My great-grandmother, who we call Grandma B, lived in Chicago, Illinois. She had two children; a son and a daughter. My great-grandmother B loved to bake, and she wrote a recipe for her crescent cookies. They are soft, yet crumbly. When you eat them powder falls onto your lips. They are sweet and yet they have unique flavoring- a hint of orange can go a long way. My great-grandmother gave that recipe that she typed up on a plain old notecard to her daughter. Her daughter then gave that recipe to her own daughter. That was my mother. And my mother gave that recipe to me. I still can taste the cookies on my tongue even if I have not had them in months. Whenever we have a get-together with my family on my mother’s side, I want to make those cookies. They are the first thing that I wish to make when there is a party, and I can almost see great grandma B standing there while making them with me. She died when I wasn’t even a year old. I don’t remember seeing her smile at me when she held me in her arms, but I can picture it. This recipe is one of the only things that truly belong to me that I have to remember Grandma B. But with this recipe that was passed down for generations, her memory lives on. 

– AC

Relationship:  Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more