Ti Many Apple Martoonies...

During the summer between my third and fourth year of college, I worked at a slimy little Italian restaurant which had absolutely no redeeming value, except that it introduced me to my friend Stacey. We were both servers at this restaurant for one summer (until I got fired and she went away to school). To give you an idea of how long ago this was, Tracey Chapman was singing about fast cars and Steve Winwood (yup, Steve Winwood!) was telling you to "Roll with it, baby!" Stacey and I just had to pretty much call each other to start cracking up. Everything we did that summer was a blast, from hanging out at the beach all day to the parties at her parents house when they were, of course, out of town. Then I went back to school in San Diego and Stacey went to Santa Barbara, I got married and had children, Stacey moved up north, and for quite a few years we lost touch with each other. I had always held such incredibly fond memories of her and knew that when we saw each other again, we would have no problem picking up where we left off. We finally had the chance. We both ended up back in the town where we grew up and saw each other a couple of weeks ago, after a ten year seperation.
In the last few years I've decided that I'm a Martha Stewart in training (without the bitchy attitude or the prison record). There is nothing in a store or restaurant that I don't see or taste and think, "I can make that!" Stacey happened to catch me during my infused alcoholic beverages phase. I don't actually drink these things myself - they are very strong - but once I made my first batch of Limoncello and it got raves reviews, I was hooked. Everyone who knows me gets a bottle of my special blends for whatever they might be celebrating. I went from lemon to raspberry, blackberry, even mandarin orange. I am also on a quest for the perfect apple martini and I think if anyone can create that recipe, of course it's me. So Stacey happened to come over on a night when I was mixing all of my concoctions to send to a friend on the east coast. I was also baking oatmeal cookies that night to send with the alcohol, so we spent the whole night in the kitchen catching up, reminiscing about our former wild days, and of course testing the alcohol mixtures. I'm sure we mixed up a few of my famous apple martinis in there just for good measure.
I hate greasing pans or spraying them with stuff because they get all goopy and hard to wash, so I bought this kind of foil that says you don't have to do that - it's non-stick. So I put the cookies in the oven, and yeah we had consumed quite a bit of alcohol by then. I was also cooking something on top of the stove and when I was done I turned it off, but instead of turning the burner off, I turned the oven off. The dials aren't even close so I must have been pretty tipsy. The cookie timer went off after 10 minutes and I took the cookies out of the oven, but for some reason they were still doughy and gross (not to mention the burner was still on and turning bright red). Of course I was confused because they weren't cooked, so I threw them back in the oven and added five minutes to the timer. Five minutes later, they still weren't cooked, I was starting to get pissed and I, in all seriousness, start blaming it on my new non-stick foil. I added five more minutes to the timer and when they still were not cooked, Stacey walked over and very quietly turned my oven back on, after watching me trying to figure the problem out for the last fifteen minutes! It was hysterical. So she turned the oven back on, I forgot to set the timer again and in our drunken stupor we both forgot about the cookies completely until we smelled them burning.
I know the lesson here is that I shouldn't be using the oven or the stove when I've consumed more than my share of alcohol, but I'm still trying to blame it on the non-stick foil!