12 Cookies for Persephone
A Winter Solstice Cookie Box
5 days. 13 doughs. 1 bottle of wine. 2 jams. 6 botanicals. 5 fruits. 12 cookies.
And one problem cookie that had to be remade three times. (The thumbprints if you’re wondering.)
I wanted quiet. After months straight of computer screens, zoom calls, and back-to-back events, I wanted to be away from my desk and to do something with my hands. Baking is half science, half art — precise enough to require focus, forgiving enough to allow instinct. So I decided: people were getting Winter Solstice Cookie Boxes this year! The project took the better part of a week, and it was exactly the kind of meditative chaos I needed.
Side note: I’ve only ever baked cookies a few times in my life, so why not start with an incredibly complicated project? Very on brand for me.
I’m obsessed with cèilidh’s gorgeous 12 holiday cookies. I loved the ambition, the diversity of the cookies, the textures. I used her base recipes and modified them for Winter Solstice. Follow cèilidh for the base recipes. My modifications are below!
Like Persephone’s descent to the underworld, the project was a J.O.U.R.N.E.Y. With a project this complicated, I plan A LOT so I don’t devolve into a destructive whirling dervish and give up. I started by dreaming up what a winter solstice cookie box might look (and taste) like.
What makes a solstice cookie? To each their own, but here is where my ancestors guided me…
Winter solstice isn’t red and green and candy canes. It’s the longest night of the year. The sun at its weakest. The moon at her highest. Darkness before the return of light. My flavor profiles:
Pomegranate for Persephone — underworld fruit, death and return
Elderflower for the threshold — the in between spaces
Smoked salt for the fire — what keeps you alive in the dark
Pine needle for what survives the frost — I used Eastern White Pine Needles. (Make sure yours are food-safe — not all conifers are edible. Some will literally poison you.)
Plus: bay leaf, juniper, rosemary, sesame, molasses, mulled wine, pear, fig, blood orange. So, survival foods. Ancient sweeteners. Evergreen botanicals. What’s in the cellar when nothing grows. Color palette: black, silver, deep red, pale ivory, amber. Not a candy cane in sight.
The 12 Solstice Cookies
Cardamom Black Sesame Lace Sandwich Cookies with Black Sesame Chocolate Ganache » Swapped chai for cardamom, white chocolate for black sesame chocolate ganache.
Sugar Plum Sandwich Cookies with Cherry & Blackberry Jam » Swapped plum jam for cherry & blackberry.
Dark Chocolate Biscotti with Mascarpone Fig Glaze » Swapped tiramisu flavors for dark chocolate + mascarpone fig glaze.
Parsnip Bay Leaf Black Pepper Cookie with Pear Glaze » Swapped cinnamon for bay leaf + black pepper, vanilla glaze for pear glaze.
Frosted Elderflower Moon Cookies with Silver Luster » Swapped eggnog for elderflower cordial and added dried elderflowers.
Smoked Salt Molasses Gingersnaps » Swapped white tea for smoked salt instead of a glaze.
Pomegranate Juniper Rosemary Thumbprints » Swapped cranberry for pomegranate, added juniper.
Pine Needle Crescent Sugar Cookies » Swapped fig leaf for pine needle.
Dark Chocolate Mulled Wine Swirls » Swapped cabernet for mulled wine.
Blood Orange Almond Snowballs » Swapped pomelo for blood orange.
Fennel Anise Stars » Swapped peppermint for anise.
Roasted Chestnut Sablés » No changes. Already peak solstice.
The rhythm of a baking week
Component prep came first. Jams, reductions, candied citrus, toasted nuts, infused sugars. Things that need time. (I started the mulled wine reduction at 10pm one night and stood there stirring until midnight. Worth it.)
Then dough batching — this was the most efficient part of the process. Most of these need to chill overnight anyway, so I made them nearly all of the doughs first.
Then baking days. Music playing, hours alone in the kitchen, the satisfaction of watching something come together. By the end: twelve kinds of cookies, boxed and ready for the people I love.
Then assembling, frosting, glazing, and topping. I love-hate this part of the process. I love the beauty, hate the stickiness. I got a second wind here, starting to see how lovely the final result would be!
Obviously, my metal Nosferatu sarcophagus was put to use.
A few favorites
The great thing about a cookie box is that there is something for even the most discerning of witches.
Elderflower Moons — Elderflower cordial in both the dough and the buttercream, cut into rounds, frosted white, dusted with edible silver luster. They look like something you’d leave out for a winter spirit. These were everyone’s favorite.
Mulled Wine Swirls — I reduced a full bottle of wine with cinnamon, cloves, star anise, and orange peel until it was 1/4 cup of syrup! Two doughs spiraled together: dark chocolate and the mulled wine reduction. The smell while these bake? Unreal. My whole house smelled like a medieval tavern.
Pine Needle Crescents — Foraged pine needles ground into sugar until it turned pale green and faintly resinous. They taste like a snowy forest. Big witch energy.
Pomegranate Rosemary & Juniper Thumbprints — This was the problem cookie. I had to redo them THREE times. They kept rising too much, pushing out the thumbprint and the jelly. SEND ME TIPS. Because it was the only cookie disaster, I pushed through instead of scraping it. They ended up being my favorite taste profile. I put so much herb in the jelly it tasted sharp and medicinal. Probably not for everyone but I loved them!
It was a chaotic week, but I’d do it all again. But not until Persephone returns.
12 Cookies for Persephone: 10/10. Highly recommend.
What did I miss? What Winter Solstice flavors would you use?
xo
Alys
Coolio Cookies! You are so talented. In so many ways!
Sounds amazing! I have never been very good at baking sweets, I think because I lack the commitment, lol. It is definitely an art and a science.