Get thee to a kitchen, stat.

It’s cookie o’clock, folks.

I know, I know, two blog posts in the space of less than two days: it’s a little ambitious for me, but hey. We’re stuck indoors again thanks to It Which Shall Not Be Named and Mama’s feeling like doing some [more] baking.

Today we’re baking one of my absolute favourites: white chocolate and cranberry cookies. Yum. 

Let me just put this out there right now: these are not sugar free; in fact, they contain two different kinds of sugar. These are not fat free. These are not low-carb, nor are they packed with any trendy ingredients like chia seeds or kale. I mean, they’ve got dried cranberries in them, so if you want to feel virtuous and buy the “Reduced Sugar” Craisins then you go right on ahead and do that.

But gosh, just look at them. Aren’t they pretty? These turned out so yummy that I’m baking a second batch this afternoon once Her Highness awakens from her middle-of-the-day slumber.

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Nap time efficiency & ripe banana anxiety

Does anybody else get that? Ripe banana anxiety? You see them getting closer and closer to their use by date, day by day, and you know you’re dangerously close to rotten banana territory. So you think to yourself – “I should cut and freeze those for smoothies/I should bake something/I should get greener bananas next time” but more often than not, they go to the dark side and must be thrown out. Wasteful, really.

The issue with living in Singapore’s delightfully hot and humid climate is that bananas will generally ripen at an *alarmingly* fast rate. Not good for the more banana anxious amongst us. Yes, I’ve tried “the banana bag” and all those tricks to slow the process down (you better believe I did a search on Pinterest for that), but frankly – I’m very discriminating when it comes to bananas. I will meticulously peel every last stringy bit off and slice off the parts that are even the lightest shade of beige. I don’t know if it’s a pregnancy thing, but lately, if a banana tastes even slightly overripe it actually makes me gag. A is not fussy in that regard, but his daughter seems to have inherited my discerning taste in fruit. She has recently started rejecting any below par banana with a very disapproving frown. It means that we have to pretty much buy fresh bananas every. single. day. That girl makes me proud. Continue reading