“My grandmother carried one cookie mold across an ocean in her apron. I broke it in one afternoon.” — Why a 76-year-old woodcarver from New Ulm, Minnesota, is selling his last hand-carved cookie molds at a special price, before his hands stop for good.

On the first Sunday of Advent, Otto Kreuzer turns a small wooden block upside down and taps it once on the edge of the kitchen table. A cookie drops out. It is an owl, about the size of a palm, and you can count every feather on its chest.

Otto carved that block himself. He has carved about 2,600 of them since 1981. Every one by hand, every one for Christmas baking.

Otto is 76. He lives in New Ulm, Minnesota, a town of 14,000 that was founded by German settlers in 1854. For 38 years he built cabinets and church pews for half of Brown County. But in his town, people know him for something else: the cookie molds.

“Half the kitchens in this town have one of my molds in a drawer. I like knowing that.”

The little bird that crossed an ocean in an apron

It started with his grandmother, Rosina. In 1923 she left a small village in southern Germany for Minnesota. She had one suitcase. At the very bottom, wrapped in her apron, was a wooden cookie mold: a little bird sitting on a branch full of blossoms.

Every December for 56 years, that bird came out of the drawer. Rosina pressed the dough in, knocked it out, and lined the cookies up on the windowsill to dry overnight. That is how they bake them in the old country.

In 1979 the family moved Rosina’s things out of her old house. Otto was 29. He carried the box with the mold himself. On the porch steps, it slipped. The bird split in two.

He glued it. But the crack ran right through the bird’s wing, and the cookies never came out clean again. So in the winter of 1981, Otto took a piece of beech into his garage and carved a new one.

“Grandma carried that bird across an ocean. I broke it in one afternoon. I’ve been carving my way back ever since.”

Nine hours, 140 feathers and not one mistake

His workshop is the old garage behind the house. It smells of beech wood and anise, because his wife Gretchen is next door testing every new mold with real dough. The wood stove crackles. The radio plays quietly in the corner.

Otto wears magnifying glasses when he carves. He doesn’t look up when he talks. The owl is the hardest mold he makes. It has 140 feathers, and every single one is cut by hand. One owl takes him about nine hours.

“A feather is a quarter of a millimeter of mistake. Cut too deep and the dough sticks. Too shallow and the cookie comes out bald.”

Every winter since 1981, people from New Ulm, Sleepy Eye and Mankato have come to his door for a new mold. Some families now have three generations of Otto’s molds in the same kitchen drawer.

Eight animals, and every one has a story

Otto only carves eight designs. Each one comes from his own family.

• Flower Bird: The copy of Rosina’s mold from 1923. The very first one he ever carved.
• Owl: For the barn owl that has lived in his brother-in-law’s barn for years. His hardest design.
• Squirrel (two designs): For the fox squirrels that steal Gretchen’s walnuts every single fall.
• Butterfly: A gift for Gretchen on their 50th wedding anniversary in 2023.
• Starfish & Shell: From their honeymoon on the Gulf Coast in 1973.
• Carp: In Rosina’s village, a carp was always part of Christmas Eve. Otto kept the tradition, on a cookie.
• Goldfish: His granddaughter Hanna asked for it when she was six. She still has the first one.

What 45 winters taught him about a cookie mold

People who order one of Otto’s molds usually say the same thing when they bake with it the first time: “I didn’t think it would come out that clean.” Otto just nods. It was never luck.

• “The Three-Winter Beech”: Otto lets his beech boards dry under the roof for three winters before he touches them. “Fresh wood bends in a warm kitchen. Dry beech stays flat for fifty years.”
• “The Deep-Relief Cut”: The block is almost an inch thick, so he can carve deep. Your cookie comes out with a raised picture, not a flat stamp. “You should be able to feel the owl with your eyes closed.”
• “The Release Taper”: Every wall in the carving leans out a tiny bit. Dust with flour, press in the dough, flip, tap once. “If you need a knife to get it out, the carver made a mistake.”
• “The Bare-Wood Finish”: No varnish, no stain, no plastic. Just wood. It works for gingerbread, shortbread, sugar cookies and marzipan, and it gets better with every Christmas. “The more you bake, the better it lets go.”

The owl he couldn’t finish

What Otto will miss most are the winter mornings in the garage. The stove still warming up. The first curl of beech coming off the gouge. Gretchen knocking on the door with a test cookie.

In June of this year, he started a new owl. Halfway through the feathers, he had to put it down. His right thumb has arthritis. He can still saw a board and sand a block. But the tiny cuts for the feathers, the whiskers and the blossoms need a steady thumb. He doesn’t have one anymore.

“I tried for three weeks. Then I put the knife back on the board. I knew.”

There is no one to take over. His son is an engineer in Minneapolis. 212 finished molds are left in the boxes under his workbench, all eight designs together. When they are gone, there won’t be any more.

“A mold on a shelf is just a piece of wood”

In specialty shops, a hand-carved cookie mold like this costs $60 to $120. Otto could ask that much for his last ones. Everyone would understand. He won’t.

“A mold on a shelf is just a piece of wood. A mold with flour on it is a family.”

He wants his last 212 molds in real kitchens this Christmas, with flour on the table and children pressing dough into an owl, the way Rosina did on her windowsill.

Otto doesn’t use a computer. His granddaughter Hanna, a teacher in Mankato, came home for Thanksgiving, saw the boxes under the workbench and said, “Opa, these don’t belong in a garage.” She set up the page where you can order now. On weekends, she packs every box herself.

“I don’t know what a website is. I know what a gouge is. Hanna does the rest.”

What bakers say about Otto’s molds

• ★★★★★

  “I was sure the owl would stick. A little flour, one tap, and it fell right out. You can see every feather on the cookie. My grandkids wanted to make thirty of them.”

  Barbara W., Rochester, MN
• ★★★★★

  “My mother had a wooden mold from Germany and it got lost when we cleared out her house. The bird on a branch looks almost the same. I had to sit down for a minute when I unpacked it.”

  Ruth Ann S., Fredericksburg, TX
• ★★★★★

  “Solid wood, heavier than I expected, and it smells like a workshop. I bought the squirrels for my daughter’s first Christmas in her own home.”

  Diane K., Milwaukee, WI

Three questions people ask before ordering

Where can I buy one of Otto’s cookie molds?

Only through this page. Otto’s molds are not sold on Amazon, Temu or in any store.

How long will they be available?

Only while supplies last. Otto has stopped carving, and there are 212 molds left across all eight designs. Once a design is gone, it is gone for good.

What if it’s not right for me?

You have 30 days to try it in your own kitchen. If you are not happy, just send a short email and you will get your money back. No questions, no hassle.

More from families who bake with them

• ★★★★★

  “We made gingerbread with the carp and the goldfish. The cookies kept their shape in the oven, every scale was still there. Much nicer than any cookie cutter I own.”

  Carol B., Des Moines, IA
• ★★★★★

  “Ordered the butterfly, then went back for the owl and the flower bird. They hang on my kitchen wall when I’m not baking. My husband says we have a collection now.”

  Margaret L., Fargo, ND
• ★★★★★

  “Gave one to my mother, who is 86. She baked with her own grandmother’s molds as a girl. She called me the same evening to tell me about it.”

  Patricia H., Sioux Falls, SD