I make eleven kinds of Christmas cookies. My sister-in-law Dana has asked me, on more than one occasion, whether I believe this is necessary.

I do not believe it is necessary. I also cannot stop.

In the interest of accountability — which Dana suggested I try — I am going to explain how each cookie got here, starting with the most recent addition and working backward. I think this exercise is supposed to make me realize the situation has gotten out of hand. I already know it has gotten out of hand. But here is how it happened, in reverse.

11. Cranberry-Orange Shortbread Bites (added last year)

I had leftover dried cranberries after making a salad in November and I thought: these would be good in a shortbread. They were. The orange zest happened because cranberries alone felt like half an idea. I made a small test batch, ate them for breakfast for three days, and added them to the list.

Dana: "You added a new cookie last year?"

Me: "They're very festive."

Dana: "You said that about the eggnog ones."

10. Eggnog Cookies (added three years ago)

Our grocery store starts stocking eggnog in October, which is insane, and I always buy it too early and then have most of a carton left after I've drunk all I want. A cookie that uses eggnog in the batter seemed like the obvious solution.

They're soft, they're spiced with nutmeg and cinnamon, and they taste exactly like Christmas smells, which is either appealing or alarming depending on your relationship with the holidays.

My husband eats four in a row every year and then sits quietly for a minute, and I count this as a success.

9. Peppermint Bark (added four years ago)

I know it's technically candy. I call it a cookie on the list because I make it at the same time and it goes in the boxes. Dana has pointed out that bark is not a cookie. I have maintained that in the context of this list, it is. We agree to disagree on this every December.

I make mine with dark chocolate on the bottom, white chocolate on top, crushed candy canes pressed in while it's still warm. It sets in the refrigerator overnight and then I break it into pieces by hand, which is extremely satisfying.

8. Chocolate Chip Shortbread (added five years ago)

I was already making brown sugar shortbread (see below) and I thought: what if chocolate chips? The answer is: good. The answer is always good when it involves chocolate chips, which is why this was a dangerous question.

The key is using high-quality chocolate, chopped from a bar rather than chips, because the chips keep their shape and the chopped chocolate melts into little pools. My nephew, who is fourteen, eats the chocolate chip shortbread before anything else every year. He claims he's not doing this. He is always doing this.

7. Brown Sugar Shortbread (added six years ago)

I got obsessed with shortbread after I realized that the ratio of butter to flour to sugar is what makes shortbread shortbread, and that adjusting the sugar type changes the flavor profile in interesting ways. Brown sugar shortbread is almost caramel-like. It's soft in the center, slightly crispy at the edges, and has a depth that plain white sugar doesn't give you.

This is where my husband raised his first mild concern about the cookie list. He said, "You now have seven kinds."

I said, "Yes, but shortbread is easy."

He said, "You have two kinds of shortbread."

This remains accurate.

6. Mexican Wedding Cookies (added seven years ago)

My sister made these at Christmas one year and I asked for the recipe and she gave it to me and I've been making them ever since. This one is actually not my fault — I was invited to make them by someone handing me a recipe card.

Butter, pecans, powdered sugar, flour, vanilla. They're crumbly and buttery and you roll them in powdered sugar twice, once while warm and once when cool. They look like little snowballs. They taste like proof that simplicity is underrated.

If I'm being honest, these might be the best cookie on the list.

5. Spiced Molasses Cookies (added eight years ago)

A recipe appeared in a magazine and I tore it out and made them that December and they were good and now I can't stop making them. This is a hazard of subscribing to food magazines.

The spice profile is slightly different from gingerbread — more clove, more black pepper, a little bit of ground cardamom. They're chewier than gingerbread and they smell extraordinary when they come out of the oven.

Dana tasted these the year I added them and said, "How many kinds of cookies do you make now?"

I said, "Five."

She said, "That's already too many."

This was her position at five. She has maintained it at eleven.

4. Gingerbread (added nine years ago)

A neighbor asked, at a party, if I made gingerbread. I said no. She looked disappointed. I thought about gingerbread for the rest of the party and the drive home and most of the following week.

I make real gingerbread now: molasses, butter, dark brown sugar, fresh ginger, dried ginger, cinnamon, cloves. The dough has to be chilled overnight, which means planning ahead, which means gingerbread has taught me something about patience.

I cut them into shapes and decorate the ones I'm giving as gifts and leave the others plain because the decorating takes an hour and I have a whole list of cookies to get through.

3. Peanut Butter Blossoms (founding member)

Peanut butter dough rolled in sugar, baked, chocolate kiss pressed into the top immediately out of the oven so it softens and glosses. This is one of the original three. I have made this cookie for eleven years and it has not changed.

My husband says these are his favorite. He says this every year, within the same week of my making them. I believe him.

2. Snickerdoodles (founding member)

The simplest cookie on the list. Butter, sugar, eggs, flour, cream of tartar, rolled in cinnamon sugar. They come together in twenty minutes and they taste like exactly what they are.

I have made snickerdoodles every December for eleven years. They have not changed. They will not change. Some things are already right.

1. Sugar Cookies (founding member)

Rolled, cut into shapes, decorated. These take the longest because the decorating is its own project. I do simple icing — royal icing tinted a few colors — and I give them to people who have children, because children understand the appeal of a cookie that looks like a star more than adults do.

This is where it all started. Three kinds: sugar cookies, snickerdoodles, peanut butter blossoms. A weekend project. A tradition.

And then someone asked about gingerbread.

Having written all of this out in reverse, I can see that each addition had a reason. A leftover ingredient. A magazine. A neighbor's mild disappointment. A recipe card from my sister. None of it was reckless. All of it was incremental.

Dana read an early draft of this and said, "You do realize you're defending eleven cookies."

I said, "I'm explaining eleven cookies. There's a difference."

She said, "Is there?"

I started cookie prep in October. I make approximately four hundred cookies over the course of two months. I have a spreadsheet.

I think the answer to Dana's question might be no.