“Do you have any big plans for Thanksgiving, girls?”
My sister and I shared a glance and then answered our pastor in unison.
“We’re going to make turkey cookies!”
“Turkey cookies?” He asked as we ran from the narthex, bursting into giggles.
We thought it was funny as children. Every Thanksgiving, we would brag how our mom made the best-ever turkey cookies, waiting for the inevitable raised eyebrow and skeptical response.
In retrospect, I wonder whether others were really taken-for or whether they were simply humoring a weird bunch of kids who thought they were clever. Either way, after having our secret laugh, we’d fess up: They were cut-outs made from Mom’s secret (and seriously amazing, but sans actual turkey) recipe, formed by Mom’s aluminum gobbler-shaped cookie cutter.
Oh, but they were the best turkey cookies. Except at Christmastime, when we pulled out the star and the snowman and the reindeer – then they were the best star and snowman and reindeer cookies.
Mom knew the secret to a good cut-out cookie is its thickness. See, cut-out cookies – especially turkeys – require sprinkles and jimmies and red hots. But you need a good, hefty layer of frosting to hold all those goodies. And if you’re going to have a hefty layer of frosting, you need a good, thick cookie as a foundation. By Mom’s standard, your cookie is doomed if your dough is anything less than ½” thick prior to cutting.
Despite economic hardship, Mom had a way of making small moments in life thick enough to carry the icing and nonpareils of family tradition. Those half-inch moments were so precious that when asked what my sister wanted to inherit from Mom, her only request was, “the turkey cookie cutter.”
As Mom’s health declined, we tried to coordinate one last turkey cookie decorating get-together for my sister but try as we might we could not find the fowl little guy. The loss of the cutter was honestly distressing to my mother, who wanted nothing more than to give my sister the cutter while she was still alive to see it bring her joy. To honor my mother, my sister did the most remarkable thing: She found an identical turkey cookie cutter on the interwebs and purchased it, gifting it to Mom.
Mom carefully tucked it away, and it, too, became a lost bird.
After Mom passed, our little run of turkeys (I refer here to the actual cookie cutters, not to my brothers) showed up in the most unlikely-but-somehow-logical place: Mom’s old recipe box. They were rehomed to my sister, where they will be cherished. Little Lady and I eagerly await our chance to visit her and keep the turkey cookie tradition alive.
As we near the holiday season, I can’t help but feel gratitude for the gift of tradition that family brings. Seemingly insignificant items – like aluminum cookie cutters – become precious heirlooms simply because they tell the stories we love hearing over and over: The story of family, the story of home, the story of love.
What is it in your home? What trinkets or traditions keep your family stories alive?
Whatever it is – I hope you’ll cherish it and tell the tale to another generation.
We’ve been practicing with Little Lady.
“When someone asks you what you’re planning for Thanksgiving, what will you say?”
“I’m going to visit my Auntie and make turkey cookies!”
From my heart to yours,
Oh what sweet memories.
I’ve never made sugar cookies .
Rita has mastered them quite well and usually makes some to share her dad loves them.
Enjoy you “Turkey Cookies” and your time reminiscing of times gone by and making new ones with Little Lady.
Love you
What a gift you have, Sarah! This was so worth the wait! I wish I had better words, but all I can think of are the wonderful images left from this story. Thank you, and God bless your holidays. Thank you so much for sharing this!!!