Last night I went to the grocery store, to pick up some things for my Annual Christmas Cookie Project. Don't get all excited; all this means is that I bake Christmas cookies every year. I make a huge mess doing it. And it's a project.
I was looking for a cookie cutter. I looked in the aisle where you'd normally find flour, sugar, and cake mixes; no luck. So I looked in the aisle where you'd find cookie sheets and pie dishes. Nada. Finally, I asked a young man (20?) if he could tell me where I could find a cookie cutter. He gave me a blank stare and then started laughing, then asked me: "What is a cookie cutter?"
I tried to explain to him what a cookie cutter is. He seemed puzzled. Then a lightbulb appeared to switch "on", and he showed me a package of designer cookies, shaped like Christmas trees and sprinkled with red and green sugar crystals. "Why don't you just get these? Save you the trouble." I explained that I wanted to make my own cookies; that I'd ALWAYS made my own cookies. He shrugged and responded, "lady, I've never even heard of a cookie cutter." I gave up.
Maybe he was surprised that I'd have any domestic capability at all. Let's face it, I don't look much like Betty Crocker. Betty Boop maybe, Bettie Page certainly, Betty Crocker not so much. I don't know...but I promised him (and myself) that I would find a stinkin' cookie cutter, and I would make my cookies, and then I'd bring him a plate of them. He thought this was funny. He doesn't know me. Come Thursday, when he works his next shift, I'm gonna bring him a nice bright green paper plate with peanut butter cookies, fudge, dipped pretzels, and sugar cookies cut out in the shapes of Christmas trees...with green icing and sprinkles. And I hope he has a nice Christmas. And I hope he enjoys his cookies. It makes me so sad that at no time during this young man's life was he ever exposed to the joy of cutting out cookies, eating beautifully decorated cookies, or just sitting under the kitchen table while some Nice Lady rolled out the dough and cut them out for him to eat later. I'll bet he had a Nintendo, though.
From the time I was 3 years old, I was along side of my Grandma, in the kitchen. I learned how to use a rolling pin, how to apply sprinkles to a freshly iced cookie, and how to steal a finger-full of icing without getting caught and swatted. I learned how to flute a pie crust, and how to make good soup stock. I learned that if you dip a cookie cutter in flour, the dough won't stick to it, and you'll get a nice clean cut.
I also learned that you cook and bake for the people you love. It's one more way of taking care of them. Cooking for her family was my Grandma's ministry. I'm so glad she passed this torch to me, and priveleged to consider it a part of my own.
Try to do something traditional this season. Even if it's something small. Don't let your kids (or your nephew, or your neighbor's daughter) grow up without knowing what a cookie cutter is. It's more important than you think.
Blessings and blessed be
Rev Jeff