A Sweet Season

Sugar and Spice and All Things Nice

A few years ago I was invited to my first-ever cookie exchange. The host gave me a crash course on the history and etiquette of such an event. Food gift exchanges date back to medieval times, when the sharing of sweetmeats and delicacies was a mark of hospitality and respect. In the same vein, cookie exchanges have a long, revered tradition in the United States.

Evidently there was much to consider, and careful planning went into which cookie to make and how many cookies I should bring. I pored over books, debating trying something new, but decided to bake my favorite tried-and-true shortbread, making 3-D Christmas trees and reindeers using some nifty cookie molds I found in a local store.

I had no idea what to expect and was stunned by the assortment of confections that covered every horizontal surface in the house. From gingerbread men to pecan tassies, from snickerdoodles to rugelach, from oatmeal raisin to chocolate chip, the tables fairly groaned under the weight of those beautiful handcrafted treats. My children and I were enchanted. This was a tradition we could whole-heartedly sink our sweet teeth into.

There is a Norwegian proverb I adore: “Cookies are made of butter and love.” That encapsulates everything a cookie should be—a mouthful of deliciousness, a sweet treat, all the more so when you are making them for someone you care about. There are few things that give more pleasure than a homemade delectable gift, and given that we are heading into the sweetest time of year, what better than to explore the seasons indulgent traditions?

In an unscientific survey of friends and family I posed the following question: “From fruitcakes to ginger cookies, from brownies to blondies, what sweet treat makes your family holidays special?”

Traditional favorites topped many people’s responses, Christmas pudding, fruitcakes—Irish, whiskey and classic versions—apple, pecan and pumpkin pies, holiday cookies and shortbread galore, plenty of Norwegian Krumcake, Yule logs and so on.

Family recipes passed down through generations also proliferated, such as a buckwheat honey cake to celebrate the Jewish New Year, a favorite tamale recipe to celebrate Christmas in California and, as my daughter reminded me, we always make a cranberry coulis to serve on Thanksgiving Day.

There were also a few unusual flavor combinations and traditions that piqued my curiosity, including homemade cinnamon buns served with Bloody Marys on Thanksgiving morning, stuffed and baked orange shells filled with mashed sweet potatoes and topped with a marshmallow, and sending favorite cookie recipe ingredients packed in jar. More on the latter later.

All these sweet musings made me think in earnest about some of the dishes I have planned for our family’s gatherings in the upcoming season. We are, like many families, an amalgam of cultural origins whose culinary traditions have morphed over time into a Californian / pan-European hybrid.

Our multi-generational French-English family holds strong views on anything to do with food, particularly at this time of year, and my children hold fast to these gastronomic mores, especially the sugary ones. Apple tarts or crumbles and pecan pie at Thanksgiving; panettone, Christmas pudding and Buche de Noel at Christmas. Should I turn everything on its head and try all new dishes?

At the mere mention of this, there were a few shrieks of disapproval similar to those voiced when I suggested an everything but the turkey Thanksgiving: “What? No apple tart, no mince pies, no Buche de Noel, no pudding? Are you kidding?!”

I decided to keep some (yes, the mince pies stay on the menu) and to try a new twist to other favorites such as refashioning our family quatre quart recipe (French pound cake) into a pear-filled Thanksgiving treat, and creating a new winter pavlova. If the past 18 long pandemic months have taught us anything, it’s been about our ability to pivot and change with the times.

There is something appealing about adapting desserts to a new season, and given that the average Christmas Day hereabouts is rarely below 65°, I love the idea of some light(er) desserts. Let’s hope the family agrees.

For those who cannot make it around the table, we have enthusiastically decided to adopt the tradition of sending cookie ingredients in a jar, complete with the recipe tucked into a card. We may not be able to have a cookie exchange, but we can still share the season’s delights with our friends. My son and I worked on perfecting the recipe together and, after a few test batches, have come up with a drop cookie we named the PCC (Post-Covid Cookie) in the hope that it will, eventually, bring us all back together again.