When you’re raised on these you have a deep expectation as to what a cookie should be. Seemed there was always an open bag of morsels in the cupboard for direct ‘emergency’ chocolate consumption use too. And butterscotch chips? Oh, let me wallow in the mention of butterscotch chips…

Still wallowing…

wallow…

And I’m back. Yes, these little yellow bags of wonder have always been a huge part of my life, but here’s what I don’t get:
The UK has Nestlé products.
The UK likes baking cookies, even chocolate chip cookies.
The UK does not have Nestlé Toll House morsels.

Sure I can get them through import companies that sell other delights such as Frank’s Red Hot Sauce, and Aunt Jemima Syrup, but it is an expensive luxury to order from these companies, and to be honest, most of what they stock I am far healthier doing without anyway. I do place the odd order, but that’s my fault for introducing Neil to a few delicious American things, two of those being mentioned above.

The above photo of Toll House cookies is made possible by the selfless act of my dear friend Jodi. She packed her carry-on bag full of Toll House chips, Twizzlers, and Sour Patch Jellybeans. They must have thought she was the hungriest passenger ever. We made my favourite Toll House butterscotch oatmeal cookies while she was visiting us, and I’m trying to pace myself with the remaining bags of morsels. I’m not a big eater of sweets or baked things, but the comforting smell of fresh-baked cookies is something I’m enjoying tremendously today.

Thank you, Jodi!

We got a good price* on some in-husk corn on the cob at our local Morrison’s and so I snapped up four of them to cook on the grill.

I gave them a good two hour water soaking and popped them on a wood fire with some veggie burgers.

There are flavours I think we all associate with particular times of the year: cinnamon is a very winter thing, watermelon a warm weather treat. Me?
Corn on the cob. Tastes like summer.
Tastes like sunshine.

–
*Corn on the cob is INSANELY expensive here in the UK. I managed to pay 49p per ear, which at today’s exchange rate is $0.81 each. I remember getting them for 10 cents in Wisconsin…

I took my first driving lesson in twenty-odd years today, specifically to obtain my full license (one that doesn’t restrict me to only driving in the company of a fully qualified UK driver) and it was weird. Not uncomfortable, not anxiety-filled… just weird. I never realised how underused my left leg has been all these years and how much automatic driving agrees with my brain more. I like fixing my focus on my surroundings and possible hazards without the diverted brain power demanded by pulling or pushing two additional levers and one more pedal. Easy is good, right? Why fight technology if it wants to change our gears for us?

Well, on this side of the Atlantic, driving an automatic is a rarity. We have one, but only because we made a point to buy one after I moved over so I could get used to the changes in driving behaviour. We love our automatic, but now that we live rurally, there is a likelihood that we’ll buy a secondhand stick shift of some sort or another in the next year or so. You could say I’m preparing, but I’m also trying to be more capable. Neil is relied upon to drive us everywhere (unless I’m behind the wheel with his company as passenger) and this is a tiresome arrangement. In the US, I could just get out and do what needed done without worry, but here I am on the equivalent level with the average learner driver. Let me tell you, after more than twenty years of independence, it’s getting old being a student again.

So why not just get my automatic license? (Yes, they actually do that here; give you a lower-grade license for automatic cars.) Because it’s pointless to go through instructor training and tests and not bundle the new skill in at the same time. More stressful? A bit. I’m learning a new skill and it’s changing the wiring I’ve had in my brain for ages. I’ll get there. Lessons aren’t cheap, and neither are the theory and practical tests (lessons are really the worst cash hemorrhage though), but it’ll be worth it for sanity, convenience – and ultimately – for my piece of mind. Odds are, if you threw a stone into a car park here, you wouldn’t hit an automatic. At least now I know that if I need to hot-wire and steal a car to escape a hungry mob of zombies, I’ll be prepared.
Now all I need is a boom stick and a chainsaw.

To celebrate, we wandered down to Padstow to have a wee splash out meal at one of Rick Stein’s cafés, took in glorious weather, and then ended up at our own local beach for ice cream cones.

Above: my Salt and Pepper Prawns with sprout and spinach salad

It’s been a life-changing and amazing experience and we’ve really only scratched the surface of life here. Thank you, Cornwall, for being so wonderful. Here’s to many more years of us being together!

Cheers!