Entry the thirty-second: It starts...
What, you ask? What is starting, exactly?
Holiday baking, that's what.
Except very little actual baking occurred tonight. I used my wonderful KitchenAid mixer (one of the best birthday presents ever!) to put together um... hold on, I'm counting on my fingers... SEVEN batches of gingerbread cookie dough. My husband thought I was kidding when I told him to buy 5 jars of molasses -- Ha!
My husband set the cat bed up in the kitchen doorway and first Mirabelle then Sylvie obligingly smooshed into it. I feel sure they were cheering me on.
Next week I will descend upon my parents' (larger, nicer, more modern) kitchen like a gingerbread dervish and roll out and bake all this dough. My parents don't mind this because
1. It's a nice way to hang out
2. Their house ends up smelling like gingerbread
3. They get to eat all the mistakes and extra bits.
My mother really likes it when I appropriate their lovely double oven for my cookie madness. The ensuing cheer always knocks the "They-put-Christmas-stuff-up-in-the-stores-in-August-and-that's-just-wrong,-wrong,-WRONG" grouchy mood out of my dad. Once he's experienced the healing power of baking cookies, he brings the boxes of Christmas decorations in from the garage. My mom can never make any headway in this department before baking day.
Happy December!
Labels: baking, dad, December, gingerbread, mom
posted by Elinoire @ 1:48 AM
5 Comments:
Mmmmm, gingerbread. The cats are Much Too Cute, too.
They're smooshed up in the basket again now. They really don't fit the way they used to -- a big ol' chunk of Mirabelle hanging outside the edge. Doesn't seem to bother her, though.
I love gingerbread cookies. I think we have exactly the same mixer in the same color. I can be seen polishing it a lot. I asked for kitchenware a couple of years ago and got all sorts of nice things. Whenever I come home with some new thing hubby mutters, don't we have enough kitchen things already? Well, no.
Do your cats follow you where ever you go?
If I ever finished my screenplay and made loads of money I would totally redo my already pretty nice kitchen and put in a huge stove, double ovens, six burners, take the guest room apart and make it into a pantry and pastry area... oh sorry, I get carried away.
I, too, polish my mixer. I call it my racing mixer because of the color. I've even told my husband that I want my ashes put in the bowl and then the whole thing can be buried when I'm gone... but I was kidding. Mostly.
It may be *possible* to have too many kitchen things, but I'm not there yet. There aren't too many gadgety things that I'd like, but when I win the lottery (the one that I never play... hm, my plan has some holes in it) I'm going to upgrade all my pans and things. I never realized the difference good pans and knives made until I got a couple, and now I find that I never want to use my sturdy reliable old Revere ware.
The cats don't follow us everywhere, but they're often in the same room we are. They don't have a lot of options, poor things, because the house is tiny and they aren't allowed outside. Sylvie, the little cat, sometimes leaves the living room (where we all are), walks into the bedroom, and then loudly complains that she's bored because there's no one in there with her. Hmph. I guess if I wanted pets with no opinions I would have gone for sea monkeys instead of cats.
Five bottles of molasses for serious baking... we are soul sisters :). I bow to your serious undertaking.
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