No, I don’t have an Aunt Fannie – but it sounded cool.
Whoever coined the expression “Sunday is the day of rest” was either a man or just plain crazy.
I slept in until 8:30 a.m. (oh noes! as my oldest would say), then got up and started breakfast, a nice skillet scramble with potatoes, onion, green and red bell pepper, bulk sausage and scrambled eggs. While that cooked, I boiled up the two pounds of Great Northern beans I’d soaked overnight, started a loaf of bread in the bread machine and mixed up the dough for a batch of chocolate chip cookies.
By the time the beans were done, the bread was rising, the cookies were mixed and breakfast was ready. We heated up a few corn tortillas in the microwave and got out the peach salsa and ate. Well, we, the adults, ate – I made Nick scrambled eggs and oatmeal, rotten picky little thing he is (he tried to sneak in a glass of Mountain Dew with this repast – mean old Mom made him drink milk instead).
I let everyone else clean up while I got out three cookie sheets and dropped 3 dozen chocolate chip cookies and put them in the oven to bake. Then I turned around and whipped together some oatmeal cookie dough – by the time the chocolate chip cookies (which spread too much – time to find a new recipe) were done, I was ready to bake 3 dozen oatmeal cookies.
While the oatmeal cookies baked, I dumped the cooked, drained beans in my cast iron dutch oven with some boiling water, salt, mustard, brown sugar, ketchup and a couple of squirts of Worcestershire sauce. Once the oatmeal cookies were done, the oven temp went down to 325 degrees and in went the beans. All of the cookies were cooled on wire racks and stuffed into my two cookie jars. By this time the bread was done, so out of the machine it came to cool on one of the wire racks.
I then realized it was 1 p.m. and I hadn’t even had a shower. And I was tired and my feet hurt.