The Christmas Cookie Party
Share with others:
Among my family's cherished holiday traditions was the annual Christmas cookie party. It began one December in the '70s with my sister Ginny's invitation to my mother, my sisters and me to spend a Sunday at her home in rural Lawrence County to bake and exchange cookies. Ginny was isolated up there in Amish farm country, with no neighbors, and she and her husband had an infant son, Zachary. She missed us.
We all responded with enthusiasm, poring over recipes, purchasing ingredients and filling boxes with cookie sheets, aprons and utensils. There were going to be a lot of us baking; we would need more equipment than Ginny could provide. She bought a 10-pound sack of flour to share, but beyond that, we were on our own. We drove from Pittsburgh, up snowy Interstate 79 in a caravan of cars, toting so much equipment and bags of ingredients that we resembled the Clampetts on their way to Beverly Hills. When we arrived, Ginny had the oven warm and ready to go.
That first cookie party was a serious endeavor. We each made three types of cookies, so there were 18 varieties to exchange. Mom reminded us that she had prepared as many as 33 meals per day when we were growing up and opted to just watch and sample. All afternoon, we measured, mixed, baked and decorated. We left eight hours later, each with a beautiful cookie tray, proud of having managed to give everybody equal oven time and to get through the day without any tears or crises. Well, OK, there were some minor skirmishes, including accusations of equipment theft and unsanctioned borrowing, as in, "Is that my butter or yours? Are you sure? Because it sure looks like mine." There was an element of competition, as always, and some cookies were big winners. Weaker ones were ridiculed, as ridicule has always been my family's highly effective way of keeping order and preventing anyone from delusions of superiority. We ended up with snowballs, buckeyes, almond crescents, lemon bars, thumbprints and sugar cookies in all shapes.
The Cookie Party became an annual event. Each time, the completed cookies were placed on trays and set in the living room until every surface was covered. In the kitchen, everything, including the bakers, wore a coating of flour, sugar and red and green sprinkles. Christmas carols played and we sang, laughed, ate and baked until we were exhausted. We always had cider and Ginny's famous spinach appetizers, plus other snacks. We had to taste cookies all day, so dessert wasn't needed. A little brother, Daniel, had joined Zachary, and the two of them loved the party. They devised an awards program, complete with crayoned blue ribbons. These were presented with great ceremony after all the cookies were evaluated by the panel of judges: Zach, Daniel and Grandma. I have the distinction of winning the first blue ribbon for "Least Prepared," but I only won the ribbon for "Worst Tasting" once. That was the year I omitted flour from my batter, creating a messy cookie-sheet-sized souffle. There were also ribbons for "Best Decorated," "Best Taste" "Ugly but Good" and "Maybe Poochie Will Eat It."
When Ginny moved back to Pittsburgh, the cookie party moved with her, and once more we assembled three weeks before Christmas, with a sister-in-law, Leslie, now on the team. Ginny's new house had a smaller kitchen so the mixing took place in the dining room. That would have been fine except that this was the year that Mimi got ambitious and decided to concoct a Christmas cookie castle. She's creative so it was not unexpected, but space was at a premium. And furthermore, what would this mean at awards time? How could Kathi's cream cheese rolls or my cherry drops compete with an entire castle? Mimi might sweep the awards, and a ruling from Grandma would be required on the legitimacy of extravagant entries. Besides, a cookie castle could not be shared. Maybe it was cookie fatigue, but that was also the year that Mary showed up bearing two rolls of Pillsbury refrigerator cookie dough. Scandalous! Considering that she had two babies at home, it was understandable, but between the extremes of the cookie castle and the Pillsbury dough, change was in the air. We were wary of these developments and so we switched from cider to wine and beer.
The following year, we had the cookie party at Joan's and stuck to all the traditions Ginny had established. Still, the party seemed to cross a line: Instead of gathering to bake and have fun, we gathered to have fun with baking almost an aside. Joan provided a complete bar. The cookie party had lost its innocence.
That year was characterized by disasters. Cookies burned and smoke filled the kitchen, triggering blaring smoke alarms. Windows and doors had to be opened, and we froze in the December air. At one point, the electric mixer that Kathi was using suddenly began to spark and smoke. She dropped it -- without turning it off first -- and it began wildly spinning around on the floor, spitting wads of dough and ricocheting off the walls while everyone jumped out of its way to avoid amputations. I was in the dining room when I heard the screams; at the kitchen door I was greeted by the sight of my sisters -- huddled, hysterical and jumping up and down, while a mixer in death throes vibrated and convulsed on the floor. "Pull the plug!" somebody screamed. I did. The mixer was euthanized; the party went on.
