Tribute to the Last Cookie

I ask the Daughter if she can send me a couple of photos of her and her friends eating the cookies she received in her care package. In theory she's totally supportive of this idea but then reality sinks in. In order to take a picture of eating cookies it means that she will actually have to eat the cookies and this means less cookies. I think to myself that yes isn't that the point of cookies? To eat them? However, my finely tuned parental instincts (in my dreams) tell me to watch and wait so, on this rare occasion, I do.

The face of sadness at the last cookie

Margaret says the only thing they should eat from now on are the chocolate cookies and that I should open a bakery. I always liked Margaret.

The Boyfriend says the cookies are delicious and he wants more. I always knew the Boyfriend had good taste.

Laura, Margaret, and Brandy

In the end, the cookies last 5 days. In the end, the Daughter realizes that desserts are meant to be shared. And that's because:

Food is Love.

Grocery Shopping

Weekly grocery shopping at a supermarket must be one of the most inefficient processes of daily living. First we take stuff off the shelves and into our shopping carts. Then at the checkout we take things out of our carts and onto the conveyor belt. Then we take the bags off of the conveyor belt and back into our carts. At the car, we take the bags out of the cart and into the car. Once home, we take the bags out of the car and into the house. The final step is taking stuff out of the bags and into their storage places in the house.

A long time ago when the kids were little I tried phoning it in. You place your grocery order by phone or online and it's delivered right to your door. There's only one in/out from the bags to your shelves. But that shopping as an experience was a shadow of its usual self. There's something about seeing and appreciating the bounty that's available to us that's important to me keeping my life of abundance in perspective.

This has come into my contemplation at this time because the Hubby is working on the weekends so it's just me and the Beamer for grocery shopping. The Beamer loves grocery shopping. He doesn't worry about time constraints. He never has an agenda. He doesn't have any preconceived expectations. He just lives in the exact moment that he's in and gets all the enjoyment he can from it. For the Beamer, the weekly trip to the grocery store is an adventure. It's an opportunity to observe lots of interesting looking people. It's a time to try out different foods. It's a place with wide open spaces to practice walking (away). Every aisle you turn down has attractive items on the shelves to grab and touch.

The Beamer's not worried by his mother's exasperation. He knows she'll get it eventually.

From Mother to Daughter

I first tasted Anzac Biscuits about 15 years ago in New Zealand. My brother-in-law Richard's mother Anne was the baker of them. Anne generously gave me her recipe back then and I was inspired to resurrect it this weekend in honour of the visit from Australia of Richard's sister (and Anne's daughter) Angela and her family. However, a Canadian making an Australian specialty for Australians didn't seem appropriate. I instead make Apple Crisp, a recipe passed to me from my mother. It was a perfect end to an Indian inspired meal that Trish and Richard created after commandeering our kitchen. Now THIS is the way to entertain! Someone else cooks a delicious meal and my only responsibilities are my specialties: dessert and candles.

A treasured well-used recipe card written by my mother

Mothers passing along their recipes to secure a piece of themselves into the future. Recipes and wisdom. In addition to apple crisp, I learned many things from my mother. Prepare ahead of time for a dinner party. Drink lots of water. Keep a piece of paper towel on the floor of the kitchen while you're cooking to wipe up drips. Be suspicious of strangers.This last one seems a little random but it made a lasting impression.

No strangers here!

Angela, Doug and their daughter Alana bring us a bottle of champagne-style beer that they picked up on their way through Boston. It tastes like beer but lighter and with finer bubbles. As for the choice of wine, the Hubby is in a quandary. Australian wine served to Australians in Canada doesn't seem appropriate. So the Hubby picks some fine Ontario wines from Hillebrand Winery.

Doug and Angela, Richard and Trish

Alana, Scarlett, the Adolescent, the Beamer

Now back to the Anzac Biscuits. Although I'm not Anne's daughter, I'm the sister of Anne's DAUGHTER-in-law. Close enough! Scarlett is Anne's granddaughter and calls her "Ma". Even better. I will too! If I'm properly calculating my motherly responsibilities, the Daughter is due a second care package right about now (read about her first care package) . I will send her Anzac Biscuits passed from Ma to Mom to Daughter. These biscuits come out exactly as I remember them from 15 years ago when Ma made them. Crisp and crunchy with pumpkin, sunflower, and sesame seeds.

