My grandmother on my mother's side made cookies that were really simple.  Her recipe came from cooking restrictions back in the depression.  They didn't have the extras that would make them all jazzed up--like peanut butter.

They were simply flour, shortening, eggs and a little vanilla.  There may have been something else in them--I don't remember.  I just remember that before she baked them, she brushed the top with and sugar mixed with a little water.  Then topped them off with raisins.

Once when I went to the St. Louis area to visit Becky, Craig and the boys, Becky baked those cookies.

The boys were at school, Becky and Craig were on their way to work, and Becky said, "I baked you some of Gran's cookies."  There were about three dozen cookies on a platter on the counter in the kitchen.

Later when she got home, after the boys came home from school, she asked them if they liked the cookies.

"What cookies," both of them asked.

"The ones I baked," she answered.  Then looked at me with a question in her eyes.

"You said you baked them for me," I answered.

"You ate them all?"  She was shocked.

I didn't think anyone should shocked.  She knew they were my favorite.  It took me three hours to finish them off.  In my defense, I skipped lunch.