Saturday, December 16, 2006

The Cookie Captain

Colin and I went to dinner last night. I loved it. I loved it despite the fact that I was forced, against my will, to choose the restaurant. In the best conditions, I am crappy at picking out a restaurant. And Colin is one of those annoyingly picky eaters. Thai food was not an option.

So we ended up on the swanky side of town at what is largely considered the best burger joint around. Despite the hour wait (very typical), the restaurant was a very excellent choice.

I was proud of myself.

It was past 10:00 pm when we got over to Josh and Katie’s condo for their annual cookie baking party.

And when I say cookie baking, I actually mean dipping random shit in chocolate and topping it with sprinkles.

Not exactly what I call baking but, lets be honest, I’m a fucking snob.

I was fairly amused that they were hosting a cookie baking [chocolate dipping] party because I’d just gotten an invitation’s to Lucy’s cookie baking party, a party for which I have been anointed Cookie Captain (which I was named, no doubt, based on my excellent performance baking for the wedding).

Now, I’m at Josh and Katie’s and I’m trying sosososoSO hard not to be a baking snob. So, when they can’t even figure out how to melt their chocolate and they’re making sugar cookies out of that dough in a tube, I’m horrified, but I’m inwardly horrified.

But they probably heard me sigh with relief when Josh, sick of trying to get the chocolate to melt nicely, called for a substitution.

Colin volunteered me for his position.

And then it started.

Okay. Here’s your melted chocolate, kids. You have to melt it in a double boiler, or it will burn into a massive clump of yuck.

And the sugar cookies? They need to be rolled out thinner. That’s why they’re expanding into unrecognizable blobs.

Speaking of those sugar cookies: do you have any powdered sugar? I’ll make frosting.

Before I even knew it, I was Josh and Katie’s Cookie Captain, too.

Funny.

I’m not entirely comfortable around those people. I’m not myself. Words don’t come easily. I don’t know the jokes. I haven’t lived the history. I’m self-conscious. I just don’t know them well enough yet.

I’ve never admitted to that, but Colin knows it. And that is why he watched me bake with the faintest sparkle in his eyes. While mixing up frosting, I was mixing with the girls. And showing them how things were done.

He was wordlessly proud.
And wordlessly pleased.

I was, too.

1 comments:

Kristine said...

This line was awesome:
"...lets be honest, I’m a fucking snob."

You should make that your tagline! :)

 
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