Gran's Candied Pineapple Cherry Cookie Recipe

Jenn called her twin sister Sara to tell her that she was on her way and would be at her house to pick her up in precisely eighteen minutes. This was not precise at all, in fact, because Jenn knew from years of experience that her sister was always five minutes late, and Jenn actually planned to arrive in twenty-three minutes. Sara was not unaware of this falsehood, but somehow it always had the desired effect, and the arrangement had always worked for them. She was, therefore, walking out her front door exactly twenty-three minutes later, just in time to see Jenn's rusty little blue car pull into the driveway.

"Mom wants us to pick up some peppermint schnapps, kahlua, candy canes, and whipped cream for the drinks," Jenn said as Sara plunked into the passenger seat.

"Yessss. My fave. Mom's boozy hot chocolate," Sara replied. "I hope Aunt Viv brings those little chocolate-covered cherry mice again, too. Those were amazeballs." 

"And she and Dad want us to make Gran's secret cookies this year since we were always her assistant holiday bakers."

Sara nodded. "That's a nice idea."

Both twins went silent for a moment, thinking of Gran. Every year, the whole extended family got together the first weekend in December for early Christmas festivities. Gran baked her cookies every year, perfected over the decades, and Jenn and Sara and their mother were the only ones Gran had ever let see her original recipe. Gran had passed away this past April, and this would be the first family Christmas without her. The girls were pulled from their bittersweet reveries of past holidays, when Jenn turned the car into the parking lot of a nearby plaza, which had both a grocery store and a liquor store to complete their shopping.

"I'll do grocery store, and you do liquor store," Jenn suggested. "Meet you back at the car in ten minutes."

Exactly fifteen minutes later, they converged back at the car with their purchases, loaded everything in, and proceeded on their way to their parents' house. The party wasn't for another seven hours, so they would have enough time to bake the cookies and then help with any last minute preparations before the relatives would start arriving. Sara cranked up the radio on a station that was playing only Christmas songs, and they sang for the rest of the ride.

They had hardly even pulled into their parents' driveway when their mother was already emerging from the house to greet them with enthusiastic hugs.

"Were you able to get everything okay?" she asked as she helped them carry in their bags.

"Yes, easy peasy." Sara said.

"Great!" their mother said. "Give Dad the receipts and we'll reimburse you. I put Gran's recipe box in the kitchen so you girls can get started."

Christmas music was piping through the house when they entered. Anyone walking in could tell that their parents loved to entertain. The whole house was decorated to the hilt.

"Hi, Dad!" Jenn and Sara yelled in unison. Their father was in the living room, putting the lights on the Christmas tree. Sara set the liquor store bag behind the bar in the corner, and went over to kiss him on the cheek. Jenn took a detour to the kitchen to drop off any baking supplies before returning to the bar with the candy canes and a few other things for mom's special drinks. She joined the others at the tree and gave their dad a hug.

"Wow, it looks amazing, Dad! As usual," Jenn said. "You guys are rocking the Christmas sweaters.I can't wait to see what Mom whipped up for us this year."

It was a tradition for their mother to buy second hand sweaters and then turn them into festive masterpieces. She topped herself every year.

"You'll see," their mother teased, "but first….cookies." And she gave them both a gentle push toward the kitchen.

"Okay, okay!" Sara laughed and grabbed Jenn's arm, tugging her the rest of the way. They made a beeline toward the apron drawer. Gran had had a spectacular collection of 1950s aprons that now belonged to their mom.

"Dibs on the yellow one," Jenn declared.

"Dibs on the stripey blue one," Sara declared simultaneously, and they put the aprons on, posing and complementing each other's choice before starting the task at hand.

Jenn flipped through Gran's box of recipes, most of them original creations and all of them written in Gran's tiny neat handwriting. Jenn was hunting for the 'Candied Pineapple Cherry Cookies with Glaze'' recipe. At first she didn't see it, but then she searched again more slowly. She found it about midway through, but there was a problem.

"Uh oh," she said.

"What's wrong?" Sara asked.

"It's stuck."

"What do you mean? Stuck in the box?" Sara moved closer to see what the issue was.

"No, it’s stuck to another card. It looks like molasses or syrup or something.”

“Well, pull it off.”

“It’s really stuck.”

“Let me try,” Sara took the cards from Jenn and peeled them apart. “There. Fixed,” she said, waving them in the air for Jenn to see.

“Not fixed, Sara,” Jenn said, “Look at it.”

Sara did as Jenn suggested, and saw that the writing had been entirely peeled off a large portion of the recipe card, and there was no recovering it. “Oh, no,” she said, grimacing. ”It's ruined. I ruined Gran's secret cookie recipe! What are we going to do? It's tradition!”

Jenn bit her lip in thought. “It's okay,” she said decisively. “We can do this. At least one of us helped Gran make these every year. There’s a little bit still legible, and between the two of us, we should be able to do the rest from memory. We have to candy the fruit first anyway, so they have time to cool, so let's get those going and we'll figure out the dough and the glaze while they cook. We need the pineapple, cherries, sugar, and corn syrup."

