Late-night mediations on baking.

Sugar cookies are fragile. When the pointed hat of Santa cracks, or the delicate legs of a horse fall off, don’t fret. Sometimes, you can glue them back together with a little icing and dip the whole thing in ganache and cover it in sprinkles and no one will ever know. Other times, it’s best to call it quits and let a beheaded turkey meet it’s final resting place; your stomach.

Baker’s dozen? Pretty ingenious. Licking the batter bowl? Yes, please! A toasty, nutmeg-scented cut-out cookie crumbled straight from the oven? Hell. Yes. The perks to being a baker are many, but these are by-far my favorite. It’s 3am, technically the day before Thanksgiving, and I’m taking a moment to sit down and enjoy a warm cookie slicked with tart rosehip jam before heading to bed. It’s a simple gift to myself after a long day of cheesemongering, pie baking, and kitchen cleaning. Tomorrow, there will be more of the same and hopefully more cookie crumbs. G’night.