Relishing Desserts

I Do It Myself

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 22:00:00 +0000

You've seen the commercial about the man-cold? That kind of sums up what most men are like when they get sick. Pitiful, clingy, whiny... worse than children. But my hubby is special. Different. He's totally awesome.

When he was confined to bed, he was content to just talk and sleep. When he was allowed short walks, he reveled in them and was just grateful for my company. When he was allowed to go home, he was careful not to become a burden. When he was allowed to go back to work, he was patient with the women in the office who watched him as closely as I did.

But being 'allowed' to do things is tough for the guy who took care of everything and everyone. As the pain subsides and he gets stronger, his patience wears thin. This week he's been grumbling about 'women always telling him what he can't do'.

When I say his recovery is like me keeping up with a toddler, I don't mean the obnoxious demanding type, but rather the head-strong over-confident type. Ya know - the ones you have to watch 24/7 because they think they can do everything by themselves? Yep, that's my man.

Concussions suck. Though his physical strength has returned, his mental strength lags behind. So the body must wait for the mind to catch up. While the nausea and dizziness begin to subside, he chafes at his limitations. No horseplay with the kids. No driving. No physical exertion. No lifting anything over 5 lbs. He's so pitiful.

So we women watch. And caution him against doing too much too soon. We hover, and protect him from external stress. And after 3 weeks, we drive him crazy.

The Goodbye of Expectation

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Some of us know our spouses may never come home at the end of the day. Whether they are miners, officers, truckers, soldiers - we know they may never walk through that door again. Every morning begins with the dreaded expectation of becoming a widow by nightfall. The kiss at the door, as they walk out. The half-spoken prayer for their safe return. Each goodbye is more than a casual see-ya-later. Nothing is guaranteed. Nothing is promised. So we wait. And then the call comes.

And because we've often dreamed of it, we go through the motions automatically: pack the bags, give the kids instructions, crank the car, and drive to the ER. We tick off the list the ER nurse gave you:
the rig jack-knifed, flipped, and slid for 90 ft (what the ... but he's awake, cracking jokes - he's okay... he's okay...)
he was pinned for an hour (how much damage to his arms? legs?)
he has NO broken bones - but some fractures in his neck (will he be paralyzed?)
he was unconscious for nearly an hour (how much damage is permanent?)
he was life-flighted to the nearest hospital (OMG... can't even think about that one)
he had several lacerations on one side of his face (he's gonna look awful - I'll need to smile when I walk in that hospital room no matter what)

It was the longest 4 hour drive of my life.

Turns out, I'm stronger than I ever knew.

I smiled.

47 days of college left...

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 11:00:00 +0000

And then I will knit. Every night.
I will take pictures, at least 5 a day.
And I will bake dessert every weekend. Maybe in the middle of the week too.

I will crochet a bookmark. Just for me.
I will read a book, of my own choosing.
I will bake fresh bread once a week. French bread. Whole wheat bread. Dinner rolls. Oatmeal bread.
And then I will try my hand at the famous family recipe no knows how to make anymore.

I will write. Everyday, every thought.
I will curl up on the sofa with my hubby, and think of nothing else.
I will plant flowers. Pansies, daffodils, and roses, along a split-rail fence.
And then I will sit on the porch and watch the sun set.
And then, I will LIVE.

Low-Sugar Yogurt - Dream or Reality?

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 15:34:00 +0000

I have a confession... One too many pieces of cake is to blame for my silence. The cupcakes you know about. But then there was this birthday cake for hubby: a smashing success of Red Velvet. And well, me and that cake got along great; too great. So great, in fact, I've had to straighten up and behave myself just so my jeans will be nice to me again. Which is sooo hard when the snack machine calls my name while I'm at work, or the guys clamber for a Key Lime Pie. (But I did great with the pie. You'd be proud. The snack machine - well...I'm working on it.)

So in the spirit of being good, I'm joining the ranks of the New Year Resolutionists and declaring that I will, hence forth, exercise my Will Power in the presence of cake. And chocolate. And pie. Therefore, I've turned my attentions to yogurt.

