Thank you Nicky from Nicky Bee Shop on etsy for featuring my Gingerbread Surprise card in this delicious Treasury!
(I'm down there in the middle of the bottom row.)
I painted that piece for my Christmas card a few years back. Its one of the few pieces I have that's all done in watercolors. I love painting that way, and don't know why I don't do more of it! Colored pencils have kind of taken over lately, but I think I'll go back to doing more painting this coming year. Yes, I definitely will.
Nicky has some really cool things in her shop. I love this cookie tin full of Christmas cookie ornaments!
People on etsy are so clever. I'm always amazed at people's ideas and creativity and productiveness (is that a word?).
I'm great at thinking up cool ideas, then tend to poop out before they actually get made. You could (and I have) spent hours looking at all the wonderfully crafty things on etsy. Very inspiring!
I'm baking today, finally.
Two pans of shortbread are in the oven as we speak. Peanut butter cookie dough is chilling and will get baked next. After that its my famous chocolate cookies which are actually Martha's recipe, but don't tell anyone. As for gingerbread, well, we'll see.
The house is smelling really good and the kitchen floor has a good dusting of flour and sugar on it, perfect for sand dancing (you know, the old soft shoe).
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By: Paula Pertile,
on 12/21/2008
Blog: Drawing a Fine Line (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: etsy, shortbread, gingerbread surprise card, Nicky Bee Shop, treasury, baking, Add a tag
By: tara,
on 10/28/2008
Blog: Tara Lazar (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Childhood Memories, Apple Pie, Pies, Pumpkin Pie, Pie Contests, New Jersey, Food, Memoir, Contests, Recipes, Writing, Baking, Short Stories, Creative Writing, Writing for Children, Add a tag
Leaves crackle underfoot and the early-morning air smells like an ice cube. It’s autumn. Time for the annual public library pie contest.
My mother did not bake ordinary pies. Creating a pie was a day’s event, begun with two knives cutting butter and shortening into flour until it resembled sand, a forgotten summer sight until its culinary resurrection. She floated from cupboard to bowl, bowl to oven with a grace befitting a ballerina. She sliced. She whipped. She dolloped. She made the house smell better than Willy Wonka’s factory.
And so, when I was nine years old, I thought my mother finally deserved public acknowledgement of her pie prowess. When I saw a poster announcing our library’s fall pie contest, I entered her name. When I returned home and told her, she was more excited than I was.
Which pie shall it be? The apple-cranberry? No, too predictable. The three-berry pie? No, out of season. Ahh, I know. The chocolate-amaretto chiffon pie.
Children aren’t supposed to have a taste for amaretto. I was the exception. The almond-flavored liquor enhanced the chocolate flavor so well, I thought I might faint. Her creation began with homemade chocolate pudding, then a tall dome of whipped cream, onto which she drizzled an amaretto-chocolate reduction. Slivered almonds and chocolate shavings dusted the top with such even precision, you might think she arranged each piece with tweezers. I do not know how we transported the pie unscathed, but we arrived and unveiled the masterpiece to such gasps of amazement, the librarians had to shush us.
The event boasted eight pies, but zero competition. An apple pie with a rustic crust appeared soggy and deflated. Mom’s hand-fluted crust would have made Martha envious. My teeth stuck together just looking at the shoo-fly pie. The chocolate-amaretto pie melted on the tongue.
A librarian instructed three judges to score the pies on a scale of 1 to 3 according to three criteria: appearance, taste and originality. Yes, yes and yes. She would win all three. I would be so proud. She would remember that it was I, her eldest daughter, who launched her pie celebrity.
The first sign that this would be a real contest was when one judge glanced at another’s appearance score for Mom’s pie. “Wow, you’re a tough cookie!” she said. Translation: Mom probably received a 1 from the Russian Judge instead of a well-deserved 3.
Tasting came next. The judges took one bite of each pie. There was tongue swishing, water gulping, and lip pursing. A gentle scribble, scribble on their note cards.
Finally, originality. With pumpkin, pecan, and plain ol’ lemon meringue, Mom’s fusion of almond and chocolate would take that category for certain.
Our entire family waited nervously for the awards to be announced.
“Third place: the shoo-fly pie!” A tiny, elderly woman shuffled to the front of the room and accepted a ribbon and a cookbook. She posed for the town photographer.
