food – Life In A Word tv

Peachy Keen

We’re getting a new dessert destination in town called “The Peach Cobbler Factory”. It’s a franchise I’ve never heard of despite locations in twenty-six states. As you’d expect, The Peach Cobbler Factory offers fruit pie in a cup (à la mode or sans ice cream) but also lots of other desserts. Choose from cheesecakes, cookies, or brownies, and all sorts of spins on peaches. Now if only I actually liked peaches.

Without “cobbler” in the name this business would never have caught my eye. The truth is, I love peach cobbler. It’s one of those foods I find inexplicably tasty even when its main ingredient doesn’t appeal to me. The same can be said for Fig Newtons. I’ve never been a fig fan yet I’ve eaten scores of the cookies. Not that they taste like fresh figs. But cobbler tastes like fresh fruit.

A peach cobbler cinnamon roll? Maybe, maybe not.

I grew up in a household that was all pie and no cake (read my take on pies in Any Way You Slice It). My mother used to make delicious hot fruit pies from scratch. Cherry, lemon meringue, apple, and peach, and there might’ve been a blueberry in there somewhere as well. The cherry was always my favorite but the peach was a close second. My mother knew how to make a homemade crust, with the wonderful latticework on top to finish off the look. She also knew what ingredients went into the pie to give it just the right consistency.

So go figure; I love hot peach pie even if I don’t love peaches. Maybe I had too many as a kid (not by choice), sliced into a bowl and served with cream. Maybe the sugar and crust of the pie somehow makes the peaches more palatable. Whatever the reason, I know I’ll be visiting the The Peach Cobbler Factory and giving their products a try.

Peaches are a big deal around here, evidenced by the groves (no, not “orchards”) of trees just about everywhere you look. South Carolina harvests over 90,000 tons of the fuzz balls every year, over twice as many as our neighbor to the west. That’s right; Georgia may consider itself “The Peach State” (as their signs boast when we cross the Savannah River) and their pretty girls might be “Georgia Peaches”, but South Carolinians know which state really delivers the fruit. On that note, here’s more peach trivia:

The peaches you buy at the market are likely a local product, but no country produces them in numbers like China does. If you added up the peach production from every country in the world you wouldn’t be close to half the number coming out of China.
A nectarine is technically a peach. So is an apricot. The fruits are only separated by one recessive gene (causing the “shaved” look of a nectarine). You can even find peaches and nectarines growing on the same tree.
Peaches come in 300 varieties. The “yellow” is the one you’re familiar with but the white is more common. Peaches can also look like donuts (flatter, with a hole in the middle). They’re categorized as “freestone” or “clingstone” according to how the pit separates (or doesn’t) from the fruit itself.
Peach fuzz is a form of defense. It protects the fruit from the rot brought on by surface water. It also discourages bugs from taking a bite. Maybe I should skip my morning shave whenever I work in the backyard?

I’ll be sure to report back after I give The Peach Cobbler Factory a try. I’m hoping their signature dessert is as peachy keen as Mom used to make. Of course, it’ll be cobbler – not pie – which adds to today’s trivia. With a cobbler I don’t get a crust under the fruit… only on top. That’s okay. As long as it’s hot and a la mode I’ll be transported back to the pie days of my youth. With desserts like those, who needs cake?

Some content sourced from the Lane Southern Orchards website, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle – Update #5 (read about the start of this project in Fit for a (Fairy Tale) King

As predicted, we’ll continue to build this castle in modules. Bag 9 came together in a cool eighteen minutes, but Bag 10 was another test of patience with more of those tiny, tiny pieces. The end result of both bags is the structure and tower you see above, carefully snapped into the surrounding model after I completed it. It’s known as a “bower”, a private apartment for the ladies of the house. Fancy digs, no?

I would’ve loved to see the bower in all its glory. The fact is, with only 14 of Neuschwanstein’s 200 rooms completed the bower is likely just the elegant exterior walls you see here and nothing else. And those walls are full of windows, aren’t they? I’ve added dozens of windows to the castle (with several dozen more to go). And – painful lesson – those windows need to be oriented correctly. I got one wrong on the lowest level of the bower, which meant several steps of deconstruction/reconstruction. Not so fun.

Here’s a close-up of Neuschwanstein’s “lower courtyard”. It’s where King Ludwig would’ve welcomed his guests when they arrived. It’s also where you – should you choose to visit – will begin your tour of this magnificent structure. When all’s said and done, the castle itself will utterly tower over this courtyard, a statement about not only the castle but also Ludwig himself.

Running build time: 5:07.

Total leftover pieces: 37.

Accompanying movie soundtrack: Rudy (1993). I can’t believe this movie came out over thirty years ago. Then again, I can’t believe I graduated from Notre Dame over forty years ago. Extreme bias aside, Rudy is a story of perseverance unlike any other. Just when you think Rudy Ruettiger can’t 1) Get accepted into Notre Dame, 2) Make the football team, 3) Actually play in a football game… Rudy delivers the goods time and again. You need hear only a few seconds of the flute-soloed theme to know most of the soundtrack. I can tie every bit of the music back to specific scenes in the move but that’s just me, a Notre Dame fanatic. I’ll be watching my Fighting Irish – in person – this weekend as they take on Wisconsin at Green Bay’s Lambeau Field. Meanwhile, you’ll be listening to the Rudy soundtrack. Here.

