It’s Day Two Point Five of the Great Buttertart Bake Off. The Goal: 8 dozen mini-tarts before 6pm tonight. The Result: We’ve already eaten about 2 dozen (including 8 large tarts), leaving 4 dozen completed, 4 dozen to go. The pre-story: cookie exchanges are fun! Let’s make cookies and exchange ’em so we can have lots of baking ready for visitors, workmates, family, entertaining. What? EIGHT people are interested in doing this? Well, ok, then let’s just each bake 8 dozen of whatever cookie-type we want, bring them to a central location, and everyone leave 7 dozen of theirs and take home 7 different dozen from everyone else. Confused? I didn’t think I was, but turns out I am. So confused that I decided to go with my strength (pastry) and do up some butter-tart love to share with the ladies. One problem – notice that butter tarts aren’t actually cookies? Yeah, that dawned on me Friday when I was explaining this grand scheme, elbow deep in lard and flour, to Dent and noticed that the word “cookie” came out of my mouth. Shit. Have we covered the “I can’t do anything the easy way” theme song of my life yet? It’s funny how I overlook the basics, but today is one of those great days where that works out perfectly: these tarts are wicked fantastic. I mean, I should get a freaking AWARD for the flakiness of these heavenly bits of baking brilliance. Nothing short of academy award of bakedom, I tell you.
In other news, we hauled out the Settlers of Catan boardgame last night while Dent was in this flophouse we call home, and Diamond D found his way out of his far northern kingdom of the city to join us. Boo fell asleep at his apartment and slept through the whole thing, which is probably the best that could have happened for him because it would have been his first time, and let’s face it, we’re not kind people when it comes to this game. We all morph into (haha I’m so denying I’m normally like this) name-calling, blackmailing, suspicious and rightfully paranoid monstrosities. Reading other sites today, I found that we play using “terrorism” tactics – accepting bribes to prevent devastation:
J: “Who’ll give me what to keep the robber off ’em?”
Dent: “How’s a mud?”
Me: “Take my last card. Fine. I despise you, J.”
During the third game I just kept placing the robber (who deprives the user of the resource it’s on until it is removed by a development card (“Chance”) or when the dice rolls 7) on Dent because, come ON, he was kicking ass. But of course payback is a bitch and this robber sat on my little land for quite some time:
The final score (up to the time I went to bed and the boys were rolling up another board) was:
Me: 1 (contested by all but me – I was first to 10 points, but just about everyone had 10 points by the end of the round)
Diamond: Big Fat Zero
I’m sure Diamond did better after I was gone and quit trying to force feed him. My people, we like to feed people.
Right-o. I’d better get to those other 4 dozen tarts. Times a wasting!
–> Did you go vote for Schmutzie today? You should because she’s nifty: Milkmoney Or Not, Here I Come as the 2006 Weblog Awards Best Canadian Blog.