In response to the wonderful readers who were kind enough to comment on my previous post regarding recipes to contribute to my new family's Easter gathering, I wanted to report back. In the end, I chose a lemon sugar cookie that seemed easy and was small enough so people had to eat the entire cookie, not half and then hand it back to me. That always leaves a girl in a bit of a funk.
At a small gathering the night before Easter, a few of us were chatting about holiday food and what was to be expected the next day. The husband's family is one of great tradition, particularly in the way of food. In other words, don't mess with Mama Pasz's kielbasa. They like what they like and years of tradition say they can. As I left that night, I gulped hard, and immediately wondered where the nearest Toledo bakery was located. Would my debut as a wife be forever remembered by my uneaten lemon cookies?
I arrived with the precious yellow cylinders in a well-thought-out, clear case (tupperware) and tried to sneak them into the mix on the main table. Beautiful, traditional, perfected food surrounded them from every angle but as I walked away, I swear one of them said to me "Meg, relax. We can hold our own. We may look boring due to your blatent laziness and refusal to package us pretty, we may be sitting next to the veteran creamy banana pudding, oozing with perfection, but we got this."
In the end, I'm not sure if the family sensed my insecurity and was just kind, or if I am officially capable of baking something people don't hand back to me. All I know is that from a room away, I heard, "These cookies should be tradition."
Sweet, sweet success.
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