Less is more, they say. But listen, sometimes more is more. For example, one cookie would be less and two cookies would be more and you see where I'm going with this. Or, to put it another way, sparkling wine alone would be less but a measure of St-Germain and lemon juice and simple syrup and a sprig of mint and a splash of seltzer water topped with sparkling wine would be more. 

I have a soft spot for soft foods. I like pudding, especially homemade chocolate pudding (and I'm sorry to say that I especially like the thin skin that forms on top as it cools. I realize that you might not feel the same way.) I like warm applesauce that you cook on the stove, particularly when you leave it a little chunky. I like how it tastes when you pour thick cold cream over it. I like silky hummus and the custard-y filling of eclairs and all manner of stews and soups.

Well, LOOK AT THAT (I almost wrote shiver me timbers but thought better of it, as I'd like you all to continue reading, not consider me too weird. Oh wait. Shouldn't have mentioned that.), it's July 6 and I haven't written anything in a full month! Strike that. I've written things: Grocery lists. Descriptions of the protein content of flour (I work for a baking company, so that's normal.) Impromptu, funny letters to my sister with limericks inside. A wedding toast for another sister, who is getting married in a mere few days, and I'm preparing to weep constantly at the ceremony (I'm a bridesmaid so, waterproof mascara?).

Some days are like this: I take a bike ride. I feel happy and strong, legs pumping, pushing me forwards. The sun is out in full force, warming my face and five minutes in, I start to build up a sweat. The world slides by in one-block increments of colorful storefronts. There's potential everywhere: Restaurants to try (cafe tables spill out onto the sidewalks, people hug and sit down and order cocktails and steak and go about their evenings), movies to watch, gardens to explore, streets to walk down. 

Let's talk about good things, okay? There are so many of them. Every day, if you look in the right places. For example, if you pause outside the grocery store and stop being so absorbed in your list of laundry detergent, bananas, paper towels, cocoa powder for a moment, you'll notice the heavy scent of lilacs hanging thickly in the air. There are buckets of them, and for $10 you can buy a bunch. The woody stems always stymie me at home; I go at them with scissors and a knife and still end up twisting them apart with my hands. But it's worth it when the entire living room is perfumed with flowers.

Today it rained all day: a steady, persistent drizzle. It's the sort of rain that doesn't require an umbrella, but makes your jacket damp and your shoes just wet enough that you have to leave them outside the apartment door.

My skin is still stinging from yesterday's sunburn (I'm pale enough from this long winter that spending a mere 20 minutes in the backyard, sipping coffee, on a sunny afternoon garners me a red glow). 

For a brief moment around 4 PM, I had that heavy, dull feeling that often arrives without warning in the low valley of the afternoon. You've already passed the acceptable time for coffee; lunch feels like a distant memory; and it's too early to contemplate dinner. 

Alternative titles for this recipe included "99 Problems But Brown Butter Ain't One", "Toffee for President", "Legitimately Addictive Cookies" or "Medium-Sized Circles of Heaven" but I reined it in. (You're welcome.)

I've made three batches of these cookies since discovering the recipe a week ago. I did run into the SMALL issue of not being to find toffee bars -- which surprised me, given that I consider Skor bars to be one of the greatest candy bars around (simple is better, kids!).

Yesterday I realized we had no real dessert in the house. Travesty! (Also the result of ten days away, and being really OCD about cleaning your kitchen before vacation.) There's usually at least something sweet to be scrounged up, whether cocoa powder for a quick stovetop chocolate pudding or a leftover slice of cake wrapped up in the freezer. Okay, perhaps I'm being dramatic, as there was a pint of vanilla ice cream with a few spoonfuls left in the bottom (and a serious case of freezer burn), but nary a cookie in sight.

Things I'm appreciative of:

1. How easy it is to make a solid Aperol spritz at home [2 parts Aperol + 3 parts Prosecco. You're supposed to add a splash of club soda, but let's face it, that just gets in the way of things.]
2. Old movies. We grew up without television, and on Friday nights my dad would take us to the closest Blockbuster (when you live on a farm, that's a 15 minute drive), and he'd pick out a movie, which we'd tote home in its blue plastic Blockbuster cover. The four girls, in our matching pjs, would snuggle up and watch things like Casablanca and old PJ Wodehouse films and Mrs. 'Arris Goes to Paris. Our favorites were Doris Day and Fred Astaire movies and they still make feel me so comforted and happy. 

If you want a good song, put on "River" by Leon Bridges. Then put on "Priceless" by For Kings and Country and sing really loudly when they get to the i see you dressed in white/every wrong made right bit (trust me, although I do realize this is a Christian gospel band but look, it's catchy). Then put on "Gold Angel" by Minke.