Sure, it looks pretty.
You’ll get no argument from me.
But the night before, driving down the Trans-Canada Highway in fog dense enough that I couldn’t see the lights of Brandon from one kilometer away, I wasn’t thinking of the beauty of hoarfrost. I was thinking, praying really, “Just let us get home.”
Also: The rugelach (or Jewish Pastry) turned out just fine.
Lovely rugelach. The one time I tried to make it, the dough was damn near unworkable. Delicious, though.