by the number three

When I mentioned these cookies in passing on Twitter the other day, it garnered quite a bit of interest. Judging from the poorly-lit photograph taken hurriedly on an early evening, I’m pretty sure it couldn’t have possibly piqued any curiosity, other than a “Duuude, bad shot!” comment or something along those lines. This was, after all, merely a batch of freshly-baked peanut butter cookies we’re talking about;– no fancy-shmancy French macarons here, nor exotic-flavoured perfectly-piped tea biscuits. And as much as there are many peanut butter fans out there (yes, all 4, 383 of you who made these blondies the most popular post on my site), I don’t think the flavour was of much interest here as well.

And so it boils down to these words ‘easy-peasy 3 ingredient’.

Now, have I piqued your interest as well?

wordless wednesday (on a thursday): chanel flap bag cakes

a little something for my little self

Looking at how inept I am today around the grocers, it must be surprising to hear that I had been quite the company for my mother as a child, traipsing around wet markets, listening to her getting great bargains over the day’s catch, requesting for the specific concoction of spice blends, all these after having rolled up my pants so it won’t get wet as we walk by the butchers.

I must admit, however, that I wasn’t that big a fan of the wet market. Many mornings on the way to the market, I’d ask if we were going to the wet part. Some days she would give a reassuring ‘no’, while others she would reply with a vague ‘maybe’, leaving the 5-year old me with a scrunched up face.

Fortunately for my mother, though, it doesn’t take long (nor much, come to think of it) to bring the glimmer back into my eyes again, denoting a seemingly non-verbal promise of my best behaviour.