The final cookie party also took place at Joan's. We were 20 years older by then and had less energy, plus less room for cookie calories. But we had fresh blood: a new sister-in-law, Patty, who was a renowned cookie baker. She came full of enthusiasm and baked her heart out. If she noticed that the rest if us were barely moving, much less baking, she was too polite to mention it. We pretty much sat around the table like slugs, eating, drinking and reminiscing about cookie parties of the past.
When I left Joan's, I had to stop at Giant Eagle for a few things. It was unseasonably warm, and I was just wearing a sweater. As I shopped, I noticed that nearly everybody greeted me with a smile. It wasn't until I got home that I realized that the smiles I took for Christmas spirit were actually something else. On my sweater, I was wearing one of those "Hello, My Name Is" stickers; written in red marker was "Martha Stupid" -- my cookie party name. That year, we had worn adhesive name tags: Bitchquick, Betty Crock and Queasy Bake among them. I still have it, along with my ribbons and photos. But what I cherish are my memories of an annual gathering of the womenfolk at Christmas, engaging in a joyful ritual that nurtured our souls and strengthened our bonds. We no longer gather to bake cookies, but then the cookies never really were the point anyway.
Ginny's Spinach Squares
- 4 tablespoons margarine or butter (or non-stick cooking spray)
- 3 eggs
- 1 cup flour
- 1 cup milk
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 2 boxes frozen chopped spinach, drained and squeezed dry
- 16-ounce package shredded cheddar cheese
Melt margarine or butter in a 9-by-13-inch baking pan in a 350-degree oven. Remove and set aside.
Beat eggs well, and then add flour, milk, salt and baking powder. Mix well. Add spinach and cheese and mix again. Spoon into buttered pan and level. Bake at 350 for 35 minutes. Cut into 12 squares.
-- Nancy Kennedy
No-Bake Butterscotch Cookies
These can be stored in the refrigerator but taste best at room temp. They don't taste like peanut butter but are much more butterscotchy and crunchy.
- 6 cups cornflakes
- 12 ounces butterscotch chips
- 1/2 cup chunky peanut butter
Crush the cornflakes. Melt the butterscotch chips and peanut butter together over VERY LOW heat, stirring; when melted, remove and add the cornflakes. Stir together. Drop tablespoon-size globs of the dough onto a wax-paper-lined cookie sheet. Allow to cool.
-- cooks.com
Christmas truffles
- 3 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
- 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
- 1 tablespoon vanilla
- Coatings: crushed candy cane, powdered sugar, chopped nuts, coconut, chocolate sprinkles, cocoa powder
Melt chocolate chips with the sweetened condensed milk in a saucepan over low heat. Remove from heat, add the vanilla. Pour into a bowl and put in the fridge to chill for 3 hours. When firm, shape into 1-inch balls, or larger if you prefer. Roll in the coatings, and chill 1 hour. Place each in a wrapper or mini cupcake paper.
-- eaglebrand.com
Almond Crescents
- 1 cup butter
- 2/3 cup sugar
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 teaspoon almond extract
- 2 1/2 cups flour
- 3/4 cup slivered almonds, ground as fine as possible
- 1/2 cup powdered sugar
Preheat oven to 350. Line cookie sheet with parchment paper.
Cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Mix in the vanilla and almond extracts. Add flour and almonds. Roll 2 tablespoons of the dough into a ball, then shape into a crescent. Place crescents on parchment paper and bake for 15 to 18 minutes or until light golden brown.
Sprinkle with powered sugar.
-- Nancy Kennedy
Glazed Lemon Bars
- For the bottom layer
- 1 cup of Bisquick
- 2 tablespoons confectioners' sugar
- 2 tablespoons firm butter
- For the top layer
- 1 tablespoon Bisquick
- 3/4 cup sugar
- 2 eggs
- 2 teaspoons grated lemon peel
- 2 tablespoons lemon juice
- For the glaze
- 1/2 cup confectioners' sugar
- 1 tablespoon lemon juice
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix together 1 cup Bisquick with confectioners' sugar, then cut in the butter to make a crumbly dough. Bake in ungreased square 8-by-8-inch pan for 10 minutes or until light brown.
Mix together next 5 ingredients. Pour on top of crust and bake for 25 minutes or until set.
While still warm, loosen the edges.
Mix powdered sugar and lemon juice and pour over the top layer. Allow to cool and cut into bars.
-- Bisquick
First Published December 17, 2009 12:00 am