Anzac Biscuits

However I want to show the Daughter that her mother doesn't just do the minimum. I go the extra mile. I also make Instant Ecstasy Chocolate Cookies from Karen Barnaby's cookbook Screamingly Good Food. There's hardly any flour in these cookies and lots of chocolate and pecans and almonds. They are soft and gooey and intensely chocolatey. The Adolescent is very appreciative that they all don't fit into the mailing container.

Rich and gooey chocolate delight

The Daughter is going to love both of these treats. She can savour them while she contemplates the lessons she learned from me. Say what you think. Your feelings are worth expressing. Relationships are hard work but always worth the effort. Don't trust anyone who doesn't eat dessert. She also learned that when she goes to the washroom at a restaurant to not leave her purse back at the table without someone watching out for it. You never know when a suspicious stranger is going to crawl under the table without your dinner mates noticing and steal it. From mother to daughter to daughter.

My Dad, the Hubby, Sinikka, Trish, the Beamer, the Adolescent, Angela and Doug

The Hubby Bakes a Cake

The Hubby baking

The Hubby has invited our friends Mary, Mike and Paolo over for dinner to celebrate my birthday. The Hubby asks me the most important question first. What kind of cake do I want? In this, he is asking what kind of cake do I want him to buy. He is endearingly naive if he thinks I will be able to resist this opportunity to simultaneously control the situation while getting him to prove his love for me in one of the best ways I know how. I want him to bake! He blanches but recovers quickly. It is exquisite pleasure choosing the recipe. That in itself is almost enough. Almost.



I ask the Adolescent to work with his father on the cake. The Adolescent blanches. He does not recover. I bribe him. I tell him he doesn't have to give me any other gift. It doesn't work. The Hubby is on his own.

Paolo, Mary, the Adolescent, Mike, the Beamer, me

It's really difficult choosing the cake. I settle on one, but then change my mind. This goes on 5 more times! The Hubby mocks me. But there's a lot of pressure to choose the right cake. The last time the Hubby baked me a cake was 25 years ago (see Happy Birthday to Me)! If I'm getting one cake every 25 years I want to get it right! I finally settle on Lemon Layer Cake with Pineapple Filling. The Hubby is nervous. After 25 years he's kind of rusty. I suggest that he follow the recipe exactly. Baking is kind of like a science experiment. Until you have some experience under your belt it's best not to do your own thing or you never know what you might end up with.


It's very strange not being involved in the cake making. I distract myself with other activities and let the Hubby do his own thing.  I more or less succeed.

The Adolescent, Scarlett, Richard, Trish, my Dad, Sinikka, me, the Beamer

In amongst all this baking we are invited to Trish, Richard and Scarlett's home for a birthday dinner.  As usual, they outdo themselves. The feast includes osso bucco style short ribs, home made pasta, and a Spice Cake with Mocha Icing for the birthday cake.

Trish made me a birthday cake!

It's all so delicious. I feel very pampered and important and loved.

Lemon Layer Cake with Pineapple Filling

After 2 days of baking (on and off) the Hubby's cake is ready. He is proud of his achievement. He enjoyed the experience. He muses aloud that perhaps he will become a Baker. A what?! Dear Hubby, in the most loving way, I must tell you...Back Off! There's one Baker in the family and it is me. How would I bake back the Adolescent's love if he also had you to turn to for cookies, muffins, and cinnamon buns? And I would make the most terrible Kitchen Bitch. Too controlling. Our family could use a Knitter, or a Musician, or a Gardener. But we already have a Baker. Please please reconsider this most horrible idea.

The Daughter is away at university but joins us on Skype for the Cake

In spite of this looming crisis, I am totally impressed with the Hubby's cake. It is DELICIOUS! The cake is dense and lemony, perfectly paired with the pineapple filling and subtly flavoured lemony whip cream frosting. The Hubby adds his own flourish and garnishes the top with lemon zest. It is beautiful. It is a work of art. Worth the wait of 25 years! Thank you Hubby for this most loving birthday gift.