Delayed Gratification

This summer, while camping with my folks, we made our annual jaunt to the outlet mall between our home and the campground. At the kitchen store, I found a new, fancy, stainless-steel cookie press. There were other cookie presses - some battery operated! - but I was drawn to this one. It looked... substantial. Like it would not break mid-cookie-batch and leave me with a big bowl of unshaped, unbaked green cookie dough three hours before I needed to take cookies to my kids' fine-arts-class end-of-year-celebration. Not that I'm holding a grudge or anything.

So I bought it. And it sat in its box in an upper cabinet in my kitchen for six months, waiting. Waiting to prove itself to me. Waiting to flex its muscles, click its ratchet, gleam in the glow of mid-morning December sunlight, and press cookies worthy of a magazine cover onto my humble but well-greased cookie sheets.

Late this week we had home economics and applied math (emphasis: fractions) class in the kitchen this morning and put the cookie press to the cookie test.

At first, I was thrilled. THRILLED! What excitement, to press the lever, hear the little, satisfying "click," then lift to see a perfect little green tree resting on the cookie sheet. Success! A ha! I am now a cookie goddess! I shall make a hundred batches! I shall give them to everyone I know! mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha..... DD caught the fever and insisted upon taking over lever duty. I obliged, but stayed near to assist.

Alas, our dreams of world domination via sugar cookies were dashed somewhere in the middle of pan number four. We did the same thing we had been doing, all along, when all of a sudden... no "click." More like, "clunk." Lift the press... no cookie. Only a small smoosh of dough clinging to the bottom of the disc. Mutter, mutter... pull the lever, try again. "Clunk."

Clunk, indeed. Just for fun, I got onto Amazon to see if anyone had reviewed this cookie press. Oh, yes, indeedy... mine was not the only disappointing experience. If you're in the market for a new cookie press, you can go here and read what NOT to buy.

Meanwhile, the rest of the dough became... thumbprint cookies. Not nearly as fun and tasty as little Christmas trees. Bah, humbug. But at least they all were eaten. Multi-colored sprinkles are just irresistable, no matter the appearance of the cookie on which they are delivered.