Edward's commentary 2001:
From the time I can remember, one of the aromas that compliments my holiday season is that of Dad's shortbread being prepared during the wee hours of the morning. Using a remote recipe which he acquired sometime during his many experienced years, he mastered the art of the perfect shortbread, the epitome of holiday delight. Year after year, we in our family find ourselves inhaling countless servings of this heavenly morsel. Early childhood memories, though not too far in the distant past, seem to be incomplete without the warm smell of shortbread wafting alongside the presents and Christmas trees of years past. Anyone who has known our family over the years knows that with Christmastime comes the Huntington's shortbread, Dad's signature piece.
Although the shortbread seems to flow effortlessly out of our household, the process of preparing it involves hours of painstaking work on Father's part. He says that to be done correctly, shortbread must be prepared when the air is at its coldest--the early hours of cold winter mornings. If one rises early enough, one can hear him mumbling about the cold and how everyone expects a full batch prepared to share with others that afternoon. Although he sounds bitter, one cannot help but feel that he gets a quiet satisfaction knowing that he makes the best shortbread this side of the British Isles.
Truly, no one in our family has ever tasted a shortbread that can even compare with his loving rendition of that gentle flavor.
Many a Christmas has passed with Dad's shortbread there to feed it, and hopefully many more will. As I see our family members begin to go their different ways, I often wonder how long it will be before we can at least remember in unison the pleasure we found eating Dad's shortbread, though I'm sure the memory of being in each other's company will far exceed the pleasure of the food which we ate.