But do you know how much sugar is in those little cups???!! Anywhere from 25 to 40 grams of the stuff! Crikeys man. I could just go and gorge myself on a whole package of Hostess cupcakes for that, and get my chocolate/carb fix to boot. But I'm supposed to be being good. So I began scheming. And browsing. And thinking. I made it home from the grocery store with this loot to experiment with: Dannon Plain Natural Yogurt (6g sugar), Polaner spreadable fruit (6g sugar), and some Grape Nuts (3g sugar).

The next morning, I just put a Tbs dollop of jam in the bottom of my bowl, added 1/2c yogurt, poured about 1/4c Grape Nuts over the top, and viola! I have my own Fruit On The Bottom Yogurt for less than 15g of sugar. Sounds good, huh? I'd show you a picture of the concoction, except I ate it. And then the kids demolished the rest of the yogurt. So, we'll just have to make do with a picture of the jam.

What do ya think? Is that Low-Sugar Yogurt a tasty reality?

Pumpkin Spice Bites and the Amazing Cookie Sheets

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 15:12:00 +0000

Christmas day began with Pumpkin Spice Cake: a delicious, not-so-sweet, cake with cream cheese icing. Originally, hubby was begging for Chocolate Chip Cookies, but I insisted. No cookies. Cake.

Normally, this batter is just dumped in a 9x13 dish and cut up into squares, but the last time I did that I found out how important cake size is to my crew. See, I cut the last half of the cake into 9 pieces. Trying to divide 9 pieces of cake by 4 people, well - it was not a pretty picture. I took a lot of flak for doing that.

So, anyway, I got smart. For Christmas, I would make little baby cupcakes out of the batter. It took longer, but I figured I'd be safe from the wrath of those that consume. No one could complain about how I cut up the cake this time. They could just fuss about having to unwrap the little suckers, but I was okay with that. My plan was fool proof and the day was looking promising...

I was thoroughly enjoying our holiday mini-vacation puttering about in a North Georgia cabin. The low clouds were promising a Christmas morning snow in the mountains, A Christmas Story played to the tune of raucous laughter in the living room, and the mixer was humming My Favorite Cake in the kitchen. A couple hours later, I had 80 perfect little cakes cooling on the counter.

I heard the wind whistle around the cabin and looked up to find snow blowing furiously outside the window. Giggles bubbled up from within and I ran to the deck, squealing with delight. All my life, it seems snow has eluded me. If I were staying with my mom in the south, it would snow up north at my dads. If I were up north, it would snow in the south. Go figure. Then my husband and I moved to Montana. The snow had no choice but to visit me there and I loved it. Alas, we came back south and the elusive snow game has continued. But, for this Christmas, I would have snow.

I left the kitchen to take a few pictures of the snow, then came back to find 75 little cakes and my husband just leaving the kitchen. I chased him down to give him a tongue lashing, but there he was, with one cake left in his hand, two in his mouth, and the goofiest grin on his face I'd ever seen. I let him get away with nothing more than a stern look. Besides, I didn't have time to squabble over a few missing cakes; it was time to make the icing.

I pulled out the frosting knife and began the process of icing the 75, no - wait, 68 little cakes. Hmmm... The kids came through a moment ago, but I didn't notice them nicking any. Now, how did they do that? Anyway, as I iced, I was really wishing for my cake decorating stuff so I could just pipe a dollop of icing on each cake and be done. Oh well. There was an easy remedy for that frustration: decrease the surplus population... gulp. That leaves 65 little cakes to ice. What? The guys weren't looking.

Speaking of the guys, they had been gone awhile... I walked outside to find the car gone, and tire tracks heading off up the drive. As I trekked up the driveway, I noticed that the flakes of snow had become fat and heavy, and there was a good 2" of snow under my, now wet, tennis shoes. This is what I found when I rounded the corner.

