Wednesday, December 21, 2005

We eat the weak and broken

Dear Mom~ Remember those spritz cookies you used to make every Christmas - by which i mean "every Christmas before the divorce, when our domestic life sort of went to hell'? Do you? Do you remember the silver metal cookie press with the copper ends that you used to pipe wreath and candy cane shapes onto the cookie sheet, and how the candy canes were especially prone to breakage, and our standing rule was that we got to eat all the broken ones? Remember? You do? Well, can you tell me exactly how the fuck you made that dough? Because I have tried this Christmas, and it just didn't work out so well. That's what mothers and daughters do, right? And now that I have a daughter - and one who is so incredibly keen on kitcheny things - I thought it would be a good idea to continue a family tradition. I even bought a fancy electric cookie press that looks like it could have been Julia Childs' vibrator. But the results were just ... eh... First, I didn't have your recipe. I know, I know - there were almost 35 years there in which I had you as a real, living parent and plenty of opportunity to ask for things like that. I dropped the ball, admittedly. The recipe I found formed into the consistency of thousands of tiny, dry dough balls that would never have joined together. So I added more butter, and I got a dough that almost worked. Almost. Of course, by the time I adjusted the recipe and figured out how to detonate, er, assemble the hi-tek cookie press, it was several hours past Buttercup's bedtime, so she was fast asleep and cranking out all those cookies was much more an exercise in endurance (and alcohol resistence) than of celebration. All in all, the cookies are passable. Particularly to anyone who never ate the cookies we made. Although they taste similar, I know they're not the same. Only one of them broke.


Anonymous peripateticpolarbear said...

Back when I made Christmas cookies (about a thousand years ago), my candy cane ones broke, too. Sorry yours were disappointing to you.

2:34 PM  
Blogger jo(e) said...

Somehow, it never is the same, is it?

4:43 AM  

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