Cookies

Greetings from Seoul, Korea where we live just 50 miles from a government that sends up missiles without knowing where they will come down and whether or not they will explode. The political commentary here goes from denial to full-scale war. Then we have Korean-American FTA talks threatening the rice farmers. Add these two plus the news that Korea has the fifth highest murder rate for women (Koreans very embarrassed, only way to "save face" is to point out to every American that U.S.A. is NO.1 on that list) to the monsoons, typhoons, and cyclones and the stew here is at boiling point. The U.S. Embassy last fall temporarily issued travel warnings for various parts of Seoul. What a fascinating time we live in.

I stopped in to eat a sandwich the other day in a little (one table for two, counter for eight) shop. I had baked some cookies--with chocolate chips from home, can't be found here--to share with the shop owner. She and I have become "friends" over the last few weeks, after I stopped in one night for coffee and wound up helping her eight year old daughter with her homework.

Now, chocolate chip cookies are treasured here in Korea and my wife Lynn's recipe is really quite good. I can only take so much kimchi and red bean paste and then I have to make something that reminds me of home. But, cookies are to be shared, right? So, I pull the cookies out of my computer bag, just as two "ahjimahs" enter (little old ladies with attitude--famous across Korea, feared by anyone across the counter from them, obeyed by government officials-bus drivers-traffic cops...).

There are two younger women sitting at the table. The Ahjimahs are not interested in sitting at the counter, so the ladies graciously move to the counter and the Ahjimahs settle at the table. They order a drink, that once delivered is not acceptable--never did catch why. I am sharing the cookies with the two gracious ladies and an ESL teacher at the counter.

Ahjimah 1 spies the cookies and says something to Ahjimah 2 who then says something to the owner. She responds and then asks me if they may have one. I pass them (about two dozen) along. Well, the cookies now stay at the table. Ahjimahs are laughing and having a great time--and eating one after the other. After visiting for a while with the ESL teacher, I realize that the cookies are no more. I might as well be on my way.

As I get up to leave, Ahjimah 1 slaps me on the back with a hearty #$%$#$@#@!;-) while Ahjimah 2 grins and jabbers. They yell something to the owner, who meets me at the door. She says they want to know when I am coming back with more cookies, they want to be sure and be there when I do.

Next: Apple Dumplings!