Every December, my mother led the cookie and candy-making brigade in our kitchen so we’d end up with plates of chocolate and butter flavored glee to enjoy and share for Christmas. Who remembers pulling taffy? Using a cookie press? Patiently watching the temperature rise in a candy thermometer? Warm, childhood memories for me.
Last week, I swung into final preparations for a neighborhood get-together we were hosting Saturday afternoon. Nothing fancy, just a drop-in for cookies and drinks.
But on Thursday morning, I woke with the thought that I hadn’t baked enough cookies and the arrangement of the plate would not be “Christmassy” enough. Anyone else ever get plagued by second guessing? I’d really like to re-gift that, so if you don’t have enough self-doubt, let me know and I’ll tie a pretty bow on it and send it your way.
I hunted through my mother’s old recipe cards and when I came across the one for divinity, I knew I’d hit the jackpot. It was a holiday standard! And I could color it pink! Oh, the plate would look festive.
Sugar, corn syrup, water. Cook until a hard ball stage. I scoured the drawer – three meat thermometers, but no candy thermometer. No problem. I had this figured out. In the meantime, I beat the egg whites until stiff. Easy.
I still don’t know how long it takes to cook to the hard ball stage because at some point, I quit. Making divinity was taking an eternity! I slowly poured the hot syrup into my egg whites and beat accordingly (forever), adding the vanilla and food coloring. “It may get too stiff for the mixer” the recipe said. It never got stiff, and I wanted my morning back. Further, my mixer was worth more than an attractive plate.
I poured the goo into a cake pan lined with wax paper where it laid like a pink blob. Fortunately, I held back on the pecans – I wasn’t wasting those. A day later, I tasted it. Blah but sweet, with the consistency of a marshmallow. Aha! I rolled little balls of the stuff in pink sugar and tried to pass it off as candy. It really did add some color to the cookie plate, and my heart rejoiced when Lennie, from eight condos down, picked one up and said “Is this divinity?”
The lesson in all of this? While I was fussing about having enough cookies, cheeses and spreads, deciding which sparkling juices and wines, and making sure the house was decorated just right, I was again, reminded none of that is important. No one cares if the plate looks pretty, no one cares that there was a sixth choice of a sugar-laden sweet, no one cares that earlier that morning, we’d made a last-minute dash for more cheese.
What people care about is being together, knowing their neighbors, sharing memories while making new ones, and taking a couple hours away from the stress, or loneliness of their holidays. That’s worth more than any divinity could provide, but it feels like it took an eternity to figure that out.
Beautiful reflection on what is really important, Pam!
Thank you, Carolyn. Sometimes, it takes a wasted morning to realize that.
Thank you for a very warm and delicious neighborhood gathering! I thought the divinity marshmallows were great. Your story led to a few other baking disaster stories. We have all had them. Happy New Year. Margaret
Margaret, no one is ever alone in their cooking misfortunes. I wonder what I’ll botch next year, just to serve as a conversation starter? Happy New Year to you, as well.
I have baked lots of cookies for my Florida friends and I am having some of those same thoughts. Do I have enough? Are they “Christmasie” enough? Do they taste OK? After reading this, I am packing them into their containers and I am going to visit my neighbors. Remembering it is the thought that counts. Thanks for the reminder.
As a former neighbor, I am sure the neighbors appreciated your gathering. Sorry we missed it.
Aha! The ultimate compliment for a blogger. Indeed, I know the cookies will be wonderful. It was fun get-together and we miss you as well.
Yes, I remember those Christmas cookie and candy days. Remember all the colored frosting and decorations we had to decorate the cutout cookies? What a time consumer that was, but they looked (usually) so great. I still have the cookie cutters, but no desire to make them. Never got the hang of the cookie press. It was a lot of family fun with sweet memories to treasure – and no sugar needed. Thanks for the reminder of the real meaning.
Judy, this is the first year I haven’t made cut-out cookies! I still enjoy them. Weren’t we lucky…