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A couple of years ago, 2.0 presented me with a golf club and claimed it was an anniversary gift. It was not. (I don’t golf.) My sister, Haddy, was visiting at the time, and told him it was the most thoughtful anniversary gift of all time. It was not. (She just likes to side with 2.0.) So, when 2.0 announced that he had personally selected a birthday gift for my sister, I got pretty excited.
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The other day, I caught 2.0 trying to plug a mouse into a cd drive. Not a real mouse, bozo. Our wireless computer mouse needed a battery recharge, so I suggested that he use an old-school tailed mouse to get by for a few hours. That’s when I caught him trying to use the cd drive as a USB port, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, because when I first started this here blog? There was a lot of confusion.
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I’ve been super duper busy in recent months. That means I haven’t been around here very much, and I suck at keeping in touch with all of you. I’ve been feeling bad about that, so I’ve come up with a solution to get us through these last few months of baking school. A way for us to get a little closer, or at the very least, make you think I care about you. On occasion, I will be sharing some gems (stupid stories) from an old blog that I’m dismantling. Know that I’m here for you (sorta).
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On Sunday, we had our first snow flurries here. Not many – just enough to make me feel like running around the yard with my tongue hanging out. But since I only run when being chased, I sat on the couch with my coffee, surveying the neighbourhood and watching for possible crime. It was positively festive, and I thought about how lovely it would be to hang the Christmas wreath on our front door, which in turn, made me remember a conversation 2.0 and I had during our first Christmas together in the house…
2.0: Our neighbours have been asking if we’re Jewish.
movita: What?
2.0: OUR NEIGHBOURS ASKED IF WE ARE JEWISH.
movita: Yah, I heard you, I’m just… surprised. I mean, who asks that? Wait. Which neighbours? Those ones? (pointing out the window)
2.0: (nodding)
movita: They just came over and asked?
2.0: Yup. When you were at work.
movita: What the heck?! It’s not politically correct to ask about someone’s religion, is it? Are we doing that now? I mean, we didn’t ask if they were gay… even though we know they are. We just figured it out – WE DIDN’T ASK. Besides, gay people are way cooler than we are. Of course, we’re not supposed to say that gay people are cooler than straight people – it’s not politically correct. Whatever. The point is… what was my point? Right! The point is that even though we aren’t Jewish, we could be Jewish, and it’s weird to walk across the street to ask if we’re Jewish. That’s the point! Didn’t they see the wreath on the front door? Couldn’t they just figure it out? Arg! It doesn’t even matter. Wreath or no wreath, it’s a weird question to ask. Unless… Oh. My. God. Did it seem like they have a problem with us being Jewish? TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT THEY SAID.
2.0: They asked if we were going to put up Christmas lights this year.
movita:
2.0: I said, THEY ASKED IF WE WERE GOING TO…
movita: Please stop talking.
That’s the thing with 2.0 – you can never jump to conclusions. Like, ever. It’s taken a few years to adjust – those less high-strung and neurotic would probably have adapted sooner, but that’s not how I roll. So, because I don’t know what holidays you might or might not be celebrating in the near future, I give you some non-denominational cookies. A soft, chewy cookie, lightly flavoured with citrus. Over-baking these babies will make them overly crisp, and I’d like to suggest that you don’t want this, for the beauty of this cookie lies in its tender centre and the sugary topping. That’s my second suggestion: be generous with the sugary topping at the end. It will lend a melt-in-your-mouthedness to the situation. But I’m sure you would have figured that out…
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Orange Sugar Cookies – adapted from an Emily Lewis recipe - print and bake
Yields about 2.5 dozen.
Preheat the oven to 375°F. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.
Sift together the flour, baking soda and cream of tartar, and set aside.
In the bowl of your stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or with a hand mixer), cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy – about 3-5 minutes. Scrape down the sides and bottom of bowl. Add the vanilla, orange rind and the egg, and mix until well combined. Scrape down the sides and bottom of bowl. Add the flour mixture, and mix until well blended.
Use a small ice cream scoop (mine holds about 1.5 tablespoons) to drop the batter into mounds on the baking sheets. Leave lots of room for spreading – about 1.5 inches on each side of the cookie. Flatten the mounds just slightly with your fingers.
Bake for about 8-10 minutes – until the edges are golden brown. Sprinkle top of cookies generously with icing sugar immediately after removing from oven, while still on baking sheets. Then remove the cookies from the baking sheets and allow them to cool completely on wire racks.
