[Cross-posted at
My Left Wing]
Good morning, and may your cookies not crumble. Welcome to Saturday Morning Garden Blogging!
I'm sorry to tell ya'll in the East that it's cold here in Denver -- because that means soon it will be cold where you are. Once again we're seeing single-digit lows. Yes, our Canadian friends have sent another arctic blast down our way; I think they might be going Oregonian on us, discouraging possible United States refugees from relocating to the north by letting us know just how cold it gets up there.
The Great Christmas Tree Hunt was successful, and Mr. Frankenoid and Da Boys brought home a lovely 5 ft. fir tree, and I was successful in finding a spot for all the weirdo ornaments I've collected over the years. Like this pair, Lord and Lady Elephant:
![](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v240/Frankenoid/2005/December/12-17-05/lordandlady.jpg)
But we're not talking trees today. We're talking cookies. PastorDan, where are you?
I have a confession to make. When it comes to stuff around the house, I cheat. A lot. The Saga of the Christmas Cookie Tradition at Casa de Frankenoid is proof.
When I was a kid, we always baked Christmas cookies -- homemade sugar cookie dough, rolled out and cut, loving frosted. My sisters and I had a great time spending an afternoon at it.
During the our first 3 years of parenthood, Mr. Frankenoid and I went to my in-laws down in Pueblo for Christmas, so the issue of Christmas cookies never came up. However, after Christmas, 1996 -- our first year with two children, I said uh-uh, no way, no how am I ever going anywhere for Christmas with children in tow. See, you have to manage to pack everything into the car... without the kids seeing it. Then you have to smuggle it into Nana's house. Then, before coming home, you have to find every damned piece and part of every damned toy and make sure it gets back home.
To top it off Younger Son, who was just a few months old, came down with an ear infection, so I was awake with a crying infant at 3:00 a.m. Christmas morning. At 8:00 I was sitting at an emergency health care clinic to get him antibiotics (I knew the drill -- he had chronic ear infections). Elder Son was, of course, over-excited by Christmas presents, and Nana's house, and cousins, and sugar. By evening, I was in exhausted tears.
So, the next year, Christmas was spent at home. Elder Son was four, Younger Son was one and a half, and I decided I would be a good mother, and bake Christmas cookies with my kids. I went to the store and got powdered sugar to make frosting, and food coloring, and sprinkles. I dug out a sugar cookie recipe, and set to work.
Problem the first: the dough was so heavy, it almost burned out the motor of my little hand-held electric mixer.
Problem the second: trying to roll out sugar cookie dough in an over-heated kitchen with a 4 year old helping. It was a gawdawful sticky mess. There were grubby finger prints on the cookies. But I managed.
Problem the third: I hate baking cookies. I hate swapping cookie sheets in and out of the oven. I hate having to the same damned thing over... and over... and over again. Let me mix it up, throw it in a pan, and take it out a half hour later. That's how I like to cook.
Problem the fourth: Elder Son getting into the food coloring. He thought it was really, really cool. I had green stains on the kid, on the floor, on the counters, everywhere.
Problem the fifth: a four year old and a 19 month old "helping" frost and decorate the cookies. Much frosting on the kids, in the kids, and everywhere -- even a little bit on the cookies! Chocolate jimmies, colored sugar, round little sprinkles bouncing everywhere.
At the end of 4 hours, I was exhausted and snapping at the cats, the kids, my father, and Mr. Frankenoid. The cookies were tough and glopped with so much frosting as to be almost inedible, definitely not the product I remembered producing as a girl -- and I still had the damned kitchen to scrub.
![](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v240/Frankenoid/2005/December/12-17-05/strawberry.jpg)
The next year I decided to make it "easy" on myself, and just buy the sugar cookie dough instead of making homemade. But we still rolled out and cut the dough, and I still mixed a half-dozen little bowls of colored frosting, and I still had jars and jars and jars of colored sugars and sprinkles. While the cookies were at least edible, the kitchen was still a disaster area.
![](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v240/Frankenoid/2005/December/12-17-05/flamingo.jpg)
As the years have gone by, I've cut down on step after step, as new products become available, and I find an easier way to do it. But no matter how much I cheat, Da Boys, now 12 and 9, still think making Christmas cookies with Mom is a wonderful thing to do a day or two before Christmas. It's not the perfection of the process, but that we have the tradition, and do it together.
So here's how we do Christmas Cookies these days at Casa de Frankenoid
Ingredients
Two rolls Pillsbury sugar cookie dough
One sharp knife
Tubes of pre-colored frosting in red, yellow, green, blue, and whatever other colors they happen to have
One jar red sugar
One jar green sugar
One pot of coffee
Cut rounds of sugar cookie dough with knife. Prevent boys from eating so much dought that there aren't any cookies left to decorate. Cook according to package directions.
After cookies are baked, pour cup of coffee, douse liberally with sugar and heavy cream. Retire to the living room and turn on Christmas music.
Turn boys loose with tubes of frosting and jars of colored sugar.
Return to kitchen and lasso boys into helping swab down the counters. Load dishwasher. Sweep and mop floor. Pour milk, and eat cookies.
Yup, I cheat. Mr. Frankenoid's mother sends him a care-package of the multiple types of Christmas cookies she bakes. But I still decorate a mean Christmas tree, complete with a Santa Moose.
![](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v240/Frankenoid/2005/December/12-17-05/santamoose.jpg)
So, what's cooking in your kitchen for the holidays?