Sandwich Cookies

I was at the dealership to get a new set of tires and new brake pads for our car. That was a hefty amount and I grudgingly paid it. It left a sour taste in my mouth but I knew how to get rid of it. I headed back to the table where the free coffee and cookies were placed. Earlier, I had tasted one of the cookies and only one word could describe them: bliss. Usually, I never take more than one but this time I had a score to settle. I grabbed a cookie and went to the car, where Leila was waiting.

I told her about the bill before I gave her the cookie. I said, “They robbed us of $2,000 but I got back at them and took TWO cookies. Now, we’re even!” And we had a laugh about that.

I told Leila how the cookies reminded me of Mogadishu. I remembered walking in the downtown area as I regularly went to the British Council Library. As I approached the area, the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. That intoxicating smell came from Mariottini, the Italian bakery that was located at the back of Cinema Hamar. The cookies they made were legendary. That was amazing Mogadishu of our childhood.

I remembered even further back when my maternal grandfather, Mohamed Abdulle “Mulyuh”, would visit us on Fridays. We lived in Lambar 4 (KM 4) and he used to take a taxi to see us. I remembered running to greet him at the gate. He made sure that he always brought us something, mostly cookies from Mariottini. I have fond memories of him, memories that I will always cherish. Little things like that leave a lasting impression and we urge everyone to remember to give small treats to their nieces, nephews, grandchildren, etc. They will remember you fondly.

A week after our visit to the dealership, Leila surprised me with the cookies. She did her own experimenting, and being the genius she is, the cookies were amazing. When my sister Zahra, who is also a great cook, tasted the cookies, she said only one word, “Mariottini.”

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