It was five years ago this Christmas that I started giving cookies away as gifts.  On a budget and with a long list of people I wanted to give to, baking seemed a good choice.  Not only was I being thoughtful in the it’s-the-thought-that-counts kind of way, but I was also giving time and love. 

Love, hey?  Maybe not so much. 

My bake-a-thons become like a night of heavy drinking.  The next day I swear “I’m never going to do that again.”  My nausea comes in the form of the dishes upon dishes waiting to be cleaned.  My headache is the flour and sugar and spices that coat the floor.  The spins occur as I curse my inadequate kitchen equipment.

But like any good party, the fond and fun memories come to the fore as the headache fades.  And the next time you are in a similar situation, you don’t pass on the wine.  Hangover shmangover.

I’d do dishes upon dishes upon dishes for the feeling I get when someone says they enjoy my cookies.

_______

Whipped shortbread is my “must.”  It’s the only cookie that holds any Christmas nostalgia for me.

Without fail, Christmas dinners at my aunt’s old house would end with movement toward the basement for cozy couches and a wood-burning fireplace.  Festive festive.  My little girl ears were always overstimulated with adult conversation and a crackling fireplace.  Respite from the storm?  A jaunt to the furnace room where the deep freeze lived.  I would be on tiptoe as the frozen coffin revealed its cold wonders.  A tin would be reached for and opened right there and then.  Whipped shortbread branded with red and green maraschino halves.  Solid, cold, white like snow.  The tin would be brought to those round the fire for late-night snacking and added holiday indulgence.  My preference was always for the one I ate while the freezer top closed.  Cold on my lips with a noticeable bite; the butter not yet warm enough to leave greasy fingertips in my warm embrace or melt too quickly in my mouth.  Like a nice Christmas kiss.

I’ve left the maraschinos in the 1980s. 

Whipped Shortbread

1 pound unsalted butter (454 grams)

1 cup icing sugar

0.5 cup cornstarch

3 cups flour

1 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. 

Cream butter. 

Sift together icing sugar, cornstarch, and flour.

Beat together dry ingredients, butter, and vanilla until the consistency of whipped cream (I use only a handheld mixer, hence the cursing.)

Drop by teaspoonful onto parchment lined cookie sheets.

(I flatten slightly with a fork.)

Bake for 8–10 minutes.

Makes 60+ cookies.