12/13/2013

In The Mood

All you Bah Humbuggers out there can hate me if you like, but I really love the Christmas season. Of course, you must understand it doesn’t officially begin until I hear Jose Feliciano sing “Feliz Navidad” on the radio. It’s my rule and I’m sticking to it. I heard it early this year, before Thanksgiving, so I have been jolly for weeks now. It's so cute... most of my friends and family know how I am about this song, and they call and text me when they hear it.

As I was driving home last night and realized that the “elves” (aka husbands) in my neighborhood had worked hard—under protest, no doubt—over the last few weekends. Millions of lights were strung on houses everywhere I looked. I always get a kick out of how people hang Christmas lights and decorate the outside of their homes. Some houses are a work of art; the lights are planned in a well thought out design with no beginning or end. The bright lights define the structural highlights of the house and garden. Some of these outdoor light extravaganzas are such perfection, if I didn’t know better, I would swear Martha Stewart had something to do with it.

And then there are THOSE houses... you know the ones I mean. Lights of every shape and color are randomly twirled around bushes and beams, some strands barely attached within an inch of their lives to the shrubs and eaves. Sometimes there weren't enough lights to finish the whole front of the house, so the illuminated string abruptly stops as if no one would notice. And even worse, if the last strand is extra long, you will see a fairly symmetrically-done display, but at the end there is a frenetic clump of too many lights on the last bush. It’s kind of like if a cake decorator meticulously rendered every frosting rose and each lacy icing edge and then, just because there was some left, put a big pile of frosting in the corner of the cake as a finishing touch.

To assault the senses even further, these cattywompus light displays almost always seem to include one random string of lights that flash on and off like the sign on a diner that lets you know that they have "Good Food". I don't know why these people bother to illuminate their homes. I wish that there was some kind of law that would prohibit people from vomiting Christmas lights in their front yards. I will work on it for next year.

I really do enjoy the kind of unspoken competition that goes on between neighbors when it comes to the big lawn decorations. Lighted reindeer, Santas, choo-choo trains, candy canes all add fantasyland-like dimension to neighborhood lawns. I just love it, but I wish that people would think more about the “big picture” when placing those bigger-than-life props on their lawns. Some stuff just does NOT go together. If I am wrong, then please tell me this: just which part of Jerusalem is Frosty the Snowman from?

I finished the tree in my living room ages ago and it is GORGEOUS! My kids always tease me because they said my tree is TOO perfect. I was told it looks like a display tree at Macy’s and that I am obsessive about it. I have no idea why having a flawlessly decorated tree with precisely placed, hand blown Czechoslovakian ornaments, and perfectly timed, twinkling crystal white lights is a bad thing. My children say it has no “soul”. Soul, huh? I’ll give you soul. Gorgeous is good enough for me.

Back in the 70s I had this brainstorm of having an old fashioned Christmas tree. I painstakingly strung popcorn and cranberries on long pieces of brightly colored yarn. I made ornaments from acorns and pine cones. I spent hours cutting cloth strips and fashioning a patchwork chain to use as a garland. It was a total labor of love. I will tell you without a doubt that it was by far the butt ugliest tree in the history of Christmas.

Well my darlings... I must go now. I have errands to do. I need to order some sugar plums and pick up my boughs of holly.

Until Next Time.

12/05/2013

Dough Balls

Few things in life are guaranteed. You’ve heard the saying about death and taxes being the only “sure things” we can look forward to.

In actuality, this statement is completely false. Oh, sure… we all have to pay taxes and we’re all going to die. Those facts are undeniably true. But while we are here, there is one sure-fire reality that exists for all of us, something far more pleasant than death OR taxes, but just as certain.

You probably don’t know about it, or haven’t thought about it, but Fifi will now teach you something that could very well change the way you live your life, so listen up.

If you have trouble remembering things, please make a little note of it. This is very important.

My darlings... Now hear this: there is no such thing as a bad dough ball. PERIOD!

What is a dough ball, you ask? A dough ball is simply any food made primarily of fat and flour. Cookies, muffins, biscuits, bread of any kind, dumplings, waffles, fritters and bagels are all stunning examples. It can be as simple as a soda cracker or as complex as a French GATEAU CHASSEUR (a delicate almond cake drizzled with black raspberry reduction), but it’s all dough balls.

Dough balls can be basic or complicated. The addition of sugar or filling or frosting doesn’t take away from the fact that a dough ball is a dough ball is a dough ball.

Every nationality on the planet has its own version. It doesn’t matter if it is Italian gnocchi, Chinese dim sum, French éclairs, Mexican tamales or English crumpets… they’re all dough balls and they’re all delicious. Shall I go on? Can you name a dough ball that isn’t yummy? I can’t, and I have the butt to prove that I have tasted them all.

Whether it is doughnuts, hush puppies, matzo balls or cupcakes, there are just no bad dough balls. So move over, death and taxes, and make room for something truly fabulous we can surely count on.

Oh, I am so glad I shared this with you; you are just going to love the challenge of dedicating just a little part of your life to trying to find a dough ball that isn’t great. And don’t try to convince me about the fruitcake thing, there are plenty of people who love it.

Now the next time you’re at the mall and you pass the soft pretzel place, you will say quietly to yourself “dough ball” and think of me. And then you’ll pass the Cinnabon store, and say “dough ball” and then Mrs. Fields, and so on and so on.

When I am right I am RIGHT!