Hubby had gotten concerned about the amount of snow that was accumulating and wanted to move the car up to the main road before it got any deeper. But the car was stuck for the moment, and at the rate the snow was falling... A quick check of the weather confirmed the suspicion; the next day's high was only going to be 30 (our intended departure date), the day after that was only gonna get to 28, and the snow was still falling fast. By the time this was over with, we'd be encased a little ice cocoon. Apparently, we were not leaving any time soon.

There was the problem of the car, however. According to the men-folk, it couldn't stay wedged on the side of the hill. I wasn't entirely sure why not, as I figured we couldn't leaved till everything thawed out anyway and by that time, we could just drive right on out. Besides, what's so bad about being snowed in?? Well, besides the fact that we only brought enough food for 2 days instead of the 4 it would take to thaw out. Oh, and the fact that hubby had to be to work on Monday... Drat. Okay, maybe we should try to get the car back up the hill.

The guys started to clear the snow from in front of the tires with sticks, as there were no shovels around. I watched for a moment, and then, being the baker that I am, went and grabbed up a couple cookie sheets from the cabin. I carried them up the hill, all the while hoping my cousin would understand the demolition of her bake ware.

All bent over like hunchbacks, we cleared paths for the tires with the cookie sheets, while the kids went back and forth to the cabin for gravel. We then stood by as my husband tried to get the car back on the driveway. I couldn't watch, nor could I stand to go back to the cabin, so I hid behind the tree and listened. The sound of tires on gravel on ice on asphalt is atrocious. Positively atrocious... He managed to get the car back on the driveway and up the hill near the very top, where it gets the steepest, and then the car began to slide back down the drive way. The sudden dead silence was worse than the atrocious sound of gravel and ice. I peeked out from the tree and the car was gone. I half slid, half walked back down the drive. Though I hadn't heard any bushes or trees crashing, I had to inspect the steep side of the driveway. No car there. Whew.

Hubby was back at the cabin, all safe and sound. Nibbling on Pumpkin Cake. While my heart's about to fall out of my chest, the man is eating cake.

The next morning, he took the oldest boy hiking down the mountain into town. Plans were to get enough food to last the four days, but lo and behold, he found snow shovels. They brought back a shovel and some deicer along with the food. The boys spent the rest of the morning shoveling a quarter of a mile worth of hills out to the main road and loving every minute of it.

By afternoon, temps had risen above freezing, the asphalt part of the driveway was clear of ice, and the car was packed. We just had to make it around a couple of hairpin turns on the main road that was still covered with ice, but hey - we could get out the driveway! Needless to say, I didn't breathe or speak until we got to town where the roads were clear...

After we were safely on the way home, I called and explained to my cousin how we traded a snow shovel for her cookie sheets. She just laughed for a solid 5 minutes. Guess there was no reason to worry about that part.

Naturally, the guys thought it was the best Christmas ever. And on the way home, they even said those cakes were better than chocolate chip cookies. Find the recipe here.

Perfect Cookies

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 13:27:00 +0000

This is a Holiday of Memories for me. There are no presents, no decorations, no tree with all the trimmings. There are just memories. Some are real, and some I have to concoct on my own to sooth my ravaged soul.

Two men in my life meant the world to me as I was growing up. They were my rocks. My shelters. My heroes. Of course, the first was my daddy. The second was my granddaddy. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks reliving my daddy’s funeral, and unbeknownst to me, memories of my granddaddy have begun filtering in. He passed away the day after Christmas, 2003.

Granddaddy was THE Baker of the family, so it’s only natural to think of him now, as I pull out the ingredients to make my favorite chocolate chip cookies. There are so many things I wish I had asked him while he lived, but of course, I never did ask. Hence, my concocted memories. Remember the story of my first batch of cookies? I can just imagine granddaddy’s response to them…

“Well, the first thing you have to do is make sure your shortening is fresh. So they don't taste rancid.” Naturally, he would have given me a little more ribbing for those disgusting cookies. He would have told me that even though the recipe said to use butter, I should’ve used shortening and butter – half and half. Of course, in my memory, I would have asked him why. He would’ve explained that butter will make your cookies flat and crispy, but the shortening won't melt as fast so the cookies will be chewier.

