You get off on the wrong foot by promising to post a praised recipe for Vegan Ginger Cookies, but never get around to it. Your friends probably think it’s because you’re deathly afraid that they will make the same recipe as you for the multitude of swaps, rendering a moment reminiscent of prom, when two unfortunate girls wore the same fuscia lamé dress.
But the real reason is that, even after making a second batch for this express purpose, you could not. Remember. To take a picture of the cookies. And if ever there’s a post that should not be published without a short-apertured photograph, it’s one for cookies.
In classic Carter fashion, while everyone else in their right mind (read: Angie Six) probably made their cookies a day or so before the swap, you thought it would work just fine to make them day-of. Even, afternoon-of.
After a couple of really busy and exhausting days, you decided that making the dough for your swap cookies put you positively over-the-edge, and that a nap was in order. While your dough chilled, you could just get 20-minutes or so of reading or light rest.
Two full hours later, you are awakened by the sound of your 1st grader beating on the door to be let in from the snowy cold after being dropped off from school. You let her in, and immediately say, “Hey, wanna help me bake some cookies?”
It’s 3:30 pm. You’re supposed to leave your house for the swap by 5:00.
You slice, and bake, and enjoy a sweet, quiet, mother-daughter moment with your delightful eldest child while you tag-team the dipping of baked cookies into melted chocolate. You set the just-dipped cookies on a cooling rack over a drip pan, basking in the fortune of your timing. You should still have time to dig around in your grandmother’s costume jewelry to find the perfect sparkly thing to add “festive” to your attire.
Before finding something sparkly, your two-year old awakens from nap and, of course, has pooped everywhere. You wipe, wash, dip, rinse, wash again, change, and wash.
As you bring your youngest delightful child downstairs for a snack, you notice that your chocolate isn’t setting up. In a flash of brilliance, you realize it’s cold outside. You take the rack of glistening chocolate-dipped cookies outside to refrigerate for a bit.
Back upstairs, you have just enough time to realize you have no idea where your grandmother’s costume jewelry is actually located before your middle delightful child wakes from his nap. He has wet his bed. You quickly change his clothes and his sheets (lest you forget to tell Daddy and your child sleeps the night in a bed of his own urine). You run back downstairs to check the cookies, and they look perfectly set.
You bring in the cookies, grab a container, and begin to load them up. But — funny thing — the cookies are glued-by-chocolate to the cooling rack. As gently as you pry, half the cookies break, their chocolate preferring its marriage to the stainless steel bars. That’s almost 2 dozen of the 6 dozen you’re supposed to take to the swap, now in ruins.
You have just enough time to call your friend, to tell her you’re running late, and that you’ll just have to drive yourself. Your husband walks in from work to find you in a fluster of choice words and instructions. You quickly change clothes, gather up the salvaged chocolate-dipped cookies, and grab 18 or so of the Vegan Ginger Cookies that you’d baked that morning with a friend to make up the difference.
While you recorded for visual perpetuity the disaster of the chocolate-dipped morsels: of the whole, delicate ginger cookies, you once again forget to take a picture.