I had my project for this post done yesterday, but I felt…silly, I guess, for wanting to post about it. But working in the kitchen, doing something with my hands in general, always makes me feel a little bit better about the world. The universe seems so much simpler when I view it through a measuring cup.
When we face the horrific parts of life, it is natural to seek the comfort of normalcy. Mine are the anise cookies that my grandma made every year for Christmas. It’s been years since I had them, but they always mean Christmas to me. So last night, trying to find some comfort and sense in the world, I decided to make them for the first time.
I used three recipes kind of rolled into one.
It’s a simple recipe, really, and a simple kind of joy.
I guess it’s fitting. No one can go back in time (yet), so I made the cookies with my own twist.
I still feel silly for posting – who the hell cares about my cookies?
But if you are looking for some meaning, or reason, or little tiny piece of joy in an otherwise dark time, then all I can suggest is that you find a recipe that you remember with comfort, and you go bake.
You say Polymath like it's a bad thing... 
I care about your cookies. I care.