“I won’t eat it!” shrieked the Bean. “You can’t make me!”
“It’s really tasty” said my mother.
“And you might like it this time” coerced my father.
“No! Never! Eeeyeurgh!” came the response.
“Well, I guess there’s more for me then” said I, prying open the lid of the container.
The Bean, not waiting for the smell to assault her senses, fled the room.
Turns out there wasn’t quite as much time before Christmas as I’d initially thought and my plans for making everyone and their neighbour a bevy of sweet treats was left somewhat unachieved.
It seemed possible at first, two or three recipes a week until the BIG DAY, but then life happened. Wonderful, laughter drenched (rain drenched) life!
Parties. Catch ups. Lunches (oh lordy me the lunches…) Picnics in the rain. Post-dinner conversations huddled in blankets.
The weather, so promising in October, has faded to a dull damp grey that threatens to overthrow my long-anticipated plans for a Summer spent burning on the beach before flinging myself into cool blue water.
Darn it.
It was especially ominous the day I iced these cookies.
Imagine me, alone in my kitchen at half past eight on a Friday night with the girls coming over for lunch the next day.
The ribs were rubbed and waiting for a beer bath. The table was set.
And there was nothing on the menu for dessert. Nothing. For. Dessert.
(Ok, so there were the cookies I’d made earlier and a couple of punnets of cherries, but please. That was not going to do. Especially for an Argentinian barbecue themed Christmas feast.)
It is, perhaps, not quite traditional to be eating ribs for a Christmas lunch but that is what we will be doing here at onebitemore central this year.
It wasn’t our original plan though, oh no. That plan involved (and still involves) turkey and prawns and oysters and some sort of delicious pudding.
The ribs are an add on. By special request of everyone who managed to snitch a morsel this Saturday past. And even one who didn’t. One who stared at them plaintively whilst inhaling deeply. One who asked if “please Cherlie” we could have the ribs for Christmas. “Please?”
