I received two Bake-off entries yesterday! One via Fed-X and one via UPS. Both delivery guys looked really crabby and just muttered some indecipherable mumbo-jumbo when I wished them Happy Holidays! I imagined the conversations, if we would've actually had one, kind of like this...
Yay! You're here with my goodies! I am the Owner of The 2006 Holiday, Yeah, We Said Holiday, Bill O'Reilly, What Are You Gonna Do About It? Bake-off! I won last year and now this year, I am the Head Judge! The Queen of the Bake-off! I even have a Thrown! Oh, Eat it!!!@22@!!!!!!!
Thanks! I will! Merry Christmas! Toodles!
Last night was a little crazy at Blue Family in a Red State's house. So, we weren't able to officially judge the entries. But, I have a confession. When everyone was in bed, I snuck a few samples.
I'm allowed! I own it!
And let me just say, that the entries I tasted from both contestants were fantabulous.
Adorable Girlfriend and The Uncanny Canadian made this little cookie thing where it seemed like they took one of those hotel mints -- you know, the kind they put on your pillow -- and then they encased it in sugar cookie dough. I, The Queen, bow to that cookie.
And Jennifer's Great Grandma H's, Pfefferneuse, or Peppernut cookie is simply to die for.
Official judging and posts of said judging will commence hence forth. That's Queen-speak, just in case you didn't know.
I just got the news that you're very sick. And that you've gotten several opinions and none of them are what you want or need to hear.
Since I heard the news, I've been thinking about you a lot. I haven't seen you in 20 years, but I can still remember your big, bright smile and your almond shaped, dark, chocolately eyes. And your thick dark eyelashes. And your long legs and how short I was next to you! But, that was ok when we played volleyball, wasn't it? I'd set 'em up and you'd spike 'em over. Every time. I've been thinking of us riding to games on the bus and singing Just One Victory to get pumped up. We were good. Well, almost half the time we were good.
I've been thinking of the time I sang that solo in the talent show and in the middle of it, you and Mary started woo-hooing and clapping right at the perfect time. Even though it's been so many years ago, I still remember exactly how you two doing that made me feel. Happy.
I've been thinking of your mom and how nice she always was. And how pretty she was. And how we'd make your little brother scat! when we were trying to watch All My Children in peace.
I've been thinking of your old house on that quiet culdesac. I loved the huge Magnolia tree in your front yard and how pretty is was when it bloomed in Spring.
I hear you have three daughters now. And that you're spending every single second with them that you possibly can.
I've been thinking of us in your rec room, down in the basement, listening to Carol King's album on your old stereo. There we were, lying on the floor, side by side, each of us holding one side of the album -- analyzing her hair, her jeans, her bare feet and that cat, as we listened to our favorite song on that album over and over.
Dear old friend, we weren't the best of friends or even really, really close friends, but we were friends, just the same. And I've been thinking about you a lot.
The Skimmer was the head Art Director on the Cleveland Cavaliers account in the early- to mid-nineties and designed this Christmas card for them one year. I always got a huge kick out of it and thought you might to.
See the stocking to the far right, just left of the bow? That's mine.
I heard music pounding through the floor a couple of weeks ago and thought I recognized the song, so I went running upstairs.
Blue Kid? What's that song? Oh, never mind. That's not it.
Hey, do you know this one song? It goes something like ...
Dee-do-da-da, Dee-do-da-da, Yada, yada, yada, sis boom bah,
ba-dee-da-bop. What?
What are you talking about?
I'm dying to find out what this one song is! It goes something like ... Where did I go wrong? Dee-do-da-da ... Daa-do-da-da...
Is it this one?
Hmmm. No. Where did I go wrong? Dee-do-da-da ... Daa-do-da-da.
What?! Stop talking like that! What are you talking about?
You totally like the wrong music. You love all this over-produced Sony music label crud.
It's not crud.
It is crud!
It's not crud! It's wank!
What's wank?
I don't know. That's what Pinko Punko calls it.
Who's Pinko Punko? Your blogging friend? Well, he's right. You like wank! You're a wanker!
Oh, shut up.
***
I ran to the post office on Saturday deducting points in my mind
from Pinko Punko and Geenie
Cola's Bake-off entry. Res received his in a
timely fashion, got to scarf it all down, as I sat over here
starving to death and withering away to nothing. I was too weak to
even blog about it.
But, to my surprise, my package was there! The magical feeling of
Christmas overcame me until I saw that he had used a recycled box, lots
of tape -- kind of messy. He writes his "7's" in a funny way. Sort of
like backward "F's." And then I remembered Res's shots from last
week when he received PP and GC's entry. His box was way bigger
than mine. Mine was small. Tiny. Minute. I imagined the box
included three Nestle morsels, nothing more.
I zoomed home so that I could begin judging Pinko Punko
immediately. The Skimmer, Blue Kid and Blue Kid's Friend, Broken Arm,
were all in the living room.
Hey! I got the first bake-off entry! You guys want to help me judge it?
