An Appearance on the Bespoke Great British Baking Program...!

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

Call if you Like Cake...  or maybe, 

perhaps, to wit, tend to honor 

This superb Posting, possibly (?) !!  

correspondence of Praise always welcome!!

This Episode:          An Appearance on the Bespoke 

                      Great British Baking Program...!

To begin...  I would appear under my "Baking Pseudonym," namely, Lord Eustace Von Bavarois, Lord Lieutenant (Leftenant, as pronounced by the British) of the Royal Borrachos, and 27th Earl of Blitheringdom!  I should insist upon being addressed as "Your Worship, Lord Bavarois," slight bows acknowledging my status and lofty position in life and in the monarchical realm! 

I would employ a valet, possibly a footman, to convey all of my baking impedimenta and paraphernalia; I would not demean or reduce myself or my exalted status by carrying to

An array of baking implements
and a blobby thing! 

my baking station the aforementioned.  I should insist upon occupying a front forward station, on the right side, with eastern breezes wafting gently through the adjacent tent flap.  Disagreeable odors would not be permitted to assault my olfactory gland by invading the tent opening intended solely for the aforementioned sweet breeze or breezes and maybe furtive glances at odd passersby...

I would happily interact socially and culturally with Susan and Mel, or with Noel and Sandy, but with no other vapid and vacuous alleged "comedic host."  I am nothing if not empathic, but there are standards that must be adhered to by persons of noble bearing!  

As to the so-called judges, I would accept the comments and constructive criticism of 

The Judges!

Prue, but I would very likely refuse to interact professionally, culturally or socially with the male member of the judging duo.  There are limits to one's tolerance and generosity of spirit.  And, he often talks mean and uses nasty words.  

When summoned to the various challenges -- Signature, Technical and StopShow-er...  I would of course refuse, in accordance with the Concordat of Beans 

(to which my EarlDom is a signatory) to engage in silly and meaningless bake challenges, such as Ibbie Skibbie, Konsikracker, Stoop Warffles, Pudding Sloppies, Gelatinous Slurppies (I hate those things!), Korkleflies, Soofles, Fig Warts, Spotted Dickies, StinkFarfels, Bloated Pig Dinkies, Mumblekaks or anything made using ink, of squid or fountain biro variety.  I will not concoct anything steamed, nor a baked thing sporting an unappetizing color.  I don't care much for green bakes or those made with eel.  

How many of you enthusiastic and rabid supporters and readers now engaged in perusing this piece of brilliant (sort of ) literature actually bake stuff?  I'd like a show of hands, please! Additionally, I'd prefer to see actual images of baked goods.  Those to be sent to the perpetrator of this writing via some form of secretive conveyance such as

I think the above image is of
a Stoop Warffle!

private courier, carrier duck, Beefeater in full Vatican livery, a private chauffeur, meaning, a large muscular beast with martial arts training in taekwondo, Kung Fu, Grappling and Greco-Roman Knuckle Lock.         

I suppose I might deign to interact with other contestants, if such contestants behave with dignity and deference.  I would not interact with whiny contestants who babble, such as that chap who guzzled milky drinks and complained of broken bowls and oven doors and used the word "put" far too frequently.  

I don't know what the hell
that thing is... But I recall
looking through something
of that appearance and
shape to view certain
pictures!  I was just 
an innocent child then!

I did enjoy some of the more Vintage Contestants, homely bakers who brought their own frilly aprons that they were not allowed to wear, owing to the mean-spirited regulations of pedantic organizers and production tyrants, cockalorums and petty snollygosters, or maybe even pillocks and oiks!!

Drat Them!   

Let me clarify...  Vintage Baking Contestants...  e.g.  Linda, Maggie, Jane, the guy who performed arm semaphore...  Norman, I think!  One of them should have prevailed.  Ageism, I suppose! 

 

I'm guessing the famous, revered and much vaunted, Lord Eustace Von Bavarois, too, might have been ousted or booted from the marquis (large tented property) because he would insist upon certain standards of behavior and various baked goods prohibitions and avoidances!  Thank You!   

(Special Note of Dedication and Appreciation:   To All who engage in the culinary arts, such as Baking, Recipe Theft, Cooking with Breda Greem, Devotion to the Galloping Gourmet and Treena, Julia, Emeril, Rachel, Jacques, Anthony and Kermit, Ayds, TafOn and Other Reducing Preparations, Pills, Ointments and Fat Removal procedures!

Humbly Submitted 01-09-2026 -- by Joel K.        

 

 

  

  

   

"You're Perfect, Honey!"

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:    "You're Perfect, Honey..."

If I understood the architecture of pedestals...  for example, "plinths" and "dado's" (if those are correct terms!), I'd erect one and put her up there, along with other immortals previously cast in stone, plaster or bronze.  Maybe a slightly wobbly one, as none of us is perfect, with the possible exception of her children.  At least that's the modifier she ascribed to them continuously, constantly throughout her lifetime.

Gigi (given name,
Virginia) in her
favorite pose.

With all the mountains and landfills of stuff and detritus that's available on the Internet, one wonders if included is a survey on how our society, in general, regards fathers-in-law and...  more particularly, those oft maligned but entirely memorable MOTHERS-in-law.  Mine was an absolute treasure among the troves of them, past and present.  She left some years ago, but left us with delightful stories and recollections.

As a young suitor to her only daughter among four children, I was nervous; I was shy.  On one of the very first encounters with the family, I came to call, knocked on a screen door, the primary door having stood wide open.  "Hello," I called.  "Anybody home...  hello!"  

