Ed and Snowdrop both love an occasional cookie. To a person like me who loves to bake -- easy or complicated, I'll do both! -- this is not a bad thing. I can please my precious eaters and occasionally nibble on something too. (I've always been a dessert nibbler, preferring to sample this and that, often begging for a piece of someone else's slice rather than sticking with my own dessert.)
Well, not so fast! It turns out that my two precious eaters have preferences! Strong ones at that! Ed will go so far as to fuss about the texture of a chocolate chip cookie! It took a while to find a bakery that bakes these to his liking. And when last week I baked what I thought were delicious cherry/blueberry/chocolate chip oat cookies, his response was -- they're okay, in a non-cookie sort of way.
Snowdrop, too, has a refined sweet tooth. I can't figure out in which direction it tilts. Chocolate is good, though not too much and not too messy. Gingersnaps win her over. In small amounts. That healthy-ish cookie I baked? Bleh...
When I was flipping through my cookie book, everything looked pleasing to me and potentially not so pleasing to my precious eaters. So I asked Ed -- what kind of cookie do you really like out of all the cookies out there?
You know, I really like even plain old white cookies.
You mean sugar cookies?
Well, I don't know if they're sugar cookies... I'm thinking of the ones I used to get from Schrafft's as a kid, back in New York. [You know Schrafft's? It was a lunch chain, for the shopping ladies of New York City, with a sideline of ice-creams, candies and apparently bland cookies that Ed once liked.]
I'm not in the mood for meeting that standard. I flip some more and settle on ginger cookies.
After breakfast...
... Ed asks: do you want to drive over to the middle of nowhere 32 minutes from here so that I can pick up a printer?
That does not tempt me. Why are you picking up a printer in the middle of nowhere? Craigslist?
That's right. The guy lives south of here and 32 minutes is the halfway point.
And it's worth your time to drive that much for something you could get from a store?
Well, you know...
Yes, I do know. To Ed, we're all overloaded with stuff. Why not help someone offload something he doesn't need, rather than shop for a new machine and let this one go to waste.
He drives off, I set up my mise en place. Nothing makes me more content than to have all my ingredients before me, at attention, awaiting instruction.
Half an hour later, I get a call.
It's me. I'm using someone's cell phone. The guy didn't call?
No...
He didn't show up. Okay, I'm coming home.
As he hangs up, I ponder this a while. They spent a good ten minutes agreeing on a meet-up place. Why wouldn't the seller show up?
I glance at the clock.
Oh-oh... time change. Forgot! Ooops.
I cannot call. Ed, the guy without stuff, is also the only person on the planet who doesn't have a cell phone.
I go back to making my cookie dough.
Eventually, Ed shows up, learns of his mistake, says a couple of words like "damn" and after many apologies to the seller and many more minutes of driving, the two meet up and the sale goes through.
Ed returns with his printer. I suppose out of the weariness of the day he asks -- you want to go out and play disc golf?
I don't really want to go out and play disc golf. The course is closed for the season (the disc catchers have been removed) and so we will have to figure out how to create "goals." Too, the young family is coming for dinner and I haven't even begun preparations for that, to say nothing of the unbaked cookies that are ready in the fridge for their oven moment. And of course it's November. Cold. Dark. (See previous post.)
Still, Ed looks like he is in need of disc golf.
We set out to the closed course. On the upside, we are alone. No one else thinks to play disc golf when the season has ended.
And on the upper of upsides, we are enthralled!
Because it's nearly dusk, the birds begin their evening sweep and holler. Small birds, large birds. Geese and sandhill cranes. They all give the signal, then take off.
Of course, it's the sandhill cranes that catch our eye. And there are many many sandhills before us!
Their dance, their at once eerie and melodic call, their grace -- they're so mesmerizing!
Eventually, they take off...
And that's equally beautiful!
Have a grand flight to your night time resting place!
(Eventually, their sound is replaced by the sound of an airplane or two -- we are on the flight path for flights coming in from the east coast. I know that my daughter, who has been away working in DC, is on one of those planes. I wave.)
Ed and I continue our game and it is actually a very wonderful game. I haven't quite shaken The Bug, but it feels great to be outdoors despite its peskiness.
Shortly after, the young family comes over for Sunday dinner.
We sit down, I smile. Another week, another Sunday.
Well, not so fast! It turns out that my two precious eaters have preferences! Strong ones at that! Ed will go so far as to fuss about the texture of a chocolate chip cookie! It took a while to find a bakery that bakes these to his liking. And when last week I baked what I thought were delicious cherry/blueberry/chocolate chip oat cookies, his response was -- they're okay, in a non-cookie sort of way.
