This post is being written in secret. It wouldn’t have to be a stealth mission, but something bad happened. Something really awful has struck this kitchen in these times of holiday glow and glory.

All the Rainbow Cookies are gone.

For the holidays we’ve gone east, to that big noisy place that sometimes goes as New York. Where the snow is always yellow, there’s dog excrement all over the ground, and everyone’s in a big, great hurry somewhere. But oh, yeah. It’s also that fantastic place where there’s always something going on, there’s museums and culture coming out of everywhere—buildings that go on for miles, an obelisk or two—there’s a whole world’s worth of cuisines and people on one island, and there’s something about that park in the middle. Right. It’s beautiful in the snow. It’s a pretty good place, second only to California if I may add a little bit of bias. Which—revelation number two, here it is—I can. A blog, what a wonderful thing.

So why, in this winter wonderland, am I hiding out? Why am I sitting in the cupboard? It has to do with the cookies. Those seven-layered, rainbow hued cookies. What do you find at the end of the rainbow? Not a pot of gold that’s for sure. But some cookies, in this family? That’s what everyone’s chasing light for.

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