These are the greatest sugar cookies you will ever eat. I'm not kidding. They are the greatest. They are soft. They are buttery. They are not too sweet. (Which is important because the frosting is also the greatest.) I made these for a bridal shower and this is what my friend had to say about it.
"They were a hit! You can totally make bank with your mad baking skills. They had a delicious hint of vanilla and were the perfect sweetness and the ideal softness. I'm picky when it comes to baked goods. Dang Gina."
Awesome. My sister raved about them too. She said they're way better than anything store bought, which I took as a huge compliment because people LOVE those store bought pink frosted sugar cookies.
But of course, there's a story to their greatness. I knew I had to make sugar cookies by Wednesday, so I decided to make them in steps (to reduce my anxiety). The plan was this: Monday: make dough. Tuesday: cut and bake. Wednesday: frost and deliver. And then it was Monday. . . and I felt like I couldn't follow through with my plan. Baking felt formidable. I almost called Sarah and told her I couldn't do the cookies. I even cried a little. The only reason any baking happened this week was because of one man. Stephen. Harold. Tobowlowsky. You know. . . "Ned. RYERSON!"
Listening to his podcasts is calming to me. I don't know why. Maybe it's his slightly congested sounding voice. Maybe it's the stories. Maybe it's the funky background music. I don't know. But I love him. (Sidebar: I'm watching the Pilot episode of The Mindy Project and he just came on. Weeeeird...) That night I was only planning to make sugar cookie dough, but so great was the power of Mr. Tobowlowsky that I made the dough AND rolled it out AND cut it AND baked it. Boom. (OH! And while the dough was chilling I made a completely unexpected batch of oatmeal cookies. Just because I COULD).
On Wednesday afternoon I frosted the cookies with help from my mom and no help from Stephen. It was really hard. I had a lot on anxiety about it. I cried. I obsessively washed my hands. . . and a theory started to form in my head. Ned the Head = less anxiety. . . hmm. . .
I didn't wake up yesterday planning to bake anything. But then I decided I wanted to test my theory . . . so last night I downloaded three podcasts, pressed play, and proceeded to bake TWO loaves of cinnamon bread, a batch of chocolate pudding cookies with peanut butter chips, AND a batch of sugar cookie dough (just to have some on hand). And I did it without anxiety or heart palpitations. Thank you, Stephey. I liked you before, I adore you now. And I wish I could say thank you. How do you feel about pink frosted sugar cookies? . . . Because I've heard mine are pretty good.