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Roll-Out Cookies — The Sugar Cookies That Disappeared in Fifteen Minutes

Mason's school concert was Tuesday. "Frosty the Snowman," "Jingle Bell Rock," and a version of "Silent Night" that made three parents cry (I was one of them, because I am always one of them). He found me in the audience and waved with one hand while the other held his songbook, and I waved back, and somewhere in the gym a woman who was diagnosed with cancer two years ago is sitting in a plastic chair watching her son sing about snowmen and is so full of gratitude that she can barely breathe. That woman is me. That woman is always me.

Lily's Christmas play was Thursday. She was the best sheep in the play. She said "Baa!" with such conviction that the audience laughed, not at her but with her, because Lily's commitment to a role is infectious. She took a bow at the end that was not scripted and not brief, and Mrs. Cho guided her offstage while Lily was still bowing. Rosa (who came to the play because she still considers Lily hers) was crying. I was crying. Brett was crying. Everyone was crying except Lily, who was asking if there would be cookies afterward.

There were cookies afterward. I'd baked three dozen sugar cookies for the reception — decorated, iced, the full production. They were gone in fifteen minutes. A mother I didn't know said, "Did you make these?" and I said yes and she said, "They're incredible," and I said, "Thank you," and I felt the specific, quiet pride of a woman whose cookies are praised by a stranger. It's a small pride. But small prides are the ones that sustain you.

I went Christmas shopping at the mall with Jen on Saturday. The kids were with Scott (his December weekend). Jen and I walked the mall like tourists — browsing, trying on things we couldn't afford, eating Cinnabon at a table in the food court like teenagers. She told me about Dave — they're official now, and he's meeting her kids next week. She looked happy. Really happy. The kind of happy that makes me hope, which is dangerous and wonderful and I'll allow it.

I made hot cocoa for the kids after the school concert — the real kind, stove-top, with milk and cocoa and sugar and marshmallows. The same recipe I made last year and the year before. The tradition continues. The cocoa is warm. The marshmallows float. The children hold their mugs with both hands and drink carefully, blowing on the surface, and the steam rises and the kitchen is warm and December is kind.

Three dozen cookies, fifteen minutes, gone — and the one thing I keep coming back to is that stranger’s face when she asked if I’d made them. These Roll-Out Cookies are what I brought to Lily’s play reception, the same recipe I reach for every December when I need something that looks like effort and actually is, but in the best possible way. If you’ve got a school event, a holiday cookie swap, or just a kitchen that needs to smell like Christmas, this is the one.

Roll-Out Cookies

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 35 min (plus 1 hr chilling) | Servings: 36 cookies

Ingredients

  • 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/2 teaspoon almond extract
  • 3 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • For the icing:
  • 2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
  • 3–4 tablespoons milk
  • 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • Food coloring, sprinkles, or decorating sugar as desired

Instructions

  1. Cream the butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat softened butter and granulated sugar together on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes.
  2. Add eggs and extracts. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then mix in the vanilla and almond extracts until fully combined.
  3. Mix the dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Gradually add the dry mixture to the butter mixture, stirring until a soft dough forms.
  4. Chill the dough. Divide the dough in half, flatten into disks, and wrap in plastic wrap. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour (or overnight) until firm enough to roll.
  5. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.
  6. Roll and cut. On a lightly floured surface, roll dough out to about 1/4-inch thickness. Cut into desired shapes with cookie cutters and transfer to prepared baking sheets, spacing about 1 inch apart.
  7. Bake. Bake for 8–10 minutes, until edges are just barely golden. Do not overbake — the centers should look slightly underdone when you pull them out. Cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
  8. Make the icing. Whisk together powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla until smooth. Add milk one tablespoon at a time until you reach a drizzleable but not runny consistency. Divide and tint with food coloring as desired.
  9. Decorate. Spread or drizzle icing over cooled cookies and add sprinkles or decorating sugar before the icing sets. Allow to dry fully before stacking or transporting.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 118 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 17g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 62mg

Heather Dawson
About the cook who shared this
Heather Dawson
Week 142 of Heather’s 30-year story · Boise, Idaho
Heather is a forty-two-year-old vet tech, divorced single mom, and cancer survivor who grew up on a cattle ranch in southern Idaho. She beat Stage II breast cancer at thirty-two, lost her marriage six months later, and rebuilt her life around her two kids, her three-legged pit bull, and her mother's cinnamon roll recipe. She cooks ranch food on a vet tech's budget and doesn't sugarcoat anything — except the cinnamon rolls.

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