Shortbread and sugar cookies

As soon as the amazing aroma began to permeate my warm kitchen, I realized why I didn’t make mum’s shortbread last Christmas, the first Christmas since her death. What is it about a scent that instantly transports us to another place and time?  

Chubby, loonie-sized morsels of tender, rich shortbread, expertly removed from the oven in the proverbial ‘nick of time’, ever so slightly browned.  Stored every year in the same deep Christmas tin (was it red?). Mum made the shortbread early in December and doled it out throughout the month, with some reluctance and much vigilance.  Always with the admonition that we must save some for Christmas Day.  We didn’t seem to have enough, in my eyes; it never occurred to me that it was expensive to make - all that butter.

Mum and the kitchen.  Warm delicious food - especially the baking.  Especially at Christmas. One corgi or another underfoot.  Wine at 3 pm and not a minute before, because?

I can’t remember the first Christmas she showed me how to paint sugar cookies with egg yolk and food colouring, the heat of the oven creating ‘stained glass’ masterpieces. Neither of us could have guessed this tradition would endure over decades as I introduced it to many friends. 

We congregated in that cosy kitchen year after year.  Mum hosted, keeping a firm hand on the oven door.  She needed to ensure the six minute cooking time didn’t escape the notice of the giggling bell-bottomed teenagers, or the lively young mums, or the spirited career women navigating male dominions, or the new grandmothers’ trading latest baby tales, or the grateful-for-all-we-have ‘old’ friends.

Somewhere along the line, the apprentice daughter became the sous chef, and was soon promoted to chief cook and bottle washer. Wine was permitted, nay, requested! prior to 3 pm. The gaggle of aging friends was replaced by mum and her oldest friend.  I became their vigilant monitor and assistant as they decorated cookies in the last year they were able to do so.  

An era ends.  But - shortbread and sugar cookies - some things never change.