Hat Trick

In the coastal village where my wife and I spend a couple of weeks each summer, a hat boutique has been converted into a gelato shop. An’s Hatmakers, paying homage to the location’s prior business, claims to be one of the top five gelato shops in America two years running. You’d believe it if you saw the line of twenty-plus patrons we joined to give it a try. But there’s more to this story than ice cream and headgear. In fact, you might call it something of a hat trick.

My wife and I have always been ice cream fanatics, so much so that we’ve banned any and all versions from our household freezer for fear of overindulging. I blame Häagen-Dazs, the brand that brought ice cream to a whole new level of quality (and butterfat) when it debuted in the 1970s. Today a pint of Haagen-Dazs sets you back $6-$7. That may seem like a lot until you consider places like An’s Hatmakers. A pint of An’s runs you twice that much.

Seriously, who pays $15 for a pint of ice cream? Apparently more people than the twenty-plus in line at An’s. Artisanal gelaterias and ice cream shops have been popping up online and on-street in numbers like we’ve never seen before. Baskin-Robbins and Coldstone Creamery won’t be threatened – especially with these eye-popping prices – but it may interest you to know the customer who buys at Baskins is the same one who buys at An’s.

It’s an oft-heard post-pandemic story. A person is unexpectedly pushed out of their corporate job by COVID. Exploring their inner-entrepreneur, this person combines something they have with something they’re good at and voila… a boutique business is born. I’ve just described A to Z Creamery in Minneapolis. A to Z was born in a home kitchen, from nothing more than an ice cream machine, a penchant for creating unique flavors, and a bit of online marketing. A to Z started as a “drop business” (filling orders online as they came in) but today they’re a thriving retail establishment. At $15 a pint.

$15 ice cream speaks to an interesting trend of economic tolerance. With prices through the roof on all sorts of items, it’s fair to say some of us can no longer afford (or no longer choose to pay for) the things we would’ve dropped big money on ten years ago. Maybe we forego a new car for a used one. Or an expensive trip for a stay-cation. As a reward for being frugal we may find ourselves with a little spending money. So we opt for “micro-indulgences” like overpriced gelato.

The pandemic also fostered more of a you-only-live-once (YOLO) attitude. We’re more about enjoying the moment instead of planning for the future. It’s the primary reason An’s and A to Z have lines of customers down the block. I’m reminded of the early years of our marriage, when my wife and I struggled with California’s high cost of living. We couldn’t afford the houses our Silicon Valley neighbors boasted so what did we do instead? We bought a luxury sedan we really had no business owning. But that car sure made us feel better.

Here at home, our little town hosts three ice cream shops. Each sells a perfectly good product. If you convert the cost of their scoops to pints (4:1), any one of them tops out at around $8. Which makes me think the next time I’m at An’s I’ll be buying a hat instead of gelato. After all, I want to have something I’ll eat if I ever spend $15 on ice cream.

Some content sourced from the KSL.com article, “What a $15 pint of ice cream says about the economy”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

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LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle – Update #4 (read about the start of this project in Fit for a (Fairy Tale) King)

Believe it or not, I wish King Ludwig built an even bigger castle. If he had maybe LEGO would’ve used bigger pieces for its model. Bags 7 and 8 (of 23 bags of pieces) contained some of the smallest bits of LEGO I’ve ever tried to get my fingers around. When I first spilled out the bags I let out a big sigh, not just for today’s construction but for the similar chapters sure to follow. After all, we’ve only built the Gatehouse and a portion of the lowest level of the castle so far. The finished structure will be about three times the height you see in the photo. That’s a lot more LEGO bits.

We built away from the main model today. Each bag represented a separate “module” of the castle like you see in this photo. When it’s complete you drop the whole assembly into the base. This sort of approach is possible with the cranes we use in modern construction but certainly not in Ludwig’s time. His builders would’ve been creating the castle one brick at a time. Regardless, at least we have the beginnings of the castle instead of just boring Bavarian Alps, right? The Gatehouse was the first part of the castle to be completed back in 1872, so credit LEGO for designing the model to be built in the same order.

Here’s what we started with today. Most of these LEGOs are seriously small.

As I searched for tiny piece after tiny piece today I got to thinking, “Man, it’d be nice to have an AI bot right now. This bot could consult the instruction manual, scurry over to the piles of LEGOs, and haul back exactly what I needed for each step. But hey, like a jigsaw puzzle the hunting for the pieces is (supposed to be) part of the fun. I just wish they were bigger than cake crumbs!

Running build time: 4:02.

Total leftover pieces: 28.

Accompanying movie soundtrack: Dances with Wolves (1990). No one should disagree Dances with Wolves is the crowning achievement of Kevin Costner’s film career. With it he won the Academy Award for Best Producer, Best Director, and was nominated for Best Actor. I’ll never forget a random hotel stay with my wife, where we turned on the television to Dances with Wolves just as it was starting. We’d never seen the movie before. Three hours later we sat speechless, having long missed our dinner reservation. John Barry’s scoring of the film also won the Oscar and is entirely deserving. Understandably – assuming you’ve seen the movie – the melodies are mostly haunting and forlorn, but the score is beautifully tied together time and again with the unforgettable theme music. Listen to it here.

