My family treats Christmas cookie baking as part gladiatorial sport, part opera. The tradition started with my Italian-American grandmother, Erminia, who would push herself and her oven to the limit every December, waking up at 5 a.m. and baking until she had filled every old cookie tin and ancient Tupperware with hermit slices, pizzettes, spritz cookies, anise cookies, biscotti, candy cane twists, Polish rum balls…. It didn’t end until Christmas Day, or until the oven gave out (she went through three). She was a five-foot-tall sugar-dealing spitfire who pushed cookies into the hands of every friend and family member within a hundred-mile radius. The only way she would cut you off is if you forgot to give her the tins back.
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An interesting link found among my daily reading