by Marlena Elias
December 16, 2000

My story begins roughly 30 years ago when I first appreciated the taste of Ghrabe. There was only one woman in our family who made it and that woman was Vicky Elias. Uncle Louie, my Dad's oldest brother, married Aunt Vicky. (Aunt Vicky's brother Tommy was married to my Dad's sister Effie, but that's an entirely different story.) Before I describe the cookie, let me describe the woman behind it.

Aunt Vicky was maybe 4'8" in heels and she weighed about 86lbs. She was born in New York and managed to never lose her accent. Her voice was a cross between Brooklyn, New York and the emphysema ward at the hospital and added "r" to words ending in a vowel. I was Marleener (Marlena) and my sister was Reeter (Rita).

Aunt Vicky was famous for a few things: Playing poker, having asthma, willing her eyeglasses to my brother Danny, inadvertently making statements with double-entendres ("Let me pick your nuts off that roll." "How do you like your buns toasted?" And so on). What made her so special was her culinary genius in making the world's most incredible cookie: Ghrabe or "S's" as we called them (she managed to mold the cookie by hand into the shape of an "S").

Aunt Vicky was a decent cook; our Mom was better at most of the Lebanese recipes. Each of the ladies on Dad's side of the family had a specialty. It was matter of pride to excel at or be the expert at a Lebanese dish. No one came close to making S's like Aunt Vicky. This was Aunt Vicky's claim to fame and in fact, her cookies were so good none of the ladies in the family even attempted to make them! Aunty Vicky died at least 15 years ago and with her went her recipe and her technique.

So here I am, into my 6th year of making S's, without any adult supervision. I'm trying to make this cookie based on a memory. The memory is based on the taste of this cookie melting the instant it hits your mouth. I can still taste her cookie; my mouth can still recreate the seductive texture and distinct aroma. No one else has attempted to make these cookies since she died. Even when I try the cookies at some Middle Eastern grocery store, the taste doesn't come close. Aunt Vicky had the gift.

The recipe itself is in all Middle Eastern cookbooks, but the one Aunt Vicky used is the most pure. The Ladies of the Sacred Heart Parish in Michigan City, Indiana, produced a cookbook for the Lebanese community in the parish. Since this is the church Aunt Vicky attended, my feeling has been it must be her recipe.

Unfortunately the recipe doesn't come with a little old lady telling you how to achieve dough nirvana so you can make the ultimate "S".

To make the cookie, I rendered 5 pounds of butter. This process is still a mystery to me, but I do it anyway because the recipe calls for it. So after an entire night of slowly melting the butter and removing the whey and other assorted crap, the butter has to sit and harden. When you're ready to start cooking you have to whip the butter for at least 10 minutes. I think it would be easier to just put the butter in a Cuisinart and let 'er rip, but the recipe is very specific so the long process is necessary. Once the butter has been whipped, you add flour and sugar. That's it. The mysteries of the universe are wrapped up in this simple cookie.

Since I've made this cookie, there are non-Elias people who think the cookie IS the second coming of Christ or better than sliced bread. I get requests every year to make these epicurean delights, even though I cringe because I know I'm not producing the real beauty. Every time I get ready to make the cookies, I say a prayer to Aunt Vicky asking her for help. She must be hard of hearing, because the cookies are still not right. Every time I make this cookie I learn some new trick, but they still don't come close to authenticity. Maybe I'm cursed. Maybe it's not my lot in life to be the next Aunt Vicky. Maybe I'm not the one to achieve perfection. Aunt Vicky took this cookie recipe to the grave with her.

Damn. <EM>