When I was 9 my brother left for college. Before leaving, he taught me his cookie recipe so that I could still make and eat his cookies after he was gone. It was 1987 and we had a sign in our house that read Life is Uncertain, Eat Dessert First.“Add more of this and less of this” my brother showed me, “and this – this part is the most important part.” And so he moved on and I made cookies by myself. I made a lot of cookies and I made them for years and years just the way he taught me. And I never told anyone else the recipe. And they were very good cookies.

 

When I was 13 my brother graduated from college and he and three of his tall and hungry friends moved into our house for the summer. I made cookies for them almost every day. My babysitter, who had been a professional chef, watched me make them and said “Wait, you have to do THIS when you make cookies.” And so I tried THAT, and it made them even better. And then the next day I made them again, but I changed a little of something else and a lot of another thing. And I gave them to my brother’s friends almost every day. And I watched their faces and I honed the amounts and the ingredients and the temperature until I found perfection. And I committed it all to memory. By now they were excellent cookies. Outstanding. The best cookies, actually. Everyone told me so. And I never told anyone else what the recipe was.

 

People asked for the recipe... Oh, did they ask. All the time. Friends and family, everyone asked, “But I’m your (insert here: best friend, sister, nephew, child),” but I kept my lips sealed. And the years turned into decades and over and over again I have heard “If you won’t give anyone the recipe, when are you going to start selling them?”  And I waited and waited, wondering when the time would feel right. Maybe never. I wasn't sure.

 

When I was 43, and my brother’s kids were grown-up and leaving for college and my own kids were medium and large-sized. I had lived in Connecticut, Maryland, New Hampshire, Australia, New York, Miami, Massachusetts and Vermont and found myself, somehow improbably, now living in Idaho, and with naps and diapers and several careers in my rear-view mirror, I decided the time to sell my cookies had come.

 

I talked about it a lot. I talked to friends, I talked to family, I talked to my children’s friends, I talked to strangers on chairlifts, I talked to the kids I coached. I gave everyone cookies. Everyone agreed, it was the right time. And VON COOKIE was born.

 

I, Hollis von Summer, remain the only person who knows the recipe. I have written it down on a tiny scrap of paper and hidden it in my home so that, in the unfortunate event that something happens to me and I can no longer bake cookies, someone in my family will eventually find the recipe. But for now, it remains a secret.

 

Since deciding to sell my cookies, I have had many conversations that sound like this:

Someone else: “You must love to cook.”

Me: “Not really.”

Someone else: “Right, you must love to bake then.”

Me: ”Not really.”

Someone else: “Oh. Then why are you doing this?”

Me: “It's JUST that I love cookies. And I’ve figured out how to make the perfect cookie.
So I love making those so that I can eat them. And now I love knowing other people have a
little bit of joy in their day if they can also eat a VON COOKIE.”

 

After all my personal motto is: Life is Uncertain, Eat Dessert First.

 

Enjoy your VON COOKIES and remember, YOU CAN’T HAVE JUST VON.

 

Hollis von Summer lives in Ketchum, Idaho, with her husband, son, daughter and their very small dog. They spend a lot of time skiing, playing hockey and lacrosse, eating cookies and playing Rummy 500 at the dinner table. In the summers they pack up their lives and head to the ocean in Massachusetts to get a good dose of humidity, sailing and surfing and to stay in touch with their salty New England roots.