Spo-reflections on a plate of cookies

4 December is Cookie Day. I know this because The Cookie Monster told me decades ago. Cookies – or biscuits as thems across the pond call them* – are an essential part of The Christmas season for many. They were for us. Mother always made her signature gingerbread cookies (which are the best; no not dare to question this) and chocolate chip cookies (which were not that good, but hey, they tasted like Christmas). She made others on occasion but we liked these best.**. Relations on Mother’s side of the family make ‘S” cookies, a not too sweet thing that is S-shaped. The recipe has been passed down over several generations and when I compare the recipes among the great-granddaughters, none quite match up. It is a case of culinary divergent evolution where the passed-down index card recipe develop typos and leave out ingredients.***

For a while I would make my own gingerbread cookies. They are a lot of work, a three day enterprise, consisting of making the dough, rolling out and baking the cookies, and finally frosting them. On one’s own, it’s some job. Mother had four helpers who were generally helpful and it made it a fun endeavor. Once upon a time at Christmas I made chocolate chip cookies using better ingredients with an extra yolk for cake-like texture. Mine beat Mother’s by a country mile but they were a flop. They were rejected as not proper chocolate chip cookies. Talk about pearls for swine.

There was another run of Christmas times when I tried making cookies I’ve never had before. They were recommended by friends and loved ones as their go-to cookie for the holidays. Many didn’t turn out well or weren’t as good as hoped, but that may be operation error. Making something for the first time is often a bungle.

Each year I find the process of making cookies more tiresome and less magical, hardly worth the time and effort. Someone isn’t a fan of cookies, and we both feel guilty/bad for eating any, even at Christmas. On the other hand I hate the idea of no cookies at Christmas, which feels like blasphemy. Baby Jesus will weep and Krampus will probably carry me off. Worse of all, Santa won’t stop at our house. Come to think of it, the Christmas when St. Nick put out the most was the one Father suggested rather than milk and cookies we kids put out beer and pretzels, on the argument Santa is a grown up and the change would be a warm welcome. That year we got a popcorn popper.

Tell me what cookies do you make at this time of year. Do you have one to pass on?

*As a boy the British word biscuit was source of confusion for me. I knew biscuits as savory flour-based objects served with chicken and gravy. I later learned thems in The UK, The Commonwealth, and probably anywhere they use the metric system folks use the word biscuit for small sweet round things, while thems in The States use the Dutch-deprived word cookie. Is The Cookie Monster called The Biscuit Monster in other lands?

**Mother would go to cookie-exchange parties organized by the church. She came back with cookies nobody at home liked, so she stopped going. I think she was disappointed we were so picky but I bet she was pleased as Punch hers were judged superior.

***Spos have split into two camps who has the proper “S” cookie recipe. It is House Moorehouse vs. House Cooper. It’s like ‘Dune’ but the spice is cinnamon, not melange.