Who's it from, mom?
Pinko Punko and his lovely wife and better half, Geenie Cola.
Everyone gathered around the kitchen table as I opened the messy,
minute, itsy bitsy box. I noticed right away that everything was sort
of shoved in the box all willy-nilly. No rhyme or reason. And then I
noticed a very quaint little detail that wiped all my previous thoughts
away.
Look how they cut their little pieces of wax paper! Isn't that pretty! I wonder if they had special scissors for that?
I was now ready to judge with an open mind.
Ok, co-judges. Here's the first one.
Mexican Wedding Cakes with Almonds & Sour Cherries:
Mmmm. Yummy. My three co-judges were chewing away as I jotted down
their comments. After we scored the little delicousables for taste,
creativity and appearance, I read out loud Res's review of the little
cakes. And I read it in my very best British accent:
The
dried cherries make a world of difference: their sour flavor and chewy
texture provides a perfect counterpoint to the sweet, crumbly cookie.
Not much else to add…these were excellent. I’m going to get the recipe,
and I will definitely make these. My only criticism is that these were
shaped a little strangely.
He's right, mom. They are a strange shape. All lumpy.
So what! Who cares about the shape! Let me finish...(continuing on in my British accent)
Pinko
says he thought they would smooth out in the oven, and here he has
learned an important lesson about shortbread-type cookies. Because they
have very little water and no leavening, they do not change shape when
baking (except for a slight shrinkage that sometimes creates small
cracks).
Mom, is he a professional cook? What's he talking about?
I don't know. He doesn't either. Ok. Let's move on.
Traditional little cookies, some plain and some with boysenberry preserves: Mom, I need milk.
Hmmm. Is it a good thing or a bad thing to need milk, I wonder?
Broken Arm said, It's good!
Blue Kid said, I think it's a bad thing!
No, it's good! Ever hear the phrase milk and cookies? What do
you leave for Santa? Milk and cookies! It's a good thing. Ok.
Moving on.
Give me another one of those first.
Here, Skimmer. Broken Arm? What do you think?
Good. But, I need milk. In a good way.
Ok. Let's all try these little chocolate balls...
Kaffir Lime & Chili Truffles, Mango & Curry Truffles, and Meyer Lemon & Thyme Truffles: What are the names of these, mom? What's curry?
It's hot stuff, but you like hot stuff, so you'll probably like it.
What's Kaffir?
I don't know.
I don't want to eat these, mom!
Just try a bite of each one!
I got glasses of milk for everyone as we started to judge the truffles.
Res was right about the chocolately goodness of the truffles...
All
three flavors of truffle had a luscious, smooth consistency and a
powerful, clean chocolate flavor. The only complaint I might lodge is
that they were a little on the soft side. The consistency was great in
the mouth, though, and I think that if you dipped these centers in
melted chocolate, you could hang out a shingle and go into business.
...and as I began to read his review aloud, the two boys started screeching...
Ahhh! What are these things?! They're so hot! Ugh!!!!!
They're good! Very non-traditional, they get points for experimentation with bizarro-world ingredients!
Mom! I have something you can tell your blogging friend. This Pinko Punko! Tell him they're wank! They're total wank!
They are not wank!
They are too wank! Pinko Punko is a total wanker! I'm not eating anymore!
And I imagined Pinko Punko doing his little dance after he got that minute package in the mail to me, dreaming of Glory and Owning The Bake-off Thrown next year.
Go wish almostinfamousgood luck on his upcoming exams. He even has one on New Year's Day. No fair. I'd say he's been bad for this to have happened to him, but I know better. How bad can someone possibly be who would post two Genesis songs for me on a lovely Sunday morning? Not bad at all. That's what I say.
Everyone who's anyone is all aflutter over Jennifer's Bill O'Reilly Cookie. It is, indeed, a wonderous piece of culinary artwork, to be sure. I, myself, am jealous of her artistic skills and the flawless execution of said cookie. So, please no one take this the wrong way.
My underling, last year's Number Two, who I am about to have thrashed at any moment, just left this comment to the Bake-off contestants and observers:
Jennifer has indeed astonished and amazed us all, but remember that taste is worth 20 points, whereas appearance and creativity only count for 10 each. And while I can’t speak for other judges, I personally give reasonably high scores to even simple items that are well-executed. Being a cook myself, I tend to ask: did you accomplish what you set out to do? Does this taste and look how it should?
That being said, outlandishly beautiful or surprisingly flavored items tend to gain points in the creativity column.
To which I replied...
"did you accomplish what you set out to do? Does this taste and look how it should?"
As I sit here stroking my chin and lighting my pipe, wearing my navy velvet blazer beside the roaring fire…I have to say I shall contemplate the same worldy questions…
Being last year's Grand Prize, Number One Winner, that means I am indeed a cook myself...
So, I tend to ask ... please, will someone -- please, I beg of you -- thrash him?
