Easter Bunny, We'll Pass on the Baskets

And Hot from the MTITK Studio, Another Episode Featuring Fruit Loop Cookies!

Photo by Haley Owens on Unsplash

Last week I shared about the dark dismal breakfasts of my youth, but I wouldn’t be doing my mother and her legacy justice if I led you to believe that her uninspired scramble was the only morning morsel that ever crossed my lips. My mother was no tyrant. She just wasn’t much of a cook.

So on weekends she redeemed her culinary shortcomings by always having a box or two of cereal for us babes. Often, it was her favorite cornflake rendition, Post Toasties, which when doused with enough pure white table sugar, could almost taste like Frosted Flakes if you closed your eyes and imagined Tony the Tiger perched there beside you, rumbling out “They’re grrrreat!”

But on occasion, when the planets had all aligned and Ray’s Supermarket was having a cereal special, my mom would bring home a few boxes of Golden Crisp or Honey Nut Cheerios or—dare I dream—my all-time favorite, Cap’n Crunch. The problem was, we had these delicacies so rarely that my brothers and I had no sense of moderation around them. It was a two bowl minimum on Saturday mornings. We’d dash to the kitchen during the She-Ra or Gummy Bears commercial breaks, refill our bowls, and be back at the couch before He-Man bared another steroid-ed bicep. I think my record was 5 bowls.

I’m sad to say, my children didn’t get the chance to reenact such scenes in their own childhoods. By the time they were of cereal-eating age, I’d gotten the memo about the dangers of sugared cereals and put the squash on Cap’n, Tony, and all their accomplices. Every time the kids went to the grocery with me and we rolled into the cereal aisle, I reiterated the family rule, “No cereal with more than 6 grams of sugar per serving and no, I repeat, no BHT. Now off you go.” Then they’d scurry along the row, reading all the labels, praying in their little hearts that somehow in the past two weeks Trix had lowered their sugar threshold to the acceptable amount, but they’d turn up back at the cart disheartened with the same choices in their arms that they grabbed every week: Cheerios, Kix, and Corn Chex.

I know what I’m creating here, friends; I don’t need you to tell me. My children will take one step outside my door into adulthood, and their first stop will be the first grocery store they see, where they will tear down the cereal aisle like a contestant on Supermarket Sweep, raking armfuls of Cocoa Pebbles, Cookie Crisp, and the like into their carts, already dreaming of every meal in their new apartment being punctuated by a mixing bowl-sized serving of each sugar cereal their mother denied them.

I know that, and yet, I’m willing to take that chance.

And because I am not completely heartless, I also offer them, once a year, a reprieve from my sugar cereal ban, in honor of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

You read that correctly. In our family, we don’t do Easter baskets. It has nothing to do with shunning pagan rituals or anything so thought out as that. It’s simply because my mother-in-law owns a candy shop, thus trying to compete with the Easter baskets she provides each year is a losing battle.

So we decided to start our own little tradition.

Each Easter morning, before we get dressed in our Sunday best and head off to church, our children scramble around the house, looking for their designated box of sugar cereal. Under couches, in the oven, on top of the refrigerator. They each put in their requests beforehand so they know what they’re looking for.

Our Mother Hen daughter usually goes for something chocolatey, perhaps Reese Puffs or Cocoa Pebbles. Her younger sister is a die-hard Cap’n Crunch (with Berries, to be precise) fan like her mama. The Babes always go fruity—Apple Jacks, Trix, etc. Without fail, Second Son requests Cookie Crisps or Krave each year and then wishes he hadn’t after his first bowlful. While Oldest keeps us guessing each year—he opted for Chocolate Cinnamon Toast Crunch this year.

Since they already each know what they are getting, it isn’t the surprise they’re eager for; it’s the unfettered access to an entire box of cereal that no one else in the house is allowed to eat. This is a big deal in a family of 8. With even a common box of cereal like Kix, you have to work fast if you want to claim a bowl for yourself. An entire box can be opened and emptied before the whole family gets a chance at it. So to have one’s very own box of cereal is in itself a gift. But sugar cereal as well? Sublime.

Therefore, in honor of all the sweet goodness that will be consumed in the holiday celebrations this weekend, and as a nod to my own lovely crew of cereal box hunters, this week I offer you another Mai Time in the Kitchen video (starring my lovely daughter Lucy!) where we make a superb little spring-time cookie that tastes just like Fruit Loops, but with none of the artificial colors or flavors that leave you shaking your head.

In the words of Tony T, “They’re grrrreat!”

But before you get absorbed in the show, I need to know in the comments below: what is your favorite cereal? This is a judge-free zone so don’t put down GrapeNuts, trying to impress the rest of the room. But if GrapeNuts is your favorite, claim it with pride, dear friend. Can’t wait to read your responses!

Orange Cardamom Cookies aka The Fruit Loop Cookie

Ingredients:

1/2 c. sugar

1 orange, zested and juiced, juice set aside for icing

3 tbsp. light coconut milk from a can

1/2 c. light olive oil

1 tsp. vanilla

1 1/2 c. flour

1 tsp. cornstarch

1 tsp. cardamom

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

Instructions:

Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a medium mixing bowl, combine sugar and orange zest. Take about 30 seconds to scrape the zest around in the sugar, helping the bits of rind release their lovely, orangey oils. Then add in the coconut milk, oil, and vanilla, mixing well to combine.

In a separate bowl, toss together the flour, cornstarch, cardamom, baking powder, and salt. Once you’ve got everything mixed together, add this dry mixture into your wet one. Give the whole batch about 30 seconds of elbow grease, but not much more. No need to overwork the dough. Just mix till combined.

Drop tablespoonfuls of dough into your lovely palm and roll it around till you have a neat little ball. Place it on the prepared cookie sheet and give it a gentle little love tap. Repeat with the remaining dough. Place filled sheets in oven and bake cookies for 10-12 minutes, or until starting to turn golden with tiny cracks forming on the surface.

Remove cookies from oven, transfer to cooling racks, and cool completely before icing. (Truthfully, though, they’re good enough to eat as is, so feel free to indulge as soon as the cookies are cool enough to handle. I don’t want to be responsible for any burnt tongues in our midst!)

If you’ve got the self-control to hold off for the few short minutes it will take for the cookies to cool and you to make the icing, then by all means, carry on.

Ingredients for Orange Juice Icing:

3 tbsp. fresh squeezed orange juice (from the zested orange you squeezed earlier—there will be no waste on my watch, friends!)

1 c. powdered sugar

1 tiny dollop of vanilla bean paste, or a splash of vanilla extract

Instructions:

Mix all ingredients with a wire whisk till the lumps are worked out and you have a smooth, velvety icing. Drizzle over cooled cookies. Either grab one right away and get messy with it, or wait about 30 minutes or so for the icing to harden. There really isn’t a right way, friends. Just decide and get to it!

And, as always, my friends, keep cooking!

Makes 15-18 cookies.