It’s started…

 

What one might ask?

Knowing that I live in Switzerland – the snow? Well that started, stopped and in the coming weeks will be a reoccurring affair, or not – depends on the year.

 

The car? That’s always a good thing.

 

The flu season? Already a possibility, but hopefully not until I have my vaccination next week.

 

The aging process? Well in hand

 

The blessings of family? Ah, that’s ongoing and now that I am a grandmother again even better with the years.

 

The wrapping of presents in light of the upcoming yearly Christmas event? Nope, not good at that and it is often a last-minute-affair or bundled into a sack with a piece of tissue paper over it in guise of real wrapping: wrapping presents, as my handwriting, is NOT one of my strengths!

 

Ah, getting close, the Christmas baking marathon.

Just put the first of many batches of brownies in the oven  and from now through the New Year there won’t be many days when at least one lot of cookies gets baked. I take after my aunt, for whom I was named, and my mother. I love baking.

 

It would be a sad year when I can’t bake!

 

 

I flocculated the brownies or…

According to today's « word-a-day » from wordsmith.com, turned them into an aggegrated lumpy mass.

Intentions were good when I started cleaning out cupboard space yesterday, when I took all my scarves out of my drawer with the goal of sorting and tidying up that particular mess, which was in itself a flocculated.

Then got distracted and never finished (the scarf drawer that is, the three linen cupboards are done) so the thrust of my energy this morning was to finish that, until I remembered that one of my best friends is going to spend two weeks with her daughter and family and that maybe making brownies would be more fun.

First batch of the season and truly, it can only get better as what with leaving out one square of chocolate, 25 grams of butter and adding too much baking soda (couldn’t find the baking powder and don’t have self-rising flour), they boiled over making not only a mess of the oven, but reducing drastically the amount of brownies that actually look o.k.

So the far away people will get the best, but reluctant to throw out the burnt edges and crumbling bits have dumped them all into a tupperware and will take them to another friend as icecream toppings. If they throw them out I won’t have to know !

Then this word – flocculate – showed up in my daily word distribution and I couldn’t resist. Such fun to just repeat : I am flocculating, I have flocculated, they are being flocculated…

Brownie love

The summer I was sixteen my mother decided that we children should all have to learn how to plan meals, do the grocery shopping for same then actually cook the evening repast: she started with me – not because I was the oldest – as my job that summer was folding sheets hot off the mangle in the hospital laundry and since it was a miserably hot job we worked from 7 until 3 p.m. meaning that I was the first off work or out of school or whatever else my siblings were doing to occupy their time.

I have often laughed about that summer as I was the one who always forgot to salt the dishes that I made: this stood me in good stead when later in life my husband needed to be on a salt-free diet.

I managed, but certainly was never the cook that my mother was. Then there was boarding school until I got out of university and although I often worked in the cafeteria of whatever school I was then attending, cooking was limited to peeling potatoes, running the cash register, or even washing the dishes.

As a young wife I didn’t get much more practice as since we worked together and were self-employed we often ate out, had to entertain clients, or had little time: my husband thought that after we got home the meal should be on the table within the following 5 minutes. That didn’t leave much scope for fancy meals.

The kids came along and again it was more getting a balanced meal on the table in short order at least twice a day: as there is an age gap in between my two sons, often we had two main meals as one or the other had been missing at lunch or would be at dinner: again more utilitarian meals.

Throughout though I developed a love of baking – my mother’s sister made us pies, cakes and cookies even when we were small and weekends were never lacking in fine home baked items.

So at one point my husband and I decided that Sundays we would only have two meals – a late breakfast and an early dinner – thus allowing us to take the kids swimming in between. That worked until teenage dietary needs loomed, then I started making a fruit tart for “dinner” as they needed something.  Christmas has always been “my” time with cookie baking, fruitcakes, etc. I’ll start end November, beginning December and normally we’ll still have something in the freezer at least until my older son’s birthday end January.

I can’t remember when first I discovered the brownie recipe, but it has become a tradition. The one thing that I can always do well; the one item that a growing circle of friends love seeing come their way.  At some point they have asked for the recipe – as have my kids – but I thought to myself, no, that is the one thing that I do excel at in the kitchen, let’s keep it my specialty.

I always make them in the winter, but have been known to do so at odd times and recently the weather was cooler, I had the time and needed dessert for an evening meal so got busy. The resulting double batch were enjoyed as dessert, some went to one good friend, some to another, some up to my landlord in the mountains and some were even left home for my housemate, her husband and my son. I’m not very good with saying I love you or even writing it, but those for whom I make brownies need to know that that is my way of showing it. But it isn’t only me that uses “Brownie Love”:

My housemate sent me the following by e-mail this morning:

“This morning I found on the brownie pan a note
 *Proof of my love for you! I 'm drunk and that brownie looks so good"

I left a note and half a brownie "Proof of my love for you."

RRR”

Brownie love is a fine thing!

the latest batch

Baked Love

It all started at the book sale last week: one of my Mary friends (there is Mary A, Mary B, Mary D, Mary G, Mary H and Mary S so far, if I add the foreign language Mary's as in Maria there would also be F and T) had been helping out at the English-speaking library since 1956 and although she no longer is there every Wednesday, she still helps with the book sale.

She is also a neighbour living just below me on the lakefront.

We got to chatting – the usual “how are you”? We really should have coffee/tea”, etc. then she proudly announced that she would be turning 90 the next Wednesday – Nov.12^th.

Well I thought – need something here, but as was on a non-residue diet (don’t ask, it’s over and all is well) waited until Tuesday when I all of a sudden thought – ah ha, I haven’t made brownies in a long, long time, the weather is cooler, I have the time, let’s do it.

Then, as is my wont, started thinking…

I need to thank S for giving my younger son a desk and two sets of drawers and she loves my brownies; need to thank F who took me to the doctor; then it was going to be the physical therapist's birthday as well and, oh by the way, brownies would - if not make the pain go away - at least be a welcome comfort to my housemate who just lost one of her best friends – and whom I would be visiting.

Then, as I am making them (two double batches!) may as well make sure that I leave some for my younger son, who although he eats very healthfully has been known to make an exception for my brownies.

In short, I baked for friends and family because I love them. I’m not always so good with the hugs or words, but brownies I can bake. And I figure that “baked love” isn't the worst way of showing it.