Fall Sugar Cookies and A Weekend in the Country

When you spend your mornings trudging up and down gritty city streets, squeezing yourself into over-crowded subway cars, and coming home in the dark, there is something utterly transforming about spending a weekend here:



My brother lives on a farm where the tomatoes are right now still heavy on the vine, black walnuts dangle high in the trees, and zinnias are hanging on next to the pumpkins and acorn squash. The old house creaks when you slide across the wide chestnut floors in bare feet. The windows in the upstairs bedrooms are as small as the rooms are cozy. And when a house is that old, when it rocks with its own history, isn't it difficult not to imagine children a century ago in their bedclothes saying their prayers? In fact, I think the upstairs bedroom is filled with benevolent spirits. I had my happiest dream ever in there (a baby, basked in light, happily gurgling on my chest while I sang -- hormones much?). Ghosts or no ghosts, I loved it.

Just as I loved sitting with my brother by the kitchen window and drinking blueberry coffee (sounds vile, I know, but it's not!), and taking a run together on Sunday, while he pretended that a slow crawl of a pace suited him just fine. Just as I also loved standing at the sink upstairs brushing my teeth with a breeze rustling past the pines and blowing straight through the window and onto my back. Later, we walked the property together checking for "mushy spots" before driving down the road and buying some eggs.

It's no secret I love Brooklyn, no unknown tidbit that I swoon for deftly-made artistic cappuccinos and late night Thai delivery. But there was something so completely restorative about surrendering to the rhythms and quietude of the country. I breathed all that open space right into my hunched lungs, swooned on the flagstone patio looking up at huge, quick-footed clouds. And up in the magical bedroom, I turned off the light and made my way to the little twin bed, tripping over furniture. There are some places in the world, far away from parking lot flood lights, where you remember why things are said to be black as night.

And on Sunday afternoon I settled into the kitchen (with a never-been-used Viking oven!) to make these cookies in the shape of pumpkins, bats, and cats, which I carried back to my dirty city in a paper bag filled with pine cones.



Basic Sugar Cookies
adapted from Everyday Food

2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In medium-sized bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. In another large bowl or the bowl of an electric, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in egg and vanilla. With mixer on low, gradually add flour mixture and beat until combined. Divide dough in half, and flatten into disks. Wrap each disk in plastic and freeze until firm, about 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F, and line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Remove one dough disk from the freezer and let stand 5 to 10 minutes. Roll out to 1/8 inch thickness between two sheets of floured parchment. Now for the fun part: pull out your cookie cutters and start cutting shapes. Using a spatula to transfer to prepared baking sheets. If while you're working the dough gets too soft, stick it back in the freezer for a few minutes. Bring the scraps into another disc and return to freezer for about 10 minutes. Let stand for 5 minutes before rolling out again and cutting more shapes. Repeat with second disc of dough.

Bake, rotating halfway through, until edges are golden, 10 to 18 minutes (depending on size of cookies). About 5 minutes before the cookies are done, sprinkle with sugar. Remove from oven and let cool.