Some of my most vivid memories as a child were making cookies with my mom. Well, I don’t actually REMEMBER it, but there’s lots of photographs that prove it happened. My Mom and Dad arrived tonight and will be with us for five days (YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!), and so I had a chance to see how she remembers the experience of baking with me, little angelic Christine. Turns out her approach was having the dough pre-made and ready to go PRIOR to involving me. Hmmm….might be something to consider. And she said she typically had it prepared so I could make cookies when the baby sitter was over. Maybe Mom was onto something. Sloughing it off on another
unsuspecting willing adult.
Anyhow, for the last year, I have worked hard to involve Alex in cooking projects as often as possible. I have even gone so far as majorly hyping up the days that Bon Appetit arrives in our mailbox. We make a big “show” of looking through the whole thing and gawking at the yummy recipes. Obviously, dessert tends to be his favorite. However, the brown-sugar-glazed bacon recipe in April of 2010 did catch his eye.
Well, today, after lots of “PLEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAASE”s, I caved. We got home from school at 2:15pm, whipped out the Kitchen Aid (love it so much, we having a matching Christmas ornament in its honor) and got the dough made. He usually loves eating the dough, but after adding lots of dark molasses and ground pepper, he insisted on eating an apple to get the taste out of his mouth (nothing that frosting and sprinkles couldn’t rectify later). I shoved the dough in a Ziploc, packed up my two hacking and sick children and went off to see the doctor. [sidenote: turns out Drew might have Rotovirus and Alex has an ear infection…we love it!]
When we got back home, we began the whole process of rolling them out, pushing the cutters down in the MIDDLE of the dough (obviously the best technique, forcing us to re-roll the dough out countless times) and sticking them in the oven. If you look closely in the pictures below, you’ll notice that a few men lost some arms and the angel was decapitated. Translation: cooking with kids means things aren’t going to be perfect. Good for this Type A girl to internalize.
We only decorated one for Alex to eat tonight. But now that the grandparents are here, maybe I’ll take my Mom’s idea into consideration! Matt and I will leave her here with the kids and the cookies and we’ll go out to dinner and a movie! Bon Appetit indeed!