Sometimes I just want a plain cookie. No chips. No lemon. And, believe it or not, no chocolate. Growing up, we had a ready supply of "pecan sandies" on top of our fridge (along with the "Count Chocula" and "Lucky Charms"). In our house, the shortbread cookie was a staple. Like cigarettes and eye brow pencils. Maybe not in that order. I don't ever recall our mother whipping up a batch of shortbread cookies from scratch. Just that they were there . . . all the time.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
Here was a cake that came about for no other reason than to do "something" with all the strawberries I had on hand. I am the person the grocery store has in mind when the display of this fruit is so large and in-your-face you practically have to high-hurdle jump over them to not notice. And before you can reach the bananas you "originally" came in for, there they are again, in a second display area! What's a girl to do? Buy two large flats, of course.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
I've been in the kitchen playing with dough again. I had two amazingly delicious baking events take place in one week. I'll tell you about one of them in a moment. But first: I somehow hurt myself last week while playing "farmer girl" in the yard. I tend toward being overly zealous when it comes to keeping things "tidy" around here. I now have tennis elbow something fierce. (My own diagnosis. Thank you WebMD.) Of course given my propensity for hyper-analyzing aches and pains (I wouldn't say I'm a hypochondriac. . . yet) but I will say I have gotten very good at hitting Google when such needs arise as those involving my body and pain. (Almost Fifty folks.) No lifting anything too heavy (including my cast iron pan). Take anti-inflammatory meds. And overall ix-nay the awnmower-lay. Thank goodness we're in the midst of a cool spell. The grass went dormant again.