Melting Moments

There are no curtains on our bedroom window that faces due east out over a woodland marsh.  Most mornings I'll wake to the pre-dawn glow.  So do the dogs, which may have something to do with it, but that's besides the point.  I've always been an early riser, and I treasure those fleeting moments in the darkened kitchen as I grab my first cup of coffee by laptop light.  The world makes no demands on you before dawn, and the day ahead is all possibility.

This morning I wake up to a house as full as it's ever been.  I'll have a brief moment to enjoy it; the girls will be gone by the new year.  But sitting here in the early morning somehow gives me the sense that I can slow it all down.  Of course I can't, the sun is already at the horizon.  Luckily this dough comes together in a couple of minutes and can chill while everyone sleeps.  

I grew up with these cookies at Christmas. The cornstarch is responsible for the unique melting texture and the frosting makes them sweet like little cakes.  Everyone who tries them loves them.  

These delicate cookies aren't the best choice for shipping, but they are perfect for setting out on the counter or holiday table, and they survive the journey from plate to mouth just fine.  In place of the vanilla or rum you could try almond, citrus, or peppermint flavors, with the appropriate garnishes.  I have a feeling I'll eventually try a dark chocolate version but today I'm sticking with the classic as it was typed out on my mom's recipe card. 

The holidays can be a source of tension, regret, frustration and even sadness for so many people.  They wash over us like a tidal wave and can leave even the most prepared among us feeling inadequate. We feel like we didn't do enough, didn't find that perfect present, didn't get around to decorating the house, don't have enough money... maybe we're missing people who aren't with us, or remembering idyllic holidays past.  

This season I'm trying to appreciate each unique moment without thinking too too much about what was, what will be, or what could have been.  My dough is chilling.  We'll scoop it out and bake it later this morning.  It'll be fun.

Enjoy your week!  I'll be back after Christmas.


Notes:  I used an 1 3/4 inch ice cream scoop to scoop out the dough.  Bake on an ungreased, cool cookie sheet to prevent spreading.  Let them cool first on the baking sheet. They are very delicate so move them and frost them carefully---you will be rewarded for your efforts.   This recipe makes one and a half dozen cookies.