I love baking. LOVE. Not like. Not enjoy. Not have a penchant for. LOVE. Here’s how I know: when I stop doing it for any length if time, I can feel my heart breaking a little. And when I over do, I need a little break. If there’s any question why I had to lay off the loving, just tale a peak back at The 12 Cookies Of Christmas. I didn’t even bake my signature Super Bowl Cookies.

I did sneak in a Flourless Chocolate Cake, to the joy of my co-workers. But that was it for the latter part of December, all of January, and the first half of February.

And when we LOVE something, we sometimes make mistakes in judgement. We overlook flaws. And appropriatly enough, my love of baking clouded my judgement leading up to love’s big day: Valentine’s Day. The recipe for Chocolate Dipped Shortbread Hearts rubbed me the wrong way from the start, and some of the comments from baker’s who’d made them should have warned me off. But I plowed ahead, ignoring all the warning signs. Ah, love.

And don’t let the good looks fool you. My instincts were right. Or should I say in-stink? These cookies weren’t a shortbread at all. They were thin and flat, and so was there flavor.

On the bright side, Kevin will likely be touched and enjoy them just the same. And if that’s not LOVE, what is?

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