Lemon Thumbprint Cookies — The Extra That Says You Are Worth the Effort

Sophie's daughter Ingrid is one year old this season. The Kenwood kitchen has a high chair again. The high chair is a thirty-five-year-old artifact pulled from the basement and scrubbed clean and assembled at the same kitchen table where Anna and Peter and Elsa once sat in it. Ingrid sits in it now. Ingrid eats the same applesauce and the same banana bread and the same baby version of meatballs. The kitchen receives the new generation without comment, the way the kitchen has always received everyone. Anna had a small surgery. She is fine. I drove to Minneapolis for two weeks to help. I cooked. I cleaned. I cared. Anna said: "Mom, I had forgotten you were a nurse." I said: "I haven't." The thirty-five years at St. Mary's are not the kind of thing that fades. The skills come back at the first request. The hands remember how to take a pulse. The eyes remember how to read a face for pain. The role is permanent. Elsa and Tom came for the weekend. Tom helped me move the heavy planters in the garden — the big terracotta ones I bought at a yard sale in 1995 that I cannot lift anymore. He did not ask. He just did it. He is the quiet kind of man Paul was. I see why Elsa loves him. The quiet men are not the loudest in the room, but they are usually the most useful. Paul taught me this by example. Tom is teaching it by repetition. I cooked Tater tot hotdish this week. Ground beef and onion browned in the cast iron, drained, mixed with cream of mushroom soup (yes, the can; Mamma uses the can; the can is acceptable), green beans, salt, pepper, a pour of milk to loosen. Spread in the casserole dish. Tater tots arranged in concentric rings on top. Forty minutes at 350. The smell is unmistakable. The smell is Minnesota. Thursday at Damiano. I brought a tray of pepparkakor — the second batch from the Christmas freezer, brought back to crispness in a low oven. They were eaten in fifteen minutes. The cookies are not the soup. The cookies are the extra. The extra is the message: you are worth the effort of cookies. Most of the world does not give the people who come to Damiano the message that they are worth the effort of cookies. The cookies are doing political work. I dreamed about Paul last night. The dream was specific: we were at the lake, in the canoe, fishing for trout. He was teaching me the right way to cast (he was always trying to teach me; I never quite got the rhythm; I caught fish anyway, by accident, with embarrassing regularity). In the dream he was patient and present and entirely himself. I woke up at 4 AM. I made coffee. I sat in the kitchen. The dream was a visit. I have learned to receive the visits without reaching for them. They come when they come. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. It is enough.

The pepparkakor at Damiano were gone in fifteen minutes — and I have been thinking ever since about what it means to bring the extra, to be the person who shows up with cookies when soup was already enough. These lemon thumbprint cookies are that same impulse in a different shape: a little bright, a little sweet, a little more than was strictly necessary, which is exactly the point. When Ingrid is old enough to sit at the table and reach for one, I want her to already know, in her hands and her mouth, that this kitchen has always made the extra.

Lemon Thumbprint Cookies

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 14 min | Total Time: 34 min (plus 30 min chill) | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 2/3 cup powdered sugar, sifted
• 1 tablespoon lemon zest (from about 2 lemons)
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup good-quality lemon curd (store-bought or homemade)
• Extra powdered sugar for dusting, optional

Instructions

1. Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and powdered sugar together with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until pale and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl.
2. Add flavorings. Mix in the lemon zest, vanilla extract, and salt until fully combined.
3. Add flour. Reduce mixer to low and add the flour in two additions, mixing just until the dough comes together and no dry streaks remain. Do not overmix.
4. Chill the dough. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. This keeps the cookies from spreading and makes them easier to handle.
5. Preheat and portion. Heat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Roll chilled dough into 1-inch balls (about 1 heaping tablespoon each) and place 2 inches apart on the prepared sheets.
6. Make the thumbprints. Press your thumb or the back of a round teaspoon firmly into the center of each ball to create a well. If the dough cracks at the edges, gently press it back together.
7. Fill and bake. Spoon about 1/2 teaspoon of lemon curd into each well. Bake for 12–14 minutes, until the edges are just barely golden and the bottoms are set. The centers will look soft — that is correct.
8. Cool completely. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Dust lightly with powdered sugar before serving if desired. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 4 days, or freeze (unfilled) for up to 2 months.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 138 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 15g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 32mg