Hitting the Sweets Spot

My brother owns a vintage Ferrari – not as pricey as it might sound. One of his neighbors sold him the 1960s-era car for cheap, in far less than mint condition, and he spent years bringing it back to life. I’ve never had an interest in a Ferrari myself. However, if I change up just two vowels in the word (the “a” and the “i”), I come up with Ferrero. Okay, now you have my attention.

Ferrero is a remarkable success story for a family business, especially considering its start as a modest pastry shop in a small town in northern Italy. Two brothers: Pietro with a love of creating new products and Giovanni a natural at networking, grew the business across the region over the years, but it wasn’t until they handed the reins to son Michele that Ferrero became a household name. Today, the “sweets-packaged food company” is one of the world’s largest, boasting an entire supermarket aisle worth of products.

Let’s start with Nutella (just like Ferrero did when they moved beyond pastries). Nutella was created as a spin on chocolate with the intent of making it more affordable. Add hazelnuts plentiful in local orchards and Ferrero came up with the butter-like confection the world knows so well today. That product all by itself would’ve been considered a success story, but since then Ferrero grew their sweets umbrella to a gigantic list… and one from which I’ve sampled way too many times.

Begin anywhere you want by adding sugar and you’re probably talking Ferrero. How about Tic Tac? It’s a Ferrero product. I’d love to know how many (hundreds? thousands?) of boxes of Tic Tac I’ve consumed over the years, with the excuse I always had a breath mint nearby when I needed one. My choice was the standard white “Freshmint”, but there’s a flavor for everyone now, including the orange “Citrus”, pink and white “Strawberries and Cream”, and even brown “Dr. Pepper”.

Ferrero also commands a good share of the candy bars you’d find at your nearby 7-Eleven. Take your pick from 100 Grand, Baby Ruth, Butterfinger, Chunky, Oh Henry, or Crunch – they’re all Ferrero now. If you don’t recognize that last one, it’s because Ferrero (or actually Ferrara – one of their subsidiaries) reduced the word “Nestlé” to a really small font on the label. It’s true; a Nestlé Crunch bar may still be produced by Nestlé but it’s now licensed by Ferrero.

Maybe you’re a fan of movie candy. You’ll also find Ferrero at the theater, whether you choose a box of Goobers, Raisinets, or Sno-Caps. Cookies instead? How about the Mother’s Cookies brand? Their pink/white “Circus Animals” and frosted “Taffy Sandwich” cookies still tug at my taste buds. Or maybe you go for those bite-sized Famous Amos chocolate-chip cookies. Amos may not sound Italian but he’s in the Ferrero family now.

When I first met my wife she introduced to me to Fanny May “premium gourmet” chocolates. It was the first time my allegiance to See’s Candies was tested. Trust me, it’s hard to beat a Fanny May milk chocolate vanilla buttercream. For that matter, raise your game with a cherry-filled Mon Chéri or a gold-foiled Ferrero Rocher . Each of these indulgences – except See’s – are now Ferrero.

Which brings me to the ultimate get. The list I’ve covered is not even half of the name brands you’ll find at Ferrero but last year they might’ve reeled in their biggest fish yet… Kellogg’s. Seriously, who among us hasn’t had a bowl (or a hundred bowls) of Kellogg’s breakfast cereal? When I was a kid there always seemed to be a box of Corn Flakes, Special K, or Raisin Bran in the pantry (none of which I was crazy about) and better yet Apple Jacks, Froot Loops, or Honey (Sugar) Smacks. You’ll find a lot more choices than those on the cereal shelves, and in every case you’re talking Ferrero as much as Kellogg’s.

As much as I’ve enjoy Ferrero’s products, virtually all of them are past memories. I’ve moved on to more “adult” choices (translation: way less processed sugar). So I made myself a wager before I checked: There are no Ferrero products in my pantry. And then I promptly lost the bet – twice. I found a box of Raisin Bran (how’d that get in there?) destined to hit its expiration date sooner than the cereal bowl. And I found a box of Nonni’s, which are pretty darned tasty for an off-the-shelf brand of biscotti. I’m starting to think I took the wrong approach with today’s topic. Maybe my lead question was meant to be: what products aren’t under Ferrero’s umbrella?

Whenever She Asks, Bake the Cake

I just did the quick math and realized my wife and I have been empty nesters for almost ten years now. When our youngest headed off to college in 2017 we pivoted and embraced the milestone of less clutter and chaos. But just as suddenly we have grandchildren now, and with them comes the reminders of those formerly frenetic chapters of our lives.

The moment that inspired this post was the one I never saw coming. We hosted our granddaughters earlier this week, in the first of what we hope will be countless “sleepovers”. At ages 3 and “almost 2” they’re a sight for sore eyes (and also a sight you should never take your eyes off of). My wife and I were in the kitchen doing a something-or-other task when suddenly the three-year old beckoned to me from the nearby screened-in porch. It’s pretty adorable when a little one uses “come here” gestures to get your attention because she still doesn’t quite have the words.

