"Murder" in the kitchen...

 

...or how my holiday cookie-making became a baking disaster!

I'm not handy in the kitchen, unless we're talking microwave, not oven. At this point in my life, I've accepted my limitations, or rather, my preferences. Yes, I can cook or bake in a pinch. I can read a recipe and follow directions. I'm a widow, and before, during and after my marriage, many people (usually well-intentioned relatives and friends, and less so my late husband -- maybe because he knew me best of all) would encourage me to flex my culinary muscles, and even send me cookbooks or suggest recipes.

 

Today I accept myself where I'm at, know my strengths and weaknesses, and am not ashamed of my lack in interest in food preparation. Domesticity has never been my strong point, but I'm better at math than many of my friends and relatives who don't work in finance like I did.

There have been rare occasions when I've willingly put on an apron and plunged into the culinary arts, usual when I have a friend staying over who likes to cook. Otherwise, it's reheating packaged meals, take-out food, or very easy dishes like omelets and PB&J. I could probably even cook spaghetti and heat up some jarred sauce if I had the time, interest, and motivation.

When I was younger, I used to bake once in a while, and my mother was a very good cook and baker. However, I don't seem to have inherited those genes. Nowadays, the stove only needs to be dusted off on occasion, and the oven is used mostly to store pots and pans.

A few weeks ago, I participated in a holiday cookie exchange at my place of spiritual fellowship, the New York Society for Ethical Culture. We were encouraged to actually bake for this event, and not just contribute store-bought cookies. I Googled "easy festive cookie recipes" and found one that looked interesting, and maybe even fun! I had nearly all of the ingredients on hand, and only needed to buy more unsalted butter and red food coloring.

The afternoon of the day before the exchange, I donned an apron and set to work. Being methodical in nature, and a bit nervous about this endeavor, I had assembled and arranged the ingredients, hand mixer and other tools on my kitchen counter earlier that day.

Mixing the dry ingredients with a whisk in one bowl was simple enough, and then I set upon combining the butter and sugar in a separate bowl with my hand mixer. Well, lo and behold, the mixer didn't work. I knocked on a couple of my neighbors' doors, but they were either not home or using their mixer at that very moment themselves.

Hand mixer in hand, I went down to the lobby of my apartment building to consult the doormen on whether the mixer was indeed kaput (it was) and to ask if they knew which apartments might be most fruitful in my search to borrow a mixer (i.e., who was home, and who was more likely a baker). I didn't want to knock on sixty apartment doors in search of the elusive appliance. As luck would have it, just as I was picking the doormen's brains, the elevator doors opened, and a neighbor whom I recognized appeared. Long story short, she kindly lent me her heavy stand mixer, which I gratefully carried from her apartment to my own.

Whoever claimed that these are easy festive cookies has a different definition of the word "easy" than I have. I struggled along, trying to follow the directions as best I could, until disaster struck! I accidentally knocked over the tiny bottle of red food coloring on my kitchen table where it pooled and then instantly spilled onto the floor below. 

Cookie making was immediately halted and a frenzied clean up began. My kitchen looked like a murder scene, with the "blood splatter pattern" even reaching my cat's water bowl under the kitchen table. Dexter saw that his mommy was freaking out a little and came to investigate. He sniffed at the "blood pool" on the floor but I shooed him away quickly. I didn't want a trail of red paw prints throughout my apartment.

After the "crime scene" was cleaned up, I wearily returned to the dough. I won't detail every step of this very not-easy process but believe it or not, by midnight or so, I had produced 18 ginormous candy cane cookies that looked pretty good and didn't taste bad either. If you are brave and daring I can send you the recipe, but I will not be making these cookies again. Nor will I ever open another bottle of red food coloring, or any other color for that matter. Any future cookies baked in my kitchen will be colorless, though hopefully not tasteless.