Christmas cookie exchange.
The words spark my “flight or flight” response. And that’s not a typo. Over the years, I have learned that flight is my only option when an invite to one of those gatherings shows up. I have finally reconciled myself to the fact that I am unable to participate successfully in a soiree of sweetness where you bake one kind of cookie and swap with the other guests who respond in kind with batches of their own.
The goal is that everyone departs with dozens of different cookies to share with family and friends. Sounds simple, right?
Maybe for you.
I am not an inspired baker who can whip up – at the drop of a Santa hat — darling reindeer cookies or intricate gingerbread cottages studded with gum drops and festooned with whipped cream and crumbled candy canes. Adding another injury to that insult, I am not a clever crafter who fashions adorable yuletide decorations from unlikely objects, such as marshmallow snowmen, painted pinecones that look like Christmas trees, or flower pots all in a cluster, transformed into a coven of Santa’s elves.
Truth be told, I am a Christmas klutz. There is no other way to say this.
The last time I made Christmas cookies I was 28 years old. At the time I was teaching at a junior high school in Edison, NJ. The last day before holiday break, the faculty organized a cookie exchange and everyone (read, women faulty) had to participate. No store-bought confections allowed.
Cathy Hartman made her fabulous Candy Cane Cookies. Rae Macron baked dozens of mouth-watering, sugary pancakes stuffed with marzipan and walnuts. Not to be outdone, Anne Snodgrass swanned into the faculty room with armloads of goodies such as Snicker-doodle-dandies and Apple Dapple Pineapple Squares.
Even George Rybet devised something he called “George’s No-Sweat Sweet,” a seven-layer, no-bake construction of sour cream, a can of Betty Crocker white frosting, and a whole box of Keebler Cinnamon Crisps (sans elves).
Weeks before the exchange, hoping to rise to the challenge, I pored over cookbooks and magazines until I stumbled across “Crunchy-Bumpy-Munchy Cookies” in an old issue of Good Housekeeping. A combination of brown sugar, chocolate chips, Rice Krispies, raisins and marshmallows, the recipe sounded delicious to me.
And according to the directions, foolproof.
The day of the cookie exchange, the faculty room was crammed with enough sugar-charged tasties to have a Zen master bouncing off the walls. I skulked into this winter wonderland of calories and cholesterol and placed my plate of sad cookies in a crowded corner of the table, hoping to escape unnoticed.
Before I could exit gracefully, the head of the science department snatched one of my cookies and eyed it suspiciously. He took one bite and began to cough and choke. One of the coaches snapped to attention, ready to administer the Heimlich maneuver, but the science guy finally recovered and caught his breath.
“Who baked the buffalo chips?” he asked.
Pretending I had urgent business to attend to, I declined to answer. And that was the last time I ever attempted to make Christmas cookies.
For a chatty article on hosting your own cookie exchange, log on here.
Constance Alexander is a columnist, award-winning poet and playwright, and President of INTEXCommunications in Murray. She can be reached at calexander9@murraystate.edu. Or visit www.constancealexander.com.