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Sunday, September 22, 2019

Grandma Betsy’s Ginger Cream Cookies

This is a great family story written by father, Jim Hartley. I never met my great-grandma Betsy, but I can attest to the goodness that ginger cream cookies have brought! 

Elizabeth Catherine Martin Hartley:
Grandma Betsy’s Ginger Cream Cookies

Enjoy the little things in life because one day you’ll look back and realize they were the big things.” This tidbit of wisdom was expressed by a modern American writer, Kurt Vonnegut. In my experience, his observation is profoundly true! 

Take little things like cookies for example, more specifically, Ginger Cream Cookies. They are the top-of-the-list, best in the galaxy, absolute favorite cookie in my family. That little, soft, moist, can’t-eat-just-one, frosted molasses morsel is really just a small thing, but it has become an important defining aspect of the Hartley family. It’s OUR cookie! It’s THE Hartley cookie! And when I say my family, I’m referring to five generations!

Ginger Creme Cookie
We were introduced to Ginger Creams by our sweet Grandma Betsy—Elizabeth Catherine Martin, born in Ft. Wayne, Indiana in 1882. She married Charles Alton Hartley, Sr. in 1903. Grandpa passed away in 1937, leaving Grandma Betsy a widow at the relatively young age of 55. She sadly lamented in her autobiography, “The dark hour which must come in every life came to us on June 4, 1937, when our dear husband and father was called suddenly. Life seemed to end for me. The passing days, however, proved life to be very interesting as the life of the little folks grew to envelop me.” The “little folks” were her grandchildren. I have the privilege of being one of them.

Even though I wasn’t quite six years old when Grandma Betsy passed away, I still remember her. To me, she was the ideal grandma—small in stature, but a giant in terms of cheerfulness, kindness, and love.

Grandma Betsy was an angel of compassion and help for her children and their families when they needed it. For example, her son, Jack. After spending more than three years in gruesome combat in the northern Pacific in World War II, my dad’s brother, Uncle Jack, returned home to a devastating welcome—his wife had filed for a divorce and she left him and their son, Mike. Grandma Betsy moved in with Uncle Jack and Mike, and became a strong, loving, stabilizing influence for both of them until Uncle Jack married Aunt Louise about five years later.

In 1942, shortly after my brother, Bill, was born, my mom began having severe back pains. It turned out to be a ruptured appendix and gangrene had set in. Mom had to be in the hospital for two weeks. During that time, Grandma Betsy stayed in our Salt Lake City home to help Dad take care of baby Bill and their two older sons, Bryan and Chuck.

Four years later, in 1946, my two-year-old sister, Raylene, was tragically killed by a milk truck. Grandma Betsy was there to help our family get through the trauma and sadness.

After Mom’s and Dad’s fourth son, Richard, was born in Butte, Montana, in 1949, Grandma Betsy came to help out.

Butte, Montana, 1949; standing in the back, left to right—my
brother, Chuck, cousin Mike, and my brother, Bryan; seated in
front—my brother Bill, Grandma Betsy, and baby Richard (also
pictured, our dog, Pete)


Grandma Betsy reading to my
brother, Richard, and me in San
Lorenzo, California; about 1956

When Grandma Betsy visited us in Butte, Montana and in San Lorenzo, California, she would read to us, play games with us, and let us help her with chores. I remember helping her wash dishes (all by hand—we didn’t have an automatic dishwasher in those days). She taught me the right way to hold a sharp knife when drying it so I wouldn’t cut myself. A small thing, but it meant a lot to a five-year-old. Not only was it a great revelation, I also knew that she cared about me. And believe it or not, I still think fondly about her whenever I dry sharp knives.

Even at a young age, I sensed that Grandma Betsy’s gentle goodness was somehow connected to her strong religious beliefs. She was a devout Roman Catholic, and in my young eyes, she seemed to have an extra warm glow that many people don’t have. I suspect it was her deep faith. Whenever she visited, we made sure she could attend mass at the local Catholic parish.

I loved that Grandma Betsy shared the Ginger Cream recipe with our Aunt Edna and our mom. In fact, one of the many reasons why I loved to visit Aunt Edna was because she was always well-stocked with Ginger Cream Cookies. (But typically, her supply was completely gone well before we left!)

For more than 25 years, I thought the recipe for Ginger Cream Cookies was an old, secret family recipe, handed down from Grandma Betsy. I was shocked when I opened our 1977 Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. There on page 137 was Grandma Betsy’s secret recipe! How did Betty Crocker steal one of our most cherished family secrets?



When I asked my mom about it, she confessed that many years ago, Grandma Betsy got the recipe from a bag of Gold Medal Flour, and the company that makes Gold Medal Flour is the same company that makes Betty Crocker cookbooks, cakes, frostings, and other popular baking products.

I was deflated by the news! I felt like I had been deceived—kind of like when I found out that certain things about Christmas and baby teeth under a pillow weren’t true! (I was even more deflated when I found out that Betty Crocker isn’t a real person— just a fictitious marketing persona like Aunt Jemimah, Uncle Ben, and the oatmeal Quaker!) 

I did a little research into Ginger Cream Cookies. Its recipe may not have originated with Grandma Betsy, but it is a long-time favorite of a lot of people besides our family. In fact, Betty Crocker named Ginger Cream Cookies as the best cookie in America for the decade from 1910 to 1920! (The folks in that decade really knew their cookies!) No wonder Grandma Betsy gave it a try. No wonder it continues to be a favorite more than 100 years later!

Okay, so Ginger Creams are not a secret family recipe. But it’s still THE Hartley cookie. And for me, that incredibly delicious little, soft, moist, can’t-eat-just-one, frosted molasses morsel will always bring extremely fond memories of my Grandma Betsy. That cookie has linked five generations of our family … and still counting!

Kurt Vonnegut was right; looking back, it’s the small things in life that become big things. So, thank you, Grandma Betsy, for Ginger Cream Cookies!

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Written by James E. Hartley, Elizabeth Catherine Martin Hartley’s grandson (September 2019) 
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