Sustainable Traditions: The Cookie Cutter Quest That Proved Love Is Limitless
- Evelyn Jack
- Feb 18
- 3 min read
Some treasures aren’t buried in the ground, glinting gold under layers of earth. Some treasures are found in the simplest of things—like a well-worn set of cookie cutters, shaped by time, love, and generations of hands pressing them into dough.
This is a story of love, connection, and a sentimental scavenger hunt for the past.
Baking, The Heart of a Family
My mother was born in 1950, the second oldest of six children. My grandmother wasn’t much of a cook, but she could bake. And when Christmas rolled around, baking became the highlight of the year. In a house filled with chaos and six young, eager hands, the act of rolling out dough, pressing cookie cutters into it, and filling the house with the scent of anise—a spice so uniquely nostalgic it might as well be bottled as "Christmas Past"—was a ritual of joy.
Years later, when my mother had children of her own, the tradition traveled with her. My parents were hippies—wanderers who eventually settled in Colorado but never quite abandoned their free-spirited roots. We were miles, states, and economic realities away from the extended family she had grown up with. The cookie recipe, passed down through generations, became more than just a Christmas treat; it was a thread connecting us to a family we rarely saw. In each batch, there was a little bit of my mother’s childhood, a little bit of my grandmother’s hands in the mix, a little bit of the family that existed somewhere far away but still, somehow, close.
The Treasure Hunt Begins
Decades later, my uncle—my mother’s brother, now in his sixties—mentioned, almost wistfully, that he didn’t have the cookie cutters anymore. He had the memories, sure, but not the tangible relics that had shaped them. He longed for the simple metal tools that had made magic in their childhood kitchen.
And my mother? She had the originals.
But what is love if not the desire to give someone back a piece of themselves? That’s how my husband (a.k.a. The Dread Pirate Wesley, or "Dreadly" for short) and I found ourselves on a mission. A true treasure hunt—not for gold, not for jewels, but for something infinitely more valuable: memories.
We scoured antique stores, secondhand shops, and hidden little nooks that smelled of dust and forgotten stories, searching for duplicates of the very cookie cutters my mother had inherited. Each one we found felt like a small victory, like unearthing a relic from a personal archaeological dig.
And then, serendipity struck—we found a camel.
A camel was never part of my family’s original cookie cutter collection, but somehow, it felt right. A new addition to the old tradition. A symbol of how traditions evolve, carrying both the weight of the past and the excitement of the future.
A Box Full of Love
Once we had them all, we found a festive tin—because every treasure deserves a proper chest—and packed them up with care. It wasn’t just a set of cookie cutters we were sending. It was childhood. It was Christmas mornings and the smell of anise and the sound of laughter in a kitchen where the oven warmed more than just dough—it warmed hearts.
We sent them off, knowing that not all gifts are measured in dollars. Some are measured in love, in time, in the effort it takes to say, "I remember, and I want you to remember too."
The True Value of Treasure
When we talk about treasure, we often think of the rare, the expensive, the unattainable. But the greatest treasures are the ones that remind us who we are, who we love, and where we come from.
Cookie cutters.
A recipe that carries the scent of the past.
A family, stitched together across miles and decades.
This, my friends, is the kind of treasure worth hunting for.
What’s a small, seemingly ordinary object that holds extraordinary meaning in your life? Tell me in the comments—I’d love to hear your stories.
Love the texture of this story. I'm thinking the generational baking and fond memories can apply to many families.