Slumdog Millionaire’s Shortbread

March 23, 2012 § 10 Comments

All through our childhoods, my brothers and I were only allowed candy on Saturdays – lørdags godt, “Saturday treat.”  Each Saturday we were given our allowance, to drop into the cleaned out yogurt containers that functioned as piggybanks, plus a quarter (adjusted up over the years to a dollar, a parent does have to recognize inflation), to clasp hot and sticky in our hands as we ran to the store to spend it on any candy of our choosing.

We had a complete free market phenomenon going on with our Saturday treat allotment, and (without remotely having the terminology to talk about it) we became very shrewd at calculating the relative utility of each variety of candy as compared to its cost, in order to determine how we could best balance the quantity versus quality of our purchases.

My brothers erred on the side of quantity.  My indifference curves must have been steeper because I tended to buy exactly the candy I preferred at the time, even if it meant I wouldn’t walk away with pockets bulging.

I remember an intense Mambo phase.  Do you remember those?  Fruit-flavored chews in a similar genre to Starbursts, but ever so much better. For a long time I also harbored a strong preference for Sour Patch kids.  But, as I grew older (and our financial allocation closed in  on a dollar), I – being female, and all – developed a powerful love of chocolate.  I recall many sweet, melty Saturdays of peanut butter cups or Three Musketeers Bars.

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Raspberry ice cream sandwiches with lemon coconut shortbread

July 9, 2011 § 29 Comments

Oh yes. Raspberry ice cream sandwiches.  You know I couldn’t keep them from you.

I have a friend who, as a joke, if you say something he disagrees with or that turns out to be wrong (you know, something like a weather prediction or saying you’ll arrive 5 minutes earlier than you actually do), will shake his head sadly at you with a mixture of disappointment and frustration and a joking glint in his eye, and tell you, “you know, I just really wish you weren’t a liar.”

It sounds like kind of a mean thing to do when  I try to describe it, but it’s actually quite funny.  And I can imagine him doing it to me right now.  A deep sigh of feigned disillusionment and dismay, and an “oh Emily, you don’t have to lie to me, you know.  I just wish you weren’t a liar.”

Because you see friends, I told you in my last post that I had a new favorite summer treat, that wasn’t ice cream!  And, while the BLC-squared is still fresh in my memory in all its crunchy, gooey, salty fabulousness, I’ve gone and stumbled into another new favorite summer treat.  And, well, this one is ice cream.

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Cardamom-currant snickerdoodles

November 29, 2010 § 9 Comments

It will come as a surprise to no one when I say that marriage, it turns out, involves negotiations.  Not the least of which is where to spend holidays.  We are lucky in that both of us really like both our parents and our in-laws, but in a way it makes it almost harder because both of us would love to spend the holidays with the others’ family while at the same time we’re each devastated by the thought of missing a holiday with our own.  It’s a win-win-lose-lose situation!  This year the solution is to spend Thanksgiving with Joel’s family and Christmas with mine (which does mean we’ll be missing the Chanukah party with the painfully inept magician.  Sigh.).  And we discovered this weekend that this also translates into getting to participate in the sparkles and lights of Christmas festivities twice!

I swear, we had no sooner wiped the crumbs of turkey and cranberry sauce from our lips and tossed our napkins onto the table with little groans of satisfaction, when a faint ring of jingle-bells began to tingle-lingle in the air.  And the soundtrack (yes, this would be the soundtrack in my mind) crescendoed until the strains of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” burst onto the scene.  The weather in Washington cooperated with gusto, dropping a foot and a half of snow over a couple of days, turning the city into a giant snow globe, and enabling us to cross-country ski through the streets, waving at the cheery red-cheeked neighbors and the children out sledding.  (Seriously, it was like someone decided we should spend the weekend in a Holiday greeting card.)  There were presents to be selected and given.  A chimeric Christmas-tree-Chanukah-bush to be cut down and trimmed.  Carols to be sung.  White Christmas to be watched.  And, of course, cookies to be baked.

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