Snowdrop, too, has a refined sweet tooth. I can't figure out in which direction it tilts. Chocolate is good, though not too much and not too messy. Gingersnaps win her over. In small amounts. That healthy-ish cookie I baked? Bleh...
When I was flipping through my cookie book, everything looked pleasing to me and potentially not so pleasing to my precious eaters. So I asked Ed -- what kind of cookie do you really like out of all the cookies out there?
You know, I really like even plain old white cookies.
You mean sugar cookies?
Well, I don't know if they're sugar cookies... I'm thinking of the ones I used to get from Schrafft's as a kid, back in New York. [You know Schrafft's? It was a lunch chain, for the shopping ladies of New York City, with a sideline of ice-creams, candies and apparently bland cookies that Ed once liked.]
I'm not in the mood for meeting that standard. I flip some more and settle on ginger cookies.
After breakfast...
... Ed asks: do you want to drive over to the middle of nowhere 32 minutes from here so that I can pick up a printer?
That does not tempt me. Why are you picking up a printer in the middle of nowhere? Craigslist?
That's right. The guy lives south of here and 32 minutes is the halfway point.
And it's worth your time to drive that much for something you could get from a store?
Well, you know...
Yes, I do know. To Ed, we're all overloaded with stuff. Why not help someone offload something he doesn't need, rather than shop for a new machine and let this one go to waste.
He drives off, I set up my mise en place. Nothing makes me more content than to have all my ingredients before me, at attention, awaiting instruction.
Half an hour later, I get a call.
It's me. I'm using someone's cell phone. The guy didn't call?
No...
He didn't show up. Okay, I'm coming home.
As he hangs up, I ponder this a while. They spent a good ten minutes agreeing on a meet-up place. Why wouldn't the seller show up?
I glance at the clock.
Oh-oh... time change. Forgot! Ooops.
I cannot call. Ed, the guy without stuff, is also the only person on the planet who doesn't have a cell phone.
I go back to making my cookie dough.
Eventually, Ed shows up, learns of his mistake, says a couple of words like "damn" and after many apologies to the seller and many more minutes of driving, the two meet up and the sale goes through.
Ed returns with his printer. I suppose out of the weariness of the day he asks -- you want to go out and play disc golf?
I don't really want to go out and play disc golf. The course is closed for the season (the disc catchers have been removed) and so we will have to figure out how to create "goals." Too, the young family is coming for dinner and I haven't even begun preparations for that, to say nothing of the unbaked cookies that are ready in the fridge for their oven moment. And of course it's November. Cold. Dark. (See previous post.)
Still, Ed looks like he is in need of disc golf.
We set out to the closed course. On the upside, we are alone. No one else thinks to play disc golf when the season has ended.
And on the upper of upsides, we are enthralled!
Because it's nearly dusk, the birds begin their evening sweep and holler. Small birds, large birds. Geese and sandhill cranes. They all give the signal, then take off.
Of course, it's the sandhill cranes that catch our eye. And there are many many sandhills before us!
Their dance, their at once eerie and melodic call, their grace -- they're so mesmerizing!
Eventually, they take off...
And that's equally beautiful!
Have a grand flight to your night time resting place!
(Eventually, their sound is replaced by the sound of an airplane or two -- we are on the flight path for flights coming in from the east coast. I know that my daughter, who has been away working in DC, is on one of those planes. I wave.)
Ed and I continue our game and it is actually a very wonderful game. I haven't quite shaken The Bug, but it feels great to be outdoors despite its peskiness.
Shortly after, the young family comes over for Sunday dinner.
We sit down, I smile. Another week, another Sunday.
What a beautiful day you had/made/were blessed with. Oh! I thought all the Sandhills Cranes would have been far south of Madison by now. I wonder what they are still doing up that far north....
ReplyDeleteI love all cookies that I have ever eaten, and I think I have eaten ( and baked ) all the kinds mentioned in this post ( even those ordiginal fruity ones you made recently). I do think Ed is describing American "sugar cookies" he ate as a child, and liked. But... there are so many variations of "sugar cookies". And they all taste & bake differently. Funny that those are what stay fondly in his memory.
Such a coincidence that our son used the term “mis en place” just yesterday. He was talking about the chefs at his restaurant. Although the phrase was unfamiliar, I have actually set it up that way all my life. Learned from my mother, of course.
ReplyDeleteNow I can use the phrase and be impressive ;)
I’m glad you’re feeling better. You want to appreciate November gold when the day presents itself.
I too wave at my husband’s plane when he’s coming home :) I check flightaware.com and go outside to watch for him. I have had this fascination since I was Snowdrop’s age.