S is for So Much More than Sweet

This week, Saveur posted a recipe for Dutch Letter Cookies - cookies that the recipe testers behind the magazine had made into the shape of an S. They titled the entry, S is for Sweet. 'Cute,' I thought.

But upon seeing the thumbnail image, I did a double take. 'Wait, I know what those are. And they're not Dutch. They should be crescent shaped, and filled with walnuts instead of almonds. They're Grandma's mini nut rolls!'

I flagged, tweeted, and pinned them, and kept returning to the photo and recipe all week, debating when I should make them, but in the shape of a C for Croatian.

Yesterday, was the day - I pulled out the recipe and made them. But despite my aforementioned claim that I would make them exactly like Grandma did, in the shape of little half moons, I couldn't resist the S-shape. It just seemed to work in a week where S stood for so much more than sweet - where S, could have had its very own Dr. Seuss' ABC's spin-off.  

To amuse myself, it would go something like this ...

S is for St. Nick, Santa, and Surprises
This week, I not only got a package from Saint Nick, I got a little something from Santa too. Remember how the real one was in Naperville the other day? Well, he came back and left a little something ironic on my door step. (Not joking.)

S is for the most Super, Stunning, and Smart Sister ever. 
Happy birthday big sis, and I really wish I could have been toasting champagne sparklers with you on Friday night.

S is for Seasonal, Sparkling Lights.
Last night, Peter, Claire, Trent and I strolled through Holiday Magic at the Brookfield Zoo. It was just as amazing as I had remembered, and along with the seasonal light display made even prettier by the first snow of the year, we got to see Lions, Tigers, Bears and Gorillas, oh my!

S is for Sixtieths, Sixty-year olds, and Snooze buttons
After Holiday Magic and dinner at Chew Chew in Riverside, we went to my father-in-laws 60th birthday party at a friend's house in LaGrange. The party started at 8:00 PM, and to my Early Riser persona's dismay, we left at 12:15 AM - the latest I had stayed up since the wedding I think. And the amazing part was, the party was STILL going. This group knows how to party - Singing James Brown bobble head, the twist and shout, viewings of the recently crowned champion Vizsla dog, wise and somewhat racy proverbs, endless Scotch, and very loud laughter party WAY better than I do. I brought the S is for my new last name cookies though. Needless to say, I hit the snooze button this morning.   

S is for Sentimental and Stipetich
Before I was an S - I was an F, but an F who actually had a little bit of S in her as well. My Grandma Barry's maiden name is Stipetich. And this week, I couldn't stop thinking about her. As you made have noticed from my Flickr photostream, each of my kitchen capers channeled her. Perhaps it was because I know she's having a hard time expressing her memories, and I wanted to help express them for her. Or perhaps, I was thinking, if I keep remembering, she'll remember with me. But regardless, I kept coming back to recipes that she probably learned from her Mom and Grandma, back when she was still a Stipetich.

I made the little crescent cookies that were always on her Christmas cookie platter. And I made stuffed pork chops, roasting them slow and low as she would have done.

And then I made my S's - but with a walnut filling, just like her mini nut rolls. They tasted like I remembered - and they took me back to 126 and Christmas dinners there and having not two or three, but five or six of her perfect little cookies. Which by the way, I now know must have been quite a labor of love.

Yes Saveur, S is for Sweet too - but for the sweet memories of cookies past that I will continue to resurrect and remake in Naperville, so by the time the family comes over for Christmas Eve dinner, I will have all the sweet memories on one plate for us to share. 

Lo.

Countdown

The world has gone mad. Literally mad. Like 'everyone on their way home from work the past two days suddenly turned the I-88, to Diehl Road, to Ogden Avenue corridor into a bumper cars death match where they particularly want to get the black Mini Cooper' mad. I can feel the mad from ten miles away - the mad that caused the kind of shouting, cursing, gesturing, eye-rolling, head-shaking, and finger pointing that backed up traffic ad infintum. What's the big deal people? What the hell are you all so stressed out / pissed off / outer annoyed / inside exploding mad about?

What's that? Oh ... because it's the holiday season. And you only have 25 days to do all that holiday stuff that you are supposed to do. And instead of relishing in it, you are stressed. And mad. At me, the Mini Cooper, your last obstacle to turning the corner, opening your garage, and rushing inside so you can string the lights, trim the tree, hang the wreath, and keep up with the people next door who already had their display up yesterday. 

I've been baffled by drivers the past two evenings. What about the holidays stirs these kind of angry emotions? I honestly find myself in a completely alternative state of mind.

For instance, yesterday morning I woke up to the best thing ever - my advent calendar. A little paper one - number 29 in a lineage of advent calendars purchased by my Mom, gifted to me at the start of this sacred time of year. I popped open the number 1 to reveal a small segment of scripture, getting me one day closer to the manger scene, and I beamed. December 1. What a day.

December 1 marks the start of THE best month of the year - Early dismissals from work, cookie baking, Christmas decorations, buying your very first Christmas tree, a perpetually full table behind Vicky's desk to snack from all day, holiday parties, present wrapping, carols on the radio, Christmas card opening, greenery, and gifts, and conversion of Grinches! Love it. Yet, everyone seems to get stressed about it.

I think I figured out why yesterday. It's the omnipresent countdown and the daily to-dos that accompany it. For example, both BonAppetit.com and Saveur.com have a cookie baking countdown till Christmas loudly playing on their homepages. According to them, you are supposed to bake 31 days of cookies. Then if you go to Saks.com you start to think you need all of the hot, must have dresses for every holiday occasion, from day to night. From there you've got lists from FTD, Hallmark, Pottery Barn, North Face, Wine Spectator, Whole Foods and the neighborhood hardware store. By the time you calculate the amount of time you have and all the things you could do, you've gone crazy.

Commercializing Christmas doesn't just suck because it takes the spirit out of it, it sucks because it makes everyone go insane. My humble advice - commit to 10 or 12 days of Christmas, not 31. Do what you can do, have fun each time you deck the halls, and don't compare yourself to the people on the block who have turned their house into Kaufmann's Santa Land circa 1989. (You thought Halloween was bad in Naperville.) Turn on the carols on the way home from work. Relax, you'll get there. Realize that everyone most likely has enough stuff already, and probably doesn't need the last minute gifts you are rushing around to buy - give them a hug instead. And try to drown out the advertisements.

Now, I'll have you know, that I failed to follow my humble advice. Yesterday, I opened the first window of the virtual advent calendar on Saveur.com - the one telling me to bake a different cookie every day. And I fell into the trap. It revealed Spitzbeube - Swiss raspberry filled cookies - those perfect little sandwich ones. I did debate whether or not I should wait a day or two to delve into the holiday activities, but there was nothing on Vicky's desk yesterday, and figured I needed to contribute. Besides, Peter's famous chicken noodle soup was on the menu, so my 'night off' allowed me a little time to bake. And it was as fun as ever.

Happy December Days.

Lo.