What is the significance of the mamool cookies for the speaker in the poem?
PART OF THE POEM
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee,
answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool
cookies — little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and
nuts — from her bag — and was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
sacrament.1 The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the
lovely woman from Laredo — we were all covered with the same powdered
sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.