Equal Parts

Jeff and I both speak a love language called Doing Chores.

“I’ll do the dishes. I like the dishes.”

“No, I’ll do the dishes, because nobody likes the dishes.”

When one of us has an unexpected day off from work we can usually be found scrubbing the bathroom from top to bottom, laundering sheets and towels, vacuuming all corners for errant dust bunnies, and prepping dinner. (As nice as it is to be on the receiving end of these acts, it’s as much self-love as an expression to the other. Our behavior was the same when we were single.)

There is one chore I gripe about, however, and that is dry cleaning. Not the physical act of taking and retrieving it, but the larger societal representations and economic impacts to my life. I take issue with the feeling of having to buy my clothes again. I already own this dress, now I have to pay before I wear it again? Why are my shirts three times the cost of my husband’s? For $60, I should have bought a new heavy blanket!

If I was more objective about this issue I would accept the maintenance expense as I do for an oil change, tire rotation, or even the quarterly highlighting of my hair. Or I would start a fashion line of classically-styled, washable, affordable, wrinkle-free, quality dresses. But until I mature I will continue to part with a large chunk of my bank account and a small piece of my soul every time I pick up our dry-cleaning.

During the first eleven months of every year, I am the type of person who exercises restraint at Target; in December I purchase every ornament and wrapping paper that catches my attention. I’m usually not a movie repeater, but starting the day after Thanksgiving I re-watch Home Alone, Elf, Christmas Vacation, and Bridget Jones’s Diary. The Spirit of Christmas turns me into a version of myself I am usually not, and this extends to my relationship with dry cleaning.

So eager was I to make Christmas cookies earlier this week that I didn’t even bother to change into my kitchen clothes. Poof! Flour all over my black work pants. Poof! Powdered sugar all over my sweater. I had no regrets. Both pieces of clothing went directly into the dry cleaning bag, and I happily planted myself on the couch for the remainder of the evening and snacked on brandy-infused shortbread.

This recipe is inspired by the local Sister Pie bakery (and now cookbook)! I’ve adored Sister Pie’s holiday “Shortbread Trio” since they set up shop, and I knew that I would make some version at home this year. Here is a simplified take on the Buttered Rum Shortbread, swapping the alcohol for brandy, my preferred holiday spirit.

BUTTERED BRANDY SHORTBREAD

For the dough, you’ll need:
2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 cup powdered sugar
2 tbsp brandy
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

For the icing, you’ll need:
3/4 cup powdered sugar
2 tbsp heavy cream, room temperature
2 tsp coconut oil, melted
2 tsp brandy
1/4 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Meanwhile, cream together the butter and powdered sugar in a stand mixer with the paddle attachment. When creamy, add the brandy and vanilla and mix until combined. Remove dough from bowl and shape into a log as wide as you’d like your cookies to be. Wrap and place in the refrigerator for about 45 minutes. Line baking sheets with parchment paper and remove dough from refrigerator. Using a sharp knife, cut into slices about 1/4 inch thick. Place on baking sheet and bake for about 15 minutes, checking frequently at the end until they are just toasty. Remove from the oven and cool on wire racks. Meanwhile, make the icing. Whisk the powdered sugar, heavy cream, coconut oil, brandy, and salt together in bowl, adding more cream or sugar if necessary to get to your desired consistency. Use a spatula or spoon to spread a thin layer on top of the cookies and let harden.