Mar 14, 2017 — My CondoSeniors are masters of the lost art of baking. Here, they get tired of watching cooking shows, get up, pull a recipe and go from there. Today's recipe was handed down from one's mother who never wrote down a recipe. Took years to transcribe the recipe. They finally perfected and released the recipe.
Biscotti Porn!
Fresh dough.
Weighed to the micro-ounce to prevent photographers from grabbing a spoonful.
I call them biscotti logs. They did not like that.
Square off the sides.
I get blamed for everything! But I know this is the next pan, whew!
Keep working the sides.
I whispered, "Use the tool, Luke. Use the tool."
Two flattened light sabres.
End of first baking.
Carefully slice the biscotti.
I get the ends.
No end is too small to reject!
Lay 'em out!
I accept crumbs.
When they step away...
I spotted a broken biscotti. Psst, they set up that shot.W aiting was torture as they kept moving it.
Second baking.
Thrice baked.
The offload.
The cookies are laid on paper bags from Trader Joe's — thickest paper bag out there!
I have no chance. Each one is counted
I dare not drop the iphone.
Remember the containers you were given on holidays. They run the black market.
This is one of many containers.
I can open these biscotti containers blindfolded, in the dark, in hidden spots, in tight space.
The Divas showed up for martinis. Said the fridge is getting low.
Enjoy more stories and images of what I get to enjoy everyday!
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