It started with Gary asking me to make Springerles, the German anise cookies his childhood neighbor, Mrs. Schlobaum, used to make. Three Christmases later, I am still in Springerle Hell.
Year One
Two days before Christmas I realize the cookies must mellow in an airtight container for two weeks. I abandon the project.
Year Two
I start earlier. My recipe requires a Springerle rolling pin engraved with pictures. I can’t find one anywhere. I find a new recipe that only calls for spooning the dough onto a cookie sheet.
Beating eggs and sugar for twenty minutes as instructed, I wonder if Mrs. Schlobaum had an electric mixer. I imagine a sturdy woman in a dirndl with a braid circling her head and Popeye muscles from beating Springerle dough. At nineteen minutes my mixer grinds to a halt. Overheated. Kaput.
What now, Mrs. Schlobaum? I still have to mix in the other ingredients. She tells me to do it the old fashioned way. I wonder if I need to wear a dirndl for that.
Baking Springerles is a two-day project. After letting the unbaked cookies dry at room temperature overnight, I bake them and store them in Tupperware until Christmas Eve.
“They’re really good,” Gary says.
“Like Mrs. Schlobaum’s?” I ask.
“Yes, except hers were rectangular and had pictures on them.”
Hmmmm.
Year Three
To help me channel Mrs. Schlobaum, I ask Gary to tell me more about her. Here’s what he remembers: She had white hair and a thin face. She wore flowered housedresses and aprons. She had a real elephant foot ashtray. Her grandson mowed her lawn until he cut off his finger in the mower. This is not helpful. I prefer my Mrs. Schlobaum.
I am determined to roll out the dough and put pictures on top. I still don’t have a Springerle rolling pin, but I have a cookie mold with Christmasy designs, a nonstick baking mat and nonstick rolling pin. I feel hopeful.
I prepare the dough and chill it several hours. I flour everything in sight to prevent sticking, but the gloppy stuff sticks to every nonstick surface anyway. I start over several times until finally the dough is rolled out. I push the cookie mold into the dough and lift it off.
Happy little snowmen and Santas smile up at me. Mrs. Schlobaum and I smile back. I start to cut them into rectangles, but I can’t cut around one without cutting into another or smushing them all up. I try to pick them up, but blobs of Santa and snowman bodies stick to the mat, leaving holes in their once plump middles.
“No! No!” they scream.
I realize I am the one screaming when Gary rushes into the kitchen. Springerle dough hangs from my fingers, my cheek, my hair.
“I will never make these damned cookies again,” I growl.
Gary nods solemnly and wisely backs away.
I end up making plain old rectangles - no pictures. I don’t care anymore. I’m done with Springerle.
But Mrs. Schlobaum won’t leave me alone. I am, after all, descended from a long line of stubborn Germans who hate to admit defeat. I Google Springerle rolling pins and contemplate ordering one.
Copyright 2009 by Liz Zuercher
Audrey was running out the door when remembered that she still needed to get her sister-in-law the yearly Neiman Marcus cover snow globe for Christmas – an unbreakable tradition of close to ten years. She went to the kitchen table, lifted the lid of her Mac, and checked her e-mails. She smiled when she found what she wanted: A half-day sale that started at ten central and ended at midnight. She checked her watch and smiled – definitely after ten central. She signed in, searched for the cover globe and found to her amazement that it was on sale – 30% off! It NEVER went on sale; AND there was free shipping. The song by Holu “Perfect Day” went streaming through her mind. She felt like Elle Woods going on her perfect day date. She saw other cute items on sale that her sister might want and called her but had to leave a message.
“Well,” she said to herself, “This sale goes till midnight, so I’ll wait to hear from Monica and finish this when I get back. She began to sing “…It’s a perrrrfect daaaaaay, Nothing's standing in my way, On this perrrrrfect daaaaay, Nothing can go wrong…”
Several easy and fruitful errands later, Monica, who was not interested in the mini snow globe nutcracker salt and paper shakers or anything else, called her back. She was so disgustingly frugal!