Now let me admit to a little annoyance. After all, I was in the middle of something and I was being interrupted by my granddaughter. In typical adult fashion I said, “Hang on honey, let me finish what I’m doing”, but she persisted. Apparently what needed to be seen couldn’t wait one more minute. So I let out a sigh, put down what I was doing, and wandered over to the porch.

Here was my granddaughter, holding her hands out wide to proudly display what was sitting on the table…. an empty wooden bowl. I looked at the bowl and then I looked at her, then back to the bowl, then back to her with obvious question marks in my eyes. And all she said to me was, “cake!”. Cake? What was that supposed to mean? Was she trying to pronounce some other word but somehow it came out “cake”?

It was then she gave me a glimpse into her wonderfully imaginative little world. I had no idea our screened-in porch was actually a world-class chef’s kitchen. There was some serious baking going on in there! And the cake’s ingredients – of which there were many – came from the most unexpected places.

To begin with my granddaughter produced a small rock (not sure where that came from), which served as the cake “starter”. Then she picked up the largest throw pillow from the couch and shook it vigorously into the bowl. Who knew we had a “bag of flour” right there on the porch? Immediately adjacent to the flour, a smaller throw pillow became a “bag of sugar”. More vigorous shaking. Finally she seized the third throw pillow, which she didn’t have an answer for (so we told her it was baking powder).

Other ingredients followed. When she asked for butter we emptied the box of butter sticks from our refrigerator so she could help herself to “the rest of them”. When she needed a little water she sprinkled some (literally) from the nearby wall fountain. An empty watering can was suddenly “full of milk”. And in a creative spin I could never come up with myself, she decided the four ornate corners of our patio table were dispensers for cake toppings like whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and rainbow sprinkles. She’d press press her hand down on them and make a “sh-sh-sh” dispensing sound that sounded just like the real deal.

At this point I’d completely forgotten whatever mundane task I’d been doing in the real kitchen because I was focused on the make-believe one instead. I contributed several (real) implements so the cake could be thoroughly prepared. Wooden spoons for stirring. Spatulas for turning. Tongs to pick up and put down the mysterious rock (a repetitive step in the recipe she clearly understood but I did not). An (empty) shaker of cinnamon. Impatiently I asked her if the cake was done but she just shook her head side-to-side and said, “No (Gran) Da, this cake will take hours”. And that was perfectly fine with me.

By the time our granddaughters were strapped into their car seats and on their way home I think we’d baked another four cakes on the ~~porch~~ kitchen. Little Miss Almost-2 occasionally pitched in as sous chef, although her older sister was only too happy to point out who was in charge. Today as I sit at my laptop I’m looking at a clean and organized screened-in porch. It suddenly seems a little boring.

As for the inside of the house, the dishes are washed, the toys are back in the cabinets, and everything’s pleasantly back in order. It’s an empty nest around here again. Except for some little handprints that need to be scrubbed from the living room windows. On second thought maybe I’ll leave those where they are, if only to remind me – whenever she asks – to drop everything I’m doing and go bake the cake.

Wheels of Fortune

Late last year, Belgium found itself at the center of a culinary controversy. A local company was producing and selling a bottled version of “carbonara sauce”, much to the dismay of Italy. The Italians are fiercely protective of the recipe for spaghetti carbonara they invented a hundred years ago. Anyone familiar with the dish understands there is no such thing as carbonara sauce, because the food is the result of a slow, methodical process using fresh ingredients (including eggs and cheese), where everything melds together perfectly. You can’t just bottle it and call it the same thing.

Carbonara is a good example of a product invented in Italy and dumbed down for mass consumption. Imagine how the Italians feel about Starbucks. Somewhere on the menu you can order a shot of pure espresso but it’s the drinks with the added flavors, sugar, and milk that generate the profits. Similarly, you’ll find a dozen packages of biscotti on America’s cookie aisles, but most aren’t twice-baked like the originals nor infused with real almond liquor.

Maybe you’ve already added pizza to this list of imposters. The transformation of pizza from the Italian original to the endless varieties offered in today’s restaurants could be the subject of its own blog post (and a long one at that). Suffice it to say, the Italians are justified in turning up their noses to any product we Americans call “pizza”. Unless you’ve had a pie made with authentic Italian ingredients and prepared the same way they made it centuries ago, you really don’t know pizza.

But let’s talk about cheese, because it’s the real subject of today’s post. Parmesan cheese is another Italian original, dating back to the Middle Ages. It’s made with just three ingredients: milk, salt, and rennet (enzymes). Today you can choose from a variety of parmesan cheeses in your supermarket deli or just cheat with the big green Kraft can from the pasta aisle (which includes several added ingredients you wouldn’t be happy about). But whether from the deli or from a can, you’re not purchasing the Italian original… unless, the package includes the official logo of Parmigiano Reggiano. That, my friends, indicates the real deal. Or, if you prefer, the “big cheese”.

Parmigiano Reggiano (shall we call it “PR” from here on out? Yes, let’s do that.) is one of the most tightly regulated foods in the world. Maybe the Italians got tired of losing control of their original recipes and declared, “Uh-uh, not this one”. PR is made from milk, salt, and rennet just like the other wannabes, but with two important differences. The cows that provide two of those three ingredients graze on the pristine grass of pastures in a single tiny region of central Italy. The cows, the grass, and the milk they produce are regulated in a way that would make Fort Knox proud. It’s a small, tight supply chain of cheese production with the same quality of centuries ago.

