With my entire family coming for the holidays, I’ve been kicking myself for leaving my favorite “family cookbooks” in the States– the ones sold to raise money for our parish or local hospital and have recipes titled “Aunt Susie’s Very Best Christmas Morning Casserole” or simply “Party Potatoes”.
These cookbooks contain only the tried and true. They’re the best for planning festive menus, and I foolishly put them in storage.
Gee, I can’t imagine why I didn’t think about Christmas when I was packing in MAY…
I’ve been making do, thanks to the Internet and “helpful hints” picked up at the grocery store.
Last week, we had roasted leg of lamb with ciabatta stuffing, delicious Jerusalem artichokes, and cranberry jelly and all because someone handed me the list of the ingredients and the instructions as I walked in the door…
I thought I was doing all right until I was invited to a cookie exchange. The instructions read:
…bring 4-5 dozen cookies, of one type, then you exchange with the other moms so that you end up with all types of cookies, but only have to bake one type!
Homemade Cookies?! …but, I left my stand mixer, baking sheets, and, most importantly of all, my COOKIE SCOOP behind too!
I got online to locate new cookie scoops in the UK, but only retailers in the US carried what I was looking for. They were all rather inexpensive, but international shipping is crazy and I would be responsible for the customs charges…
In other words, I would be paying upwards of $30 or $40 for a $5 item.
I love springy little cookie scoops, but dude, not THAT much.
I huffed and I puffed and I told Mike, “I can’t live here anymore! It’s a good thing we’re (probably) going home soon… Wait! Let’s not even wait for your contract. Let’s go home NOW and be with all of our stuff! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”
You could say I’d finally made peace with our situation… sort of.
As for the party, I was prepared to throw a box of store-bought cookies against that wall for that “homemade-look”. Then, the very next day, I walked past a modest kitchen store. My expectations were rather low, but I thought I’d give it one more shot.
After I bumbled my way through describing what a cookie scoop is, the kind shopkeeper pointed me to a shelf that had EXACTLY what I was looking for… along with new cookie sheets and much, much more.
The clouds parted. Angels sang. And I decided that I loved living in England all over again.