If Mom did not take second, then I knew first prize would be hers.
“Second place: the pumpkin pie!” A young mother smiled as she received a ceramic pie plate.
Hooray! Victory! A pie for the record books! A pie to launch a career! My mother, the world’s best baker! (Or, at least the best baker in this town of 20,000!)
“And the winner is…and we have to say, this was a unanimous decision…the apple pie!”
What? That sorry-looking blob? It’s just APPLE! Anyone can make an apple pie! It takes a creative genius to pair chocolate with amaretto (especially in 1979)!
The worst part of the defeat was that the woman who won was not even present. Yep, it was a drop-off pie.
Once the prizes were announced, the pies were cut and plates distributed. And which pie do you think disappeared first? Mom’s chocolate-amaretto chiffon. Our family snubbed the other pies and dug into our favorite.
In the end, I learned that public accolades aren’t important. After all, there’s really no accounting for taste.
By: Garden Painter Art,
on 4/29/2007
Blog: Garden Painter Art (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: baking, home, gnarly-dolls, Garden Painter Art, Kimberly Wlassak, cinnamon rolls, praying mantis, The Food Network, Paula Deen, Add a tag
Good Afternoon All:
Time has flown today as it's after 3 o'clock in the afternoon. It's been one of those calm and glorious days when nothing too exciting happens. My house is quiet right now, except for the chop chop chopping of my daughter Ava preparing vegetables for the grill basket. Gary and my oldest son, Garrison, are out practicing driving for his behind the wheel test tomorrow. My other son, Brayden is lurking about somewhere. Most likely, he is sitting on the living room couch engrossed in "The Lord Of The Rings", as he has been each day this week.
We're having a bar-b-que this evening and have no plans to do anything more than that!
The most uneventful days can often be where I find myself most at peace. The quietness allows me to hear the sounds that sometimes get lost in busy-ness. It may be my kids footsteps plodding down the hall or the cat using his scratching post to it's full potential. It doesn't matter so much what I hear, but the simple fact that I hear what sometimes goes unnoticed and unheard. At this very moment, my house is echoing with the sound of hungry goldfinches flocking about the back yard feeders. Sitting next to me is my Praying Mantis habitat with hundreds of freshly hatched and voraciously hungry insects. I can hear them jumping and tapping all about inside their netted home. 
Somewhere in a distant room is a television tuned to The Food Network. Likely, my daughter is watching TV while she's preparing for the bar-b-que.
The comforts of home rely so much on all of my senses. Hearing my home is something that I have learned to appreciate. Being aware of the sounds is just as heart-warming as the sights and smells. Although I must admit, the smells that gently tickle your nose when Ava is making a special desert can often place your focus on the smells of home. 
Several night ago, Ava made her first attempt at baking with yeast. She made homemade Cinnamon Rolls. They were heavenly. They rose perfectly and had a wonderfully subtle glaze on top.
So, home can be the ultimate comfort, touching all of your senses, sometimes all at once. Whether it's the tapping of Mantis, or the sweet smell of homemade Cinnamon Rolls, the simple gifts that home offers can be the best and most worthy gifts in a lifetime.
Until Tomorrow:
Kim
Garden Painter Art
gnarly-dolls
By: Becky,
on 1/5/2007
Blog: Farm School (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: poetry, winter, Poetry Friday, recipes, baking, children's books, Add a tag
While editing my last comment on the previous post for too many italics (I forgot to turn them off), I discovered Elizabeth's comment yesterday in last month's Solstice post, asking for the Happy Winter Fudge Cake recipe mentioned. I'm happy to oblige, especially because it includes a bit of poetry. (PS If you you ever have a question, please just email me offblog at the address to the left
I love forward to seeing your watercolours in 2009!
Glad to see that you are getting down to your baking. I agree, a flour covered kitchen floor is perfect for some old soft shoe moves. Kind of a shame to have to clean it up! :-)
Your watercolor is lovely! I get tired of how slowly colored pencil goes, so have moved more and more thoroughly into almost exclusively watercolor now.
And now I think I need to go make gingerbread...
A random compliment-y comment... Paula, I just LOVE your blog! It is so much fun, and interesting, and informative -- and inspiring! And your writing has such a great 'voice.' I really feel as if I know you (though not in a creepy stalker-ish way). Keep up the coolness -- and happiest of holidays to you! Your fan, rebecca