There's a small, oak table in my kitchen. It's round and only seats four without additional leaves. It has carved legs and drop leaves on either side. One of these drop leaves is warped slightly upward, a sign of passing time and use. It makes this satisfying click when you pull up the leaf, as the metal locking mechanism slides into place. My kids sit at it to eat breakfast, or do school-work or watch me cook.
But it used to be my great-grandparent's table. My mother's mother's mother used to have it in her kitchen, where she fed family and guests. A life lived around it. She died of Alzheimer's when I was young, a disease that ripped away her dignity and function. And the table became my mother's.
We used it throughout my young years as our kitchen table. There was a longer, rectangular table in the dining room, but I don't remember using it for anything except for forts and birthdays. The circular, oak table was the one I grew up eating at. Spaghetti dinners, pancake breakfasts and cookie-making all happened around it.
I remember specifically making cutout cookies at that table. In my mind we made them every year at Christmas and maybe we did. Or maybe, like a child's memory will do, a particularly fun experience turns into a vivid, all-encompassing memory. I remember rolling the dough out onto the counter, choosing cookie cutters, my sister to my left and my mom hovering above my right. I remember the glow of the oven and the warmth of its heat on my face as I peered through the door, eager to hurry along the cooking process. I remember sitting at the table, fingers sticky with colored frosting, an array of red hots, colored sprinkles and tiny, silver-colored balls spilling across the oak surface. And I remember my mom's happy face and kind voice. She didn't mind the mess, or the craziness of keeping track of two kids in a flour-covered kitchen. I knew she loved me by letting me help.
And now that table is mine. My mom handed it down to me when we purchased our house and I was pregnant with my firstborn. It sits in my kitchen, a testament to family, love and food. And we've continued the tradition of cutout cookies too. Christmas is hectic, with birthdays and abundant Christmas sweets, so we do ours on Valentine's Day. It's a crazy mess but a lot of fun. And I'm hoping that this is the stuff that sweet memories will be made out of for my own littles someday.
Cutout Cookies
Makes about 3 dozen cookies
Total Time: 4 - 5 hours (including chill time)
For the Cookies:
2 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cream of tartar
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 sticks softened butter
1 egg
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 tsp. almond extract
For the Frosting:
3 - 4 cups powdered sugar
1 T. softened butter
1 tsp. vanilla
3 - 4 T. cream*
few drops of food coloring
*I usually don't measure, but just pour small amounts in a little at a time, until I reach desired consistency. Spreadable, but not runny.
In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda and cream of tartar. Set aside.
In the bowl of a standing mixer,
cream together powdered sugar, butter, egg, vanilla, and almond extract.
Beat on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
Add flour mixture to the mixer and mix on low until combined.
Spoon dough onto plastic wrap, shape into a tube and refrigerate for 1 1/2 to 2 hours.
When dough is thoroughly chilled, preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Then cut off a third of the dough and roll out to 1/4" thickness on a floured surface.
Use your favorite cookie cutters to cut out fun shapes.
You can gather scraps and re-roll to get the most out of your dough.
(Be aware that excessive re-rolling can make your cookies tough.
I generally roll out again once and throw the last bits away.)
Lay cookies out on a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake at 375 degrees for 6 - 7 minutes,
until edges are just beginning to hint at a golden brown color.
While cookies are cooling, make the frosting.
Beat all ingredients together in a medium bowl, using a handheld mixer.
Start with 2 T. of cream and slowly add more as needed.
Frosting should be spreadable, but not so soft that it runs.
Then the fun begins.
Frost cookies simply with a knife, or get all fancy and use a pastry bag.
Add sprinkles before frosting hardens.
Let decorated cookies sit until frosting is dry, so the cookies will stack without sticking together.
If you haven't eaten them all immediately, cookies will keep 3 - 4 days in a tightly sealed container.
Recipe from my mother.
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