Soft Gingerbread Swig Sugar Cookies — The Taste of a Swedish Christmas Kitchen

St. Lucia Day — December 13. Sophie drove up from Minneapolis on Monday night, and on Tuesday morning, at six AM, she walked into our bedroom wearing the white robe and the candle crown and carrying a tray of lussebullar and coffee, and she sang "Santa Lucia" in the darkness, and Paul and I lay in bed and listened and I cried. I cried because she was beautiful. I cried because I was ten years old and wearing the same crown and walking into my parents' bedroom with the same song, and Mamma was in the bed and Pappa was in the bed and Lars and Erik and Karin and Astrid were all in their rooms waiting for their buns and coffee, and the house was dark except for the candles on my head and the whole world was small and warm and sacred. I cried because Mamma told me once that her mother, my Mormor in Uppsala, wore the crown too, in a farmhouse in Sweden in the 1920s, and her mother before her, and the line goes back into a darkness that I can't see but that I feel, a chain of daughters and candles and saffron buns stretching through centuries. Sophie held the tray steady and sang every verse and her voice was clear and true and the light from the crown made her face glow, and Paul put his hand over mine under the blankets and squeezed, and I thought: this is why we came to Duluth. This is why Mormor and Morfar got on the boat. So that a hundred years later, a girl named Sophie could wear the crown in a house by the lake and the tradition would hold. After the ceremony, we ate. Lussebullar — the saffron buns I'd made, golden and soft, torn apart and eaten with coffee while the sky was still dark. Sophie sat at the kitchen table in her white robe and crown and looked like a painting from another century, and I took a photo and sent it to Mamma and Mamma called back immediately and said, "She looks like you did," and that was the highest compliment Ingrid Johansson has ever given, and she hung up before I could respond because she was probably crying and Johansson women don't cry where people can hear them. The rest of the week was julbord preparation. The meatball assembly began — I make two hundred meatballs for Christmas Eve, rolled by hand, each one the size of a walnut. I started the Jansson's temptation — a casserole of thinly sliced potatoes, onions, and anchovies baked in cream. I pickled herring — three kinds: mustard, dill, and matjes. I began the rice pudding, which takes hours to cook properly because you stir it constantly and the rice absorbs the milk slowly and the kitchen smells like vanilla and patience. Sophie helped with the meatballs. Her rolling is getting better — round, consistent, the right size. I watched her hands and thought: those are nurse's hands. They'll be gentle with patients the way they're gentle with meatballs. The skills transfer. The countdown to Christmas Eve has begun. The kitchen is in full production. The candles are lit. The snow is falling. We are ready.

The week after Lucia morning, with the kitchen already deep into julbord mode — meatballs rolling, herring brining, rice pudding slowly thickening on the stove — Sophie and I needed something we could make together that felt festive but unhurried, something that filled the house with that warm gingerbread-and-butter smell that belongs to December the way candles belong to the crown. These soft gingerbread swig sugar cookies have become our answer to that need: pillowy, spiced, quick enough to fit between the bigger productions, and just sweet enough to reward a helper whose meatball-rolling has finally, finally gotten consistent. We press them, we frost them, and we eat them at the counter in our aprons, and that is its own small ceremony.

Soft Gingerbread Swig Sugar Cookies

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 cup packed brown sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 2 tablespoons molasses
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• For the frosting:
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
• 2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
• 3–4 tablespoons heavy cream
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• Pinch of cinnamon

Instructions

1. Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
2. Whisk dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. Set aside.
3. 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 together on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
4. Add wet ingredients. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in the molasses and vanilla extract until fully combined.
5. Combine. Reduce mixer speed to low and gradually add the dry ingredient mixture, mixing just until a soft dough comes together. Do not overmix.
6. Portion and press. Scoop dough into balls roughly 1 1/2 tablespoons each and place 2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets. Using the flat bottom of a glass, press each ball down to about 1/2-inch thickness to create the classic swig shape.
7. Bake. Bake for 9–11 minutes, until the edges are just set and the centers still look slightly underdone. Do not overbake — they will firm as they cool. Let cool on the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
8. Make the frosting. Beat butter until smooth. Add powdered sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon, then add heavy cream one tablespoon at a time and beat on medium-high until frosting is fluffy and spreadable.
9. Frost and serve. Spread a generous dollop of frosting onto each cooled cookie. Dust with a pinch of cinnamon or sprinkles if desired. Serve at the kitchen counter, preferably in an apron, with someone you love nearby.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 195 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 115mg