Cookies are baked, presents are wrapped, the tree is decorated, packages and cards are sent, bourbon balls and bonuses are distributed.
All that remains is to spend hours in front of the stove, painstakingly pressing dollop after dollop of sweet almond-flavored batter between hot heavy aluminum plates, cooking it to a precise light golden-brown, then quickly rolling the flat round of cooky on a cone before it hardens. The result looks like a little ice cream cone, but it is much more fragile.
This is my favorite, a delicate cooky made by my grandmother. I use her recipe, received from one of my dad’s cousins. The older generation of women in my father’s family are now all passed away. I think I am the only one left to make the krumkake.
It’s time-consuming but a labor of love. I have people in Astoria to whom I bring a can of krumkake every year.