It's Christmas cookie time. A time that makes everyone smile, right? But you know what? I am not a big fan of making cookies. So fussy and repetitive. Especially when decoration is required. Sticky icing used to glue on sparkly candies that under non-holiday circumstances I would never eat. Which is why I like these Cinnamon Snap Cookies. Simple to make but so full of holiday spirit.

In fact I was invited to a blogger Christmas cookie exchange. Full of bloggers I love and bloggers I know are great cooks. But I showed up empty handed. No cookies from me. I had intended to make these cookies. But I didn't. I felt a little bad. But I was busy. Busy reading blogs...

I read all kinds of blogs, and it takes up all kinds of time. Time I could (better??) spend wrapping ribbons around cookies, right? Instead I read blogs with great photos. I read blogs that make me laugh. I read blogs from people I like, and I read the train wreck blogs too. In fact those are some of my favorites!

Ghost Chilis are (supposedly, arguably, possibly) the hottest pepper in the world. In 2007 The Guiness Book of World Records deemed them 401.5 times hotter than Tabasco sauce. Since then, the Naga Viper Pepper, Infinity Chilli, and the Trinidad Scorpion Butch T Pepper have been bred to (supposedly, arguably, possibly) surpass the ghost pepper on the Scoville scale, which (supposedly, arguably, possibly) measures the heat level in chili peppers.

Not that the semantics matter when you taste one– because they are hot. Damn hot. Too hot for me (supposedly, arguably, possibly). But that doesn't mean I can't find a way to cook with them. Take this Flatiron Steak Sandwich With Cucumber, Ginger Relish & Ghost Chili Aioli. I took a great sandwich recipe from Tom Colicchio and adapted to include this Ghost Chili Aioli.

I have been wanting to do something with Ghost Chilis for about a year. You see Marx Foods sent me some dried Ghost Chili samples and they have sat in my pantry this past year zinging me with the promise of a heat so hot as to be (supposedly, arguably, possibly) inedible.

Inedible. Heat so Hot. Those are fightin' words in my house. I'll eat anything, and I'll scar my tongue just to prove it if I have too.

I am trying to push myself in the baking department. I try and write my own recipes most of the time. But when it comes to baking I am still solidly "an adapter". I mean recipe adapter. Which may sound a bit like a confession and maybe it is.

You see, I'm at the International Food Bloggers Conference (IFBC) in Santa Monica, California this weekend. It's one of those meet, greet, sit, talk and eat events I do quite a bit of. There are always opportunities to learn and grow our blogs at these things too. One of the directions I would like to grow is in recipe writing. So I sat in on a panel discussion of the subject with Dianne Jacob, Amelia Saltsman, and Martha Holmberg.They're pros, they write cookbooks.

But I couldn't help feeling that the way they look at recipe development for print, and the mission of so many of us who share recipes and a passion for food online, may be radically different. I mean, intellectually I know their point is correct. If it's not original to me and my blog, does it have value? But I wonder, can't I share something by merely passing along a recipe I've had success with? Or do I need to bring the same level of print journalism standards to every morsel and tidbit I present on these pages? I don't know. I suspect not.

So here we are at Day Five in my week long Savory Pie Marathon and my pastry's getting pooped. My pie is on the fly. And my tart won't start! In other words I am running out of ways to talk about pie.

There are "pie hole" jokes yet to mine... I suppose. But I am not feeling clever this morning. I can't seem to muster the bluster to master even a few belly laughs. Though that was a pretty fun sentence.

You see, my belly is full and I am feeling all warm and comfortable because I have been eating a super savory Sweet Sausage Cabbage Pie with Dill & Feta. I know you can imagine these flavors together– the sweet fennel with the sharp cheese. And nothing says comfort like cabbage baked in the oven. Especially when that cabbage is wrapped in a flaky crust.

This is the most casual of pies you can imagine. The pastry comes together effortlessly. It rolls our beautifully. No crimping or fussy lattice-work involved. Because, like I said, I am feeling a bit pie passive. So I simply lined a gratin dish for the most unconstrained presentation possible. Not all pies are round you know.