Fourth and Final Cookie

Here it is the fourth and final week of Christmas Cookie countdown, with the most classic cookie of them all.

1 cup butter or margarine

1 cup sugar

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla

2 tablespoons cream (ie skim milk, coz that’s all I have in the house)

1 tablespoon orange rind (or whatever I end up with when I am tired of grating the stupid orange)

1 tsp baking powder

½ tsp baking soda

½ tsp salt

3 cups flour

Blend the first sixth ingredients together, then slowly add the remaining ingredients. Mix well. Chill for as long as you want to or until you are psyched enough to roll the beasts out.

You’ll notice that I didn’t take any pictures at this stage. A picture of me rolling out cookie dough would be like looking at a crime scene from Criminal Minds. You would be scarred for life.  

You’re supposed to bake them in a 400 degree oven for 5 to 7 minutes. Really? Coz I can get the next pan ready in that amount of time? Nope. I turn the oven down to 375 or even 350 if I am being a putz. Then they bake a lot slower and you can get the next batch rolled out, cut out and panned.  

Oh, yea, and I usually double the recipe to really make it worth the mess. When I was a kid, my mom quadrupled the recipe. The woman was amazing. She could keep up the pace all afternoon and not a speck of flour (or is it a flake of flour?) would stray from under her rolling pin. She was like a machine. 

Every surface in my kitchen, however, including any and all persons passing through, is covered in a layer of white dust, as if it were a coal mine where coal was white instead of black. Or did you read Tuesday’spost? Then you would understand the reference if I called it a white nightmare.

After resting for a few days, I begin the arduous task of frosting and decorating them. I can usually get through about a pan and a half until I have had enough fun with the whole thing.  After that, I don’t much care what they look like. And I still have an ice cream tub full of unfrosted ones. Maybe my kids will work on them when they come home this weekend. . . . Sure, that will happen.