"Cookies are made of butter and love."
It is that time of the year when baking takes precedence over house cleaning in my household. My father in law requested baklava and cookies for Christmas. That signaled the open baking season. I dusted off the baking pans and opened my mother in law's gift. She got us a Kitchen Aid Professional Mixer and said, "Bring it home and use it to make "THE" cookies. You will thank me when you do not have to do all the mixing and kneading." I do not have the heart to tell her that I use my primitive baking implements (bowl and my hands) because that is where LOVE comes from. My mother in law also gave me several pounds of pecans so it will be the main nut this year.
I am sorting out my recipes last night and I thought about all the people I fed my cookies to and their favorites. I was grinning like a fool, reminiscing about my cookie memories. One memory I treasure is when my kids were small and they came home with their friends for milk and cookies after school like clockwork. I used to be a baking maniac on steroids. My cookie jar is always full and kids in the neighborhood knows that they can always get cookies at my house. Now my kids are grown and milk and cookies are not one of their priorities anymore. I only bake now-a-days for the holidays and a few special occasions.
I still get into the "zone" when I bake. It is like meditation. My senses are heightened and I feel blissful. The feel of the batter in my hands is glorious. The buttery aroma wafting from my kitchen is wonderful. The brown cookies and the colorful frosting and sprinkles makes me smile. The products of my labor are delicious. The butter and love reeks from their pores.