“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
With a simple expression, kids are taught to look inwards, to the content and character of something or someone before determining its worth.
As a small child I took it literally, carefully examining each book I picked out, even if the cover “looked stupid” because I thought that’s what it took to be a good little girl. I had a tendency to take most turns of phrase at face value as a child. It made for some confusing times. “Don’t drink and drive” had me berating my mother for reaching for her can of root beer while on the road. “Don’t run across the road” had me traversing a crosswalk at a snail’s pace, the whole way, even as a car waited patiently at a stop sign for me to cross.
It can be hard to not judge food by its cover. Green plates of food scare off most children. Brown plates of food look somewhat dead. Baked goods not oozing with chocolate or studded with bright colours of fruit look… boring.
These cookies look boring.
Yet, I cannot stop eating them every time I make them.
On my team at work, we have a system where the person who most recently had a birthday is in charge of arranging some sort of celebration for the next birthday in line. That way everyone gets some birthday fun, but no single person gets burnt out on hunting down birthday cards and candles every few weeks.
But I’ve made it clear to the team that I can’t get burnt out on baking birthday cakes and they can always feel free to come to me for that sort of help. Birthday cakes are one of my favourite things to bake as I love finding all about a single person’s tastes and loves, and finding the perfect cake to make for them.
This week, the only information I had was sparse, but specific.
He loves beer and can’t eat dairy.
Hm. Not my typical list of requirements for cake, but no less exciting.
I’m what folks jokingly call a “Banana”.
My blood is Chinese, but growing up in Canada my entire life, I am Canadian through and through. My almond eyes say Asian, but my attitude says caucasian.
“Banana”, because I’m yellow on the outside and white on the inside. And it’s totally true. My first and only language was/is English. Pasta is my favourite type of noodle dish. The beaver is my idea of a regal animal.
But occasionally, I’ll run into something that reminds me that I’m only the first North American born generation of my family. Random things, often food related, that I never realized might be “odd” or “different” until I was much older.
Since getting married, Trevor and I have come to learn that marriage doesn’t mean the end of the peculiar dance that is a first date.
When you get married, you date other couples.
And apparently you also watch a lot of Game of Thrones and eat a lot of biscuits. But more on that in a minute.