Yesterday, I made a batch of my Grandmother’s molasses cookies, and boy, they sure look beautiful, if I do say so myself. Just like I remember. I have Grammy’s recipe written in her shaky hand on white (now yellow) lined paper. The thing even has Grammy’s molasses stains on it. My mother had it laminated for me years ago, and I’ve used it so much it’s starting to separate along the edges. The thing I like most about this recipe is that in the margin at the top of the page, over “Old Fashioned Drop Molasses Cookies,” my Grandmother has written, “My best.” Underlined, with a period, not an exclamation mark. It was a truth …

Charlie and me were taking a Sunday morning walk, just the two of us. Scamp doesn’t really do walks anymore. We take him out in the yard, where he pees, then stands and sniffs the air for about five minutes not willing to go any further. Guess he’s deciding whether or not he has to poop. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t. 50/50 chance on those mornings when doesn’t go outside, he realizes later he had to go after all, and leaves a little deposit or two around the house. More times than not in the bathroom, if you can believe it. He’s always been a smart little fella. Anyhoo, Charlie and me were out …

We were hanging out with our niece Caitlin and her boyfriend, Adam, last week. It was a typical January day, cold and blustery, with an occasionally flurry thrown in for good measure. But it was warm inside, and we were having breakfast for supper. This is something we used to do all the time when we Caitlin was little and we were babysitting. French toast and bacon were on the menu. Caitlin and Adam are vegetarian, so they usually bring along some veggie bacon for me to cook up for them. Personally, I don’t get the point of veggie bacon. It just seems kind of unnatural. But we humor ‘em. Could have knock me over …

Candy Corn is not a vegetable. I know. It doesn’t seem fair. If it was, let me tell you, Doctor Oz would be very proud of me right now because I’ve been managing to squeeze in at least five servings of candy corn per day. And that’s before lunch. The thing is, I don’t even like candy corn that much. I mean, what is it really? Well, I looked it up, and candy corn is made up of sugar, water, corn syrup and marshmallow, so it’s just packed with nutrients. Get this: a “serving size” is supposed to be 19 pieces. Seriously? I have a bottomless bowl of candy corn at home and every time …

Despite everything, me and the Women Who Run With the Moose are still doing our girls night once a week. Hey, ya gotta do what ya gotta do, right? We used to call it “Girls Night Out.” Now we refer to it as our “Girls Night Outside.” We get together on assorted decks, patios, screened in porches and the like. Truth be told, our social distancing has become a little lax, but there’s still sanitizer on the potluck table, and we mask up when we’re serving ourselves. You can find ways to have fun and still be careful, right? Like last Thursday, we got together over to Shirley’s place. She has this nice, big deck, …

The poet laureate of Mahoosuc Mills strikes again, and who could blame him. If Shakespeare had had the pleasure of partaking in one of Babes homemade, fresh from the oven, maple glazed donuts, I’m sure he’d have written a sonnet about it. Thankfully, Charlie stepped in to fill the gap. Here’s his latest. Maple Glazed Doughnut Down to the mill, If you punch in early, ‘Round about ten Your stomach gets squirrel-ly Someone’s elected To go, make it hasty And bring us all back Some coffee and pastry Muffins, of course, Are a popular pick And danish are usually Polished off quick The guys all have favorites They never outgrow, For me, it’s the Maple …

Charlie and me have a nice rhubarb patch in our yard. My mother give us some as a house warming present. Every summer, I make one, maybe two strawberry-rhubarb pies. I intend to do more with my rhubarb, but time gets away from me and all of a sudden it’s too late. I’d cut some and give it to friends, but most everyone I know up here has their own patch of rhubarb, and those who don’t, usually aren’t real partial to the stuff. Personally, I love it! Rhubarb reminds me of when I was little. Sure, we had rhubarb pies in season, but we also always had rhubarb sauce on hand. I guess nowadays …

Wow! Christmas is here! I cleaned the house good over the weekend, but I still have so much to do! You know, those things you can’t do until last minute: pick up a pork pie from Lebreque’s Bakery and pork chops from Mikey’s Meat Market, because, as Mikey says and I have to agree with him, “You can’t have too much pork!” Our big deal is Christmas Eve. I’m doing dinner this time, and my sister Irene is bringing the appetizers and dessert. Each year we rotate, which is a good way to do it. So, here’s the plan: we’re having our center cut, boneless pork chops broiled and served with homemade apple sauce, new …

I love food. No secret about that. I love eating it, of course, but I also like looking at pictures of food in magazines, cookbooks, facebook, Pinterest, billboards, you name it. I call this food porn. You know what I’m talking about! In my humble opinion, food always tastes best when you didn’t cook it yourself. What makes book group fun? The books? No. The idle chit chat? Maybe. But where’s the food? Then there’s going out to eat. What’s not to like about that? First off, you got your cocktails and bread basket, and if you’re lucky, some herbed butter. Or in an Italian restaurant: focaccia and olive oil. Then you get to pour …

It’s snowing to beat the band here in Mahoosuc Mills today. In like a lion, right? A snow day means baking in our house, and I just finished making a batch of my Grandmother’s molasses cookies. Boy, they sure looked beautiful, if I do say so myself. Just like I remember. I have Grammy’s recipe written in her shaky hand on white (now yellow) lined paper. The thing even has Grammy’s molasses stains on it. My mother had it laminated for me years ago, and I’ve used it so much it’s starting to separate along the edges. The thing I like most about this recipe is that in the margin at the top of the page, …