A Sweet Note

We might very well have to end supper on a savory note tonight. The cake dome stands empty. Perhaps we could go a day without. Gulp.

Yesterday, for Sunday supper, Roberto made carbonara (his mother's request). It was followed by venison, salad, and fried artichoke hearts (they reminded me of fried oysters—a vegetarian Po-boy didn't seem so crazy to me as I popped one after another into my mouth). Dinner closed with a wedge of sponge cake taken with our espresso ("taken" like a drug, if you like—maybe I do have a problem with sweets).

Petite, bite size, a bit. That's all it ever really is. We never engorge ourselves with mounds of creamy things or forkfuls of luscious this or that. We satisfy our sweet tooth with a single knobby and irregular shaped cookie, a tiny square of brownie, a petite wedge of cake. Always homemade. What's the harm? I ask.

There is no harm. It's all good. Everything in moderation. What we're looking at isn't a matter of should or shouldn't we, it's really a matter of Is there time to throw together a batch of maple walnut cookies tonight, before dinner...so we have something to nibble on with our espresso?

I have to think with reason and logic. The recipe calls for one stick of unsalted butter at room temperature. There really isn't time to wait for such a thing.

But these cookies are good and worth the wait. The first time I made them, over Christmas holiday, they were received with such warmth and praise. It's the maple syrup, grade B, that does it (but grade A can be used in a pinch).

These cookies are to be fawned over. The flavor is remarkable, and the body, so versatile. I don't have to put walnuts. I can put pecans or chocolate chips. I can put anything, really.

It's just a matter of time, really. Can I hurry home, pull out the butter (cubing it so that it comes to room temperature faster) while I throw together a salad? Then, perhaps I can mix up the dough and set it to chill (only 30 minutes) while we preheat the oven and compile tonight's pizza.

Oh balls, now I remember why I didn't make the cookies yesterday. Not enough all-purpose flour (I made pizza dough). I'll have to run to the store at lunch, but first I must write it down or else forget when I run to the store why I'm even there.

Oh, it does feel a bit rushed...but I don't have to bake them all tonight. I could do just one sheet (that's about nine cookies—we only need two cookies).

Oh, really, what am I going on about? This can be done and without rushing (maybe a little rushing, but not so frantically).

Seriously. We live for this—coming home after a long day of cubicle sitting to twirl around and putter in the kitchen. It's what we do.