Kitchen Wench

I have spent the last 48 hours baking, boxing, and mailing out cookies to a few souls lucky enough to be blessed with my friendship/skills in the kitchen. On Saturday alone, I baked for 12 hours straight.

I think I might have some sort of sickness.

When describing my experiences in a Christmas letter, I was tempted to use an overdramatic quip about how I’d spent my blood, sweat, and tears on these cookies, only to realize that it really wasn’t that overdramatic–I really did bleed, sweat, and cry (mostly from the oven’s heat burning my eyes). It became an all-consuming obsession–for two days, I quit eating and bathing. Instead, I sifted, creamed, beat, rolled, punched, and sliced eight different kinds of cookies: 3 types of biscotti, 2 types of macaroons, 2 breads (short and ginger), and a little slice and bake number involving dried figs.

I wish being the cookie fairy was glamorous and beautiful, but then I’d probably be running around my kitchen naked, covered in sequins and wearing wings. Being the cookie fairy is hard work… mostly it involves me in an apron and a greasy ponytail, with all my exposed flesh (including the space between my toes) coated with a light dusting of all-purpose flour. Apparently, it also involves me having a wicked limp after standing for hours on a hard tile floor with flat, overpronated feet. Clearly, I missed the memo about orthotic shoes being part of my fairy costume.

(See below for recipes. Also, if you’re on my Christmas list, you’d better be kissing my swollen feet.)