Friday, December 26, 2014

Coffee Cake

And just like "that" I felt ancient.

Fast Fault Recovery

One of my children made a math error.  They cooked and ate more than their "fair share" of the cinnamon rolls Mrs ERJ had staged for Christmas morning.

Seeking to avoid Armageddon, I quickly whipped up a coffee cake.

In my youth

In my youth a shared cup of coffee was a celebration and a ceremony.  Not quite geisha girls serving tea...but close.  Victories were savored.  Losses were mourned.  Stories were told.  Intelligence was shared.

Coffee cake was a broad shouldered dessert.  Rarely "excellent" but always better than adequate.  Anybody with Bisquick, sugar, butter, and cinnamon could turn out a serviceable coffee cake in twenty minutes.  It was in our DNA.


Now coffee is a metabolic and economic necessity.  Ceremony?  No way.  Just put it in my IV.


I asked Belladonna if she had tried any of my coffee cake.

"Nope." she said.

I cut a sliver, put it on a plate and carried it over to her.  She took a bite and a strange expression came over her face.

"It doesn't taste like coffee!?!?"

And just like "that" I felt ancient.  How could she have made it to 17 without my ever having made her coffee cake?


  1. Our Christmas morning started with a hardy batch of Monkey Bread. Memories of untold campfire breakfasts drifted over the table . . . and I too felt "old". :)

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  3. Would it be presumptuous to assume that nobody was surprised that the bread did not smell or taste like monkeys? As you can see from my profile picture I am something of an expert on monkeys.

    1. :) No sir, not presumptuous at all . . . we are a family of campers and that tradition has carried through to our kid's families as well. So the morning treat is well known!

  4. "Now coffee is a metabolic and economic necessity. Ceremony? No way. Just put it in my IV." Amen to that... Second pot is brewing now and daughter is pissed she only got ONE cup out of the first pot...LOL