Here is a recipe for Betsy, as well as some commentary from last year when I put it up:
Anyway, when my mother died and I went back to her husband's house to try to clean out as many of our family "heirlooms" as possible, I hunted and hunted for Mamaw's meat grinder and spritz recipe. On the last day we were there, I found the grinder. The recipe I found didn't taste like I remembered, though. I evenutally found one in Cook's Illustrated, which tasted exactly how I remembered Mamaw's cookies tasting.
Now, at least once a year, I drag out the (heavy) cast iron grinder and make cookies in honor of my Mamaw. This past weekend was my once-a-year. I took pictures, which I'll post for tomorrow's Wordless Wednesday, but here is the recipe, sans pressing instructions, for your eating pleasure. You'll have to figure out the press thing on your own, since I've never made them successfully with a press. Plus they don't taste like Mamaw's unless they're star-shaped. So there ya go.
1 # butter (the real stuff, please)
2 1/4 c. sugar
2 egg yolks
1 T. vanilla (yep, a full tablespoon)
1 t. butter flavor
4 c. flour
Cream butter & sugar. Add egg yolks and mix well. Add flavorings and mix well. Add flour a cup at a time and mix until a uniform consistency. I chill my dough at this point.
Bake in a 375º oven for 8-12 minutes. (The directions say 10-12 but 10 was too much for my oven.) They should be pale, not brown.
Enjoy! And think of Mamaw while you're at it.
Ok, now for the musings. I've been thinking a lot lately about getting older and how bizarre it is, at least for me. In my brain, I'm still about 27. There are, however, many things around me which point to the fact that I am getting older at a previously unheard-of clip. One is that I don't recognize movie stars, pop culture icons, movies, tv shows, etc. I saw someone's Thursday Thirteen yesterday where she talked about 13 good-looking men. I only knew three of them: Sean Connery, Denzel Washington, and Antonio Banderis.
I'm also noticing plenty of wrinkles these days. The gray hairs don't bother me so much (except when they are on my chin) but the wrinkles do. I've always had pretty decent skin and it was one of those things I took for granted (i.e. "I may be but-ugly but I still have pretty skin.") but now it's all baggy. In fact, when I look in my mirror, I see my mother. Now this is pretty freaky because I look like my father's side of the family but Mother is coming on out now.
I've also noticed how I just get irritated at certain things like clothing: both fabric choices and design. I won't say any more than that.
And finally, I just don't get some things, like why all the young mothers (of which group I am obviously no longer a member) are all about being all fashionable when I see them. Now, I don't think that you should look frumpy just because you're a mama, but do ginormously pregnant women really need to wear tight clothes and stiletto heels? Or heels with your cargo pants (and full face of makeup) to go to the library? It's probably part and parcel of my latent hippie tendencies but I just don't see it as being an important part of my existence.
Ok, well, I guess I've yammered on enough. Here's a meme for the day:
What was the last game you purchased? Um, for the computer, Cake Mania 2. I don't know what the last board game I purchased was. Oh wait, I do! It was Made for Trade and Hail to the Chief at a yard sale this summer.
Name something in which you don’t believe. I don't believe that feminists (and NOW) really represent the desires of most women in this country.
If you could choose a celebrity to be your boss, who would you pick? Debra Winger or Reese Witherspoon. I've heard that they're both pretty easy-going and good to their employees.
What was a lesson you had to learn the hard way? What wasn't a lesson I had to learn the hard way? Let's see...the lesson to just wait long enough (and pray hard enough) and whatever is hurting you will pass.
Describe your idea of the perfect relaxation room. Perfect temperature, cozy furniture, snacks at the ready, and QUIET.