Pretty awesome cookies and a bit of Betty Crockerism

I know - it's me, ranting yet again about baking. But wait! They were so pretty, I had to share a photo, and they're so tasty, I wanted to share the recipe.

These are Chocolaty Caramel Thumbprints, from Better Homes and Gardens, and they are delish! Yes, a wee bit time-consuming. You have to bring the dough together and then chill it for two hours. This is not a "Oh, look - it's 8:30 in the evening. I think I'll make some cookies" recipe. And then you have to roll said dough into little balls, dip them in egg-white wash, roll them around in finely chopped pecans and then smush with your thumb. That's not counting the melting of caramels and chocolate.

BUT. They're so pretty, and so yummy! I think they're great for a potluck sort of thing, or to impress someone (boss, boyfriend, in-laws, holier-than-thou neighbors).

My hubby loved them. Which reminds me of something funny. We were sitting on the back porch yesterday after work; he's eating a chocolaty caramel thumbprint and we're talking about (for the billionth time) how badly I need new shoes and how we're not paupers so why don't I just go buy some for chrissakes? And I offer up my usual "I hate shopping."

To which my husband adds, "You just hate spending money." (Which is only partly true. For real - look at my Publix or Target receipts. Good beer isn't cheap, either.)

He pauses, and then says, half a cookie in hand, "My God, I'm married to a woman who doesn't like to shop or spend money, and actually thinks baking and cooking is fun. I am the luckiest husband alive. You're perfect."

Now, before you get your feminist thongs in a wad, I promise you that he also loves my wit, appreciates my intelligence, and bows to my mighty credit score. Just because it's a bit of stereotyping and old-fashioned doesn't mean it didn't make me smile. Who doesn't want their husband to think they're the most amazing woman on the planet?

Anyway, I was flattered. And it's hard to complain about old-fashioned stereotypes while wearing a "dressy apron."

Pretty . . . weed

I was walking across the "lawn" from the parking lot to my office building this morning, and came across this lovely flower:

It's really quite pretty - if you look at the full-sized version of this photo, you'll see that each little blossom resembles a tiny little snapdragon flower.

In reality, this plant is really small. The flower couldn't have been more than an inch tall, if that. And I'm quite sure it's some sort of weed, as it was growing merrily across the grassy strip surrounding the parking lot. Plus, the leaves remind me of another weed found pretty much everywhere in Florida, the dreaded spurge. But I've never seen one with such pretty flowers.

I looked through the book "Weeds of Southern Turfgrasses," pulled from the shelf of my coworker and Master Gardener, Kim. Nothing - no tiny, low-growing weeds with itty-bitty-pretty flowers.

Perhaps someone will recognize it here? Hmm, I'm not sure how many botanists who specialize in Florida landscape weeds read my blog.

Things I Want

Yes, even a penny-pinching tightwad desires stuff sometimes.

I love pretty much anything in the Arts & Crafts style. But I especially like crewel embroidery, also known as crewelwork. Crewelwork uses heavier wool for embroidering and usually sewn on a sturdy fabric (in order to support the weight), like linen. I like the style of early 20th century work done in a Jacobean fashion - stylized floral patterns, mainly.

A lovely example of a modern piece is this pillow from Pottery Barn:

I have one like it at home. Of course, the pillow I have was probably $20 at most, from World Market in Jacksonville. (Oh, World Market - how I miss you! Pier One ain't got nuthin' on you!)

This is $40, and that's just for the pillow cover - you'd pay an additional $18 for a pillow "insert." I looked around the Internet for a cheaper alternative, but 16x26" doesn't appear to be a common size.

So, a $60 pillow? I don't think so. What a bummer!

But it's so pretty...

Mairzy Doats and Regrets

I have no idea why or how, but a song my grandmother used to sing popped into my head. I started singing it out loud as I walked down the stairs in my office building (don't worry - no one else was there).

Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?
Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?

Now, if your elderly relatives didn't sing this ditty to you as a child, you're probably wondering, "What the . . . ?"

It's what they call a "novelty song," and it's from the World War II era. It became popular on the radio, and the G.I.s fighting over in Europe liked it too. (Rumor has it they used the nonsensical lyrics for passwords.)

While she could be quite stern, my grandmother had a playful side - from convincing me that she could change red lights to green with her mind, to honking at cows (she told me they understood that to be a human "hello") - and she sang this song enough that it's taken up residence in my memory, popping out from time to time.

Walking through the near-empty building, I started humming it. It had been a while, so it took a second to get the whole verse. But when I did, two very different senses hit me, of goofy pride that I'd remembered the lyrics, and bittersweet nostaglia.

