I think I can speak for everyone when I say French fries are probably Americans' favorite guilty pleasure. So much so that Americans dared to rename them Freedom fries when France objected to the war.
Interestingly there is nothing French about them. As history goes,
potatoes were first brought to Spain via the New World expeditions.
Fried potatoes became popular during the 17th century in the Spanish
Netherlands, present day Belgium.
When there were no fish to fry, the
poorer citizens fried potatoes. Sometime during World War I, an
American or British soldier eating fried potatoes erroneously named
them French fries since French was the official language of Belgium.
Another theory suggests that the culinary term for slicing into thin
strips, "to French," was applied to fried potatoes and thus the name.
However
the story goes, fried potatoes or pommes frites have achieved worldwide
acclaim. American fast food chains accepted them as their own and their
popularity soared. Once you bite into a golden crisp fry with a pure
white fluffy interior, you just can't stop at one.
I’ve made lots and lots of rugelach in my
day, but this one takes the cake. I have made my grandma’s, I have
made Ina’s, Martha’s and Rose’s. This one, from Cooks Illustrated is by
far the best I have ever had. Better than Weby’s bakery (most Sunday
mornings, when I was little, you could find me and my dad, waiting in
line to buy the fresh baked egg-onion bread). My kids don’t really like
raisins or dried fruit in their sweets. I altered the filling. I
substituted mini chocolate chips for the raisins.
Years ago when I was a round nugget of a child running around in terry-cloth shorts I had a book I read to myself many times over. It involved some Amphibian or Owl With Shoes who lived inside a mushroom or hollow tree. I can’t remember much of the story but the one thing that stuck in my brain was that on many occasions this anthropomorphic critter would find himself without food or drink and would simply chop an onion or think about sad things in order to create his own version of tear tea. I remember being disgusted by the thought of sipping one’s own saline tears but that didn’t freak me out as much as the things he’d think about to coax the tears out of his eyes and into the kettle.
Surprised? I know. I wouldn’t normally post a recipe for sweet bars made with crisp rice cereal and marshmallows. I’m going to a family reunion. There will be lots of kids there — little ones and big ones, too, if you know what I mean. Kids love rice krispie bars. I’m taking a very light, bright and healthful cabbage salad, too. So, it will all balance out in the sugar and calorie department. 
When a wine is described as "jammy" I always think of blackberries. Rich, ripe, fruity flavors so intense they almost taste more cooked than fresh. Blackberries, when fully ripe and sweet, not sour, taste like jam to me. Jammy also means "lucky" according to an Australian English dictionary I recently consulted. I think one slice of this cake will make you feel very lucky indeed! I certainly feel lucky to have gotten the berries from my friend Alton who brought them back from his mountain cabin hideaway, Shadow Woods.