Don't

Whatever you do, don't click this link.

And if you DO click that link, definitely don't buy the book. I'm warning you.

If you DO buy the book, don't check your mailbox eagerly every day waiting for it to arrive.

When it does arrive, please don't skip straight to page 93. I mean it this time.

By now I'm sure it's obvious: Don't even look at the recipe for Sweet & Salty Brownies, because that sort of behaviour can only lead to more dangerous activities. Next thing you know, you'll have a pot of bubbling caramel on the stove and a bowl of melted butter and chocolate and we probably shouldn't even talk about the fleur de sel that will be involved. That would be scandalous.

For reals, don't even consider bringing those brownies over to your bestie's house for Sunday Supper. Really now, you don't want that kind of reputation.

If you don't do any of those things, you definitely won't get an email the next day (before 10:30 a.m., no less) from your bestie's husband, with the subject, "It is good."

I'm eating a brownie. It is good. That is all.

Nor will you get a follow up email, moments later, with the subject, "Time to put up..."

Enough with the wishy-washy. Let's call it what it is: this is the best brownie I've ever had.

January 10, 2011. Mark the date.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Christmas 2010 was probably my best on record. We celebrated in Waterloo! We celebrated in Brooklyn! And many delightful gifts were exchanged. Santa was particularly supportive of my culinary endeavours this year, leaving under the tree a Le Crueset tagine, copies of Mastering the Art of French Cooking and Baked Explorations, and assorted kitchen gadgetry, including an enormous crock pot. Perhaps the most special of these gifts, delivered not by Santa but directly from Ken's mom, whose mad knitting skillz are to be reckoned with: a biscuit warmer.

Pretty, isn't it? And so, despite a certain Pet of the Week's best efforts to wake us up in the single digits on Sunday morning, we lingered in bed until after 10, at which point we managed to relocate our pajama'd selves onto the couch with coffee and warm biscuits - slathered in butter, and, of course, the infamous crab apple jelly.

My wish for you this New Year is that you wake up at a very reasonable hour some Sunday morning (or, even better, afternoon) and are inspired to make biscuits. I like this recipe because it's quick and oh-so-simple. If you don't have buttermilk on hand, fear not: Just mix almost-a-cup of milk with a tablespoon or so of white vinegar.

And even though you might not have such a lovely biscuit warmer, I'd bet fresh biscuits like these won't last long enough to get cold, anyway.