the cookie conspiracy
It feels to me like the cookie currency in my town is getting out of hand.
Don’t get me wrong. I love cookies as much as the next girl. I like to bake, and I like to eat, and I’m happy to do my fair share. I believe cookie making is festive and heartwarming for those who bake and those who partake. But is there a point when too much is. . . too much?
When I moved to the midwest years ago, I quickly realized the Christmas cookie culture was big. It feels like every woman worth her salt (except me) gives up a full weekend to make a zillion dozen of a zillion different kinds of cookies for the world. Where I grew up, some people –those who thrived on baking as their love language– did this, but not everyone. I do make batches to give as teacher or hostess gifts. I enjoy baking a few dozen for our church’s cookie walk fundraiser. I’ve learned to make extra for my family to enjoy at home, or I buy more at the cookie walk for a hefty sum. It’s for a good cause.
But that’s not enough.
There’s the cookie parties. Everyone brings at least two, three or four dozen cookies to trade and share with everyone else. When it’s all done, you get to bring home a small plate of assorted cookies. But where, pray tell, do all the other cookies go? Does every person at the party eat three dozen cookies? It’s a mystery to me.
And that’s not all.
We have the church, school, and extracurricular cookie-driven events. Typically, the night before every event, someone sends an email requesting “just a couple dozen homemade cookies” as your admission ticket. Plus a small, insignificant but witty, beautifully wrapped gift. No big deal. Just whip up a couple dozen from your perfectly stocked pantry or pull it out of the massive stash you prepared the day after Thanksgiving. Oh, you didn’t? Oh dear. Might want to think about that next year.
Then there’s the family.
When your children find you whipping up that last minute batch, they’re crushed if there aren’t “just a couple dozen” to eat at home. So you make more. . . more. . . more to dial down the whining. Then your husband, who is trying to lose weight, doesn’t want a cookie in sight in fear that he’ll gobble them up in one sitting. So you conceal. . . stash. . . scarf the evidence to support his efforts. Even though you’re jealous of his willpower. Because you’re nibbling “just one” of every tray coming out of the oven.
I think I’d have to make at least 20 dozen cookies to meet everyone’s demands requests, and it’s enough to put me over the edge. Please tell me, invisible internet people: who created this madness? Who eats all of these cookies, and what do we do without them the rest of the year? I love cookies, I do, but I’d like to make them on my own terms. In the age of increasing obesity, over-the-top stress levels, and my own slloooowinng metabolism, is this the way it should be? Could I be overreacting, becoming a scrooge-ess over just a couple dozen cookies?
Never mind, don’t answer that. If I have to ask, I already know the answer.
Step away from the oven, sister. Just say no to the cookie conspiracy.
Oh I hear you!!! I’m not much of a cookie making person, but I sure feel the pressure. I buy mine a lot. And I don’t even feel guilty about it.
Ouch! And I was planning to make cookies today!
–Carol
Great! Could you make just a couple dozen more for me?
Don’t look at me–I’m as bad as the rest of them. I have no answers.
As a gluten free girl who has to stay away from sugar for a while, I have started to look at cookies as bizarre foreign treats that belong to other sorts of people. Kind of like how yak tongue makes sense to the people in the Himalayas, but not so much to us. Granted, I still bake them sometimes, and I try to mix in the best of intentions even as I rinse the dough off my fingers in the same way that most people wash the Soft Scrub off their hands when they are done scrubbing the tub.
Of course, I live in New York’s Hudson Valley where food allergies and dietary restrictions are conversational currency, all just part of the Unbearable Lightness of Being Earthy Crunchy.
I don’t think this is helping your cookie dilemma, but I can tell you that I feel your pain and I think that cookie madness has gotten wayyyy out of hand. And I am really glad my husband likes to bake…
Epiphany girl,
I feel for you and so many of those with allergies or other things that make this season so challenging.
Heidi,
Enjoy your baking prowess–and make a couple dozen for th rest of us, okay?
And everyone,
We’re all snowed/iced in today, and I’m actually thinking it might be a good day to make cookies. On my own terms, of course
Pam – I’ll volunteer to eat any cookies if you guys get tired of them!
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