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Today is Rosie Beaucoup’s birthday. She’s like, the best mother ever. So I thought I’d tell you a little story – one of my favourite Rosie Beaucoup stories. Some of you may have heard this before – it was on my old blog. But don’t worry, I have to make Rosie Beaucoup’s birthday cake this week, so you’ll probably get a fresh tale of disaster in the coming days.
A couple of years ago, 2.0 and I went to visit the Beaucoups for a lovely meal. We sat around the dinner table catching up on recent happenings and goings-on. Rosie Beaucoup had been talking about a rabbit for days on end. “Oh, the rabbit is so cute.” And, “the rabbit kept me company when I was in the garden!” And, “that rabbit is probably eating all of my perennials…” So, when Rosie Beaucoup lead 2.0 and I out into the yard for a post-dinner wander, I wasn’t really surprised when she started running toward a rustling in the shrubs. She was looking for her bff (bunny friend forever). In fact, I kind of ran behind her. Because I really like bunnies. “There’s the rabbit,” Rosie Beaucoup yelled, and then pulled me by the arm toward the rustling.
Now, I can tell you that hind sight is 20/20. Looking back, when 2.0, Rosie Beaucoup and I were standing on the lawn, I can vaguely recall hearing the men next door talking loudly about a bear. But this didn’t really register with me until I was running from a bear. I had been running toward a bear, because Rosie Beaucoup was telling me to run toward a bunny. This was a big mistake. And this happened because my mother can’t tell the difference between a small, brown floofy bunny and a big, mother f*n black bear. So, though hind sight is 20/20, Rosie Beaucoup’s eyesight is not.
When Rosie Beaucoup yelled, “oh my God, that’s a bear,” I was, needless to say, scared sh*tless. Rosie Beaucoup, 2.0 and I were now about 20 feet from a very large black bear. When Rosie Beaucoup started to run, I followed. Because when Rosie Beaucoup runs, I run. I’m pretty sure I broke Usain Bolt’s 100 metre world record. I engaged Super Speed Mode. And when Rosie Beaucoup, 2.0 and I were safe inside the house, we watched the black bear dismantling the bird feeders from the kitchen window. That’s when I remembered the stories I’d heard of bears crashing through living room windows. But I didn’t mention this to The Beaucoups, because the bear looked like he was headed toward the back door. (To eat them.)
Obviously, I lived to tell the tale. We outran a bear, and would have wrestled it had it tried to eat Lucy 1.0 (the dog). And, yes, doofus, we know you aren’t supposed to run from a bear, but I’m betting you wouldn’t have plopped your arse down on the lawn either. There is nothing instinctual about laying down and letting a bear sniff you for a while.
After our run-in with the bear, when driving home, 2.0 seemed a little miffed.
2.0: You left me behind!
movita: What?
2.0: You ran inside of the house, and you and your mother never looked back to see if I was there. You left me with the bear!
movita: I knew you were there. You’re very fast and agile.
2.0: You didn’t know I was there! I could have tripped! The bear could have been eating me…
movita: No. I sensed you were there.
2.0: I just watched the back of both of you running as fast as you could. You didn’t look back. I know because I WAS BEHIND YOU.
movita: Oh, honey. No sense in us both being killed. It was fight or flight. I just ran. I was scared. And you know what they say… you don’t have to outrun the bear, you just have to outrun the slowest person.
2.0: Not funny. I’m not speaking to you starting… now.
I resisted the urge to tell 2.0 that if Rosie Beaucoup had looked back, she wouldn’t have seen him anyway.
I know what you’re thinking: how is movita going to relate this story to brownies? Well, brownies are brown. So are many bears. Also, these brownies are my favourite brownies – they are one of the first things I ever learned to make, and Rosie Beaucoup gave me the recipe. They are fudgy and moist, and you can tweak them in about a million ways. I swirled peanut butter on top because bears like peanut butter almost as much as they like small, white women. You can swirl in lots of peanut butter, or just a little. Also, these brownies are so easy to make, that I’m betting a bear could make them. Provided that bear could convince you to let him into your kitchen.
Happy birthday, Rosie Beaucoup. Don’t forget your bear horn when you’re out in the garden today…
Yields one 8 x 8 inch baking pan.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease an 8 x 8 inch baking pan.
In a saucepan, melt 1/2 cup margarine over medium heat. Stir in the cocoa and additional margarine (2 tablespoons). Remove from heat. Mix in the sugar. Stir in eggs, one at a time. Stir in the vanilla. Mix in the flour until well combined.
Spread batter evenly in the prepared baking pan. Drop spoonfuls of the peanut butter over top of the batter, and then use a butter knife to swirl. Just a few drags of the butter knife should do it – you don’t want to mix the peanut butter in – you want threads of peanut butter in your brownies.
Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until cake tester comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack.
