Ulla and the Sugar Cookies

Sugar cookies are my favorite cookie in the world. Minus peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chips. Minus snicker doodles. But I’m Swedish, so I’m allowed to have more than one favorite cookie. Please don’t argue with me.

I’ve never actually made any sugar cookies, partially because I’ve never had “creme of tartar” in my house. Do you know it’s not actually a creme? And I’m not exactly sure where you’d find a tartar. Probably in some dark, dank, underground cave where only small children and spiders can fit. That’s why they have to charge you $9.95 for 3 tablespoons. But I was lucky. A friend of mine moved away a short while ago and emptied out her spice cabinet into my willing arms. Tartar? Sure. Why not. You never know when you’ll have a bad week and need a little tartar to perk you up.

I figured it was time to try a recipe for sugar cookies. I’ve loved them my whole life, after all. And it seemed easy enough. Plus I care about cookies, so there’s less chance for me to mess up. I found this recipe in the Better Homes and Garden cookbook, which is where you should go if you want a straightforward, sensible recipe to follow. But I’m probably a bit more exciting.

You’ll need:

1/2 cup butter (Mmm. Butter.)
1/2 cup shortening
2 cups sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cream of tartar
1/8 tsp salt
3 egg yolks
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 3/4 cups flour

Before we begin, there’s something you need to know. It’s important. It’s the secret of the entire cookie. It’s what holds it all together. Are you ready? Shortening. I mean it. And you all know I am very fond of butter. But it just won’t come out the same. So don’t snub your nose. Just do it. Oh, and of course—dear Ulla. She’s the real secret. And she agreed to partner with us on the recipe. I told her you wouldn’t mind. She’s just so helpful and all.

Alright. First things first. Drop the butter and the shortening into her silver belly. Whip ‘em up good. Smoosh ‘em together. Get it all creamy and fluffy and perfect.

Then comes the tartar. And the baking soda. And the salt—please don’t skip the salt. It’s vital to neutralize the overwhelming power of the sugar. Don’t roll your eyes. Are you listening to me? When you’ve got all those things lumped in the belly of your dear mixer, go ahead and add the heaping gobs of sugar. And then more sugar. And topped with some sugar. Because that’s the whole point of this cookie. Let ‘er rip. Get ‘er going.

You should have the pre-dough that looks something like this.

And now for my favorite part of the whole recipe. Get a hold of your eggs. The chicken kind. I’m sure there’s a more official way to do this, but let’s be honest. I like the goop. The slime. The snot. Handling the yoke makes me feel real. Alive. Rebellious. Crack open that bad boy.

And slip the yolk into your hands. It’s the easiest way I know how to separate egg yolks. There’s probably a more sophisticated way. And I’m pretty sure Better Homes and Gardens would get a little ruffled if they saw me doing this. But this is it. I’m doing it. You’re not the boss of me.

Toss the egg yolks in the bowl. Oh, and the vanilla.

It’s probably a good idea to scrape the sides of the bowl at some point. But from here you can mix it up nice and good. Yes, I said “good.” Because “well” just doesn’t fit here. We’re roughing it. Getting our hands dirty. Rolling up our sleeves. We don’t need no grammer. And when you’re finished mixing, it will have a fuzzy yellow chick tint to it.

The last thing to do is to throw in the flour. Ulla was a little over excited on account of all the sugar, so she started up a little fast and tossed out half the flour. But it’s okay because I just added a little more. My point? Go slow. Soft. Gentle. You should end up with malleable dough.

I suggest you try it. I love the crunch of sugar in my teeth.

If you didn’t already, you should probably think about setting your oven to 300 degrees. Take the dough into your loving fingers and roll up some balls about 1 or 2 inches diameter. Probably closer to 1 inch, because it’s less calories. Which means you can eat more cookies. Plop ‘em down on the cookie sheet a couple inches apart.

From here you’re pretty much done. I left mine in the oven for exactly 13 minutes. But there are two ways to tell they’re done:

1. They haven’t browned but the sides are firm.
2. They’ve started to crack on top.

If you’re like me, you’ll want to stuff them in your face as quickly as you can. But don’t. Wait a minute or two until they harden up a bit. If you try to move them off the cookie sheet right away, they crumble. Which is a foreshadow of wonderful things to come.

As a sugar cookie baking novice, I am extremely pleased—delighted—in the ease of this recipe. I surprised my Brandon with a couple of these babies and a small glass of milk. He proceeded to dump heaping buckets of love and undying affection all over me. It was a big mess.