Jelly Bean Cookies

Two weeks to Christmas and one month to January, which means: the December cooking is in full swing and the thinking-ahead is also in full swing and I am holding both simultaneously the way I have learned to hold multiple timelines, which is a teacher skill and also a person skill and also maybe specifically a me skill.

I have been doing the cookie assembly line this week: kolaczki packaged in tins, Russian tea cakes in a box, gingerbread cookies in bags tied with ribbon. The boxes and bags are from the dollar store. The cookies are from my kitchen. This is the gift I give: specific attention made into a form you can eat, wrapped in something that cost a dollar. I bring them to school, I mail them to Kristin (she asked, she gets them), I bring them to Steve and Patty. Steve always eats the gingerbread first. He does not comment on it. The cookies disappear. That is the comment.

I went to see Babcia Rose this week, just me, a Tuesday afternoon. I brought kolaczki. She tasted one and said the dough was colder this time. I said yes I chilled it overnight twice. She said that was right. Then she asked if we were trying for a baby yet. I said January. She looked at me and then looked at her kolaczki and then said good. She said she wanted to know this grandchild. I said she would. She said she intended to be here. I said I know, Babcia Rose. We understand each other.

The blog this week is a recap of the full Christmas cookie plan — what I am making, in what order, how to space out the work. It has been the most-bookmarked post I have written this month by a large margin. December is for this. December is for passing along the cookies and the method and the note that says: the dough needs to be cold, and the time is worth taking, and these are the things that taste like the person who made them.

The Christmas tins go out the door and then—if you are me—you immediately start thinking about what comes next, because January is close and the habit of making something for someone is not a habit you set down just because the ribbon is gone. These jelly bean cookies are what I reach for when the holiday urgency has passed but the kitchen still wants to be used: they are colorful and a little ridiculous and they make people smile the same way the gingerbread did, which is all I am ever really after. Babcia Rose would probably want to taste the dough temperature on these too, and I would let her.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 27 minutes | Servings: 36 cookies

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups small jelly beans (mixed colors, avoiding licorice if preferred)

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 375°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
Whisk dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt until evenly combined. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl using a hand mixer or stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the softened butter, granulated sugar, and brown sugar on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
Add eggs and vanilla. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in the vanilla extract until fully incorporated.
Combine wet and dry. Reduce mixer speed to low and gradually add the flour mixture, mixing just until no dry streaks remain. Do not overmix.
Fold in jelly beans. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold the jelly beans into the dough, distributing them evenly throughout.
Portion the dough. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing them about 2 inches apart. Press a few extra jelly beans onto the tops of each mound if you like color showing through.
Bake. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the edges are just set and the centers look barely underdone. They will firm up as they cool—do not overbake.
Cool. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to one week.

Nutrition (per serving)

Jelly Bean Cookies — The Assembly Line Keeps Going, Even After the Holidays