December 1: Italian Pizzelles

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Bet ya thought I forgot about this little project. Lots has changed since last year–my family and I moved 1200 miles away from our little gingerbread house in the not-tropolis of Wisconsin to Lake Charles, Louisiana. Why would we do such a thing? I got into a grad school program down here, and now I bake cookies in the Bayou!

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It’s a cold front today–high of only 60. That little tree in the back is an orange tree. Don’t have that in Wisconsin!

 

Today is my last day of class for the semester, and also my busiest day. I’m at school from 9 am until 8:30 p.m. I didn’t know if I would be able to start my project today, but as I was in the shower this morning, the idea came to me: I have a pizzelle iron. It’s portable. And I have two hours of office hours first thing this morning.

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I had to mix the dough up at home first. My kitchen looked like an explosion before I started. It’s the end of the semester.

(Let’s try to forget for a minute that I’m pretty much the oldest person here and certainly the only mother. My office cookie-baking and apron-wearing certainly isn’t allowing me to fit in well today.)

I’m getting funny looks, but somehow, people are still eating the cookies. Starving grad students, you know.

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What? You don’t bring a pizzelle iron to your office?

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Thanks to my office-mate Brett for letting me use her desk for cookie-related purposes.

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My desk set-up, complete with professor-in-training wool cardigan on the chair.

Maybe later in the month, I’ll type out the recipe, but until my last paper is written, I’ll just rely on technology. This is from my Gooseberry Patch Country Cookie cookbook. My fave, and the first thing I bought with my first paycheck back in 1994.

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