Overthunk

Seasons greetings, blogpadres! It's hard to believe it's been a year since my last post about cooking , but certainly it has. This year, instead of Candied Nuts, I decided to make Rum Balls. Though there may be some hidden symbolism in my two-years running choices of recipes that could be euphemisms for cajones , I choose to believe differently. That yellowed paper next to the plate is the recipe of old, typed on the ancient, black, 50-pound manual typewriter I was given by my grandmother as a kid. (Yes, even 25 years ago I was a writing, typing dork.) The recipe came from one of the neighbors on our street, who still lives there. And yes, my mom did make these and allow us to eat them as children. Who knows what current freakitudes (such as a simultaneous love of chocolate AND rum!) I can blame on this underage intake of hard liquor in candy form. This year, instead of rockin', I watched a DVD I found of the 1982 Leslie Nielsen series Police Squad , instead of egg nog, I w...