Lofthouse cookies are a recipe that I have been trying to re-create for most of my adult life. I have so many good memories attached to them that eating them is (in most cases) a guaranteed way to lose the blues.
When I was little we lived just outside of Philadelphia in the smack center of probably one of the most historic areas of the United States. You couldn’t drive a mile without passing stone houses that were built in the 1600s and had witnessed war, peace and everything in-between for over 300 years. I didn’t have to learn about the mules that pulled flatboats along the canals because I visited those canals many times, and viewed the faded trails that the animals trudged along day after day. History was a living thing to me, sometimes more real than the world I lived in and I escaped to the woods more than once to hunt for arrowheads, musket shells, and other relics of those who had walked those woods before me. Continue reading
