Christmas Cookies

I'm torn. Christmas is Friday and I am deep in it. The Christmas spirit, I mean. It started with Lucia Buns. Then, while I was leafing through one of my mom's Christmas cookbooks, I came upon a recipe for a lovely buttery Swedish Tea Ring. Filled with walnuts, dates and cinnamon, it was heaven, perfect for a holiday breakfast. Of course, I didn't bother to wait for a holiday and ate it for breakfast, had a piece with my coffee at the office and a nibble around 4:00 with tea. In the same cookbook I found a recipe for some date nut cookies that were nice with my coffee after I ran out of the Tea Ring.
     I love cookies, crispy, chewy, chocolaty or caramely. They can be carefully orchestrated bits of artistry or tossed together in a moment of brilliance. My college roommate, Robin, wowed me with her culinary confidence by baking drop cookies without a recipe. She knew if she creamed some butter and sugar, added some flour, vanilla, a bit of leaving and tossed in a generous abount of something candied or crunchy, she couldn't go wrong. Bravo Robin! I often wish she was in the kitchen on lazy nights after a long day at the office.
     In sharp contrast to Robin's "kitchen sink" cookies are the rolled, shaped and iced versions a la Martha Stewart. You've seen them, the lovely snowflake shaped morsels adorned with white icing and silver dragees or the amazing Santa cookies that look like a figure from Madame Toussaud's Wax Museum. I'm waiting for the life-sized gingerbread cookie of Martha as Mrs. Claus.
     I must admit I have never made the over the top, each-one-a-work-of-art style cookies. They both intrigue and intimidate me. I love looking at them, but I can't imagine eating one. It would be like taking a bit out of the Mona Lisa.
     Next year though I think I will be attempting to make cookies that are sooo gorgeous that I won't want to eat them. I have reached this decision because I have eaten nearly every cookie that wasn't nailed down this holiday season. Which leads me to why I'm torn.
     Should I sing the praises of the buttery sweet treats so dear to my heart (and stomach, of which they are now an integral part) that resonate tradition, comfort, even love? Should I wax on about the vast amounts of holiday cheer bound up in one tiny Christmas cookie? Shall I share with you how I feel that a cookie baked with family gathered in the kitchen and later savored with a hot cup of rich coffee can create a quiet moment of tradition and memories? Or rather, do I bemoan the five pounds that I have gained in the past month?
     I am torn between the joy of cookies and the inevitable result of eating them, continually, as breakfast, in lieu of lunch or a light snack and of course as dessert. It's Christmastime after all and we should be of good cheer, and I was till I stepped on the scale yesterday.
     I talked with Allegra (my wise teenage daughter) and we agreed that the Christmas season doesn't need to be one long food fest. In fact, we decided that we will bake no more cookies till Christmas day. Then we will bake some traditional gingerbread cookies together.
     I'm thinking it will make the cookies that much more special. Maybe that's the lesson to be learned here. Something has more meaning and is cherised when it has space around it. When it's not swimming in a sea of sameness. That's probably true of most things this time of year. A single voice singing a carol heard while shopping stands out amid the Christmas Muzac in the department store. Just as a single gift given with love and genuine thoughtful care about who the recipient is and what they love will stand out amongst an onslaught of new slippers and small appliances.
    I'm really looking forward to those spicy gingerbread cookies and sharing them with family and friends on Christmas (and perhaps a brisk walk after). May you find yourself among those dear to you this season and always.
     Merry Christmas!