Category Archives: christmas

Butter or Margarine?

All those many years ago when I first met my girlfriend Janet, she was already a bona fide baker.  I was still more of a baker-in-the-making.  These days, I bake a mean apple pie, but back then I was still one of those people who used margarine in my cookies.  Not to worry.   Janet set me straight on the finer points of using butter and, not wanting to produce inferior cookies, I ponied up the cash and starting baking with the real stuff.

Fast forward almost ten years and I read Michael Pollen’s In Defense of Food, which convinced me, thoroughly, of the horrors of margarine.  Although I’m generally not one to hop on anybody’s bandwagon, his arguments rang true to me and I jumped aboard.  While I admit to still buying diet pepsi (I know!), and the occasional goldfish, it’s more because 1) I’m weak and 2) I’m weak.  I still think he’s right.

So yesterday, when I read Julia Moskin’s column in the NY Times, singing the praises of butter in cookies, I expected some sort of nod to Pollen.  But no.  The article is clearly a baking aficionado’s perspective; not even close to a health nut’s reasoning.  It’s all about how your cookies won’t hold their shape if you dare use margarine, or even, heaven forbid, if you use butter that’s been incorrectly melted or creamed.  As if!  Please know that if you ever deign to eat my cookies, I have probably melted the butter incorrectly.  There’s also a really good chance I didn’t cream it long enough, either.  However, you can still consider yourself lucky that you’re only getting fatter because I used butter and not dying because I used margarine.  I mean, that’s a pretty big gift right there.  Please don’t expect the shape of my cookies to be just so or to receive them in a fancy bag with a ribbon on top.  I am busy people.  I could be handing out Oreos (speaking of non-food).

Nonetheless, I laughed out loud at the comment of Robin Olsen, who runs cookie-exchange.com and is quoted at the end of Moskin’s piece.  Olsen’s thoughts:  “I can tell a margarine cookie as soon as I bite into it.  And then I put it right down.”

Well just tell it like it is, Ms. Olsen!  I love that.  But I won’t send you any cookies.  Too risky.

As for the rest of you, I hope you enjoy whatever it is you’re baking this Christmas!

And How About the Ornaments?

The very first Christmas after we were married, I wandered around the old Seattle Bon Marche (RIP) eyeing the beautifully decorated trees with wonder.  The whole “theme” thing was a new concept for me.  All silver!  All red and green!  Or crimson, with gold!  
Growing up, our tree was filled with decorations my mom loved, some made by my brother or me at school, others gathered with love over the years.  I still remember (and she still hangs) that angel I made and painted so very carefully, with its bright yellow hair.  Our only theme was “ornaments;” there was no “pretty” tree in the living room with a separate “kid tree” out back.  And until I saw those marvels at the Bon Marche, I never thought a thing about it.
But then, then I started to wonder.  What kind of tree would we have after kids arrived?  Would we hang their carefully made ornaments on a special tree just for them.  Maybe, I thought.  Just maybe we would.  I sort of liked the idea.
But then, as the years rolled by, I realized that every single ornament we hang holds a special memory for me. 
There’s this one, given to us by our friends Harry and Kim, shortly before they were married.  Harry and Greg were 2nd lieutenants in the Army together,  and roommates back in the day.  Every year when I hang this ornament I think of them, and of the many laughs we shared.  Even typing this makes me smile, as the memories come flooding back.

And this one, given to me by my boss at one of my favorite employers, also in the Seattle days.  His wife chose it, I’m sure, but I treasure it nonetheless.  When I hang this ornament it takes me back to that life, that time, and for a few moments I get to revel in days long past.

Then there’s this one.  After Seattle we spent some time (sounds like a jail term, doesn’t it?), in Wisconsin.  And though I didn’t anticipate it, some wonderful things came out of those years.  Two boys in 2 1/2 years, a Packer SuperBowl win, and a friendship that has stood the test of time and trials.  This beautiful ornament was given to us, to our son actually, by our friends Chris and Holly, two of the dearest souls around.  I’m certain it’s no coincidence that the four of us moved to WI at the same time.  It was just meant to be.
For as long as I can remember, my grandparents gave me a Hallmark ornament at Christmas.  Somewhere along the way my grandmother decided to give me ornaments that create a little village, and we set these down by the train now – the firehouse and the bake shoppe and all of the fun Victorian homes.  But before those years, I got an array of beauties, and this has long been one of my favorites.  Most of our Christmases were spent in my grandparents small, warm living room, and that scene lives on in my mind, and heart.  I see it every time I hang this bell.

My mother has picked up where my grandmother left off, and gives my children ornaments every year.  So far, I think she’s made every one of them.  (No, sadly I did not get that gene.)  This is one of my favorites for many reasons, patriotism not the least of them.  My life, and hers, were shaped by my father’s service to our country. This ornament represents so many things:  service, family, love, tradition, sacrifice.  
And, finally, there are the bows.  The boys have taken over most of the ornament hanging, with a few small cluster corrections here and there.  But my job is always to finish with the bows.  My first Christmas after college I was living in San Francisco.  No snow, no family, just me and my Jewish roommate, Sara.  Sara wasn’t at all opposed to having a Christmas tree in our apartment, so I hiked down to a corner lot & dragged one up.  My dear aunt came to visit, all the way from the east coast, and couldn’t help but notice that my 20 or so ornaments from grandma didn’t exactly fill the tree.   She went out and bought some red velvet ribbon, and hand-tied these little bows for my tree.  I saved them that year, and the next, and now my boys can’t imagine our tree without them.  And I can’t either.
And so, the crimson-and-gold themed tree is relic of the past, an image in my mind to remember from those early days.  Now I see those fancy trees in the stores and they make me a little bit sad, because there’s no feeling to them, no family, no love.  And at Christmastime, I think we need a little of all of those.

A Closer Peek at the Tree

The boys have taken over most of the ornament hanging.

With a few minor adjustments here and there.
And when they’re all finished…
Ta-da!
The angel was one of two: my grandmother had one; I think her sister had the other.  Somehow I got lucky enough to have one of them and it graces the top of our tree every year.  In all of my years, I’ve never seen one I like better.  For a sixty-year old, she looks pretty darn good, don’t you think?!