Bring The Noise

Who needs Le Creuset bakeware and a convection oven and when you have these guys.

There is a bake-off coming up soon at my office, and I am going to win.

Granted, I don't actually bake unless it's that chocolate chip cookie dough from a tube, but I'm going to bring Rice Krispie treats to the bake-off, thereby assuring my victory.

Everyone loves Rice Krispie treats. People mistake them for being the humble underdog, but they win at everything, especially bake-offs.

My colleagues are already intimidated. I was explicitly and pointedly (firmly, even) told that I am not "allowed" to bring them because they are "not made from scratch" and because "they are not cookies and are not baked."

But I know that is really code for, "You cannot bring them because they are delicious and you will win."

As for them not being cookies, ridiculous. I will cut them into circles with a cookie cutter. Voila! Rice Krispie treat cookies.

Take that, American's Next Top Naked Cake Boss.

Rachel is an excellent baker and I considered asking her to whip me up a batch of her most prize-winning cookies and giving her the spoils of my winnings in return. (Which is probably a ribbon. Or maybe a trophy.) But that wouldn't be fair to everyone else to go up against Rachel like that. Their cookies would probably combust into a heap of flour and butter if pitted against her's, and I'm not trying to be mean at the holiday bake-off.

Ray suggested, "Just buy a bag of those Soft Batch cookies and put them on a plate. No one will know."

I told him that not only did people in my office look at me with pity and contempt when I said the exact same thing about tube cookies, but they all wholeheartedly disagreed. "Everyone can tell," they said. "They don't taste even remotely the same."

Ray scoffed. "What would they do if you brought in Oreos and put them on a plate? What, are you not going to advance to the medal round? Are they going to escort you from the building?"

"Maybe not for the Oreos," I told him. "But possibly for tube cookies, which they basically said are horrible and disgusting and shameful."

I felt shame for even bringing them up, I confessed to Ray. For about .257 seconds.

None of this matters though because I am going to win with the cookie-shaped Rice Krispie treats. Well, technically, I guess Ray is going to win since I asked him to make the treats. (The last time I made them they were terrible. They tasted like burning.) But with Ray at the stove, ain't nobody gonna have room for their salted-caramel bon-bons or red velvet cookie lumps or whatever.

Snap, crackle and pop, suckas.

P.S. Hey, does anybody have a cookie cutter I can borrow?

They Grow Up So Fast

Chuck Norris and Hunter S. Tomcat turned one year old this summer.

We threw them a big party with a pinata filled with Pounce. It was pretty amazing watching them hit it with tiny little bats.

Chuck Norris is a natural athlete, able to leap tall buildings - with style and grace - in a single bound. He eats shoes (awesome) and his favorite subjects in kindergarten are nap time and bird watching.

Hunter S. Tomcat is a true cat's-cat - meaning, he will prowl up on you, debate eviscerating you but then just head-butt you for affection. He favorite subject is entomology, specifically, eating stink bugs.

They've both joined a old time string band. They play at the Southgate House Revival if you ever want to see them.  

Needless to say, we adore them. And they've really grown into their ears and personalities.

Kittens, age 3 months.

 

One year old.

Turns out, it's much harder to hold two grown cats than it is kittens for a family portrait.