Here’s the other important distinction between PR and the others. It must be aged at least a year (and it’s typically more like two or three) before it can be sold. That requirement gets the cheese to stand alone even more than its carefully-produced ingredients. Why? Because most companies can’t sit around for a year or more waiting for cheese to generate profits while suppliers are demanding payment on the spot. So how do the makers of PR do it? They bank their cheese. Literally.

You know you have a really good cheese when your bank is willing to take it as collateral. Here are the staggering numbers. Italy produces four million wheels of PR a year, distributed throughout the country and the world for sale. (Fact: America is the largest consumer of Parmigiano Reggiano outside of Italy.) But 500,000 of those wheels are held back and “deposited” into a local bank to age, in exchange for the cash necessary to pay the suppliers. PR is of such high quality and so carefully regulated that the banks have agreed to this unique arrangement for generations. Of course, the combined value of those wheels probably helps (well north of $300 million).

If you’d care to know more about this whole cheese-for-money thing, read the article I reference below. More importantly, if you ever come across Italy’s “Cheese Bank”, you’ll probably find the usual ATM’s, tellers, and offices, but at least you’ll know what that big warehouse next door is all about.

Some content sourced from the CNN Business article, “Inside Italy’s secret ‘Cheese Bank’…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Confection Objections

Have you ever taken a bite of something and thought, “Nope, doesn’t taste right”? Gluten-free foods come to mind. Or salsa on a tortilla chip after the salsa’s turned south. There’s nothing more unnerving than expecting one taste and getting another. But at least with gluten-free (and bad salsa) you’re sort of prepared to be disappointed. The same can’t be said with more “sacred” foods. Like chocolate.

I ate my fair share of Hershey’s bars as a kid but once Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups came along I switched my preference. Reese’s somehow developed the perfect blend of peanut butter and milk chocolate into a convenient cup where you get both tastes in every bite. The two-cup packs never convinced me to save one for later, but they did give the impression I was getting more for my money.

Some things are better left alone… but Reese’s never got the message. Instead, over the years they’ve produced endless varieties on the original peanut butter cup. Before you knew it we had a choice of sizes (including “Big Cup”), fillings (peanut butter and banana creme? Yuck!), and candy coatings, as well as holiday shapes like milk chocolate hearts, eggs, pumpkins, and bells, all with the peanut butter filling. Finally, Reese’s Pieces joined the list, made infinitely more popular by their supporting role in the blockbuster film E.T.

The problem with variations on a Reese’s is the altered ratio of milk chocolate to peanut butter. I would’ve enjoyed standing in ole man Reese’s shoes back in the 1920s when he taste-tested his way to perfection. He should’ve put a patent on it, because too much milk chocolate or too much peanut butter just doesn’t taste right to me. But at least we’re talking about milk chocolate here. Now for the real injustice…

The H.B. Reese Candy Company became a subsidiary of Hershey in 1963. Their peanut butter cups instantly became Hershey’s bestseller (even surpassing the classic Hershey Bar). But recently, subtly, quietly, Hershey committed a mortal sin of the candy world. Rather than leaving well enough alone they changed the ingredients of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Soon to come, there will no longer be any milk chocolate in a Reese’s, at least not by proper definition. Instead, you’ll indulge in a “chocolate-flavored coating”. In the world of food, we all know flavoring is just another word for “artificial”.

This little con of Hershey’s was brought to the headlines by none other than a grandson of H.B. Reese (and who can claim better peanut butter cup credentials than that?). Brad Reese is taking on Hershey for straying from the original recipe. Granted, the price of cocoa beans – the basis of real chocolate – has gone through the roof the last few years, forcing companies to get creative with size, price, or ingredients. I just wish Hershey offered me the option to still purchase the real thing.

I’ve already noticed how Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are shrinking. The originals were 0.9 ounces. Then they went to 0.8 ounces, then 0.75, and finally to the 0.7 juniors they are today. If Hershey keeps this up, you’ll start thinking the “original” is a “miniature”. I can make peace with shrinkage as long as the milk chocolate/peanut butter ratio stays the same. But now the words “milk chocolate” will be removed from the orange wrapper. Ask the FDA and they’ll say, “Sorry, “chocolate-flavored coating” is not the same as “milk chocolate”.

I’m joining Brad Reese’s campaign to restore Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups to their original composition. Some things are just worth their weight in gold. Not that I’d pay gold for a peanut butter cup, but show me the original size, ratio, and ingredients and I might just be tempted.

Some content sourced from the NBC News article, “Grandson of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups is in pieces over missing milk chocolate”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

When I’m Sixty-Four

We’ve reached the time of year when we abide by an unwritten rule: It’s no longer appropriate to say Happy New Year! We’re well past the first week of 2026 so quit thinking the year is still “new” already. On the other hand, it’s entirely appropriate to say Happy Birthday! Today happens to be the birthday of yours truly, as it has been for the past sixty-four years. I now find myself squarely between “Early Sixties” and “Medicare Eligible”, which sparks a wide variety of thoughts. Including a song by The Beatles.