On the way home from getting our Christmas tree last weekend, I spotted a really cool, old weathered little garage with a pretty Christmas wreath and wanted to get a picture of it. The Skimmer risked life and limb in order to get the shot. Right next door there was a huge dog in the yard. And when I say huge, I mean muscular. Neck like a linebacker. A Boys of Brazil Dog. An Omen Dog. A Dog that looked like it would rip you to shreds. It was showing its teeth. Growling. Snarling. It was not happy we were there at all. It looked like a Rottweiler gone mad. Only meaner. And very Omen-like.
The Skimmer pulled to the side of the road and parked. Blue Kid was sitting in the passenger seat and I was sitting in the back.
Oh my God. Look. at. that. dog. Be careful!
I'm alright. There's probably an electric fence.
Mom! You're such a coward!
So what! Look at that dog! It's huge! It looks like it'll kill you! It should be cast in a horror movie!
Mom! Stop!
Honey, be careful.
Mom, stop ducking. Open your eyes!
Honey, why are you going up so close?! Stay back! Oh my God. Getting this shot doesn't matter so much. Get back in the car!
Mom! Shhhh! Stop ducking! Why are you ducking?!
Because I'm a little on edge anyway and I can see that thing ripping Dad's throat out!
Mom! You're so dramatic!
Honey! Hurry up! Who cares! Get back in the car.
He edged up closer to the garage as the dog was bearing his teeth, barking ferociously and running toward the road.
Oh my God! Get in the car! Ahhhh!
Mom!
What?!
Shhhh! Stop ducking!
The Skimmer got back in the car and handed me the camera. The dog never made it anywhere near the road where we were parked.
Here.
Oh, wow. This is a good shot. The wreath is out of focus a little bit. Why do you think that is?
Mom! Now you're complaining?
No, I'm not. It's great. I love it! So there. *Raspberries* Thanks, honey.
Why? I need someone there who knows me. Someone who can observe and pull me back if I start overdoing things.
It won't work.
Why?
It just won't. I know you. You don't like to be told what to do.
Well, just know what I can and cannot do and then choose your words carefully!
I'm just sayin'. You'll yell at me. No matter what I say. It won't matter.
Oh, come on.
I'm telling you. It's better if you take direction from a perfect stranger. I'm just sayin.'
Noooooo. It'll be fine. Just know what to say and what not to say.
Oh man. I can see it comin'. Like a freight train coming out of the fog.
Oh stop.
It's not going to be pretty.
It's going to be great!
All right. I'll go. Just don't yell at me. And no glaring either.
Seems as though The Skimmer thinks he knows me and also thinks I can be kind of evil! Gosh Golly Gee Willickers, didn't he see my score on the How Evil Are You Quiz?
I just took the Internet quiz How Evil Are You? I'm not evil at all? I'm Good? And they depict my goodness with a goofy Barney silhouette? Well, isn't that special?
Pshaw! Don't these internet quizzes know what runs through my head sometimes? I mean, sometimes I can be as evil as Dick Cheney, I think. And how evil is Dick Cheney? Well, if I remember right from Pinko Punko's How Evil Is Dick Cheney Contest from last February...
Dick Cheney is so evil, I have seen photographic evidence of his face appearing in the mushroom cloud over Hiroshima.
Dick Cheney is so evil that John and Michael Bolton sprang to life out of his forehead.
Dick Cheney is so evil, when he dies, Hell is going to him.
Cheney is so evil, when not stripping wilderness scrub with chains from the back of his Hummer, he leaves it idling in the driveway.
Ok. I would never own a Hummer, let alone leave one idling in the driveway. But, I can be evil!
When I was going back in my archives to find my post to link to Pinko Punko, I found this old post of mine! It's evil ... in a sweet ... sorta kinda way. But, still evil! Especially with the thoughts that are running through my head right this minute.
Take that Internet Quiz! Ha!
It's a totally bogus quiz, but, gosh golly gee willickers, if you want to take it, go click the link above.
Thanks to Shakespeare's Sister for the quiz. The quiz says she's Pure Evil. I don't believe that for a second.
your blogging service thinks i am a spammer! it won’t even throw me a CAPTCHA. it’s mostly right, because (insert non-lame self-deprecating spammer-related joke here). so yeah, you can’t get any AIF love till aksimet or whatever solution they use decides i am no longer a drone.
sorry to turn this place into 3bulls, but i’m only doing it because i know BG is reading this RIGHT NOW!
also to res, you have the patience of a saint if you can not only
a) watch porn on that tiny screen and
b) went through the trouble of converting it into that ridiculous ipod format.
Well, most messages to me haven't talked about porn on a tiny screen and converting it into a ridiculous ipod format, (Only at RoD, of course!) but the gist of the comment seems to be true. People aren't able to leave comments on my blog.
I don't know why, but I'm checking into it.
Just yesterday I was talking to a friend who said she had a friend who needed her energy realigned. Seemed as though someone or something had smashed her chakra.
I didn't think she was talking about me. Or was she?
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