Eureka!

Isn’t it wonderful when you stumble across a new, more efficient way to accomplish something? Surely you know that conflicted feeling -- somewhere between proud, self satisfied, and slightly annoyed -- when the revelation hits that your methods before were wasting time, but now you can increase productivity tenfold! Made two such discoveries today; gold star. The second though came at a price. Reading the manual. Dismal. I spent close to twenty minutes flipping through thing (because each page lists directions in all four languages; they can’t have printed each language in its own section) until I found out how to use presser-foot attachment number 7. Mystery solved at last. Sweet success. Although, I wish someone could have told/shown me in a minute or less; yes, and deny myself the satisfaction of knowing I persevered and taught myself something new. Pah. Actually - it makes me wonder: why do we say someone is “self-taught” if the real teacher is the author of the book? But I digress. A great feeling of accomplishment followed my laborious research. And now it’s off to bed.

Good morning to you too

      Coffee was the very first order of business this morning. Thoughts of a iced coffee with vanilla and cream. With venti in hand, once again, everything is right in the world. After jump starting my engine with my coveted caffeine (and a veggie-packed breakfast, of course, for breakfast is the most important meal of the day), I was ready to whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I turned the oven on to pre-heat at 350 degrees F and grabbed the half-stick of Parkay margarine that I set out to soften before leaving for my coffee, which was comfortably room temperature. Ideal for the cookies. I have in the past on occasion zapped my Parkay in the microwave, but the absolute best cookies result when it’s been set out.

      To Mr. Softie Parkay, I added the Chocolate Chip Cookie mix, 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil, 1 large egg and ½ a teaspoon of vanilla extract, mmm, the sweet smell of real vanilla extract (none of this “imitation flavor” junk). A couple minutes of stirring it all together and my mouth began to water. I could see the dough mixing into a lovely almond-tan color. Irresistible. I took a snitch. Just a small taste, to sample the dough, you know... to make sure it tasted delicious. It did. (Naturally). Those semi-sweet chocolate chips partied in my mouth with the sugar and buttery, vanilla flavors - they are fast friends you see. But back to the business of baking them: I grabbed my non-stick baking sheet and began to spoon out the cookies, being sure to leave room in between them so each could spread out (kinda territorial, aren’t they?). Timer set, I knew I only had to wait 12 short minutes for the desired results.  As I sipped my coffee, I watched the clumps of dough slowly flatten and plump. A minute before the timer went off, I poured myself half a glass of cold milk. BEEEEEP! 

 

      Perfection. I smiled as I gently lifted the golden beauties from the oven. Saving them from over-cooking on the hot baking sheet, I scooped them up and placed them on the cooling rack. But the last one (yes, the one that looked like it had the most chocolate chips) I rescued to a small plate. My plate. My cookie plate. How my tummy grumbled at their deliriously sweet scent. While another pan of cookies started the 12 minute journey to perfection, I sat, happily nibbling away, each and every bite of heaven. “This is bliss,” I thought to myself.  “What an ideal way to start off any day!”
-Nonnie

The storm before the calm

Debris and scraps

Sometimes I feel my workspace looks like a natural disaster came through. Perhaps it did. The whirlwind of pattern cutting, fabric scraps flying around the room, landing in hap-hazard piles - colorful stacked uncut fabrics, layers of apron skirts, waistbands and ties. Finished pieces for the next aprons lie next to each other as we sew each apron in turn. Team sisters + mom, dedicated, chip away at the mound of pre-cut fabric. Stitch and snip and iron and sew, repeat. Unique pairings of the fabric make the whole process a party. Each apron has its own personality, and I can’t wait to meet the next one. The demure Victorian floral print with her sweet cream pocket and ties is followed by a spunky multi-colored pattern and bold orange with no-nonsense white pinstripes. The abstract green pocket pops on the cherry flecked gingham, and makes me think of baking pies rather than cookies. Mmmm, cookies. Speaking of those: check back in soon for Nonnie’s no-hassle, step-by-step, guide-to-perfection confection chocolate chip cookies.  

-Squeaks

Beginnings

As I went out this evening to purchase my first “bulk” set of 50 jars for Nonnie’s Chocolate Chip Cookies, a wave of excitement hit me. I thought to myself, “This is really happening. We are committed and I am as thrilled about this endeavor as ever!” The man behind the counter didn’t take me too seriously when I politely asked him for a box to put all 50 items into that I was purchasing. He replied, “Just grab a cart and throw ‘em in all in there.” A moment of silence passed between us as I looked at him in disbelief. “My items are glass jars.” I stated as politely as I could, looking him directly in the eye. “Is there perhaps just one box that I could pack them all into to carry out?” He furrowed his brows and was off to find a box. 

My mother, accompanying me along this bulk purchasing adventure, quickly found our jars and started counting, setting aside exactly 50. As we inspected each and everyone, the excitement welled up within me once again. I proudly wheeled the box up to the check out counter, which fit snugly into our cart. The man replied, “Wow, you weren’t kidding. 50 jars, huh?” I smiled and affirmed, with a quick nod of my head. “Looks awful heavy, are you sure you will be able to get the box out of that cart?” Mom piped up, “We will manage.” Once paid for, I proudly wheeled our first 50 jars out to my vehicle. I gently placed the box into my car and off I drove, as slowly and carefully as any first-time parent with a newborn. I could hear the slight clinking of glass with every bump, turn and stop. My heart was pounding but I couldn’t stop smiling.
 
~Nonnie