He would have had me to start with fats and sugars: shortening, butter, white sugar, and brown sugar. Then mix them at high speed for at least two or three minutes, so the batter is really creamy instead of grainy, which I, of course, neglected to do.

Next, he would have told me to add all the eggs and vanilla and to beat the batter for about three to five minutes. “You could add the eggs one at a time, which will do wonders for a cake, but that much air isn’t necessary for cookies.” Then he would have told me that I could have substituted any flavoring for the vanilla that I wanted and even added a little extra and they’d still taste good.

Then he would have explained the differences in baking soda and baking powder as he measured out the baking soda for the recipe. He would have told me that while they both created carbon-dioxide bubbles in the batter, baking soda will not do so until it’s heated. Baking powder, on the other hand, will begin rising as soon as it gets wet. He’d go on to tell me that most recipes have you fold the flour in because now you have to be gentle with the batter. Once again, I’d ask him why. “Because the flour will lose its stretchiness. Here, you try folding the batter.” I would’ve taken the bowl and spoon from him and started stirring. “No, don’t stir it! I said be gentle!” He would have taken the bowl away from me and said, “It’s like you’re folding a wash rag – one half at a time, see?” Nodding my head, I would have taken the bowl back and gently picked up one side of the batter and laid it on top of the other. “Now, go turn that oven on to 325°.” I would have questioned him because the recipe said 375°. “I know that. Just do what I told you. Those fools who wrote that recipe must like their cookies burnt. I don’t. Drop that temperature, especially in an electric oven, and you’ll have perfectly browned cookies that are still chewy in the middle.”

Then he would’ve had me add the chocolate chips and nuts while he pulled out a flat 13” round baking stone. He would have bragged about his stone, saying how it’s the best thing to bake your cookies on instead of a metal cookie sheet. And again, I would’ve had to ask why. “Because – the stone will absorb the fat from the cookies, giving them a nice crispy bottom, that’s why. Metal cookie sheets let the fat float around under the cookies, making them soggy. This is the best thing out there for all baked goods. Except for my cakes... Don’t want a crispy bottom on my cakes.”

Naturally, his cookies would’ve been perfect. I never did go and ask him to teach me how to bake. And now that the baking torch has passed to me, I really wish I had, because concocted memories only tell you what you already know. I used to think there were mysterious things you had to do in order to bake up something really delicious. But over the last eighteen years, I’ve learned that it’s not so mysterious. It’s about knowing your batter. It’s seeing its consistency and feeling its texture. It’s about listening to it; hearing it tell you what it needs. This is what my granddaddy knew, and, if I had taken the time, what I could‘ve known from the beginning.

Corn Syrup-Free Raisin Bread

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Sat, 11 Dec 2010 17:04:00 +0000

In my absence from the kitchen, the guys are having to make do. The kids rummage through the cabinets and concoct the strangest things, all in the name of dessert. Some of the 'concoctions' make me shudder, but hey - if they like it...

Instead of concoctions, my husband went the safe route and decided to assuage his sweet tooth with store bought raisin bread. But the first loaf he bought had corn syrup in it. How he missed it in the ingredient list is anybody's guess, but miss it he did. And then had to sit back and watch the rest of us gobble it up. He was a bit more careful on the next trip to the grocery store and picked up some Sun-Maid Raisin Cinnamon Swirl bread; no corn syrup.

You'd think he would've hoarded the whole loaf all to himself, after watching us eat the other one, but no. He was a perfect gentleman and shared. : )

Hot from the pen of Rachel Lynne:

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 05:10:00 +0000

"Secrets, Lies, Murder... And things that go bump in the night. Haunted romance with a Southern twist."

