My Mom’s Pretzels

My mom is famous. Well, her pretzel recipe is. Growing up, the oily, still-warm, garlicky pretzels only emerged from the oven on special occasions: birthdays, Halloween, Christmas, etc. And, of course, school parties. 

Since gluten allergies only recently became a thing people actually worried about (at least in northwest Louisiana), these knotted delights were the perfect snack to be piled into individual Ziplocs and tossed to grubby elementary schoolers. No dairy, no peanuts: everyone’s happy. 

And everyone was happy. People loved my mom’s pretzels. Parents would pester her for the recipe, teachers would encourage her to bring more for the next party, and kids would cry for seconds. Years later, a small boutique would offer to sell them as a local specialty snack. 

Well before they became smash-hits at school, I could see how much pride my mom took in her pretzels. And after a while, that pride spread to me too. 

In 2012 I changed schools halfway through the year and found myself in a totally unfamiliar environment with all-new kids and all-new everything. Desperate, I began to exploit the magic of my mom’s pretzels. If you sat next to me at lunch and became my friend, I’d give you pretzels straight from my own lunch box. Soon enough, I became the kingpin of the lunchtime trade network. Kids clamored to sit at my table and grab a few pretzels. Cosmic brownies passed hands without hesitation. I distinctly remember ending one lunch period with three huge soft chocolate chip cookies, my favorite. Things got so out of hand that my table would get surprise visitors from other tables, stopping in to make a quick trade in the hopes of grabbing a pretzel or two. 

However, this system only lasted so long as I was able to convince my mother to make her special pretzels for events that were not special. After two or three blissful weeks, my lunchtime social status plummeted. But when you shoot for the moon, you just might land among the stars. Even today, one of my dearest, closest friends is someone who once crossed the cafeteria to beg me for just one pretzel. Our senior year of high school, I caved and gave him the recipe as a graduation present. Even today, even though he has made the recipe his own, he still calls them “Gabby’s Mom’s Pretzels.”