‘Domestic violence – we read of it in the papers, see it on TV, hear it on the radio. How terrible it must be! – think the lucky few for whom these are only distant stories. But most people get cramps in their stomach either because they see their childhood nightmares come to life again or because as parents their conscience is not quite clean. For if we accept the axiom that our parents’ educational model becomes so much a part of us that we are inevitably going to treat our children the same way, then we must sadly admit that most people belong in the last category.
As a parent I have a clear conscience: I have no children. Still, I get a cramp whenever I hear of “domestic violence”. Our heroine is the seven-year old Erika Kosár. It is her we should love. It is her we should keep our fingers crossed for! She shall overcome.’
(Béla Pintér)

’Although The Queen of Cookies does not belong to the musical genre, still it contains some music which is performed on stage. Each member of the family is obliged to play the citera, a traditional Hungarian folk instrument. They simultaneously crouch, to a word of command, over their instruments, plucking out dismal pseudo-folk tunes, which expresses more than bare reality could do. This, along with the choral singing, grasps the family’s common fate. The citera and the ridiculous and petty stories wrapped around it (the grandfather’s images as a folkloric bard, his grandson’s hypocritical fib about how citera playing gives him comfort) exactly depict the disturbed mind of the lieutenant colonel, the father.’
(Andrea Tompa: Generation ’84, Színház, December 2004)