He loves them. I mean LOVES. Why? I'll never know.
Because these are NOT good cookies... and I'm a girl who appreciates her sweets.
But these cookies? Yuck. Yu-HUCK.
For starters, they're molasses based, which isn't awful, but isn't exactly a snickerdoodle (the best cookie EVER). Then, right in the middle (and this is where the "fill" part comes in) there's a big dollop of this weird, disgusting date/fig/apricot goo.
I don't know if my great-grandmother invented them, or if she just propagated the horror, but this fill cookie thing has been going on for at least seventy years now, and there's no end in sight.
This year the fill cookies are my responsibility. Woo hoo!
For your amusement, here are the emails that my step-mom, AF, and I exchanged today:
AF: Emergency question----- Are you bringing filled cookies for Bob for Christmas? He just announced he has to have some and I will make them if you are not but I only have 3 days to do it.
(AF's spending Christmas with her daughter, who is getting out of a care facility after a very serious bout of H1N1. Scary.)
Me: Ha! I thought I would make them when I get there-- can you leave the recipe out?
AF: Sure, it's in your book I made for you too. Thanks.
(AF, who's a brilliant cook, made me a book of all her favorite recipes-- and the fill cookies.)
Me: The REAL question is: can he wait that long?
AF: That is the real question! When I said you would make the cookies when you got here he said, well, I don't know. That's awfully late.
Just makes you smile, doesn't it? Or maybe it's just me.
That's the upside of traditions. When you're part of them, even if you don't entirely understand them, even if you don't like them, even if you never, ever, ever want to eat one... they make you all warm inside. And that's what Christmas is all about.