12.16.2013

Fudge, Fudge, Call the Judge

Chevron Christmas LabelThere are a handful of things in life that make me want to self-harm, but two stand out: massive group texts in which nearly all the responses are pointless ("way to go!" and "see you there!" and the like) and baking.

To be clear, there are some group texts in which I relish every single reply. These are mostly amongst my family members and/or college friends. They usually start out innocently enough, then within the fourth text or so devolve to a level that makes me thankful none of us plan to seek political office. I may or may not one day post excerpts of them here.

But anywho, back to the baking. I prefer to cook in a very slap-dash sort of way. Which means I look at a recipe once, get the ingredients, and wing it from there. Forever. I can't tell you the last time I looked at any of my standard recipes. And the meals usually turn out just dandy, if I do say so myself.

It isn't so with baking. It's just so precise with all the "1 cup brown sugar packed" and "mix the dry ingredients first" and "whisk to the left 74 times then to the right 67 times, with one swirl to the left every ninth turn of the slotted spoon." Frankly, it's irritating. Which, combined with my lack of sweet tooth, is why if you turn up at my house for dinner you should plan to bring your own dessert.

The one exception to this rule of "We Don't Bake Here" is fudge. Which isn't exactly baking per se, but since it's sweet I categorize it as such. I found a recipe some years back that is both incredibly easy AND I can remember off the top of my head AND my children can make it themselves which makes it the PERFECT DESSERT AND HOLIDAY TREAT. At least for us.

So yesterday while my children slaved over the stove, I busied myself making these little labels so we could deliver treats to their friends yesterday. (Well, we only made it to half of them because we ran out of a key ingredient, so we will be continuing to deliver over the next several days.)

So, the kids get to sugar up both themselves and their friends, while Mom gets to pretend to be a graphic designer while listening to the Elvis Christmas album, then we all pile into the car together to spread a little Christmas cheer.

Win-win, and .... win.

XOXO---
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