Here’s a contradiction I wrestle with every birthday. I am celebrating 64 years but it’s actually my 65th birthday. If you don’t count the very first one (when you turn “0”) you’re effectively removing the first year of your life from the equation. 64 equals sixty-four years of my existence. But 64 also means my sixty-fifth birthday. Get it? I didn’t think so.

Birthday are traditionally celebrated with presents and cake, and both made their appearance yet again this year. I keep telling my wife and kids no presents, because in our sixties we finally learn we have almost everything we need (and need almost nothing we have). On the other hand, I will never turn down birthday cake, especially when the choice of flavor is mine to make. German chocolate – heavy on the coconut if you please.

My birthday is also the perfect reason to recall my late father. He was born the very next day (well, the very next day thirty-three years before). If my mother could’ve held on for another couple of hours Dad and I would’ve shared the same birthday. Not that I ever blamed her for choosing January 22nd. I’m sure the last thing she cared about back then was the clock. But at least she got a kind of two-fer in that Dad and I celebrated our birthdays together every year.

Our financial advisor makes a nice birthday gesture every year with the colorful assortment you see here. These beautiful chocolates – handcrafted by Florida-based Norman Love Confections – are too pretty to eat. Having said that I can assure you the entire box will be empty by early February. Yes I realize this “gift” is really just me buying myself a birthday present, since it comes out of the profits of my own investments. But at least there are profits…

My birthday is also a reminder I fall under the sign of Aquarius (barely). An Aquarius is described as intellectual, independent, and humanitarian. I happily embrace all three even if I regularly fall short in all three as well. On the other hand, Aquarius is the water-bearer. In the thirty-odd years my wife and I have been homeowners we’ve been plagued with every form of water disaster imaginable. Drips, leaks, mold, flooded basements, overflowing retention ponds – you name it. Would it surprise you to know an ice storm is headed our way in the next few days?

Finally we have The Beatles; or at least, Paul McCartney. McCartney, who turned 83 last June, wrote the merry tune When I’m Sixty Four when he was only fourteen. The lyrics include musings about his life fifty years on, but really the song’s just a silly rant about a time he couldn’t possibly foretell. (At least he thought to include “Dave” in the lyrics.) If I could meet McCartney in person I’d love to ask him, Hey, was it really like the song suggested nineteen years ago? Even if it wasn’t I’ll bet he’d take age sixty-four back in a heartbeat.

We make wishes when we blow out birthday candles (even at my post-middle-pre-senior age). Such was the case again this year on top of my German chocolate cake. What did I wish for? I’ll never tell, at least not unless the wish comes true. But I will admit to one distraction while I was huffing and snuffing those candles. There were only sixty-four on my cake. I’m thinking there should’ve been sixty-five.

Worthless Wardrobe Boxes

I’ve always liked the play on words of Men’s Wearhouse. If you’re familiar with MW you know they cover more ground than just formal wear. They’ve set aside an area for tuxedos and such, but they have other sections for dress shirts, accessories, and even shoes. It’s like walking through a miniature department store… which is probably why MW is destined for the dust bin sometime in the coming year.

Just eighteen months after Saks Fifth Avenue acquired bankrupt Neiman-Marcus (for the “bargain” price of $2.65 billion) Saks itself filed for bankruptcy; just yesterday. The 2024 merger of these big-box luxury retailers (which included Bergdorf Goodman) never really came to fruition. Chalk it up to biting off more than they could chew, or more likely to the impact of the changing habits of consumers. Today’s shoppers want smaller, more specific brick-and-mortar options; that is, whenever they can drag themselves away from online purchasing.

The shuttering of department stores is not limited to the high-end verions, of course. Macy’s is in the process of closing 150 “underperforming locations”. JC Penny, Kohl’s, and Marshall’s are closing outlets here and there. Even Carter’s, the popular option for children’s clothing, is calling it quits on 150 locations. And Sears, which had almost 3,000 locations just fifteen years ago, is down to a mere five. Frankly, I didn’t know Sears had any locations anymore.

Sears (or the Sears, Roebuck and Co I remember as a child) was my family’s go-to-department store for just about anything. My brothers and I were outfitted in Sears-brand clothing. My mother purchased all kinds of items for her kitchen. My father built up his workshop with dozens of Craftsman tools. And of course, the Sears catalog was not only a kid’s dream-book of Christmas wishes, but its arrival in the mailbox was a sign Santa was on his way… not to your house but to the toy department at Sears.

Like many other things in the States, department stores were based on the originals in Europe. Harrods of London has been around since 1849 and boasts of 1,100,000 square feet of selling space, making it the largest department store on the continent. Paris hosts several stores I’ve never heard of yet many have been around as long as Harrods. And Australia’s David Jones is considered the world’s longest continuously operating department store (since 1838!)

As you read this post – and if you’re Millennial or older – I’m sure a department store of your own experience comes to mind. Towards the East Coast: Gimbels, Hudson’s, or Wanamaker’s. Towards the West: May Company, Bullock’s, or Robinson’s. In Chicago alone: Marshall Field’s, Carson Pirie Scott, or Wieboldt’s. In Canada: Eaton’s. The list is endless, even as most of them are downsizing or closing altogether.

