Hey did you every wonder about that magic?  That little light that helps you find your way home, to your heart of hearts?  That spark that keeps you going, in spite of it all?  That little magic that conjures itself, with nary a swish or flick, and serves to inspire you through your day, to keep you going?  I’m not magic, I don’t even profess to do magic.  What I do is barely science.  But I can tell you what gets me through my day.  Indulgence.  At the very least the promise there of.  That promise of that first cold beer, heads lifting and turning like meerkats at the tell-tale “shh-pck.”  Or maybe it’s that perfectly cooked burger, piled high with fixins’ and oozing mayo like you know you want it to, all sexy like.  Hell, maybe for you it’s peeing off the bridge on your walk home, but you know what I mean.  Something you do just for you, like a midnight cookie dipped into a cold glass of milk in the refrigerator light.

Speaking of indulgence, and cookies for that matter, why not satisfy your need for both with a few late night flicks of the wrist?  No, that’s not what I mean, you know; click the mouse.  Oh just buy my shit.

As faithful readers know, I’m a recent inductee into that elite club of high earning loafers, the select few paid to merely “look” for work. This sudden extreme increase of free time has got me thinking.  The not so distant past of my pastry chef profile, the state of fine dining in this economy and so forth, I mean Executive Pastry Chef? In Portland?  There’s like two. What if I could strip away all the smoke and mirrors of fine dining and using the hairy diodes of the internet and put my pastry right in your very hands?  Where to start? Would you buy it? Would you electronically transmit your hard earned money to get at that sweet indulgence that only I can provide, you faceless billions behind glowing screens everywhere?  I mean you could be eating my cookies right now, if they were available online.   This is how the idea for Your Mom’s Baked Goods came to me.

Why Your Moms?  The obvious mom joke is already hanging there, like ripe, low-hanging fruit.  Your Mom’s Cookies.  Heh heh.  Your Mom.  This kind of facile low-brow humor comes so easily to my faithful readers that uttering it would only cheapen it.  I thought, then why not make it also make it a tribute to Moms everywhere? I love my Mom, and you love yours, right?  What group, other than babies, are so universally loved worldwide than mothers?  And how many of them have inspired us to bake? My mother used to make us the most awesome birthday cakes.  She used a box mix most of the time, but would spend hours decorating mounds of cake into Spider Man or something.  I seem to remember an igloo cake at some point.  Yeah, moms rule.  So do my cookies.  So would you buy ‘em? Let’s find out!  This weekend at Tabla, where I was lucky enough to crash-land part time after losing my job; diners receive a free sample of my salted chocolate chip cookie. while supplies last.  Hopefully, a good amount of people reading this scored one of those samples, and will show their support and feedback in the comments.  Everyone else, let me know what you think of this whole venture.  Follow the progress on twitter @yourmomsbaked

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