Cookie Jar Capers And A Mocha Jones

A Poor Man's Mocha and A Cookie Jar Crime Scene -- Welcome to Friday at That Old House!


My life of crime began early. I was probably not long out of diapers when I started receiving lessons
from my older brothers on how to silently break into and steal the contents of this glass jar:

This was the jar my Mom used for cookies when we were growing up.
It is more than 50 years old.

We suspect Mom chose it for cookies because of the ground glass stopper and neck.
Have you ever pulled a ground glass stopper out of a ground glass neck?
It is noisy. And sounds something like fingernails on a blackboard.

For a clumsy or careless child, an attempt at stealing Oreos or Nutter Butters out of this jar would guarantee a maternal holler from somewhere in the depths of the house: "Don't spoil your dinner!"

But we were not clumsy children; burglars' skills were developed in our family at tender ages.

It was probably my Dad who taught my oldest brother to steady his hand with his pinky finger on the side of the jar, and feel gently, gently -- to center the stopper in the middle of the neck where it would not touch the sides (by the way, this is not easy; try it!) and lift out the stopper excruciatingly slowly. . . and silently.

My Dad was often a party to our insubordinations, and we loved
hearing our Mom's exasperated, "HERB! Don't rile the children!"

My brother passed the skill on to the rest of us. We practiced, sometimes got caught, sometimes got a cookie. Sometimes had to hand over the stolen cookie to my oldest brother because, well, he was the oldest and therefore the boss.

I've got packets of rice in this cookie jar now. No one is tempted to steal them, not even Dion the dog.

Recently, we asked a bunch of Mom's grandchildren if they could manage to open the cookie jar -- and close it again -- silently. They tried. They all failed miserably. No criminal instinct at all. Where did we go wrong?

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And now for something completely different: Starbucks in my kitchen.

No, not really.
I know very little about Starbucks. I never go without a translator, usually one of my daughters . . . who pretty much think I need a keeper most of the time anyway.

Alone, I would be stuck dumb with confusion and stand there, gaping like a beached flounder,
trying to decipher the indeciperable lingo of the Starbucks' corporate gobbledygook.

Eventually I would flee.

But that doesn't mean that sometimes I don't want a snazzy hot coffee drink.

Like today. It's still all white outside, and windy as heck; our loose shutters are playing a conga beat on the clapboards.
But I've got leftover breakfast coffee in the carafe, and this box, dug out of the depths of the pantry:


Daughter Anne brought this box of cocoa mix to her dorm room her freshman year of college. That was 4 and a half years ago. I am not sure if there's a pull-by date on these babies, but I'm not looking for one.

Ignorance is bliss.

I heat up some morning coffee in a favorite mug.

Ruthlessly tear open an innocent package of sugar-free cocoa mix. . .

And dump it into the coffee.

Uh-oh. Is it supposed to be this lumpy?

Never mind. It's probably okay, right? Right?

Stir it up! Action shot!

And guess what?

It tastes pretty darned good, a lot like one of those expensive mocha drinks at one of the expensive coffee stores, only this cup of Cocoa Joe has the added thrill of being made with possibly rancid ingredients.

Some people snowboard for winter thrills; I drink outdated powdered drink mixes.

I have decided that the little cocoa packets are more at home in the old cookie jar than were the brown rice bags.

If I have them out where I can see them, instead of in the back of the pantry
in their box, they may actually get used up this calendar year.

Of course, cookies would be even better in Mama's old cookie jar, but I can't ask for the moon, now, can I?

Join Cindy at My Romantic Home for Show And Tell Friday. Click here!

And Friday means food at Designs By Gollum. Click here for Foodie Friday posts!
It's this blog party's one-year anniversary; congratulations, Michael!

Have a wonderful weekend. We are hauling the rest of the new-old dining room table into the house (if by we I mean Howard and Peggy's husband Bill), and possibly traveling to Connecticut to pick up an Ebay win that I will share with you on Tuesday. It's sweet, and I do not need it, but sometimes you just can't resist, you know? It's like cookies in a clear glass jar! --- Cass