When you hear Valentine’s Day, do you groan inwardly? Do you shrug your shoulders when people ask how you’re celebrating, caustically saying that it’s a cheesy holiday anyway, and you and your [insert someone you like holding hands with] aren’t really “into the whole thing”?
Okay, look I get it. And yet, I always detect a touch of wistfulness to those comments. I mean, let’s level with each other here (it’s just us! we’re all friends here!), who doesn’t like to be surprised or showered with a little more love than on a usual Friday?
While the idea of grabbing a card off the Hallmark display rack in Duane Reade—or picking up cellophane-wrapped roses at the corner bodega because you happened to be stopping in anyway to buy yogurt—isn’t wildly romantic, as those are actions done by rote, anything outside the lines of standard, prescribed gestures is actually quite nice.
I approach Valentine’s Day as I do New Year’s Eve; setting aside the actual reality of what tends to transpire (over-hyped, under-executed), I find the concept of both holidays truly fantastic. A day where you’re pretty much required to do some combination of the following: wear glittery pink nail polish, eat a sizable amount of gooey chocolate cake or just plain chocolate, buy flowers (deep red ones), tell someone you love them, drink Champagne or some other pink sparkling cocktail…well, this is all fully in my wheelhouse.
(Sidebar: If everyone had the pleasure of witnessing a four-year-old make handmade Valentine cards, then no one would grumble again about Valentine’s Day at all. It’s the most earnest and adorable process.)
But then again, I realize that often Valentine’s Day is like prom: so much excitement following by a general “oh, that was it?”—like the time my then-boyfriend gifted me a plastic bottle of cheap creme de menthe from a dodgy liquor store. Unwrapped. And not a tiny bottle, the big 450ml sort. If that doesn’t say “you’re a classy, beautiful woman and I just want to recognize it and give you a gift worthy of your intelligence and curiosity and glamour”, I don’t know what does! (I kid now but frankly it was almost traumatizing enough to turn me against February 14 altogether. But I persevered.)
So, here we are again. One of the best parts of the holiday has always been family-centric: When we were little, my mom got a big heart-shaped cardboard box and we decorated it with glitter and doilies and pink paper. Every year, my three sisters and I would make cards for each other and for my parents—we’d drop them in the box, which gave everyone a thrill and made it feel like opening a gift.
I still make Valentine cards most years (when I have my act together) for my sisters and my parents (and now for my nieces and nephews). This year, my cards were hand-drawn pictures in red ink of a big glass Mason jar filled with sparkly hearts with more hearts floating up out of the jar and into the rest of the card. Does that sound incredible? Well, it was a bit more on the hand-rendered, looks-like-a-kindergartener-made-this side, but it’s the thought that counts!
And then, because I am loathe to miss out on any opportunity to break out my heart-shaped cookie cutters, I made simple sugar cookies flavored with almond extract. I dipped them in pink and white glazes (made of white chocolate) and coated them in sprinkles. I filled little glass jars with them and sent them off, tied with a red ribbon, to the people that I love very much.
And if nothing else, it made me feel warm and soft and celebratory.
Whether you make the cookies or not (but really, make them!), you can also indulge in a little romance—by yourself, just by reading these poems, some of which are just deeply beautiful descriptions of love, and others which practically knock the wind out of me, leaving me breathless, as any real love affair should at some point or another:
Bronzed [Dean Young]
That dusty bubble gum, once ubiquitous as starlings,
is no more, my love. Whistling dinosaurs now populate
only animation studios, the furious actions of angels
causing their breasts to flop out in mannerist
frescos flake away as sleet holds us in its teeth.
//
The sword's hilt glints, the daffodils bow down,
all is temporary as a perfect haircut, a kitten
in the lap, yet sitting here with you, my darling,
waiting for a tuna melt and side of slaw
seems all eternity I'll ever need
and all eternity needs of me.
Separation [W.S. Merwin]
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
The Small Country [Ellen Bass]
Unique, I think, is the Scottish tartle, that hesitation
when introducing someone whose name you’ve forgotten.
And what could capture cafuné, the Brazilian Portuguese way to say
running your fingers, tenderly, through someone’s hair?
Is there a term in any tongue for choosing to be happy?
And where is speech for the block of ice we pack in the sawdust of our hearts?
What appellation approaches the smell of apricots thickening the air
when you boil jam in early summer?
What words reach the way I touched you last night—
as though I had never known a woman—an explorer,
wholly curious to discover each particular
fold and hollow, without guide,
not even the mirror of my own body.
Last night you told me you liked my eyebrows.
You said you never really noticed them before.
What is the word that fuses this freshness
with the pity of having missed it?
And how even touch itself cannot mean the same to both of us,
even in this small country of our bed,
even in this language with only two native speakers.
The Quiet World [Jeffrey McDaniel]
In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.
Easy Almond Cutout Cookies
Yield depends on cutter size!
For the cookies
1 cup (2 sticks, 226g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/4 cup (53g) brown sugar, packed
3/4 cup (149g) granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon almond extract (use according to taste)
1 egg
2 1/2 cups (300g) all-purpose flour
1/4 cup (28g) cornstarch
For the dipping glaze
11 ounces (1 bag) white chocolate chips
2 tablespoons vegetable shortening
food coloring (optional)
sprinkles!
Beat together the butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add the salt, baking powder, vanilla, and almond extract and mix to combine. Add the egg, beating until well-combined and scraping down the bowl as needed.
Add the flour and cornstarch and carefully mix in on low speed, then increase the speed until just combined, but don’t overmix.
Divide the dough in half, press into a disk, and wrap each half tightly in plastic wrap. Place the dough in the refrigerator to firm up for at least one hour.
Once the dough has chilled, remove one disk from the refrigerator and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Dust a countertop/work surface generously with flour and roll the dough out as thinly as possible. As the dough warms up, it’ll get quite sticky, so keep lightly dusting the rolling pin and surface with flour. If the dough gets too soft, pop it back into the refrigerator or freezer quickly to firm up.
Cut out shapes, then transfer them to a parchment-lined baking sheet. Repeat with the remaining dough.
Bake the cookies for 8 to 10 minutes—keep a close eye on them, especially if you’re using a cookie cutter that has delicate edges or smaller shapes, as those bits can bake more quickly. Remove from the oven as soon as they’re just barely turning golden brown.
Let the cookies cool for a few minutes on the pan then transfer them to a wire rack to finish cooling completely.
Once the cookies are completely cool, make the glaze. Melt the white chocolate together with the shortening (I do this in the microwave in 20 to 30 second bursts, stirring between each). If you want, stir in food coloring once melted.
Dip your cookies into the glaze, and into any sprinkles if you want to get fancy.
Place the dipped cookies on a parchment-lined baking sheet and let them sit until the glaze hardens and sets fully.