In deference to my former department store habits, I also prefer more specific retail these days. My shoes come from shoe stores. My shirts come from stores of particular name brands. But with shopping malls closing along with their aforementioned “anchors”, my stores of choice are now stand-alones or in outlet malls. Now that I think about it, outlet malls are kind of like outdoor department stores, aren’t they?

I may be nostalgic for the department stores of my past, but I certainly understand why the concept has come and is about to be gone. We have more convenient, more tailored options these days. Which has me wondering about supermarkets. Supermarkets are also under the threat of the changing habits of consumers. No, I don’t expect a return to those wonderful merchant-driven street markets you find all over Europe. But we are getting more comfortable with placing orders ahead of time and having groceries delivered to our car or front door. In other words, enjoy shopping in “food warehouses” while you still can, because department stores are about to become nothing more than worthless wardrobe boxes.

Some content sourced from the CNN Business article, “Saks Global files for bankruptcy protection…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Caffè Companions

My wife made a batch of rolled sugar cookies last week, cut into traditional Christmas shapes like bells, wreaths, and stockings. It’s the first time in a long time for these cookies, inspired by the assistance of our young and attentive granddaughters. Though the cookies never donned their frosted/decorated costumes, they sure tasted great all by themselves. Kind of like the biscotti I’m giving up in 2026.

Are you a fan of biscotti? They’re the small, oblong cookies that resemble tiny slices of sourdough bread. They’re hard and dry, with just a smattering of almonds or almond extract for extra flavor. Biscotti are meant to accompany a drink, just as two of them do every morning with my coffee. Biscotti ward off the nausea I feel when I down my vitamins on nothing but a cup of joe. Nice excuse for daily cookies, eh?

When the calculator (which doesn’t lie) reveals you ate over seven hundred biscotti over the course of 2025, you quickly come to your senses and declare a resolution for the coming New Year: Shift biscotti from “habit” to “occasional treat”. Yep, it’s time to cut down on carbs.

Before we seal the lid on the cookie jar however, biscotti deserve a little more attention to set the record straight. First and foremost, the pint-sized pastries I consume with my morning caffè are not technically biscotti; they’re cantucci. Cantucci contain ingredients like milk, butter, and flavorings, none of which are found in an authentic Italian recipe for biscotti.

Here’s another distinction. Biscotti were never meant to be partnered with coffee. They were (and still are) served alongside a glass of sweet wine as a light Italian dessert. Americans pair cantucci with cappuccino at upper-crust hotels and coffeehouses. You’re supposed to dunk to make them softer (and take the edge off the coffee) but I prefer to eat them just the way they are.

Biscotti translates to… not “biscuits”, but “twice-baked”, which is exactly how they’re made. First baked as a full loaf; then baked again as individual cookies. Now then, another Italian translation for you: Nonni means “grandmother”. Nonni’s also means a brand of biscotti (whoops, make that cantucci) you’ll find in your grocery store… and in my pantry. The Nonni’s version is an unashamed dessert cookie, with a layer of chocolate, caramel, or lemon frosting to add to the appeal. My advice: Nonni’s need to be put on a hard-to-reach shelf else they’ll become a habit just like the ones with my morning coffee.

In some Western European cultures biscotti are thrown into savory dishes, which I’m not going to get into because I find the idea unappealing. Biscotti are classy little sweet treats in my book – one of the two items in my “grown-up milk and cookies”. Alas, in 2026 it’ll just be “grown-up milk” for me… that is, as long as I stay away from my wife’s sugar cookies.

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LEGO Trevi Fountain – Update #7

(Read about the start of this build in Brick Wall Waterfall)

Today we took a mini road trip, as I chose to build the fountain’s Bags 12 and 13 – of 15 bags of pieces – on the kitchen counter (instead of upstairs in the home office). Kind of fitting considering the counter is topped with white marble. Kind of annoying considering the laundry machine and dishwasher were running nearby the whole time, interrupting Arcangelo Corelli’s moving “Christmas Concerto” in G Minor.

Maybe it was the change of venue but some strange stuff happened today. To begin with, I couldn’t find the very first piece in the build at all, until I looked closer at the instruction manual drawing and realized I was after a tiny statue. Once I found him I was off and running, though I found it sad that one of his companion statues ended up being a leftover piece.

Thought you should know: the back side of the LEGO Trevi is a sheer wall of white.

Now for the strange stuff. I assembled a flat L-shaped piece on top of another flat L-shaped piece, only to discover they weren’t supposed to go together that way. No amount of fingernail dexterity could pry those two apart. Fortunately I found myself in the kitchen. Sharp knives everywhere! It took a careful pry without cutting myself but I finally got those two unmarried. Never let it be said building LEGO models isn’t a dangerous sport.

That little brown round one (nestled top left) was missing from Bag 13!

More strange stuff. LEGO left a piece out of Bag 13. Okay, technically they left it out. “Technically” because in my growing pile of leftover pieces I found its twin. But considering LEGO never leaves out pieces, I had to wonder: Did the little guy just wander over to my leftover pile when I wasn’t looking? Or is he somewhere in the trash right now, along with the cellophane bag of Bag 13? Maybe he’s resting quietly on the kitchen floor just waiting to stub my toe? Who knows. I’m just thankful I had a “replacement” from my leftovers. And I don’t think I’ll be building LEGO models in the kitchen anymore.

