We are kicking off the new year with a little road trip this morning. It’s only a couple of hours drive but I’m incredibly excited about leaving the city behind to spend a few days in a rented cabin. The first thing I plan to do when we get there is inhale deeply and hopefully not smell or hear civilization.

For the car ride, we have chocolate dipped lebkuchen and a wedge of fruitcake, which I’ve resisted brushing liberally with extra sherry for the sake of the driver. (Certain concessions need to be made, seeing as he is the sole car owner and iPod wrangler in this relationship.)

These pocket pies would have also made for the perfect car snack, if only there were any left. To make them, cut squares or circles of your favourite flaky pastry, stuff with cookie dough and bake for 20-25 minutes until golden brown on the outside. Serve warm, dusted with cinnamon sugar and you may never go back to making fruit-filled versions ever again.

I call it “strategic grocery shopping”. This evening I’ll be doing all the grocery shopping I need to get us through Christmas and Boxing Day. It’s the thing I usually leave until the 24th to accomplish. In the past, I’ve found that shopping on the eve inevitably requires monumental patience to battle through crowds of other last minute shoppers; some even pushing two grocery carts at once, blocking the aisles while they try to decide between 1 kg or 2 kg of prawns. Cooked or uncooked. Or maybe the lobster. Or both. All I can hope for is that everyone else hasn’t decided to shop strategically this year either.

Meanwhile I have some fruit mince bars to keep the energy up. Why bars? Well, sometimes I just can’t be bothered with all that latticed pie or mini tart palaver. All you need is two bits of lovely shortcrust pastry or shortbread dough, sandwiching your favourite fruit mince then in the oven for 20-25 minutes. Done.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Yesterday I flipped through David Lebovitz’s Ready for Dessert and came across a recipe for Apple Red Wine Tart. That was the beginning of the end.

In the beginning, I marched down to the shops for a bottle of red wine and a bag of apples.

Somewhere in the middle, I burnt my red wine reduction and wished I could blame David for this. Actually I had been distracted by Twitter, but never mind, start again, because it’s only the middle of the end.

Finally, I pulled the tart out of the oven, flipped it onto a plate, cut a slice, bathed it in custard, and that. That was truly

The End.