“Call me if you change your mind.”
“I won’t”
“Your loss,” said Audrey as she pulled into the garage.
She walked into the house and was greeted noisily by Mable, her ancient tabby cat. She tossed her purse on a chair and picked up Mable placing her in her arms like a baby. Mable demonstrated her appreciation for the scratching and loving by squeezing her eyes shut and purring. In baby talk she apologized to Mable, put her on the ground, woke the computer up with a swish of the mouse, and clicked on her basket. Time to purchase her prize.
“What the…?” she said in disbelief and went back to the search feature. She called up snow globes but there was no discount now.
“That is just not fair. It is not okay for them to say there is a sale and then take it away. What is this?”
She looked at the top of the screen for the 800 number and called. The phone rang too many times before it was picked up by someone rather young sounding with a southern accent.
“Thank you for calling Neiman Marcus. This is Wanda, how may I help you?”
“Wanda,” said Audrey rather sharply, “I was on line this morning a few hours ago, and your cover globe was on sale. I just went to purchase it, and it’s not. Can you please find out what is going on. The ad said that the sale was on till midnight.
“Yes mam, it is. Let me check.” Audrey was left to her frustrated thoughts while a musak version of “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen played in the background. This is a travesty she thought to herself. After too much time again, Wanda got back on the phone and apologized but that particular sale had been a very short term special. Even though she begged and cajoled, there was nothing Wanda could do. Audrey said, “Well I’ll just wait. Maybe it’ll come back around.”
Feeling stupid for not taking advantage of good things immediately, Audrey checked Neiman Marcus daily and often several times a day. She did get an e-mail that offered free gift-wrapping. Well, she thought, that, at least is something. This special was valid through the weekend.
When she went on-line on Monday morning and realized that she had lost the free shipping benefit she reverted to her five year old self and screamed to the house at large “Why does this always happen to me?” Mable shot across the floor as Audrey burst into tears. “I hate myself. Why do I do this? It’s not fair!” She went to the site and decided then to purchase it, but changed her mind figuring it wasn’t even December and something else had to come up. At least the free shipping seemed to be on-going.
Life went along more or less normally for her. She cooked, cleaned, played cards with her friends who, for some reason, had a plethora of right/time right/place success stories which made her feel even worse.
Going home after one of these depressing gatherings, she decided she’d just get the snow globe no matter what. She went on line, and her cart was empty. The globe had been in there every time she checked. She typed “snow globe” in the search box and it wasn’t even there. The cover globe was gone. Her heart dropped to her stomach and she picked up the phone to call.
On hold again for a long time, the young man got on the line and said it was sold out. There were no more.
Audrey hung up the phone and began to cry hysterically. One would have thought her child had been killed. She felt like Boris Yellnikoff in Whatever Works and considered jumping out a window to her death, but she figured that like Boris, she would probably just get injured.
She felt like a fool and idiot and called herself every name in the book. How could she face Wendy at Christmas without her yearly globe? Wendy would have purchased it herself if she’d known it wasn’t going to be a gift. She was panicked because she didn’t want to disappoint and felt stupid for not taking advantage of things as they appeared.
After calming down and realizing that this really wasn’t the end of the world, Audrey called her local Neiman Marcus store. She prayed that there was one in the back. Just one. She’d even take the floor sample.
Geri answered the phone. Sweet, and giggly, and said they were sold out. Audrey begged her to check their back stock. After waiting a long time on hold, which in this case she didn’t mind, she was told that Geri had not just found one, but an entire crate full. Audrey was saved. She gave her credit card and Geri even said she’d put a bow on it for her.
So she didn’t get her discount and she didn’t get her free shipping, but she did get a bow, and she did get the gift. Life was good.
copyright 2009 Nancy Grossman-Samuel
