When the Cat’s Away, the Mice Will Play

This is one of those rare occurrences where I’ll let Suz’s lame placeholder title remain.

I’m not exactly sure what Suz’s uber-productive mentality when I’m in absentia says about our relationship.

Does my semi-slothlike presence hinder her naturally occurring sparks of ingenuity and creativity?

This girl makes lists when I’m gone.  Projects galore.  Baking to excess.

When I arrived in Raleigh after a visit to the Bluegrass on the 30th, her enthusiasm for all that she had accomplished in the days prior was palpable.  A light box had (nearly) been constructed, multiple parties had been hosted, and pounds of deliciousness concocted, simmered, and spiced.  Then I settle into the family home and we spend a day lounging around watching Mad Men.

Was it me?  Did I suck the life out of the room of this productive family?  Or was I welcome reprieve, a counterbalance?

Yeah, I’ll go with that for my own self esteem.

I’ll be making my return to Charleston this afternoon.  Hope you got your shot at partaking in Suzanne’s creativity while it lasted.

Perhaps changing this whole situation should have been my worthwhile New Year’s resolution.

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Let the Season of Baking and Basketball Begin

Special thanks to Don Draper for the accompanying product placement.  It is quite original, Don.

I have always enjoyed the beginning of November not only because it ushers in the college basketball season but also because of what it means for my taste buds and stomach. I have always had someone in my life, namely my late-grandmother, who was an avid baker, a mini-Julia Child if you will.  Seriously, my grandmother was no taller than 4 foot 8 but, to be fair, Julia Child was literally my height.

I remember helping, also known as watching, my grandmother prepare the most delectable pumpkin pies and sock-it-to-me-cakes.

I remember helping, also known as eating as much raw cookie dough that I could before disallowance due to salmonella fear, my grandmother make tins upon tins of holiday cookies, pinwheels, and the like.

I remember not actually helping because baking looked complicated and because I honestly wasn’t allowed to really touch anything that would soon go into a pan due to my grandmother’s meticulous, almost scientific approach to the baking and confectionary arts.

And all was for the best.  No spoiled goods and I got to devour a king’s ransom in sugar while watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Now that I’m older and have become a somewhat frequent “cook” (loosely used here), I still have not delved into baking.  I leave that to the new mini-Julia in my life, Suzanne, who concocted a delicious butternut squash apple cranberry bake on Halloween morning.  This time, I actually did help to a small degree, peeling and chopping the butternut squash at the butcher block table while engulfed in a pleasant reverie of Brandon Knight feeding Terrence Jones on the break for the dunk.

It’s going to be a good November.

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