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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

Write about someone trying to recreate a grandparent’s signature baked good from memory.

Posted in Kids on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 161 stories

“Aging Improves the Flavor” by Kathleen March

Submitted to Contest #71

Here I am, trying to remember something from centuries ago, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t almost impossible. I may have bitten off more than I can chew. My cooking group decided to do this, not me. Still, I didn’t want to protest, and accepted the challenge. That’s the whole problem. I’ll try to explain. We are supposed to prepare a baked good that was a signature creation by a grandparent. This is going to be painful. What follows should explain why. Baked goods? Hmmm... I have very few memories of my grandmother, but they would fill a b...

9 comments 9
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“It Kind Of Tasted Like... Cinnamon?” by ✰ 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐞 ✰

Submitted to Contest #71

It kinda tasted like… Cinnamon? But she was allergic, it couldn't have been that. I stared at the table, wishing it would magically show me the recipe. Stupid reality. Sometimes it would be better to be in a book. Unlike most grandmothers, my grandmother was a terrible cook. One time, she tried to make toast and set her kitchen on fire. She was that bad. But she always did have a way to make things right. It’s not like her cookie was that good, it was pretty nasty in fact, but the memories are what made it special. I just… Then there was Unc...

13 comments 13
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“𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑎'𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝐶𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑒𝑠” by 💖♎ℂℍℝ𝕀𝕊𝕋𝕐 ℍ𝕆𝔽𝔽𝕄𝔸ℕℕ♎💖

Submitted to Contest #71

"Crap!" Maggie yelled. "What's wrong honey?" Tripp asked in concern. "Did you burn yourself?""No. I'm just frustrated. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I want these cookies to be great when everyone comes for Christmas dinner, but I can't seem to get it right." She threw her oven mitts down on the counter and with one hand on her hip, she rubbed her head with the other. "My gramma made these cookies every year. I thought I knew her exact recipe. I just don't know what I'm doing wrong."Tripp walked to her and grabbed her in his arms wi...

16 comments 16
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“The Sacher Torte” by Story Time

Submitted to Contest #71

My grandmother would make the sacher torte every time my grandfather created an infidelity. I must apologize for my English is not very strong. Though I am not foreign, I am quite pretentious. After years of boarding schools and backpacking trips in Europe with schoolmates who were vaguely related to the royal family of Hungary, I have found that my consonants are harder and my trust is soft as Swiss. The cheese, not the people. I always found them to be remarkably hard-hearted if you crashed through their living room window on a chill...

3 comments 3
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“The Proof is in the Filling” by Cassandra Dennis

Submitted to Contest #71

I tilt the chair back with my long Olive Oyl legs and I extend myself through the square kitchen opening from the dining room into the kitchen. My Great-Grandmother, Myme is what everyone calls her was cooking up a storm today. The house was filled with various aromas that tickle my nose and convert my mouth into a well of water as I salivate for Myme’s delectable dishes. Myme was not the kind of cook that invites you into the kitchen as she prepares meals. Which is confusing, because how did my Dad become such a great Chef?...

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“Coconut Chocolate Balls” by Estelle Westley

Submitted to Contest #71

Grandma Griffiths was sitting at the kitchen table amidst a hive of activity. "This is going to be a surprise Gran," Said Sue. She was one of the tween twins busy measuring coconut into a cup. "Mum told us how you always made these Coconut Chocolate Balls for the family at Christmas time. She has safely kept the recipe that you gave for the Coconut Balls in her old recipe book and we will follow it to the last detail." "Who still keeps a hand written recipe book?" asked Liza busy opening the tin of condensed milk. "Do you know, Gran...

2 comments 2
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“Mince Pies by Firelight” by Josh C

Submitted to Contest #71

I could tell mum was trying not to cry again, even with the mask over her mouth and nose. Her eyes were wet, and she was blinking hard. She did that a lot this Christmas. For a second she stared at the oversized fake pine tree in the shopping centre, surrounded by equally fake presents, watching the man dressed as Santa listen to children shout from 6 feet away. Santa was wearing a mask too. I knew what mum was thinking about. She was thinking about how grandma always loved taking me to see Santa, even though he wasn’t real either. Mum wor...

