No, no bendan, Mr. Thomas didn't ask for the first time you got your first shipping and competitive prices!!

Food!!! Not Nike Shox or Handbags!!

Sheesh, some days you're the statue, most time you're the guy getting kicked in the jimmy.

Tink! You are just killing me today! And that darned bendan. He just keeps popping up in the most inopportune places. I've finked him out a couple time and he's still here so maybe he's Thomas' pet monkey or something.

Excellent! xox

Well Thomas, you see it was just me and a boy alone at home after school one day when a powerful huger took hold inside me. I was clueless with the knobs and the burners and lo, even the electric can opener. If it were not for the boy tempting me, I might never have gone through with it. He coaxed me to the can opener where the seemingly benign blade disguised as a harmless looking wheel sliced open the can. A large spoon helped me deliver it's contents to the pot. It was red, with perfectly shaped circles, often referred to as O's, and an ample supply of meat balls. The boy nodded to the knobs on the stove. I turned it to high. Soon the soupy medley of pasta and mystery meat began to bubble furiously. The boy indicated it was finished and I consumed the fruit of his labor. All I can say is Thank Goodness! Thank Goodness for Chef BOY Ardee.
:-)

Animal pancakes, Grandma style. On occasion, while growing up, my dearly departed maternal grandmother, Emma, would visit us.

In between ranklings with my not-so-dearly departed Dad, 'Grammy' saw fit to rise early and whip up a batch of her buttermilk flapjacks. She carefully spooned giraffes, bears, Mickey Mouse and other creatures on to the sizzling griddle while me and my five siblings greedily devoured each creation, eager for more, misshapen or not.

The tradition continued while raising my daughter, now 21 years. Although I modified Gram's version a bit, I haven't whipped up buttermilk batter in quite some time. My middle-aged figure doesn't need it. However, the combination of egg, flour, vanilla, baking powder, molasses and salt conjures fond memories of simpler days of yon.

I've responded to this call for posts. Now that the old one has re-appeared, I'm a bit confused, but expect that the bugs will be worked out. In the meantime, remember: you can't make a cake with Nestle's Quik.

weak.

Hey Thomas, are you still calling for these? Just put one up anyway.

I've been cooking since I was a little kid...so hard to remember one dish in particular.

I remember the first time I realized that mushrooms and spinach lessen in size when you cook them. I thought it was a drag - like I was being ripped off.

I remember figuring out the key to making pancakes with crispy edges (it's in the oil, thinness of batter and the heat.)

I remember making steel-cut oatmeal and adding butter and maple syrup and thinking it was the best dish ever. I ate it for breakfast for years.

I remember my mom making baked cheddar cheese sticks for her literary group friends on Sunday afternoons - and how delicious they were and I still regret not finding out how she made them.

I WISH I remembered how to make better pie crust. I still think either the pie crust gods are with you or they aren't.