Through a mouthful of meringue

Not that I'm having cookies for breakfast. Really.

Yes, it's that magical time of year: meringue season. My mother is queen of cookies, and we had a steady supply of this awesome cakey coffee version of chocolate chip that has lost favour in the current generation of my family but dominated mine. At Christmas, we had meringues, aka egg white and a ton of sugar with vanilla and loads of chocolate. She was always able to get more lift than I do, and you'd bite in and look at a spelunker's dream, caverns with chips nestled into crevices and ledges. Mine are denser and crisper but still yummy. I'm lucky to be able to make them at all - not everyone can.

They are insanely popular. People talk to me about them in July, wistfully, when it's too humid to pull them off. The popularity means I can make a batch and give most of them away, feeling virtuous for making other people happy and not eating them all myself. Unfortunately I had to make an unexpected batch yesterday (before finishing 3 knit projects, whooo!) and have a dangerous number still drying out in the oven. Thank goodness we're having a big storm today, forcing me to spend hours outside and away from them, shoveling snow, metaphorically clutching my 3 finished projects to my heart as though they are enough to compensate for another lost knitting day. Really though I'd rather be writing. Imagine that!