FWIW was just thinking if someone had never made scones or biscotti before
and was planning on giving one of them a whirl, I think it's easier to screw
up scones than biscotti.
Drinking a right nice caramelly Sumatra Volkopi capuccino while eating a
yummmy Americanized cranberry scone.
What a hoot! I noticed Misha (14yr Siamese) looking up at me with those
forlorned eyes of his. Gave him a little piece of scone (w/o cranberry). He
loves it and keeps begging for more. And I am of course obligated to oblige,
but he can't have my capucinno!
Kona Konnaisseur miKe mcKoffee
URL to Rosto mods, FrankenFormer, some recipes etc:http://mdmint.home.comcast.net/coffee/Rosto_mod.htmUltimately the quest for Koffee Nirvana is a solitary path. To know I must
first not know. And in knowing know I know not. Each Personal enlightenment
found exploring the many divergent foot steps of Those who have gone before.

On 7/8/06, miKe mcKoffee  wrote:
<Snip>
Oh Mike!  So soon after our discussion of true coffee authorities and your
inclusion (justified imo) on the list and then you go and misspell
cappuccino. :)
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I had a Misha (nicknamed MishMosh) too:  a little black moggy (who  
eventually became a huge muscular bruiser) with a fair degree of  
Siamese in him, judging by the shape of his head, long legs and  
frequent vocalizations (as well as his firm belief that humans were  
incapable of performing any tasks without his supervision and,  
occasionally, intervention). We got him at age eight weeks from a  
friend who found him in his basement as the neonatal sole survivor of  
an abandoned litter. He too had huge, forlorn eyes and a sad little  
pout, almost like the urchins in those awful Walter Keane paintings.  
Alas, we lost him suddenly last fall to cardiomyopathy, a week shy of  
his eighth birthday.  I still miss him so much that I ache.
On Jul 8, 2006, at 12:13 PM, miKe mcKoffee wrote:
<Snip>
Sandy
www.sandyandina.com
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I had a Misha (nicknamed =
MishMosh) too:  a little black moggy (who eventually became a huge =
muscular bruiser) with a fair degree of Siamese in him, judging by the =
shape of his head, long legs and frequent vocalizations (as well as his =
firm belief that humans were incapable of performing any tasks without =
his supervision and, occasionally, intervention). We got him at age =
eight weeks from a friend who found him in his basement as the neonatal =
sole survivor of an abandoned litter. He too had huge, forlorn eyes and =
a sad little pout, almost like the urchins in those awful Walter Keane =
paintings. Alas, we lost him suddenly last fall to cardiomyopathy, a =
week shy of his eighth birthday.  I still miss him so much that I =
ache.
On Jul 8, 2006, at 12:13 PM, miKe mcKoffee =
wrote:
What a =
hoot! I noticed Misha (14yr Siamese) looking up at me with =
those
 
forlorned =
eyes of his.
 
  
=
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