Tangents ahoy!

This was going to be a post about my at-work knitting project followed by observations on knitting like an old Chinese woman (well, what d'you call it when you learned to knit from your mother and grandmother and therefore do things verrry differently from your friendly American neighborhood knitter?), but, predictably, I had a night off and got derailed.  Very derailed.  Epic levels of derailed.  Let's just say I had a sudden craving for Jammie Dodgers.

Now, I know what you're thinking.  Well, maybe not.  I'm thinking you're thinking, "What in the seven hells does she even know about the entity known as a Jammie Dodger?"  Because you'd be right if you were.  Nevertheless, I had a craving for jam-filled cookies.  With the little hole cut out of the middle of the top piece.  Oh, all right, I like my tea and biscuits a bit more than is strictly conscionable for someone whose sole experience of life in the UK was a weekend trip to London at the age of 19.  That was eight years ago for anybody that asks, and I'd rather you didn't.  I was on foreign study in Versailles--I had a perfectly good reason (English major, heavy on the English lit) and a Carte Orange back then.

In any case, cookie craving plus night off plus desire to make something.  Very bad combination unless you're prepared to face the consequences.  So, naturally, I thought, "Eh, why not make my own?"  The basic recipe, by the way, is not that much altered from the one that appears on the msn.com-linked food site.  Let's see if I can find it again...ah, yes, here: http://www.delish.com/recipefinder/jam-sandwich-cookies?click=recipe_sr.  I simply hijacked it and poked a hole in the top cookie.  That and I have a rather shameful lack of vanilla extract at the moment and far too much booze, so I substituted French Vanilla Khalua (sp?--bother that).  Cook down a 12-oz jar of red cherry preserves, apply liberally, and voila!  (By the way, anybody know how to do accent marks on this thing?)  I brought a few over to a friend who happens to be on vacation and can stay up into the wee hours, and he swore they were excellent.  'Course we were also eating them with tea, Belgian-style ale, and "Oz and James Drink to Britain" or whatever that show's called, so that ought to help a bit.  Still could swear I'm crunching down on pottery shards from the time my flour jar exploded though...and this is why I only bake when I'm up all night, because only then am I stupid enough or brave enough to risk it.  This shall not be attempted again.  You know, until the next time I get a craving for random biscuitry.

Coming attractions: MOAR Dalek cross-stitch pictures, progress on a set of Victorian-style gloves, the quest for the perfect Ren-faire gown, and of course lots and lots of tangents.  Cheers.