Sara nodded, calmed by Jenn's confidence. The girls went to work preparing the pineapple rings and maraschino cherries. They set separate pans on the stove, adding the juices and sugar to them, with the addition of a little corn syrup in the pineapple pan as Gran always had done. They gently stirred the mixtures over medium heat until the sugar was dissolved, at which point they brought each pan to a slow boil for a few minutes, then reduced the heat to low, and then finally added the chopped pieces of fruit. The fruit mixtures would need to simmer for forty-five to fifty-five minutes or so, with the girls checking on them frequently and stirring every ten minutes. Once they were settled and timers set for stirring reminders, Sara grabbed a notepad and pen out of a kitchen drawer.

"Okay, the dough," she said. "The card still shows 1 cup butter, 1 cup confectioners’ sugar. What else do we need?” She tapped the pen in thought. "One egg, right?"

Jenn nodded. "And half a cup of sugar I think," she added. "Two cups of flour. No, wait. Two and a quarter cups, because I remember filling the measuring cup and then having to add a little more. And is it one or two teaspoons of vanilla?"

"Definitely two," Sara said, writing everything down. "Hmm, I feel like we're forgetting something. Oh! The baking soda! I think it's a half teaspoon, because when we were eight, I lost the measuring spoon in the flour and we used two quarter teaspoons instead." She laughed.

"Sounds right," Jenn agreed with a smile, while walking over to the stove to check on the pans and give them a quick stir. "And then we add the candied pineapple and cherries and some chopped pecans. I think we did it. Okay, now the glaze."

"The card shows two tablespoons of milk and two thirds of a cup of confectioners' sugar, and two ingredients are missing," Sara said. "Definitely brown sugar. Pretty sure a half cup. And the other one has to be butter, right?"

"Yes," Jenn said, "A quarter cup. And that's it!"

The sisters smiled at each other, yelled "Nailed it!", and high-fived.

They stirred the fruit a few more times over the next forty-five minutes until they were done. They removed the fruit with slotted spoons, and then set the pieces to cool on a parchment lined plate. Some years, they had helped Gran candy whole pineapple rings a day early and just left them out to dry overnight, but this way worked fine for the smaller candied fruit pieces. They eyed their work. The pineapple bits were perfectly translucent, and the maraschino cherries were a beautiful shade of Christmas red. They made sure to save the sugary syrup mixture from the pineapple pan to set aside for their father, who liked to use it on his pancakes the next morning.

Happy with their progress so far, Jenn and Sara cleaned up and then began gathering the ingredients for the dough. Jenn chopped pecans while Sara cubed the butter and measured out the brown sugar. They went to help their parents with decorating for a little bit until the fruit was dry enough to use. They each returned to the kitchen a half hour later with one of their mother's boozy holiday beverages in hand.

Sara combined the dough ingredients in the mixing bowl, beating the mixture until it was smooth, and then she added the candied fruit and pecans until they were evenly distributed. She divided the dough in two halves, and she and Jenn each shaped their half into a long roll. They wrapped the rolls in plastic wrap and put them in the fridge to chill until firm. It usually took about one and a half to two hours, so they decided to help their dad finish decorating the tree and then start putting up their mom's miniature Christmas village on the sideboard in the dining room. The time passed quickly as Jenn and Sara unpacked the familiar pieces, staging them artfully as they shared holiday memories, sang with the Christmas music, and caught up on recent family news from their parents.

Before they knew it, the timer on Jenn's phone went off, and they went back to the kitchen to check on the dough. It was nice and firm, and they unwrapped one roll at a time, cutting them into thin slices. They arranged them on baking sheets, baking until they were "lightly golden" as Gran used to say.

The glaze was best applied fresh, so they waited until the cookies were all cool enough before Jenn started making it. Then the twins took turns drizzling, each one saying the other's looked better, until all of the cookies were complete. They eyeballed their finished work, high-fived, and yelled, "Taste test!" in unison. Their parents came in, and everyone grabbed a cookie and took a bite.

"Tastes like seconds!" their father declared, polishing his off and reaching for another.

"They're perfect," their mother said. "Gran would be proud."

Sara smiled, blinking back a few tears. Jenn threw an arm around her sister's shoulders and squeezed with understanding. "Thanks, guys. Now let's go trade these aprons in for some Christmas sweaters!"

Jenn and Sara took off the yellow and stripey blue aprons, hanging them neatly over a kitchen chair, and headed toward Jenn's old room, which was now their mother's sewing room. Hanging in the closet were the two most fantastically gaudy Christmas sweaters they could hope for. Each one was half of a winter panorama with Rudolf and the other reindeer pulling Santa's sleigh over a Christmas village, rows of tiny little dangling jingle bells across each one, and the twins were pretty sure that these were the best ones yet. They put them on and stood next to each other in the mirror for the full effect, shimmying to get all the little bells going.

"Amazeballs!" they said in unison, to their mother's delight.

The whole family would arrive a couple hours later, including Aunt Viv with her chocolate-covered cherry mice. The cookies and the sweaters were a big hit. And everyone raised a glass in memory of Gran, who wasn't there in person but would always be with them in spirit.