Next week: The Trevi is completed!

Running build time: 6 hrs. 52 min.

Total leftover pieces: 35 (including a lonely little statue)

Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Priceless Hatches

I’m enjoying a couple of soft-boiled eggs right now, my every-other-day breakfast entrée. The timer I use to prepare them sits right in the pot of water, indicating when the eggs are cooked to perfection. I pay a little more than average for my eggs, to producer Vital who advertises “pasture-raised – tended by hand by farmers who care”. On the other hand, if I wanted to pay a lot more than average I’d simply go to a rare goods auction and buy one from Fabergé.

You wouldn’t have a Fabergé egg for breakfast, of course. No one would ever sink their teeth into a priceless work of art (well, maybe a banana), let alone one of only fifty that were ever created. One of the Fabergés – the “Winter Egg” – went under the auction block last week, with the winning bid confirmed in a mere three minutes. The buyer’s purchase of a single Fabergé for $30.2 million dollars is a new record; noteworthy considering how many times the eggs have changed hands in the last 140 years.

I can’t say why we Westerners even know about Fabergé eggs. Most hide in private collections or in museums you’ve never been to. The eggs were created in St. Petersburg, Russia in the late 1800s by jeweler House of Fabergé for the reigning tsars of the time. One or two eggs were produced every year as exquisite Easter gifts, from 1885 through 1917. Most are jeweled with diamonds and other precious gems, and hinge open to reveal delicate animals or scenes within.

The Winter Egg (1913) is described as “the most spectacular, artistically inventive and unusual” of all fifty Fabergés, which is quite a statement when any one of the eggs deserves the same praise. The Winter Egg took almost a year to design and create, and the value is evident in the details. 4,500 tiny rose-cut diamonds are married to a platinum snowflake motif to create the impression of a block of ice dusted with frost.

The Winter Egg hinges opens to reveal a hanging basket of wood anemones, made from white quartz and rare green “Tsavorite” garnets. I can’t imagine working with these expensive materials on such a small scale but maybe that’s because I don’t have the delicate fingers of a woman. The Winter Egg was designed and created by Alma Pihl, the only female jeweler in the House of Fabergé.

On a cruise around the Baltic Sea several years ago, my wife and I were fortunate to spend a couple of days in St. Petersburg, touring Catherine Palace and Peterhof among the city’s other sights. When we returned to the ship we were greeted by a local jeweler, who offered replicas of the Fabergés (for less than $32M, thank goodness). We chose the Imperial Coronation Egg (1897), inspired by the color of Tsar Alexander III’s robe. The Coronation Egg houses a replica of the imperial carriage, made with gold and platinum and detailed with rubies and diamonds (the original egg that is, not ours).

After learning a single egg can set you back $32M, I now look at my breakfast eggs a little differently. $10.99 a dozen? That used to be top of the heap. Now it’s just pocket change.

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LEGO Trevi Fountain – Update #6

(Read about the start of this build in Brick Wall Waterfall)

There’s a moment in every LEGO build where you look at what you’ve constructed and think, Hey, I’m almost done! That moment was today. Bags 10 and 11 – of 15 bags of pieces – brought the structure of the Trevi Fountain to new, practically finished heights. The tiny, tiny pieces I worked through (so many of them I was afraid to count) resulted in the uppermost level of the backdrop you see in the final photo.

From my magic hat of Italian composers I somehow chose Claudio Monteverdi for my musical accompaniment today. You don’t know Monteverdi and apparently I don’t either. Had I realized his contribution to classical music was mostly opera (hard pass) I would’ve reached into the hat again. Alas, I was subjected to Monteverdi’s L’Arianna “lament” – equal parts sorrow, anger, fear, and so on. Those singers sure didn’t sound happy as I snapped together LEGO pieces, but honestly who knows? I don’t speak “sung” Italian.

Here’s an expectation with a symmetrical LEGO build. If you construct an element that goes on one side of the model you’ll be mirroring it on the other side before you know it. A hundred or more pieces went into the windowed wall you see here, and a hundred more went into its twin soon after. It’s repetitive yes, but at least you go faster the second time around since you just had practice.

A word about the little devils in this photo. Because they’re cylindrical they can roll. Because they roll they can hide under something. Something like a LEGO instruction manual. Once again I was fooled into thinking I was missing pieces… until I thought to look under the manual. Sure enough, there they sat just smirking at me. So I promptly arrested and cuffed them, hauled them away, and now they’re jailed in the backdrop you see here, without possibility of parole.

We’re just four bags of LEGO pieces from “turning on the water” of the magnificent Trevi. I’ll admit to peeking into the box at those upcoming bags. They are small, all four of them. Perhaps I’ll wrap the fountain construction in a single go next week. Even if not, conveniently, the final block of travertine would be laid the following week, just in time for Christmas. Now that’s what I call a gift!

Running build time: 5 hrs. 42 min.

Total leftover pieces: 32 (tiny, tiny pieces)

Some content sourced from the CNN Style article, “Faberge egg fetches record $30.2 million at rare auction”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.