Thursday, December 12, 2013

A Horsey Kind of Christmas

I love it when someone requests a cookie that I'd like to make for myself.  And in my opinion, what better Christmas cookies can be made than horse themed Christmas cookies?  Because I still miss my horse (12 years later) and because my sister Bev wanted cookies for her barn friends, I had a reason to make horse cookies!
Bev is leasing a horse that she takes on trail rides and she spends a lot of time just horsing around.  One day I will again own a horse, even if it's just for Amelie.  There is no way that she'll be getting a pony.  And if she does, it will be the biggest pony you have ever seen so that I can ride it too.  I've already started my brainwashing scheme.  "Tell Daddy you want a pony!"  This is what I'll be whispering in her ear as she plays with her new princess horse stable on Christmas day.


























I've been exploring new sugar cookie recipes and I used a new one for this batch.  Cinnamon Roll Sugar Cookies from Sweet Hope Cookies.  She uses chopped cinnamon chips and ground cinnamon for flavor.  I did try the cream cheese flavoring in my royal icing and it was just okay.  Maybe I'll add more flavor next time.
I've been wanting to make my own sugar cookie recipe (and cake recipe, which is on my list to do) but there are so many cut out cookies that I still want to try.  Egg nog, mint, snickerdoodle, cinnamon oatmeal to name just a few...

2 comments:

  1. Meggie:
    They say that the sense of smell can evoke powerful memories.
    Where am I?
    It was the middle drawer. The drawer above it was smaller, and held the dish rags and dish towels. The towels were nothing fancy. On some of them you could still make out the faint outlines of the Gold Medal and Ceresota trademarks. They were made from old flour sacks bought at huge discount from the Zion Cookie factory, washed, washed again, and hemmed. The drawer below was the largest of the three. It was the breadbox. Homemade loaves, and loaves wrapped in plastic, colored with red, yellow and blue balloons, and blue gingham, shared the space with, if we were lucky, a Tuperware container of cookies. Or, a pie.
    But, this was the middle drawer. It was medium sized. It was made, like the others, and all the cabinets, of birch. But, no plastic laminate surfaces, nor any polyurethane sealer. The wood was sealed with Johnson’s Paste Wax, laboriously applied every year. Enough of a coating to seal out humidity and splashed water, but not enough to prevent the vaporous essences from the contents to soak into the birch. I’ll bet whoever has it now, whatever they keep in it, I’ll bet you can still sense the former contents. Not a hint of herbs. Those delicate savory scents have long ago wasted away, and become victims of our sensory preference for sweetness. Nutmeg. No, that’s not quite the aroma. Cinnamon. Cinnamon was much stronger and almost overpowered the Nutmeg. No. No, not Nutmeg, either. No, something else. CLOVES! That was it! Escaping from their little red and white McCormick tins, you could almost see these nose-flavors floating and wafting in the drawer, filling it like a fluid. But wait. There is a hint of more, way in the background. Just tingling the small hairs inside the top of your nostrils. Kind of acidic. Citrus. Lemon, orange, and lime. But there is no fruit in here. Ah-ha—that’s where it comes from. The Jello boxes. Some of the granules must be leaking out of their wax paper wrapper and out of the boxes. The Jello boxes were just the right size and proportions for stacking like bricks, creating a wall that could be demolished by a model car crashing into it, or, constructed on a dish towel foundation, used to observe and conduct high level studies on seismic events. Not all that surprising that they leak their contents. There are other faint aromas as well. Peppermint. Chocolate. Little plastic covered dishes containing red, heart shaped candies, and another with sprinkles. The later one is only partially full – those sprinkles stick real good to a finger that’s been licked and dipped. Several times. Vanilla. Sometimes, when the metal cap wasn’t on the little brown bottle straight, or when the threads on the cap didn’t seal tight enough because a pair of pliers had left their teeth marks to deform the shape – because the cap, used as a measuring spoon, corroded and was sticky from the contents – was stuck on like superglue, then you got a good whiff of vanilla, too. All this sensory stimulus in one box. And it seems it was strongest during the last week of December.
    Where am I?

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    1. Nanny's kitchen drawers! I had to call Michelle so she could confirm, but as she added to your memory I could immediately smell the cloves. She said she has one of these towels sealed in a bag in hopes that the scent won't evaporate. Thank you for reading and for sharing such a fun, descriptive memory! Dad says he has some thing to add :-)

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