As sweet and delicious as cookies can be they can also be a source of cutthroat competition and lessons in life.
For twelve years my friend Donna has hosted a lively and lovely holiday cookie exchange. Donna’s friends gather for an evening in December to share holiday cookies, have a cocktail and learn about a local non-profit serving women. Each of us goes home with a yummy plate of cookies, having had a good time and also having made a donation to the charity. Many of the guests have been friends for almost 20 years. We have been there for each other in good times and in bad, most of us for longer than our marriages.
But, for one evening each year we put aside our love for each other and set out to bake a cookie that is not only tasty but award winning. Most cookie exchanges are not contests but at this party we vote on the cookies and the winning baker get bragging rights for the year. This brings out the competitive beast in all of us. For weeks ahead of time we plan, scheme and keep secrets all in the hope of smoking the pants off the competition. The twist is that while you can see the cookies and you can hear about the cookies, you cannot taste them before voting. Each woman needs to advocate for her cookie in front of the group.
And so it was, for many years….each of us baking cookies that were beautiful, and made from recipes and with ingredients that had pedigree: Irish butter, Swiss chocolate, a recipe from nuns in France. Many of us made many practice batches to get the drizzled caramel just right. It was mostly in good fun, but all of us wanted to win, win, win.
And then one year it was put in perspective. Donna had made new friends during the year and one of these women was at the party. I always liked it when there was a “new” person because inevitably she would not understand the competition and bring a pedestrian cookie like a basic chocolate chip or even worse, let her small children decorate the cookies into something resembling haystacks of pink frosting. When these newbie cookies landed on the table, I always felt smug. This new friend followed the trend and brought peanut butter balls. Come on I thought. Is that even a real cookie? Are peanut butter balls even baked? I was at least guaranteed not to receive the booby prize.
As usual, we went around the room, each touting our wares and coming closer to the peanut butter ball lady. When we came to the newbie, she told the story of her cookie.
The previous year she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had been though awful, horrible chemotherapy and radiation. She had lost weight and was very weak. When she was at her most fragile a friend had decided to nourish her with fat, sugar and protein-filled peanut butter balls. While sick the woman could not keep down any food but somehow she was able to eat the balls. Day-by-day, she was fueled by the balls. As she ate she got stronger, and as she got stronger she got better. The lame, no-bake, simple peanut butter balls helped to save her life.
You can guess whose cookie (or ball) won that year. It was the cookie that celebrated health and friendship and love. That year I was reminded what a well-baked cookie is for.
This year as I think about what cookie to bake I care less about the perfect cookie and more about baking a cookie that is filled with the love and admiration I have for my friends. Hopefully my friends will taste what I am trying to say because even though I will be happy for whoever wins it wouldn’t be so terrible if that winner were me.