By Christmas week. The baking is done, the tree is lit, the house smells like balsam and ginger and the particular warmth of a kitchen that's been running at full capacity for two weeks. Helen's cookie tins are stacked on the counter — oatmeal, sugar, molasses, gingerbread. The maple candy bags are ready for distribution. The turkey is ordered. The clipboard is deployed. We are, by any military standard, at full readiness for Christmas 2017.
David and Karen arrived Saturday with the kids. Teddy walked in and went straight to the bookshelf, because he's seven and has his priorities sorted. Anna, four, went straight to the cookie tin, because she's four and has her priorities equally sorted. James, fifteen months, went straight to Frost, because he's fifteen months and the dog is the most interesting thing in any room. Frost accepted his fate with the weary grace of a border collie who has been climbed on before and expects to be climbed on again.
Christmas Eve dinner: Helen's prime rib. The crown jewel. Three ribs, rubbed with garlic and rosemary and salt, roasted at 500 for twenty minutes then 325 until medium-rare. Yorkshire pudding — the batter puffing into golden bowls of air. Roasted potatoes. Helen's horseradish sauce, grated with tears and assembled with cream. The kitchen smelled like the best restaurant in Vermont, which it was, because Helen's kitchen is the best restaurant in Vermont and has been for thirty-seven years.
Sarah and Tom arrived Christmas Eve afternoon. Ben, now three and a half, ran in shouting about Santa. Lucy, eight months, arrived asleep and stayed asleep through the entire greeting, which shows excellent judgment for a person who hasn't been alive a year yet.
After dinner, after the dishes, after the children were arranged in sleeping bags on the living room floor like very small, very loud luggage, Helen and I sat by the woodstove. The tree lights reflected off the windows. Frost lay between our chairs. The house creaked in the cold the way old houses do — settling, breathing, holding. Helen put her head on my shoulder, which she does on Christmas Eve, and I put my arm around her, which I do on Christmas Eve, and neither of us said anything because Christmas Eve is not for talking. It's for sitting in the dark with the tree lit and the fire going and the people you love sleeping around you and knowing, with absolute certainty, that this is enough. This is everything. This is the whole thing.
Merry Christmas. The prime rib was perfect. The house is full. The star tilts. We glow.
Helen’s cookie tins were the first thing Anna went for when she walked through the door — oatmeal on top, because that’s always the one that disappears first — and I think that tells you everything you need to know about why these cookies belong in the rotation. The prime rib gets the glory on Christmas Eve, but the cookies are what make the house feel ready; they’re the signal that the season has officially begun. These chewy pumpkin oatmeal cookies are what I’d add to the tin next year: warmly spiced, soft in the middle, and exactly the kind of thing that holds up for days on a cold Vermont counter.
Chewy Pumpkin Oatmeal Cookies
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 27 minutes | Servings: 24 cookies
Ingredients
- 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
- 1 cup packed brown sugar
- 1/2 cup granulated sugar
- 3/4 cup pumpkin puree (not pumpkin pie filling)
- 1 large egg
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/2 teaspoon fine salt
- 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
- 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
- 3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
- 3/4 cup raisins or chocolate chips (optional)
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
- Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat softened butter with brown sugar and granulated sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
- Add wet ingredients. Beat in the pumpkin puree, egg, and vanilla extract until fully combined. The mixture may look slightly curdled — that’s normal.
- Combine dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and cloves.
- Mix together. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture and stir until just combined. Fold in the rolled oats and raisins or chocolate chips if using.
- Scoop and bake. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto prepared baking sheets, spacing about 2 inches apart. Gently flatten each mound slightly with the back of a spoon.
- Bake. Bake for 11–13 minutes, until the edges are set and the centers look just slightly underdone. Do not overbake — they firm up as they cool.
- Cool. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely. Store in an airtight tin at room temperature for up to 5 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 175 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 95mg