Shortbread: The Final Post

While I rarely utter these words — and those who know me well, know just how rarely — I give up. Shortbread is beyond me and I refuse to embarrass/frustrate myself any longer. Despite the annoyingly simple recipe — I mean it's FOUR ingredients for God's sake!!!!! — my shortbread just doesn't cut it.

After Rachel's and my attempt to make a double batch and the resulting completely edible but ridiculously silly looking shortsand (see post here), I decided one day last week to just make a single batch while Rachel was at the movies with her brothers. I figured I'd bring out the final product and just say, "Hah! I can make shortbread too."

Obviously the karmic gods were on to this hubristic disingenuous strategy because while this shortbread held together, it did not have the right texture, that crumbly buttery goodness that makes shortbread a baking wonder. Again, it was edible but it wasn't right and so I give up. All my shortbread from now on will be Walker's or, if Rachel is feeling generous and perhaps just a tad smug, gifts from her.
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Oh, Ma. You really can't bake shortbread, can you? While I assure you that this is definitely as pathetic as you feel like it is (*wink, wink*), worry not. On my to-do list before school starts back up next week is to make you some shortbread and send it your way. Yes, I will be placing your initials on each piece, too, just so you remember with each bite that not only was it made with love specifically for you but it was made by hand with time for embellishments because it's that freaking easy.

My real gift to you is this, though: You make better granola than I do. I've been disappointed each morning since I came back to California not to be eating your seriously, seriously good granola for breakfast. Mine's fine, but yours is awesome. AWESOME.

Wanna do a swap? I'll send you shortbread and you can mail me granola.

XXOO.