Anise — Wine Cookies — The Taste of Baba’s Silence

The real estate market is strong this week. I showed 7 properties and closed on 1. The pipeline is strong. The phone rings with the steady rhythm of a business that has taken six years to build and refuses to slow down.

Dimitri stopped by the bakery Saturday morning to eat spanakopita and tell Mama she is doing things wrong. She told him he had his chance. They argued. They ate. They loved. In that order, which is the only order this family knows.

I thought about Baba this week. Not the grief — the grief is always there, a familiar companion now — but the man. The way he stood at the bakery counter with his arms crossed. The way he hummed Greek songs he never knew the words to. The way he loved us in silence, which was the loudest love I have ever known.

I made avgolemono — the soup that fixes everything. Chicken broth, rice, eggs, lemons. Simple. Ancient. Golden as a January sunrise. Sophia ate 1 servings and said nothing, which means it was good. Alexander ate 2 and asked for more. The pan was empty by nine. Empty pans are the highest form of flattery in this kitchen.

The weeks pass and I am learning that life at 48 is not what I expected at twenty-five. It is messier, harder, more beautiful. The moussaka is better because my hands have made it more times. The career is stronger because the failures taught me what the successes could not. And the love — the love I pour into every dish, every showing, every Sunday drive to Tarpon Springs — is bigger now because I have lost enough to know what it costs.

Avgolemono filled the kitchen and emptied the pan, and when it was gone I found myself wanting something to hold onto a little longer — something that belonged to the bakery, to Mama’s hands, to the counter where Baba used to stand with his arms crossed. These anise and wine cookies are the ones that have always lived in the back of the display case, the ones that smell like the Greek Orthodox holidays of my childhood. Making them this week felt less like baking and more like sitting quietly with someone I miss.

Anise & Wine Cookies

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 30 cookies

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1/2 cup dry red wine
• 1 tsp anise seeds, lightly crushed
• 1/2 tsp pure anise extract
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1/4 tsp fine sea salt
• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more as needed
• 2 tbsp sesame seeds (optional, for topping)

Instructions

1. Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
2. Mix the wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the olive oil and sugar until combined. Add the red wine, crushed anise seeds, and anise extract, whisking until the mixture is smooth and slightly emulsified.
3. Add the dry ingredients. Stir in the baking powder and salt. Gradually fold in the flour, 1/2 cup at a time, until a soft, pliable dough forms that pulls away from the sides of the bowl. It should not be sticky; add a tablespoon more flour if needed.
4. Shape the cookies. Pinch off walnut-sized pieces of dough (about 1 tbsp each) and roll gently between your palms into a rope about 4 inches long. Fold the rope in half and twist once, or shape into a simple ring. Place 1 inch apart on prepared baking sheets. Sprinkle with sesame seeds if using.
5. Bake. Bake for 22–25 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until the cookies are firm and the bottoms are lightly golden. They will not brown much on top — that is correct.
6. Cool completely. Transfer to a wire rack and allow to cool fully before eating. The texture and anise flavor deepen as they cool. Store in an airtight tin at room temperature for up to two weeks.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 85 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 11g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 28mg