They arrived before noon, unloading bags of ingredients. Flour, sugar (granulated, powdered, and brown), eggs, and the rest of what they’d need to bake the day away materialized in Grandma’s kitchen.

Grandma had the brownies cooling on the counter when they got there. And she’d rearranged. She had room on all the counters, tables, and cabinets to hold the ingredients, mix the dough, and store the finished products. When Aunt Sarah arrived with her teen-aged granddaughters and unloaded the car, the only thing she didn’t bring was her kitchen sink. Her standing mixer, food processor, and four bags of ingredients appeared. They had to bring a folding table up from Grandma’s basement so they’d have enough room for everything.

The fragrance of rich chocolate from the brownies wafted out when the door opened. Aunt Merrin had arrived earlier and had the oven preheating while she dropped the first batch of chocolate chip cookie dough onto the baking sheet. Ten minutes later, the house smelled like a bakery. Two sheets, and two and a half dozen cookies emerged from the oven every fifteen to twenty minutes.
By this time, everyone had arrived, adding to the festive chaos that claimed the afternoon.

They all found the task to which they were best suited. Aunt Merrin dropped raw dough onto the cooled baking sheets, rotating baked and baking dough. The cousins, Kallie and Lucy, mixed the ingredients with the standing mixer. Aunt Sarah gathered the ingredients the girls needed for the dough while showing them proper mixing techniques. Grandma stood out of the way, camera in hand.

“Grandma,” that was Kallie. “You put too much butter in this bowl. I’ll have to double the recipe.”

“Er, that one makes almost four dozen,” replied Grandma. “How far did you get?”

“All that butter, two eggs, and a cup of sugar.”

“Pull half of it out and put it aside. You should be able to use that for the next batch. Then add another egg and half a cup of sugar to what’s left. That should do it.”

The measuring, mixing, and baking choreography of the kitchen continued throughout the day. Mouth-watering aromas emanated from the oven. The redolent scent of cinnamon, sugar, and chocolate permeated the house as the cookie marathon carried through the afternoon.

“What are you doing?” asked Aunt Sarah.

“Measuring out twelve tablespoons.”

“Why? The recipe calls for three quarters cup. I showed you how to measure.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. Grandma saw. Aunt Sarah didn’t. Aunt Merrin had the oven, and herself, on standby while the next batch of dough chilled in the refrigerator.

Sometime early in the afternoon, Grandma pulled out a roasting pan and fired up the outdoor cooker. She put a fresh ham in the pot, setting it on the now hot grill. Aunt Merrin cut up half a bag of carrots, coating them in oil, then frying them in Grandma’s biggest cast-iron skillet. An hour later, everyone sat down to a supper of ham, fried carrots, and cheesy noodles.

When they finished eating, the cookie choreography continued. This time, the girls rolled out the chilled dough, then used angel, tree, and snowman shaped cutters to make the Christmas confections. Grandma noticed they’d rolled out the dough in varying thicknesses. Some would spread out into barely recognizable shapes as they baked. Grandma smiled to herself. They’ll learn.

By the time the sun set, everyone was tired, sugared out, and bordering on cranky. Several pans still awaited their turn to enter the oven. Dishes piled higher in the sink, waiting their turn for the dishwasher. Flour and sugar dusted the floor, making tracks as the kitchen dance left patterns in the fine coating.

When the final baking sheet finished cooking and they turned off the oven, they’d baked more than eighteen dozen cookies. Then it was time to distribute the horde. Grandma put a few of each variety into decorative tubs to be given as gifts on Christmas day.

Two hours later, Aunt Sarah packed her kitchen (except the sink) back into the car, along with half the cookie tubs. Grandma waved goodbye as her girls took off up the driveway, heading home, grateful to spend another holiday sharing the joy of baking.