'Tis the season.

They don’t call it the silly season for nothing, folks. Now is about the time of year when all of those grandiose plans I had for knitting and/or baking festive gifts for everyone I’ve ever met (Tell me I’m not the only one.) start to feel kind of misguided, oppressive, stifling even—and then, as I am wont to do, I rebel. I decide that Christmas is for suckers and I’d much rather skip the country for a while to avoid the stress and expectation of the season completely than to knit one more stitch.

But a little balance, I suppose, is in order. I love to make things, you see, and I especially love sharing them with people I care about. These two passions combine at gift-giving time to make me the Best Gift Giver Ever (BGGE). Yes, it’s true, there’s fame and glory attached to the title, but not a small amount of pressure. And some days, like today, I resent and resist the title. I feign ignorance and a British accent (‘Oh, I’m not the Best Gift Giver Ever, no no; merely the Best Gift Giver Sometimes.’), but it’s no use. In my heart of hearts I will always want to give the best gifts ever, just like I will always harbour a desire to cushion my loved ones in any and every knitted object they could ever want.

But, sometimes, yes Sometimes, even the BGGE can be human, and decide that rather than crafting furiously into the night she will instead have fruit for dinner, and make the potato salad that makes her happy, and just generally be mentally far far away from anywhere where it could possibly be almost Christmas.

‘Tis the season.

They don’t call it the silly season for nothing, folks. Now is about the time of year when all of those grandiose plans I had for knitting and/or baking festive gifts for everyone I’ve ever met (Tell me I’m not the only one.) start to feel kind of misguided, oppressive, stifling even—and then, as I am wont to do, I rebel. I decide that Christmas is for suckers and I’d much rather skip the country for a while to avoid the stress and expectation of the season completely than to knit one more stitch.

But a little balance, I suppose, is in order. I love to make things, you see, and I especially love sharing them with people I care about. These two passions combine at gift-giving time to make me the Best Gift Giver Ever (BGGE). Yes, it’s true, there’s fame and glory attached to the title, but not a small amount of pressure. And some days, like today, I resent and resist the title. I feign ignorance and a British accent (‘Oh, I’m not the Best Gift Giver Ever, no no; merely the Best Gift Giver Sometimes.’), but it’s no use. In my heart of hearts I will always want to give the best gifts ever, just like I will always harbour a desire to cushion my loved ones in any and every knitted object they could ever want.

But, sometimes, yes Sometimes, even the BGGE can be human, and decide that rather than crafting furiously into the night she will instead have fruit for dinner, and make the potato salad that makes her happy, and just generally be mentally far far away from anywhere where it could possibly be almost Christmas.

Quick 'n' clean crochet

This quick and handy project is perfect for gift-giving, just the thing to brighten a kitchen or bathroom. The towel toppers above are based on a facewasher measuring 30cm x 31cm/ 11.75” x 12”, but can be easily adapted to suit any width towel.

Free to download now.

Quick ‘n’ clean crochet

This quick and handy project is perfect for gift-giving, just the thing to brighten a kitchen or bathroom. The towel toppers above are based on a facewasher measuring 30cm x 31cm/ 11.75” x 12”, but can be easily adapted to suit any width towel.

Free to download now.

Confessions of an addict.

How can you tell when a hobby becomes an obsession?

Is it when thoughts begin to revolve around the newfound love to the exclusion of all others? (Dudes, I can’t stop thinking about pie. Which should I make next: blueberry with lemon-zested crust, or apple cinnamon with a gingerbread-spiced crust? This is the stuff that keeps me up at night.)

Is it when the time between hits becomes shorter and shorter out of necessity, as the cravings increase in strength? (First pie: Friday evening. Second pie: Monday evening. Third pie: Wednesday evening. Fourth pie: Wednesday evening, one hour later.)

Is it when the coveted objects seem to appear everywhere, as the face of an absent beloved? (See below. Am I the only one who thinks this dishcloth looks like berries? Or apples and rhubarb?)

Maybe it’s when all of the above apply. So, it seems I’m hooked.

The way of the pie.

The first time I made cherry pie I was totally winging it, and used maybe a little too much liquid in the filling, which made the crust kind of soggy while the pie was still warm. After chilling in the fridge all night, things had settled down a bit and the base was solid, stable, and infused with cherryness (Yay! Pie for breakfast!).

On my second attempt (pictured here) I wanted to experiment with witholding most of the extra cherry juice and relying on the pre-soaked fruit (from a jar—I know, I’m a heathen. I don’t care! I like things that come in jars!) to provide just a little moisture but not enough for the pie base to disintegrate while warm. The result this time around is more of a cherry shortcake or slice: folds of melty, aromatic pastry with a short sharp shot of fruit in the middle. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting, but I managed to polish off two generous slices before that coffee up there went cold.

All of this simply means I’m still experimenting and finding my pie-making feet. Any pielovers out there with suggestions?