Guess what?? I know a real, live, author! I am giddy with excitement for her and the release of her new book, Ring of Lies. It promises everything... suspense, danger, mystery, and of course, romance. Here's a quick excerpt:

A café owner and an ex-cop must unravel the mystery surrounding a hot blue diamond in order to stop a cold blooded killer.
After a childhood lived on the road with a free-spirited aunt, all café owner Ivy Michaels wants is a normal and uneventful life, but when her aunt is found floating in the Savannah River, Ivy inherits an heirloom blue diamond and a killer bent on keeping the past buried.
Dom Riordan is an ex-cop obsessed with finding his mother's killer. A chance meeting, and a glimpse of evidence he's been seeking, convinces him that Ivy Michaels is the key to solving the crime. Dom devises a plan to date Ivy and ferret out the truth but he didn't count on losing his heart. As a ruthless killer closes in on Ivy, Dom will risk everything to keep her safe.

Sounds good, eh? But the best part is the price! Wait for it... $5. Yes!! Five bucks will get you the book from Wild Rose Press when it debuts December 22!

This could be the perfect follow up to all these textbooks this quarter, since Ring of Lies debuts right after my last final for this quarter. Oh yeah, I can see myself curled up on the couch in two weeks, hot chocolate in hand. ; )

How are you doing - the real answer.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 01:32:00 +0000

When death comes to visit, that has got to be the most common thing people say. Most times I just say I'm 'okay' as opposed to my normal answer of 'fine'. Of course, we all know that 'fine' can mean anything from 'I'm having the best day ever' to 'I really don't want to talk about it', but, here is what my 'okay' really means.

Tough day. Tried to get some paperwork ready to mail and ran into a couple of snags. Think I might need a copy of my own birth certificate to take care of some things, but I don't have one. Go figure. Found out I didn't have it a couple of months ago and said I needed to get one. Didn't do it. I want to make sure that I send off the right stuff to the DMV. It would be one thing to ride across town with the wrong paperwork, but to mail it across the country is a bit stressful. Finals are approaching. I finished the research paper today, have math tests to make up, then study guides to fill out, and text books to read. And I'm working. I haven't even looked at my son's school work for the last month. God, I am so tired. I can't even think. I don't want to sleep at night. Keep having nightmares and dreaming weird stuff. Half the time, I don't even remember the dreams. My husband just soothes me back to sleep. He doesn't quite know what to do with me. I try to pretend that I'm fine, then it comes out at the oddest times that I'm really not okay. Like today. He was trying to explain something about the DMV, and I just lost it a little. Things get so confusing to me. I know I need to do certain things certain ways, but I don't even know where to begin.

Multi-tasking: a Lesson From the Clothes Line

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 03:11:00 +0000

(This is the post I had ready to go when I got the news that my daddy had passed away. Thought I'd publish it anyway, since my brain is still a bit mushy around the edges. Thankfully the in-laws offered to take care of Thanksgiving. I'd completely spaced the holiday. Family - it's so good.)

One summer, I camped out on a mountainside in a big purple bus. Without running water or electricity. In order to wash clothes I poured water into an old wringer washer with a gravity-fed water tank and then ran the clothes through the motorized wringer. Thank God for the motor and a generator to run it. It took me three hours to wash two loads of clothes. Then another hour to hang the sopping wet, heavy things out.

It was long, hard work. But as I sat back with my aching muscles and a cup of tea, watching the clothes flap in the wind, an intense feeling of accomplishment would surround me. I haven't felt the same kind of satisfaction since.

Life in Suburbia can take on the frantic pace of a 500 mile marathon. There's so much to be done and so very little time to do it in. The experts tell us: 'Multi-task! It will fix everything!' Like any woman needs to be told to multi-task. She invented the concept. Heck, she grew six more arms as soon as that first child was born. Problem is, that baby grows up and we never stop trying to do it all. Multi-tasking - humph. It's the bane of every woman's existence.

