It's a funny thing: I don't remember much about the first time my mom and I made Christmas cookies together. I don't remember what they looked like, and I don't remember whether we used a mixer or stirred by hand. I don't remember rolling dough or using cutters to make fun shapes. I don't remember licking beaters, or fingers, or smearing frosting in my hair. But I do remember the food coloring.
My first experience with food coloring was – truly, literally – life-changing. I watched my mother dribble the tiniest of drops into a bowl, and like magic, the entire batch (Of frosting? Of dough? These details, I did not deign to retain, and the world will never know.) instantly took on the happiest of hues. Those tear-shaped McCormick bottles were the closest I'd ever come to witchcraft. I was enthralled. I was obsessed. And I was paying very close attention to where they were stored when not in use.
(This, friends, is called "foreshadowing.")
After our cookie baking escapade, my mother had rightfully earned herself a nap, and I was left to my own devices to play and enjoy some Bert & Ernie and apple slices. But as soon as I heard that doorknob click shut, I was off, my trusty toddler step-stool in hand. The results of my efforts have become family lore: I managed to put drops of food coloring into both gallons of milk stored in the fridge; into our bottles of shampoo and conditioner; into a brand-new can of white interior paint on my dad's work bench. I mashed some into my PlayDoh, I painted my nails with yet some more, I even felt generous enough to share a few drip-drops with the gas tank on the lawn mower, stored in the garage. And lastly – the signature upon my masterpiece – I added drops to the bowl of every toilet in the house, and (lest he feel left out!) to the dog's water.
I was so proud of my artistry, and my mother never took a nap during my childhood again.
My 4-year-old daughter has, thankfully, inherited my love of cooking, but she's also, not-so-thankfully, inherited my predilection for deviant chaos. So when it comes to holiday cookie baking – with all that squirtable icing and sprinkles that sprink like confetti – Mama knows better than to arm her child with those kitchen bombs.
As cookies go, we're big on classics, but since I'm not big on letting my daughter paint my entire kitchen with technicolor royal icing, that can result in cookies that are very decidedly un-holiday, un-festive, un-colorful.
In other words: brown.
Enter a favorite culinary trick of mine: tucking vegetables into recipes unexpectedly, but with the purpose of featuring rather than hiding. I’m lucky my kiddo is a veggie lover (don’t be too jealous – she sucks at sleeping), but even just for the joy of egging on her veg-averse dad, I prefer to showcase. Let them see how good those plants can be! In this case, adding spinach to a an old Christmas standard sugar cookie did just that, while giving the fringe benefit of festivizing them. No gloppy icing necessary. Gild the lily with a Christmas tree-shaped cookie cutter and you're gold.
And if you’re worried that spinach cookies might be a tough sell for some, I’ve included two versions of this recipe – one perfectly chewy-crisp, and one light and pillowy – to be sure to appeal to everyone you might wish to share these with. No word on what Santa’s preference might be, so you might just have to make ‘em both.
This recipe for Spinach Pan-Banged Cookies is adapted from Sarah Keiffer’s Pan-Banged Sugar Cookies found in her book, “100 Cookies.”
Note: Using weight measurements instead of volume yields more consistent results when baking, but volume measures have been included here for those who need them.
This recipe for Spinach Pan-Banged Cookies is adapted from Sarah Keiffer’s Pan-Banged Sugar Cookies found in her book, “100 Cookies.”
Note: Using weight measurements instead of volume yields more consistent results when baking, but volume measures have been included here for those who need them.
This recipe for Spinach Pan-Banged Cookies is adapted from Sarah Keiffer’s Pan-Banged Sugar Cookies found in her book, “100 Cookies.”
Note: Using weight measurements instead of volume yields more consistent results when baking, but volume measures have been included here for those who need them.
Sarah Keiffer never made spinach pan-bangers (that we know of!) but she does say in her book that she thinks pan-banged cookies are best cold. However, I like these best at room temperature. These aren’t the best for enjoying warm – while they TASTE excellent, they retain an aroma of cooked spinach until fully cooled that is not unpleasant but also not exactly expected in a cookie.
Yields approximately 16 3.5-4” cookies; will keep covered at room temperature for up to a week, and these refrigerate/freeze and thaw beautifully.
Not a fan of chewy-crisp, but still hoping to wow your pals with a spinach cookie? No sweat -- try a Spinachdoodle instead! This variation will result in approximately the same size and number of cookies, but rather than flat and ruffled, these will dome up and become delightfully pillowy and soft – just like your favorite Snickerdoodle.
To make Spinachdoodles:
