Kanelkakor are Swedish cinnamon butter cookies. Almost every year at Christmas, I make these round, brittle shortbreads rolled in a generous coating of cinnamon and sugar, along with a handful of other cookies my late mother-in-law Betsy was famous for. She'd bake astonishing quantities of cookies each holiday season, giving all but a few tins away to everyone she knew.
Whenever I take that first bite of Kanelkakor — its crunchy, caramelized exterior crumbling into buttery, cinnamon-tinged sweetness — I am briefly transported to Betsy's carpeted living room with its pink upholstered couch and restored wood tables loaded with knick knacks. It's Christmas Eve, and the house smells like roast something mixed with buttery pie crust. We sip champagne from highly elaborate flutes, dreading the midnight mass she's goaded us into attending. I park myself in the upholstered rocker strategically in between the little bowl of sugared pecans and the cookie tin containing the most Kanelkakor. The light seems too low for a group who theoretically plan to stay awake into the wee hours.
