We've lived in this house almost three years, and I should probably be embarrassed that I'm still unpacking boxes, but...what can I say? I'm slow. The other day I found a box that contained my cookie cutters, and was thrilled. Good timing!
I actually don't really like baking, and am not very good at it, but I woke up determined to make gingerbread boys for the boys -- they love them.
I used the recipe from the Martha Stewart's Cookies book, which is really fantastic, and would make a great gift for people who...like to bake cookies. Wyatt gave it to me for Mother's Day, as a present/hint.
We usually have a stern rule about not playing Christmas music until the day after Thanksgiving, but have bagged it this year (something I'll probably be regretting by December 5th), and listened to it for hours. I would like to note that this is the first year since my Mom died that I can listen to songs from Sarah McLachlan's "Wintersong" cd and not want to jump off a cliff.
Cut-out cookies are the most laborious, aren't they? Maybe my "baking problem" stems from my impatience. I dropped an entire baked tray during a poorly executed transfer from counter to counter. Merde!
I made gingerbread boys, Labradors, stars, and one gingerbread woman (the queen). It looks like some of the "boys" morphed into gingerbread aliens.
Alas, I had no Mutt cutter to make a "Friday." Look at his intense expression! "Drop it! Drop it!" And Lucky is so polite.
The smell of gingerbread cookies baking was sublime, and after eating a couple cookies each, the boys ran off. All except for Cooper, who sat next to me in a chair, and fell asleep while I was reading and waiting for the oven timer to ding. Then it started to rain outside, and it was just a perfect moment in time -- and I was sooo appreciative.