Katie Foor, left, makes her first selection, but not her last, at the cookie table at the wedding of Laura Gerrero and Luke Wiehagen in Pittsburgh.
LIKE brides and bridegrooms the world over, the ones in this city and nearby towns bask in the glory of the white dress, the big kiss and the first dance.
But then, a large number of them happily cede the spotlight to a cookie. Or a few thousand of them.
For as long as anyone here can remember, wedding receptions in Pittsburgh have featured cookie tables, laden with dozens of homemade old-fashioned offerings like lady locks, pizzelles and buckeyes. For weeks ahead — sometimes months — mothers and aunts and grandmas and in-laws hunker down in the kitchen baking and freezing. Then, on the big day, hungry guests ravage the buffet, piling plates high and packing more in takeout containers so they can have them for breakfast the next day.
No one knows for sure who started the tradition, or why it hasn’t exactly taken hold outside this region. Many people credit Italian and Eastern European immigrants who wanted to bring a bit of the Old Country to the big day in the New World. Given that many of them were already well practiced at laying out a Christmas spread, baking 8 to 10 times as many treats for a few hundred special friends and relatives may not have seemed like such a stretch.
But even amid the increasing professionalization of the wedding, with florists mimicking slick arrangements ripped from Martha Stewart’s magazines and wedding planners scheduling each event down to the minute, the descendants of those Pittsburgh settlers continue to haul their homemade cookies into the fanciest hotels and wedding venues around the city. For many families today, it would be bordering on sacrilege to do without the table.
So on a rainy Saturday in early autumn, Laura Gerrero, her mother, her mother-in-law and two aunts gathered to bake in preparation for Ms. Gerrero’s wedding to Luke Wiehagen. Her mother, Pat, used to make apple and cherry pies for local stores, and her aunt Elaine Ford had recently overseen the creation of over 6,000 cookies for the 180 guests at her own daughter’s wedding.
And presiding over the initial steering-committee meeting was Laura herself, a 26-year-old retail manager. The bride (and the bridegroom, if he’s interested) can veto recipe selections. Ms. Gerrero is not a huge fan of liquor or certain fruits in her sweets, so the peach cookies and rum balls fell off the list.
Some family recipes were a must, however, like peanut butter blossoms, Italian wedding cookies and biscotti. They use a biscotti recipe that Laura’s great aunt, Genevieve Raczkowski, had painstakingly recorded decades ago in her own mother’s kitchen. “She got her board that she used to make spaghetti and noodles, and she would say ‘This much flour,’ ” said Ms. Raczkowski, 74, recalling the unmeasured mountains of ingredients that would grow on the work surface. “I had to pour the flour back into cups. Twenty-four cups of flour. Eighteen eggs. So then I had to cut the recipes.”
Pizzelles, a waffle-like Italian cookie, are also essentially mandatory. The Gerrero wedding was to feature both chocolate and anise pizzelles, made two at a time on an electric press manufactured specifically for this confection.
The work spread over every inch of Pat Gerrero’s kitchen and dining room, as the women filled the lady locks — log-shaped shells — with cream, pressed out spritz butter cookies, and kept an eye on the pizzelle iron. They pored over the working list of cookies. The range of flavors was important, they explained, but so was appearance. They soon realized there were no squares, so lemon bars were added.
Even as the number of cookies grew, there was never any question about whether to skimp on more traditional wedding sweets. “We’re having wedding cake, served with ice cream,” said Pat Gerrero. “My family believes in a little bit of dinner and a lot of dessert. Which is actually an Irish thing. They love sweets.”
They’re clearly not alone in that, for the debate over which immigrant group deserves credit for coming up with the cookie table continues unabated. “I hear the Italians, the Eastern Europeans, but I wouldn’t say that to a Greek person, because I don’t think they would buy it,” said Laura Magone, a filmmaker from Pittsburgh who is working on a documentary about the tradition. “Part of the reason I wanted to do it was because it captures the rich ethnic heritage this area has.”
Pittsburgh doesn’t have an ironclad claim to the cookie table; there are some people in Youngstown, Ohio, who believe it started there. So the tale of the table may be more legend than documented history.
“One theory goes that it got a jump start during the Depression, when elaborate wedding cakes were not as common,” said Andrew Masich, the president and chief executive officer of the Senator John Heinz History Center in Pittsburgh. “Cookies filled in the need because so many people could contribute, so the expense didn’t fall on one family. But even that is not certain.”
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