Bah Humbug ... Or not.

I'm deeply saddened by the realization that my Christmas Cookie Baking days may be behind me. Those who don't bake simply may not realize the amount of physical strength and energy that goes into hand-mixing the dough or the most tiring, rolling it out after it's been chilling in the fridge for twelve hours. I certainly never knew how physically demanding it is until this year. And I just don't seem to be able to do it. Halfway through a single batch of sugar cookies I felt I needed a nap. Not only that, I was certain that I would develop a hernia; which is actually quite likely, from what I understand, for at least a year or two post surgery.

Usually my cookie baking takes three days to complete. Not the entirety of those days; I've just found it easier to break up the jobs. Day one I make dough and then it goes into the fridge to chill, day two I spend rolling, pressing, shaping and baking. And then the third day is when all the decorating happens. This is the magical day they all become special. This year it took longer than that.

My personal favorite are what we call "Bell cookies" because they are in the shape of a bell. The cookie itself is chocolate mocha, just the slightiest hint of coffee flavor. They are actually a sandwich cookie with mint icing in the middle. Oreos? Pffft, how PLAIN! Finally I drizzle melted chocolate on top. These are a huge hit with many. You may even remember having had the opportunity to enjoy one of these at Christmas time because I would always bring a tray into work. Well, lucky you may have been, because I don't think I'll be able to make them anymore. I'm absolutely exhausted!

Before anyone tries to sell me on all the prepackaged dough items in the dairy section of the supermarket, save it. Now I don't want to disparage those who use them, but I'm a purist. I don't make pie with pre-made crust, and I certainly won't use the break-off-the-squares-and-bake dough. What's the point? It's not really homemade, so don't fool yourself. If I don't want to go through the trouble of making cookies, I'll just buy them pre made and I will be proud of it. None of this hiding behind, "Well I turned my oven on so technically--" No! That doesn't make them homemade. Sorry. Nice try though.

I guess I should be handing this tradition down to my kids. My son, of course, is like his father in that his only interest in cookie baking lies in the eating of them when they are, and often before they are even, finished. My daughter certainly expresses an interest in learning and helping but it isn't long before something shiny or it's audible equivalent beckons her away from the kitchen.

I suppose now after thinking this through, it's not that I can never again make cookies. It's just that I can't make my favorite ones. I'm going to have to find some new recipes that aren't as physically demanding as the ones I'm accustomed to making. I'll have to repurpose my rolling pins as well, hang them up as decoration or something. It seems to fall nicely into my overall new life theme of adapting. For so long I've been trying to mould the world around my will. But I now realize the need to bend a bit to the will of the universe. I'll just have to create new favorites that are more in step with my current capabilities.

And don't even get me started on the dog taking a mouthful of cooling cookies thereby sending the remains of an entire two dozen to the trash for fear his mouth somehow came in contact with them. While it would be nice to have animals that are trained not to do such things, it would be even nicer to have a kitchen that's properly equipped for such tasks as baking cookies or even making toast for that matter. The fact is, the dog is bigger than my kitchen. Anywhere within it that you put a rack of cookies to cool will pretty much be right in the face of a 125 pound dog.

On the upside, my sugar cookie icing turned out nicely this year which made for a better-looking cookie. In the past, the icing would be runny and drip over the edges. Not this time. They are Martha Stewart perfect. Ok, Martha Stewart lite perfect.

Let it be known thatI am still not finished. I have one more batch of dough to mix, bake and decorate. These are the Mirro press cookies of my childhood. Literally, I stole my mom's cookie press since she doesn't use it anymore. I've actually been using it on and off for years. But I remember that the last time tried to use it, the dough was oozing out from the edges. No matter. I am resolute in my endeavor and will beat the cookies into submission.