The Cookie Shop

We have a bakery in our little village that we love. And that bakery has a baker that we love. And that baker bakes breads and carrot cake cupcakes and banana cream pie and spinach-cheese croissants and three flavors of hamantaschen that we love.


Long before Buby was old enough to eat cookies {in my opinion} we were going in regularly for other things. Kitty thought Buby too cute and that my no-cookie policy was too strict. She started offering him one... without asking. Needless to say, they became fast friends. After many a taste test, Buby decided to fancy her strawberry, apricot and raspberry hamantaschen the most.


And so. Every single time we stopped by the bakery in the last three years Buby has had whatever he wanted, courtesy of Kitty. Riding the tricycle down to see her became part of our routine, especially in summer. Yet for some reason it never felt routine. It was a treat.


I often asked Buby early in the morn what, if anything, he dreamt about the night before. Always... always... always his answer involved Kitty and the hamantaschen. Occasionally he would bring her fresh flowers or draw her pictures as a way of thanks. To anyone entering the shop, she would introduce Buby as her boy. She became a pseudo grand, and I've come to know Kitty in the process. I could call her late Saturday, hours afer she closed shop, and ask her to fill a cherry crumb pie craving. She'd whip it up at 6 a.m. and call me when it was ready.


This past Saturday was Kitty's last day. She is going back to diner waitressing, a job she had enjoyed for 20+ years and one that offers better hours. She said she was exhausted from all the baking, and I felt partly to blame... ha. Buby made this portrait of Kitty in a pretty apron next to her famous hamantashen {the outline of which you can't seen in the scan}, framed it and delivered it to her on Saturday. A bitter sweet day for sure.