I was going to post some recipes with pictures tonight. However, I am so over food at the moment. Why? I’ve been in the kitchen most of the day. Except for a quick trip to Publix for a few items that I wanted super fresh for cooking today.
Tomorrow evening is our second annual Christmas party. I’ve made my fudge, 4 different types of cookies, chocolate rice crispy treats, mini cupcakes, spiced rum cupcakes, a cheeseball, and a loaded ranch potato salad. Needless to say, I am exhausted after all of that. I woke up at 5am so I could wrap a few gifts too. Tomorrow I have to make the rum frosting, mini bbq sandwiches, vanilla frosting, the holiday cocktail, and hot chocolate bar. Also, I need to drive into downtown Savannah to pick up my hubby’s gift from the kids. Then wrap about 6 more gifts. And, after today’s cooking (SP helped) the floors need a good sweeping and mopping. (I love that child. But she can make a mess.)
I love being able to cook with SP. I have so many great memories cooking with my Grandmother or Mom. Mainly, my Grandmother allowed me to taste test everything. I used to watch her throw ingredients together without measuring anything. I was in awe. Now, I find myself doing the same.
Cooking with my Mom was always more of a comedy show. We always screwed something up. My favorite memory is the time we were cooking something with confectioners sugar. My Dad had an old radio on the kitchen counter. My mom somehow managed to create a sugar poof that covered Dad’s radio. The radio had a small thin wooden structure over the fabric speaker. The sugar covered that area. We exchanged a panicked “Oh shit!” Look. Mom frantically unpluged the radio to clean the sugar off of it over the trash can. About that time, we heard Dad coming from the office towards the kitchen. Mom and I exchanged a “OMG! What are we going to do?!” Look. All I could think of is to stand in front of the trash can while mom stood still, holding the radio behind me…both praying to God Dad didn’t look at us. He steps into the kitchen, rummages through his mail pile, and walks back to the office. Mom and I couldn’t believe he didn’t notice us. We quickly cleaned the radio the best that we could. For years you could still see some of the white confectioners sugar in that speaker fabric. Mom and I would look at one another and bust out laughing. Dad probably thought we were nuts. To this day, when Mom and I cook together we think about that moment and laugh until we cry.
It is the smallest of moments that become the biggest memories. I hope to have plenty of those silly, happy memories with my kids in the kitchen.