One of the very best things about doing something for a while, is getting to look back to at what you did early on and being really really happy that you kept practicing because WOW those sucked.
Cookies are something that I’ve recently gotten into more, due to a couple of fringe benefits they have over cakes (they’re small, they’re cheap to make, when you make a delivery you just put them on a tray on the floor, amazing!) as well as seeing some incredible cookie inspiration from people around the interwebs who I’m fairly certain are witches. Like her and her and her, to name a few. The only problem with looking at sites like that is it makes your own work seem, in comparison, like it came out of a rehabilitation class for people who have recently had their hands chopped off and replaced with extendable grabby claws.
I’m really excited for this Christmas, baking-wise. I’ve only made a few batches since then, but I feel like I’ve learned so much with everything I try. I’ve got a ton of great and probably waaay too ambitious ideas, and no where near enough time to actually make all of them but! Being unrealistically optimistic about my own abilities and circumstances is sort of a signature character trait of mine. Here’s a little photo-restrospective from last Christmas:
The kitchen and living room, generously sacrificed by J’s mom (although I’m not sure she knew exactly what she was getting into with this project; I certainly didn’t) were overthrown by cookies and royal icing and bowls and plastic wrap and piping bags and squeezy bottles and all manner of other decorating accoutrements. You couldn’t even make a cup of tea in there for fear of knocking against a perilously balanced tray or rack of still-drying cookies. For days. Days and days.
I’m going to stop talking about this before I lose my nerve.