The Christmas Cookie

It’s Christmas and like so many Christmases before it, it’s supposed to be filled with family and friends and food, notably cookies. But not just any cookies. Sugar cookies and gingerbread cookies and chocolate chip cookies. Cookies are found everywhere — from coffee shops to parties to work and home. In fact, you could say cookies are ubiquitous at Christmas. They are expected and delivered and consumed, sometimes without really tasting them.

Are cookies like everything else at Christmas? Like Christmas music and decorations and parties. They are expected and delivered and consumed, sometimes without really experiencing them. The expectations that society places on this day are vast, commercial and crass. We’re expected to shop and bake and eat ad nauseum. What about those poor souls that are alone at Christmas? What about those without families to visit, without friends to party with, without jobs to bake for? What about the homeless? Where are their cookies? Yes, you can donate non-perishable food to the food bank, you can donate warm clothes to charity, you can volunteer your time to make yourself feel good. But does this really make a difference? Does this really change the experience of someone less fortunate? Does this erase their expectations? Expectations that are imposed by us, us who have a home and family and friends.

Recently a colleague asked me if my friends threw holiday parties anymore. It made me pause and reflect. I have a small circle of friends whose composition changes from year to year like the seasons. The only holiday parties I've ever attended were hosted by the jobs I diligently held or the buildings where I responsibly paid rent or now, a mortgage. My colleagues and neighbours took the place of friends. Small talk told. Drinks drunk. Cookies consumed. Did any of it really matter?

Cookies, like friends come in an endless variety of flavors. There are many or there are few, depending on who makes the effort to bake them. There are shiney store bought ones that are attractive, but taste too sweet. There are homely handmade ones that are unattractive, but taste delicious. Their initial availability is more or less guaranteed, but how long they last is subject to the level of consumption. Often the shiney store bought ones are taken first, the homely handmade ones neglected at the bottom of the cookie tin. What about me, they say. Why don't you take a chance on me? I'm delicious, really I am. The desperate consumer, jonesing for sugar will succumb, take a chance on the homemade cookie and appreciate its unexpected explosion of flavour.

This Christmas I invite you to take a chance on the homemade cookie. Consider literally baking some and handing them out to those less fortunate than you. Consider cultivating your relationships rather than attending holiday parties. Consider seeking meaningful conversations rather than engaging in small talk. The Christmas Cookie is whatever you want it to be. It can be store bought and superficial, or it can be homemade and imperfect, but decidedly delicious.