Sometimes when I’m really running behind, and I haven’t gotten half the things done I was trying to I come to a realization. It’s when I stand up and announce to the world, “I don’t have enough crap that I’m slacking off on and should get more!”
The year was 1950, and the very first Betty Crocker cookbook came out. One of the many versions that followed gave me the recipe for the first cake I ever baked from scratch, and the pages clearly showed where I had tried and failed) to become a tiny chef. At this point my mom would start telling y’all about my scrambled eggs and asparagus strings (yes just the strings) dish, so please kindly ignore this. One of my favourite things to do was flip through the pages and admire the (scary) pics and daydream about putting on big fancy dinner parties. Can you blame me for driving poor D up the wall until he got me the newly reprinted original?
Of course, you can’t expect me to be satisfied with not making some sort of party out of it. They never saw it coming, the poor chicklets. Before they knew what had hit them upside the head with a giant wooden spoon, Laurie and Holly and Nikki and Clara had been strong armed into joining in on the fun. Here the group of us is on a typical day around the kitchen bar.
Y’all know the way it goes, each week a new recipe will be picked by one of us and we’ll all make it and blog about it. Ya know, unless we’re being slackers or the kids are being hellions or the relatives are coming or we’re just feeling lazy or any other excuse that sounds good at the time.
Bring on the cocktail aprons!