"Honey, say, 'Say Beep' "!  It was her voice, a bit raspy, the voice of an older woman, a fun-loving sprite.  

"What?" I quizzed, bewildered, a bit more nervous that I had been a moment ago.  

"Say, 'Say BEEP,' honey!"  

"Um...  Beep," I echoed, tentatively.  At which point I heard people "beeping" all over the house.  I sort of "got the idea," eventually.  I met brother John in a closet.  Brother Jimmy was under a bed.  I met brother Bob in the bathtub, just standing in the tub, not bathing!  "Good lord," I said inside my spinning brain, "What the hell kind of goofy family is this?"  

We all stood around chatting, laughing.  At some point I heard, "This isn't fair.  No one's found

Gigi (at left) with her sister,
Lilian, always referred to
as "Sister"...  as "Original
Auntie" by the rest of us.  

me yet!  I can't stay in here when all of you are having fun!"  It was the soon-to-be mother-in-law.  She was hiding but hadn't as yet been found.  I then went into the basement, as directed, to find the father in his workshop.  "Say Beep," I said stupidly.  

"I don't play ' Beep'," he said loudly, angrily, glaring at me as if I were a feckless home invader with a skull full of defective or dead brain cells.  I went back upstairs and announced, "He doesn't play 'Beep'," amid consuming laughter.  Having planned it, the family enjoyed my discomfort.  

Friends and family members called her "Gigi" (the "i"- sound short, pronounced as in the word, "rig").  My mother-in-law was a funny woman, and she was great fun, full of adages and platitudes, many voiced at entirely inappropriate moments.  For example, my wife and I were seated at her kitchen table discussing family matters or children, something mundane.  At some point Gigi announced, "To thine own self be true, Honey!"  My wife and I stared at one another, and then at her.  I said, "And now, back to the conversation."  Her comment was completely out of context.  She seemed not to care.  

At another point on that same occasion, Gigi asked her daughter, "Honey (her favorite term of endearment!), how long have you been with me?"  

We'd better explain!  This is a
cartoon image of an exemplary
Mother-in-Law on a pedestal...
used here for symbolic purposes.

"What..." I said.  "Is she a valued employee, soon due for a gold watch?!"  Gigi laughed heartily.  She could laugh at herself, a rare gift, and indicative of a rich sense of humor, perhaps a richer "sense of silly."

She knew her own mind.  (We were glad somebody did!)  My wife's brother, Bob, was over at the family home one evening when my wife and I were visiting as well.  He was a Milwaukee policeman and about to go on duty.  Bob's assignment on that occasion was to guard a prisoner.  Gigi said to him, "Honey, Mumma's going to pack you a nice lunch -- a picnic! -- for you and the prisoner.  I'll make some nice sandwiches; I'll wrap them up pretty with chips and cookies and napkins, maybe something to drink.  Won't that be nummers, Honey?  You and the prisoner will have such a nice lunch together."

Bob was becoming agitated.  "Mother!  I'm not taking a picnic lunch to a prisoner, a hardened criminal...  He could be a bank robber or a murderer.  I won't share a picnic lunch with some felonious jail bird!"  

She ignored him.  "And I'll put in some nice fruit.  Do you think your prisoner likes apples or oranges, Honey?  Should I pack in some nice cloth napkins, gingham?"  Bob's ears grew purple with frustration.  His eyes grew wide and his scalp moved back an inch or two, something his rubbery face and head did when he became truly annoyed.  He objected vigorously.  She pressed on.  He eventually walked out carrying a full basket of food that included gingham napkins, and lots of "nice" cookies for the prisoner.

Gigi enjoyed Manhattan cocktails daily, after 4PM.  She taught her grandchildren how to make them using the family's preferred brands of whiskey and sweet vermouth.  "Now put your finger in and stir twice.  Then carry the glasses in to us...  just look straight ahead when you carry, Honey, and you won't spill."

Gigi always made her Perfect
children smile!  That's her
Perfect daughter
(pictured above...)

She objected to marriage vows that "pledged" an unequal balance of power to the man.  She was a feminist, an exemplary mother and grandmother, loving, generous, honest, always a powerful advocate for her "perfect" children, and grandkids, too, of course.  She had 10 of the latter, and shared her time and her love with them equally, and with remarkable generosity. 

Wonderfully idiosyncratic, she was a terrific cook and baker, but seemed always to guard her best dishes and baked goods.  She'd hold back certain ingredients and measures when divulging her recipes, a bit maddening to those who requested them.  When my wife would ask a simple, single question, for example...  "how much flour?"  Gigi would answer, "Now Honey, go to the market and look for the baking aisle, then try to find Hodgson's Unbleached Pre-Sifted..."  

"Mother, please, for pity sake, I only asked how much flour, not a guided tour of the grocer's baking section..."  Her mother would then continue to provide a full set of instructions, from starting the car, buckling up, which market to patronize...  The amount of flour would forever remain a mystery.  Gigi took the secrets of her best recipes to the grave!

It's been more than 20 years since she left us, but we continue to tell her stories and cherish her memory and her extraordinary gift for making us laugh and giving us joy.  In my geezerhood, I hope I can be a fraction as good a father-in-law (father and grandfather too!) as she was a glorious and memorable mother-in-law...  mother and grandmother too.  And, oh yeah, try to remember, Honey's, "A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss!"  (She'd insert that nice little platitude into her conversation constantly, though it never actually fit the context!)  

Humbly Submitted 04-15-15 -- Joel K.