Christmas Cookie Magic

It is about halfway through December, and the holiday season is in full swing. Front yards sport inflatable and mechanical elves and reindeer. Colorful lights beam out of the darkness. Have you heard almost every Christmas carol and seen at least a dozen holiday movies by now? We buy stamps in bulk, and the Muzac reminds us our shopping days are numbered. It is the season to create loving memories with family and friends—a goal for all faiths. 

This involves recreating magical traditions that define the holiday. Cooking, decorating, traveling, shopping, and wearing festive wear are all part of making the traditional magic happen. Christmas cookie baking ranks high on the list with my family.  

This year, my sister, Diana, and niece, Eileen, and I are baking butter cookies with Mom. The cookies were always Mom’s specialty. Not only were the cookies delicious, they were pretty, like the pictures in the Betty Crocker Cookie Book. The neighbors and family expected a cookie tin of the sweet beauties. 

Replicating Mom’s recipe has been my dismal failure for years. The cookie press never formed the right shape, and the dough baked into unrecognizable blobs. Yes, I refrigerated the dough for a day, included real butter, and used the same cookie press that looked like Mom’s. As unsuccessful as my attempts were, I didn’t feel so bad since Diana and Eileen (both incredible bakers who follow directions precisely) yield similar results. This year Mom is giving us step-by-step instructions. Fingers crossed.

Back in the day when I was a little and my siblings were even littler, we “helped” Mom bake and decorate the Christmas butter cookies. We spilled flour and sugar in and around the mixing bowl, placed maraschino cherries in the center of heart shapes, and dumped sprinkles over the trees to make them look like lights. The kitchen and dining room were baptized in clouds of flour dust, dough glops and tiny jimmies sprinkles from floor to ceiling. The tradition was sweet and is a favored memory. No one noticed the brown edges or burnt sprinkles. Mom let us have a cookie or three with a glass of milk before heading to bed. 

In the morning the dining room table held huge glass jars and tin boxes of the beautiful treats. Perfectly shaped Christmas trees, hearts and snowflakes displayed perfectly aligned cherries, & evenly spaced sprinkles There were spritzes with chocolate tips and festive jimmies, wreaths with a fruitcake middles and a green and red bow made from cut candied cherries. All evidence of baking mayhem was swept, mopped and wiped clean. We were that good at baking Christmas cookies!

Fast forward to when my daughters were little, and I attempted to recreate the tradition. I bought the same cookie press and meticulously copied Mom’s recipe. My girls poked under my arm, stood on kitchen chairs and sat on the table “helping” me make the dough. Looking back, I marvel no one caught a finger in the mixer blades nor got sick from eating raw dough. Maybe that was the magic.

Making magic is hard. My cookies never looked like the Christmas cookies of my youth. Most were shapeless, the cherries aligned anywhere but the center, and the sprinkles looked like a tangled burnt mess of color on the tree cookies. All had a rim of brown or black char. They were not fit for neighbor gifts or the family Christmas parties. My daughters, husband and I ate the evidence.

Over the years, Mom recommended ingredient brands and showed me techniques, but my attempts were always the same—sweet buttery blobs unfit for display, awe, or cookie exchanges. I surrendered the dream and admitted my baking skills were not suited for delicate butter cookies. Instead, I  put my yearly baking energies to gingerbread and biscotti. Every year, my kitchen gets dusted with flour, sugar grit crunches on the floor, and the sink piles high with bowls and measuring cups. My grandkids and nephews like to decorate the gingerbread boys, girls, and snowmen. Biscotti dipped in morning coffee is Christmas baking heaven.  

Mom eventually confessed her baking secret. She made one small batch for her little kids to decorate and bake. When we went to bed, she baked all night, stored the cookies in her huge glass jars and tins and cleaned up. Mom was the Christmas Cookie Magic.

Do you have holiday baking memory to share? Love to hear it.

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