken or imperfect, they could fill up the entire sack.
What the neighbor kids and I all wished for was a total breakdown in the Rosette division. Rosettes were marshmallow and raspberry jam cookies entirely dipped in chocolate. We prayed that the factory workers would mangle, squish, overdip or make the Rosettes unsaleable.
When I met my husband many years later, I soon discovered that he had a penchant for Rosettes. His mother loved “store cookies” and bought them frequently. His were not seconds.
4 Comments for this entry
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Greetings and welcome...
The Suitcase Lady Blog is now in its fourteenth year. I am obviously a believer in these words from E. B. White. "We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry." Thank you for reading the writing that I delight in doing.
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October 22nd, 2013 on 8:49 PM
Remember Johnson Cookie factory well. Loved the rosettes. Cookies at our house were always broken.
October 23rd, 2013 on 6:20 AM
All cookies are good cookies. Phil has many stories about the Johnson Cookie Factory, too.
October 23rd, 2013 on 11:18 AM
Even after moving to Racine, my family returned to Milwaukee to the family dentist, which fortunately was close to Johnson’s cookies. After our cavities were filled, we always swung by to check for the broken cookies. From the time we could walk, we were each handed money and marched in to get a bag of cookies. The ride home was a cookie frenzy, especially when there were rosettes! Sweet memories.
October 23rd, 2013 on 1:09 PM
Mary–What a delightful story! evie
(i mean “delicious.”)