Going overboard on baking is something of a tradition in my family. Every weekend growing up, my grandma would have mother and her six siblings bake cookies by the dozens, so that they’d have a few to stick in their lunchboxes every day. (Once she got to school, my mom would throw away her bologna sandwich and just eat the cookies.)
That was child’s play compared to Christmas. When I asked my mom to list what my grandma would make for the holidays, she rattled off nearly two dozen treats, from spritzes and snowballs to four different kinds of fudge. There were heaping bowls of something called Krazy Krunch (think nutty caramel corn, with a hefty glug of corn syrup) and homemade hard candies, spread out like a feast in front of a Christmas tree so intricately decorated it was left up year round.
We celebrated with aunts, uncles, great-aunts, great-uncles, more cousins than I could count. There were so many stockings strung up along the ceiling that they spilled over onto a second wall. Whatever cookies were left over got sent home with guests in Tupperware — or more often, an old Country Crock tub — with a slice of white bread stuck inside to keep it fresh.
These days, Christmas looks different. My grandmother passed away in 2016. My family has scattered across the country. Not everyone has time off, or is able to travel. There’s no big get-together, no string of stockings, no heaping table of cookies. More often than not, we do a family FaceTime on Christmas morning.
But with my grandma’s recipes, and with a painfully earned grasp on holiday shipping speeds, my mom has managed to keep the tradition going by mailing cookies across the country every year. Every year, she stocks up on butter and flour, and starts baking. As soon as the cookies have cooled, she bubble-wraps them, stuffs them in a box (with a few slices of bread, of course) and says a prayer that they arrive in a reasonable time and mostly intact.
As the tradition has evolved, so have the cookies. There are new favorites, like the caramel, pretzel and chocolate chip ones that my brother and his roommate request every year, and old standbys with new fans, like the peanut-butter blossoms my husband has come to love. Some of the classics have fallen out of favor, too fragile to survive the jostling that happens on their long journey. (R.I.P. to the snowballs, which had turned to a powdery dust by the time they arrived on my doorstep and haven’t been seen since.)
Every year, I find myself missing the magic and the chaos of a big family gathering around the holidays. But then a box of cookies turns up on my porch, and I feel a little more at home.
The post When Being Together During the Holidays Is Impossible, Send Treats appeared first on New York Times.
