Baked goods, bads, and morally ambiguouses.

A very cool friend of mine has been written up in the Globe! The Velveteen Rabbi (whose name makes me grin every time I think of it) is featured in this article, which describes her cooking, blogging, and rabbinical studies.

Go, read, enjoy. It's enough to make this Gentile/heathen/whatever consider making latkes.

Because they rule, my parents brought up some Ghyslain chocolates when they came up this weekend for early Christmas. Specifically, they brought the Snowman With Babies chocolates -- a handpainted hollow chocolate snowman with four vanilla-cream filled snowman babies.

Two of the babies come packaged outside the hollow snowman. Two are within.

Which means I've been eating fetal snowmen. And they're tasty.

I'm making experimental foooood...

You are instant coffee gulped on a bus.

You are better than nothing. You are well-meaning,
but ersatz. You sing along with Muzak in
elevators. You cannot remember your original
hair color, and your artificial nails could be
used to slice a zucchini. You forget small
details such as your telephone number and the
names of your children. You believe in
astrology, numerology, and satinism (the cult
of shiny fabrics).


What kind of coffee are you?
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This actually makes sense. The only reason I ever started liking coffee was from drinking Village Pantry "cappuchino" when I was working at the cabinet factory. When I got back East and had real cappuchino in a coffee shop, I thought it was terrible. And while my tastes have changed some, there's still a part of me that wants coffee with too much cream, too much sugar, flavor shots of everything, and sprinkles on top. If coffee came with little umbrellas in it, I'd ask for those too.

If it weren't for my whole sensitive-to-caffeine thing, I'd be Starbucks' target customer.