14 comments 14
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“That's How the Wookiee Crumbles” by Ed Vela

Submitted to Contest #71

My son, Aloysius, dressed (as always) as a Wookiee, roared his disapproval. This wasn't the first year his Dad (and my husband), Paulson, had tried to "recreate" his Great-Grandmother, Teresita's, Holiday Chocolate Cookies, or as my overly bright (and HONEST) 9 year old called them... "Grandma's Little Crap Cookies!" Aloysius proclaimed then let out his low, sad roar of defeated contempt. I knew this roar well, it was the one he usually reserved for me in response to a request to finish his homework or clean his room. Paulson, being VERY...

6 comments 6
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“When you realise, it's too late” by A L Burn

Submitted to Contest #71

It’s only flour and water. Essentially. And a bit of yeast thrown in. Outrageously simple, really. So why have I avoided it for so long? I can throw together cookies, churn out weighty chunks of brownie, whip up a victoria sponge like it’s nothing. Twenty years of baking. But never bread. ***  A shape shuffles steadily behind the frosted glass in response to my knock. Grandad opens the door and I’m welcomed instantly by a dense, cosy warmth. A familiar scent curls into my nostrils, though I don’t yet understand the meaning of nostal...

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“The Return to Innocence” by Jim Snyder

Submitted to Contest #71

Most children—and in fact, most adults—were fearful of traveling too far into the woods, for no one quite knew what lie deep within. Jacob, however, had never been afraid of the long trek through the winding, barely visible paths almost completely concealed by underbrush and overgrowth. To the untrained eye, perhaps the narrow trails were nothing more than slight spots where sunlight never shone, but Jacob knew better. He had visited these woods several times in his youth. As he had grown older, though, he had lost interest in the trip, and ...

9 comments 9
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“Opal Can't Taste” by Aveena Bordeaux

Submitted to Contest #71

The first time I’d woken up in the morning was before the birds started singing their opera in front of my window to contemplate whether I’d be at fault for missing the Christmas reunion. The second time, I woke up to the rain beating down on my roof and the clock’s tiny hand on 11, which sent me into a frenzy.Today was The Holloway Reunion, the official name given to the time where our families bundled up in SUVs, overflowing into the trunk, and drove the trip to Nana’s house. If you didn’t go, you were sure to get a stank eye the next time...

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“A Devil's Dozen” by John K Adams

Submitted to Contest #71

Meg called the class room to order and waited for everyone to take their seats. “Please thank your parents for the wonderful cookies they sent. After everyone has sampled them, we’ll vote for the best cookie.” The young students murmured approval of the sweet feast in which they were about to indulge. Meg continued, “You can vote for three favorites. Or you can cast three votes for one special cookie. I’ll tabulate the votes. And next week we’ll have a run-off of the top three against my favorite recipe.” Cindy assisted in handing out...

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“Nana May's Preopening Inspection” by Annie Rae

Submitted to Contest #71

Hanging by my apron strings, from a zipline, fifty stories above a waterfall of chocolate ganache… yep, that’s the dream I woke up screaming from this morning. Weeks of twenty-hour days are catching up to me. But my Nana’s baklava is the last recipe to figure out before opening day. For months, I’ve wracked my brain to remember my time at her hip when I was nine, but for the life of me, I only remember her singing Ella Fitzgerald tunes and stirring her pre-measured ingredients. Why didn’t I pay more attention? Now, the recipe I hinged the m...

3 comments 3
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“Cookies” by San T.

Submitted to Contest #71

Dear Daniel/Dan, Congratulations on qualifying for the Finals. I knew you would. There is that extra something in you that makes people win competitions and win hearts. Do not get worked up with these words. I do not want to put any extra pressure on you. It is what I always felt while working by your side through the levels of the competition. This is my opinion, and if it adds a little to your confidence, I will only be happy. If it irritates you, ignore it. Probably you are mad at me. Probably you are disgusted with me. But I had to lea...

10 comments 10
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“How the Cookie Crumbles ” by Leviathan Four

Submitted to Contest #71

“Hey, Nanna?” The scent of cinnamon hung in the air as I swept the brown powder and shards of glass into the dustpan. “Didn’t you used to make a kind of ginger-snickerdoodle hybrid cookie when I was younger?”  “Yes. I made ginger cookies and snickerdoodle cookies and lots of other cookies.”  She looked at me with a hint of confusion. It cleared as she recaptured the topic, “Which should we make, Lucy?”  I felt a soft glow—the days when she remembered my name were the best ones. “Well,” I said, smiling at her. “I was thinki...

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