The Best Vanilla Buttercream Frosting

Christmas is coming and the pandemic is not going, and the collision of the two — the holiday that requires closeness and the virus that forbids it — is the contradiction we are all living in, the impossible math of wanting to be together and needing to stay apart. We will have Christmas. We will have it small — just us, just Gayle, the same seven. The tree is up (artificial, as always, the same tree we have had for twelve years, the ornaments accumulated over a lifetime of Christmases, each one a time capsule: the macaroni star Josie made in first grade, the clothespin reindeer Tyler made at the same age, the glass ball that was Darla's, hung every year, touched by no one, representing the space between the branches where the missing go).

The school Christmas concert was virtual. The kids performed in the gymnasium for a camera and no audience, and the camera sent the performance to parents on screens, and the screens showed the singing and the playing and the angelic robes and the tinsel halos, and the screens were not the same as being there, and the not-same was another loss in a year of losses, a small loss, a bearable loss, but a loss.

Amber sang 'Silent Night' in the choir, and I watched on the laptop in the kitchen and her voice came through the speakers and filled the room the way voices do when the room is otherwise empty, and the filling was both beautiful and lonely, the way a voice in an empty room is both — present and absent, here and not here, the sound and the echo and the space between them.

I made gingerbread cookies with the kids — the kind with royal icing and sprinkles and the specific mess that gingerbread cookies require: flour on every surface, icing on every finger, sprinkles on the floor (sprinkles migrate; they are the nomads of the baking world). Josie decorated with the maximalism of a ten-year-old. Tyler ate the dough. Justin iced one cookie perfectly and then ate three undecorated ones. Amber made gingerbread people with faces that were either artistic or disturbing, depending on your tolerance for expressive cookie decorating.

Those gingerbread people — Amber’s expressive faces and all — needed something to bring them to life, and this vanilla buttercream was exactly it: smooth enough to spread for Tyler’s one perfect cookie, sturdy enough to hold Josie’s maximalist sprinkle situation, and sweet enough to make the whole messy, flour-covered afternoon feel like the Christmas we needed it to be. It’s not royal icing — it’s warmer than that, a little softer, more forgiving, which felt right for a year that asked us all to be a little more forgiving of imperfection. Make a big batch; with four kids and a pandemic Christmas, you’ll use every bit of it.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: About 3 cups (enough to frost 24–36 cookies)

Ingredients

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
4 cups powdered sugar, sifted
3–4 tablespoons heavy cream or whole milk
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
Gel food coloring, optional
Sprinkles, for decorating

Instructions

Beat the butter. In a large bowl using a hand mixer or in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the softened butter on medium-high speed for 2–3 minutes until pale, fluffy, and smooth.
Add the sugar. Reduce speed to low and gradually add the sifted powdered sugar, about 1/2 cup at a time, mixing after each addition until just combined before adding more. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
Add cream and vanilla. Add the vanilla extract, salt, and 3 tablespoons of heavy cream. Increase speed to medium-high and beat for 2 minutes until the frosting is light and fluffy. If the frosting is too thick, add the remaining tablespoon of cream; if too thin, add powdered sugar a tablespoon at a time.
Color if desired. Divide the frosting into separate bowls and tint with gel food coloring as desired, stirring until the color is fully incorporated.
Frost and decorate. Spread onto cooled gingerbread cookies with an offset spatula or butter knife, or transfer to a piping bag fitted with your tip of choice. Top immediately with sprinkles before the frosting sets.
Store. Leftover frosting can be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to one week. Bring to room temperature and re-whip briefly before using.

Nutrition (per serving, approximately 2 tablespoons)

The Best Vanilla Buttercream Frosting — The Icing That Held Our Christmas Together