Christmas cookies have some sensual benefits not always anticipated.
A while back, Cassondra and I were comparing some baking stories (which if you know Cassondra, these are rare stories, indeed). On an earlier blog, Cassondra shared how creative frosting of a candlestick sugar cookie led to an eye-opening discussion of the birds & bees. You might recall her posting was part of a dare from Anna and I. Now I’m obligated to follow through with my story – another lesson in anatomy inspired by cookie dough.
A number of years ago, our beloved next door neighbors moved (sniff, sniff). They were the perfect neighbors in that their children were precisely the same ages as my two. The agonizing months of curiosity about possible new neighbors followed, until November when a “sold” sign replaced the more familiar one on the lawn.
The new neighbors moved in and, wonder of wonders, they had a daughter the same age as my son. She was even placed in his kindergarten class. “Mary” (not her real name) would often come over to play with my son and on this particular afternoon, I was making cookies while the kids were playing.
I like to make gingerbread cookies – not to eat – but to decorate a wreath that I hang on the fireplace. The heat from the chimney scents the air with the rich scent of ginger and spice. I’d decided to use a new shape for my cookies that year – Gingerbears.
The process is simple – first, make up a batch of gingerbread, whatever recipe you can find. Now the fun begins. Make a series of dough balls – 1 medium, 5 little, 3 tiny little balls. The
medium will become the bear’s belly, one little will become the head, the others will be arms and legs. The tiny ones will make a nose and two ears. No need to smush them down – they’ll bond in the baking. Here’s a couple of the ones I made to demonstrate. Unfortunately one was the victim of an unfortunate icing accident, thus the unseemly red birthmark. 
Let me share a baking secret – parchment paper. If you put the raw dough on parchment paper there’s no need to grease the cookie sheets. Plus you can lay out the cookies on paper on the countertop and then slide them onto a cookie sheet and into the oven with ease. But now, back to my story -
Little Mary sees me assembling these bears and looks at me with big brown eyes and says “Can I help?”
Who could refuse? I had her wash her hands, tied a frilly little apron around her child’s body, and suggested she make up some balls.
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to do that.”
She screwed up her little face then picked up some dough – rolling it between her fingers so it became long and thin like a snake.
“I’ll make the dangley parts,” she said before she slapped her creation between my bear’s stubby little legs!
A while back, Cassondra and I were comparing some baking stories (which if you know Cassondra, these are rare stories, indeed). On an earlier blog, Cassondra shared how creative frosting of a candlestick sugar cookie led to an eye-opening discussion of the birds & bees. You might recall her posting was part of a dare from Anna and I. Now I’m obligated to follow through with my story – another lesson in anatomy inspired by cookie dough.
A number of years ago, our beloved next door neighbors moved (sniff, sniff). They were the perfect neighbors in that their children were precisely the same ages as my two. The agonizing months of curiosity about possible new neighbors followed, until November when a “sold” sign replaced the more familiar one on the lawn.
The new neighbors moved in and, wonder of wonders, they had a daughter the same age as my son. She was even placed in his kindergarten class. “Mary” (not her real name) would often come over to play with my son and on this particular afternoon, I was making cookies while the kids were playing.
I like to make gingerbread cookies – not to eat – but to decorate a wreath that I hang on the fireplace. The heat from the chimney scents the air with the rich scent of ginger and spice. I’d decided to use a new shape for my cookies that year – Gingerbears.
The process is simple – first, make up a batch of gingerbread, whatever recipe you can find. Now the fun begins. Make a series of dough balls – 1 medium, 5 little, 3 tiny little balls. The
medium will become the bear’s belly, one little will become the head, the others will be arms and legs. The tiny ones will make a nose and two ears. No need to smush them down – they’ll bond in the baking. Here’s a couple of the ones I made to demonstrate. Unfortunately one was the victim of an unfortunate icing accident, thus the unseemly red birthmark. 
Let me share a baking secret – parchment paper. If you put the raw dough on parchment paper there’s no need to grease the cookie sheets. Plus you can lay out the cookies on paper on the countertop and then slide them onto a cookie sheet and into the oven with ease. But now, back to my story -
Little Mary sees me assembling these bears and looks at me with big brown eyes and says “Can I help?”
Who could refuse? I had her wash her hands, tied a frilly little apron around her child’s body, and suggested she make up some balls.“No,” she said. “I don’t want to do that.”
She screwed up her little face then picked up some dough – rolling it between her fingers so it became long and thin like a snake.
“I’ll make the dangley parts,” she said before she slapped her creation between my bear’s stubby little legs!
Now all sorts of questions are forming in my mind about the new neighbors. But first, I quickly remove the “boy parts” explaining that all the bears were girls, which seemed to satisfy her – though she was no longer interested in helping with the cookies.
Afterwards I spoke with her mother and learned that Mary has an older brother whom she has “surprised” on occasion. My new neighbors turned out to be as wonderful as the old ones, even with the mischievous Mary (who has since graduated from Notre Dame).
So my question is - have any fun or bonding experiences occurred while making cookies? Are you finished with your Christmas shopping? Baking? Decorating? Not long to go -- Share your comments and I’ll select one for a copy of The Education of Mrs. Brimley.
Oh, and Happy Festivus (for the rest of us) Day!
Here’s my Christmas treat for you - an intoxicating pecan pie. You’ll want to slurp up any pie filling remains with a straw – it’s that good.
Donna’s Pecan Pie
1 pie crust
1 cup brown sugar
5 tablespoons flour
¼ teaspoon salt
4 eggs
1 ¼ teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/3 cups light karo syrup
¼ cup bourbon
5 oz melted butter (one stick & 3 tablespoons)
2 cups pecan halves
Preheat the over to 400 degrees
Mix by hand all the above ingredients except crust and pecans
Pour mixture into the pie crust
Put pecans on top in concentric circles.
Bake 10 minutes.
Reduce heat to 350 degrees
Bake 45 –55 minutes more.
