To dunk or not to dunk. That is the question.
It's 4 a.m. and I am sipping a cup of hot fresh coffee strong enough to not just destroy the tooth enamel, but to take out the tooth, roots and all. I wish I had something to dunk in it to cut the bitterness.
To make matters worse, to my immediate left, the cover of my "Dessert Bible" displays a stack of fruited cookies you'd swap your birthright for.
Here in the quietness of this early hour, let's take a look at dunking. I don't know what the practice was for you, but I grew up in a family of dunkers and soppers. It was an accepted practice in the South.
After all, biscuitsngravy is one word, isn't it? When the biscuit got too stale to sop, you dunked it. Bean soup was the favorite medium. You developed a sixth sense that told you just how deep and how long to submerge it so it didn't disintegrate in your fingers. Dunking is a fine art you learn with practice.
Then I moved "Up North" and discovered that polite society frowned on dunking, and so I became a closet dunker and sopper. What a happy day for me when Oreos hit the scene and elevated dunking to its rightful place. I would like to nominate the Oreo company for the Nobel Humanitarian Award. Would you like to second it?
So, fellow dunkers, my recipes today are for you.
This is your season. What could be more comforting than a pot of coffee, tea or chocolate and a big plate of cookies, while you watch the Red Wings play or the snow pile up on the deck?
Here's a little toast to you:
"Here's to the possibility
That you'll retain the agility
To take your dunking ability
Into your senility."