Christmas Baking

 

                 I’m becoming my mother. Longing for the nostalgic days of my youth when, at least from this distance, things seemed so much better. Christmas, in particular, brings that out. Because Christmases past always seem so much simpler, more romantic, and just plain fun. Why is that?

                Something about Christmas makes me, the least crafty human being I know, think of doing crafty things. Forget anything to do with sewing. Sewing machines make me break out in hives. And I never have mastered knitting or crocheting. Bruce wouldn’t let me near a jigsaw, for fear I’d lose a few fingers. And even glue and construction paper aren’t a safe bet when I’m around. Baking is my Christmas craft of choice.

I bake a mean pie and cookies are always a good bet. My mother, who gave up on teaching me anything crafty when I was about nine, was the one who got me started on baking. She said those magic words to me. “When you’re ready to learn to cook, read a cook book.” And that I could do.

I’m a messy baker. There’s flour on the floor, and in my hands, and on my face. The knobs to the cupboard doors get all gooey. And I usually end up with goop in my hair and ears. And things don’t always turn out looking like the pictures in the book. The incentive is to get to eat what I make though – so I don’t care what it looks like or how messy it is.

The first Christmas after Bruce and I were married we were, like most newlyweds of our day, broke and without Christmas tree ornaments. We cut down a Charlie Brown tree on the farm we were working on. Wired some of the bottom branches in to the gaps at the top of the tree.  And decorated the thing with gingerbread men and popcorn balls.

Every evening, when we sat and read or watched tv, Bruce would grab a cookie or popcorn ball off the tree to eat. By Christmas, the tree was pretty bare. But still, when I look back on it, it was one of the best Christmases ever.

The problem now is, that baking isn’t about the process. It’s not about being in the kitchen having fun. It’s about getting it done and having something to show for it. Not to sound all Zen, but I think Christmas was more fun when I had less expectation of it and just enjoyed the smell of baking in the kitchen.

So, if you’re looking for a simple Christmas, put away the lists, stop being so productive, and check out a cookbook from the library. Go home, turn on the oven, use your hands to play with the dough. And when you’re done – eat all the cookies yourself!