Coffee Ring Day

Here is a picture of the (partial) results of Coffee Ring Day.

It was a good one this year. Tradition has it that I get up and

start baking, and DH brings home pizza for dinner. There was

a time he'd trundle the children off to a movie or some such thing,

as eight little hands helping Mama makes for a slow, long day

of it when there are this many goodies to bake. Now they can

actually help!

I learned from my mother, she learned from hers . . .

No, they do not taste like coffee.

No, there is no coffee in them.

They are so named because, for the most part, one would imbibe

a fresh hot cuppa along with a generous slice of ring, which is like

a lovely rich cinnamon roll, only so much better, it's what cinnamon

rolls WISH they could be! Some people call them tea rings;

however, my Swedish ancestors shudder at the thought of tea.

Phaaa! Coffee drinkers, every last one of them. Kaffe. C'mon,

people, didn't you ever read Pippi Longstockings??

Somehow, these did not all get delivered before Christmas, so there

are about five strays still in the deep freeze. Coffee rings, not ancestors.

Whether they ever make their way to their intended recipients

remains to be seen . . . once again, coffee rings, not ancestors . . .