Live! Cookie Action! Plus, a turkey, a flower, and a workbench.
Yeah, yeah, work was stressful and then I lost my job, but it's not like life wasn't continuing apace behind those annoying scenes. And by "apace", I mean, I've had my head in the oven a lot these past few weeks, but it's just been to check millions of cookies.
Cookies soon, but first, November 15th was the one year anniversary of my first surgery, and my parents sent me some gorgeous flowers...
... but I kind of felt like this one was telling me to step off:
Okay, now the cookies. My Grandma Martone made these fig cookies at Christmas, and they're a family tradition, but because the recipe involves things like 12 cups of flours and pounds and pounds of peaches and strings of figs and 9 eggs (etc., etc.) or something... it just doesn't get made every year. I made them with my brother Joe a few weeks ago.
You know how we're reading labels and avoiding partially hydrogenated fats, even in small amounts?
This is pure Crisco, babies.
And I wouldn't ordinarily share this, but you have to know the truth. This is the beginning of the filling grinding.
Did I mention that it makes a lot?
Not sugary enough. Apply more sugar, I say!
And now a brief, meaty interlude. Thanksgiving was lovely, and I'm hear to tell you that after years of brining, massaging and wooing my various turkeys, I stuck this one in the damn oven with a little salt and pepper, roasted it, and it was awesome. (And on a tonsorial note, I actually like the length of my hair. It's not messy, and I don't look too baldy.)
Who touched the pie? No one would confess.
Screech! Subject change. This is general enough a pic that it doesn't break my client's confidentiality. I did a fun/tiring day of work recently on a client's basement that involved setting up two workbenches, among other things. My loyal assistants (a.k.a. my brother and nephew B) kicked ass and took names, and I was a sorting and arranging fool. I love organizing. I mean, I really love it.
But back to the cookies. Not all were for the late December holidays. The next generation cranked some out for a family birthday.
Then I amped up production this weekend. I called in my sister-in-law and rexlezard to make buckeyes (not technically cookies, I know):
and cutouts:
(we experienced technical difficulties with the "no-nuts" batches: the dough was too soft, hence the majestic free-form shape-ology. Please note the sugar coding: green = nuts, red = no nuts.)
and spritz cookies of three types (chocolate and cream cheese not shown, nor are you seeing the cute application of candied cherry halves, both green and red in the centers):
And then today, because I needed a non-resume related break, I knocked out some butterballs. Dude, this is a triple batch (read: three sticks of butter), and it made very few. I've already had to promise another batch to the family. They're crazy delicious, which I confirmed by splitting one with The Beetle.
I hope to get production complete by this weekend so I can mail to relatives early next week to keep shipping as inexpensive as possible. Tonight... chocolate balls! Tomorrow, marshmallows!
Cookies soon, but first, November 15th was the one year anniversary of my first surgery, and my parents sent me some gorgeous flowers...
... but I kind of felt like this one was telling me to step off:
Okay, now the cookies. My Grandma Martone made these fig cookies at Christmas, and they're a family tradition, but because the recipe involves things like 12 cups of flours and pounds and pounds of peaches and strings of figs and 9 eggs (etc., etc.) or something... it just doesn't get made every year. I made them with my brother Joe a few weeks ago.
You know how we're reading labels and avoiding partially hydrogenated fats, even in small amounts?
This is pure Crisco, babies.
And I wouldn't ordinarily share this, but you have to know the truth. This is the beginning of the filling grinding.
Did I mention that it makes a lot?
Not sugary enough. Apply more sugar, I say!
And now a brief, meaty interlude. Thanksgiving was lovely, and I'm hear to tell you that after years of brining, massaging and wooing my various turkeys, I stuck this one in the damn oven with a little salt and pepper, roasted it, and it was awesome. (And on a tonsorial note, I actually like the length of my hair. It's not messy, and I don't look too baldy.)
Who touched the pie? No one would confess.
Screech! Subject change. This is general enough a pic that it doesn't break my client's confidentiality. I did a fun/tiring day of work recently on a client's basement that involved setting up two workbenches, among other things. My loyal assistants (a.k.a. my brother and nephew B) kicked ass and took names, and I was a sorting and arranging fool. I love organizing. I mean, I really love it.
But back to the cookies. Not all were for the late December holidays. The next generation cranked some out for a family birthday.
Then I amped up production this weekend. I called in my sister-in-law and rexlezard to make buckeyes (not technically cookies, I know):
and cutouts:
(we experienced technical difficulties with the "no-nuts" batches: the dough was too soft, hence the majestic free-form shape-ology. Please note the sugar coding: green = nuts, red = no nuts.)
and spritz cookies of three types (chocolate and cream cheese not shown, nor are you seeing the cute application of candied cherry halves, both green and red in the centers):
And then today, because I needed a non-resume related break, I knocked out some butterballs. Dude, this is a triple batch (read: three sticks of butter), and it made very few. I've already had to promise another batch to the family. They're crazy delicious, which I confirmed by splitting one with The Beetle.
I hope to get production complete by this weekend so I can mail to relatives early next week to keep shipping as inexpensive as possible. Tonight... chocolate balls! Tomorrow, marshmallows!