I still miss my grandmother, gone more than five years now. I regret the time lost that I could have spent with her, thanks to my family's absence from Maine for 15 years. We got along famously when I was small, but we never got to know each other as fully-formed adults. I think she would have liked me as an adult.

Lost in these thoughts, another emotion crept in:

Guilt.

I felt a slight pang of remorse, knowing that I was depriving my parents of grandchildren. Of that relationship my grandmother had with me.

And maybe, also, a little sad that I will never have a grandchild, no one with whom to share goofy songs, dubious psychic powers, and secrets that only grandparents and grandchildren share, things that too cool for Mom and Dad to know about.

I still feel it as I write; there is no wrap-up paragraph to explain how I dealt with these emotions. I don't know if there really ever will be. That slight tug at my soul, and at my decision to not have children, might remain forever.

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Oh, and in case you have no clue to what the song's about, sing it out loud.

No? Okay, sing this out loud: Mares eat oats and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy. . .

Pretty silly, isn't it? But it makes me smile. Perhaps it made you smile, too. Teach it to your kids - they'll probably love it.

New Light is Shed

Literally. For over a year now, the dining has been without over lighting, a gaping hole with dangling wires where a light should be. Mainly because we took down the hideous monstrosity that was the previous light fixture. It hung so low, you could see the light bulb. And way too modern for our tastes:




We'd been putting off getting a new light forever, when Kyle went to turn on the kitchen light one day and the chain came down with his hand. This light/fan fixture was really, actually worse - it was very country, white and too big for the kitchen (old photo - the kitchen doesn't look anything like that anymore - DIE WALLPAPER DIE):



So he ripped that one out - and now we had TWO holes-with-wires. But then, my wonderful husband went off to Home Depot one morning and returned with two fixtures.

So now not only do we have a new, smaller-yet-brighter kitchen light:

We also have a lovely dining room light as well!

(Please ignore all the booze - it's left over from the wedding - AS I SAID IT WOULD BE...)

Here's a close-up:

I think he did an awesome job and I'm so pleased to be able to see what I'm cooking and eating. :)

It's a Man's World

(For those of you who received an e-mail, or saw my post on FaceBook, I apologize: I'm talking about this article friggin' everywhere. Feel free to come back next week when I'll regale you with tales of husbands doing fabulous things around the house and puppies making it through typical-yet-traumatic-for-me surgery.)

I was supposed to be looking for gardening book reviews in the New York Times, but I stumbled upon this article, "The Women's Crusade." I feel very strongly about this article. It touched my heart, and I feel compelled to share it with as many women as possible.

In many parts of the world, women are second-class citizens, literally at best and basically slaves in the worst places. There's a growing awareness that half of the population is considered a burden only because they're forced to be as such - with tiny loans to start businesses, education and health care, women can become part of their country's solution instead of its problem.

Emily will find a pleasant surprise in the article - a group she's helped is mentioned in an incredibly touching story.

I know it looks long, but if you give it a chance, I think it will "grow" on you. :)

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/23/magazine/23Women-t.html

Magazine
The Women’s Crusade
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF and SHERYL WuDUNN
Published: August 23, 2009
The liberation of women could help solve many of the world’s problems, from poverty to child mortality to terrorism.

Kick-Ass Cookies

Warning: Completely self-indulgent, horn-tooting, post.

Kyle loves chocolate chip cookies. Given a choice when I'm in the mood for baking, he always goes with chocolate chip. I had just made a small batch a week or so earlier, so a few nights ago when we were planning on leftovers for dinner and I decided to bake, I thought I'd make something different.

I was flipping through my Cook's Illustrated book, "Baking Illustrated" and came across pecan bars. Hmm... tasty...

"Ooo, are you making cookies?" Kyle wanted to know.

"Well, I was thinking of making pecan bars..."

His face falls, ever so slightly.

"But I can make cookies."

"Yay!" His face lights back up.

So I found a recipe for "Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies." As the book says, the goal is to recreate those huge, sinfully rich cookies you find in boutique bakeries and fancy hotels.

And damn if they weren't just as good - if not better!

Not only were they delicious, but they actually looked good too. I think the secret to that was size consistency (you portion out a "scant" quarter-cup of dough per cookie) and the strange technique of pulling the dough ball apart and squishing the two "broken" halves together, "broken" side up - this makes for a craggy top.

I was so pleased, I took a photo!

(On my trusty Silpat - a non-stick liner made with silicon and fiberglass. No, really. It's awesome.)

Kyle loves them. I took a few to work today (the recipe only makes 18, and they are for Kyle, so I split them in half) and my coworkers really liked them as well.