These days, I'm living the same rushed life that I went to the wilderness to escape. It's so easy to slip into the 'gotta-do-gotta-go lifestyle. Toss a load of clothes in the washer, teach a math lesson, put the bread in the oven, toss the clothes in the dryer, answer an email, teach a grammar lesson, try to fix the computer glitch, remember that the bread is the oven and needs to be checked on, while the clothes are finished and wrinkling in the dryer. I feel productive to begin with; I'm getting so much done. Then things begin to move too fast and it spirals out of my control like so many juggling balls. The clothes are dumped in a chair to be folded 'in a minute', the bread is burnt, and the computer is showing it's more adorable side. And heaven only knows what my son managed to get out that grammar lesson. I'm left frustrated at not being able to keep up. Unfortunately, scenarios like this happen more often than I like. I'm always tryng to squeeze one more thing into the day. And I suspect I'm not the only one.

When I washed clothes on the mountain, any breaks in the process didn't entice me to fill it with one more chore. Those brief respites were time to watch the clouds scud across the sky or admire a wildflower my son just picked. The work was so exhausting; I knew I'd need my strength for the next part.

In suburbia, the work isn't physically demanding. And that's the problem; we are not physically tired, therefore we keep up the pace. But, mentally demanding work deserves the same respite. Time to just sit and allow the mind to wander rather than race is not a luxury. It's a neccessity. We need our strength for the next part.

I've been reading @zenhabits's new book, Focus. So much of what he says mirrors my own lesson from the clothes line. My mind was far more alert when it focused on the one big thing for the day. The work was demanding and hard, but my mind was clear and calm. I was happy. Now a days, all this ping-ponging from one thing to the other that I keep doing just makes me crabby.

I'll learn not to make bread on a day that I'm washing clothes and teaching. If I'm teaching, then that should be all I'm doing. If I have clothes to wash, I'll have to set aside an hour or so just for them close to the end of the dryer cycle. Hopefully, I'll find those odd moments in a day to just ponder the shape of a cloud.

A Gift for No One

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 13:17:00 +0000

What do you do when the person you're knitting a gift for no longer is? When this pile of yarn looks at you and all you can see is the one who no longer is? Do you continue to knitting the hat, knowing he will never wear it? Do you give it to someone else? How could I do either? Can I bear finishing it? Shall I rip it apart? But then what? The yarn will forever be his - have his name etched on it. Shall I toss it away, maybe give the whole thing to someone else to finish or frog as they please?

What do you do with the knowledge that had you finished it sooner, he would have had time to enjoy it? It was the first thing I'd ever made for my daddy and now he'll never have it. Here I sit on the plane, with the hat and uninterrupted time to knit. I had no idea this would happen - I just picked up my portable project and plunked it in the bag. Now I can't look at it. I can't bear the thought of it.

I don't want to bury my daddy, but this plane doesn't stop. I can't tell the pilot to put my seat down and let me out like I did the ferris wheel operator. No, the plane flies steadily on, one hour down, two hours past... In two more, I'll be there and have to face it all. But the hat will stay tucked away, out of sight I think. And probably given away, unfinished.

Peanut Butter Cup Cookies

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Sat, 23 Oct 2010 20:20:00 +0000

My guys have been hounding me about cookies again. It started when my hubby brought home yet another bag of Ghirardelli chips. There were already two bags in the house, so I played dumb and pretended not to notice.

A few days later he said, "Hey honey, I got some chocolate chips. Do ya think you can make some cookies this weekend?"

One of the kids overheard this and jumped in with, "Yeah! Cookies! Please mom?"

So, cookies went on the docket. And waited weeks for me to get around to it. Finally, this weekend, I carved out some cookie time. Only, I didn't want the same old chocolate chip cookies the guys keep clamoring for. I wanted to play a bit.

Enter Peanut Butter and Dark Chocolate Chips.

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1/2 c peanut butter

1/2 c butter

1/2 c brown sugar

1/4 c raw sugar

Cream well

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About this time, the oldest teen hollers across the yard, "Cookies ready yet?"

"No", I yell back.

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2 eggs

2 tsp vanilla

Beat for 3 min, or 'til your arm feels like it's gonna fall off

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Then he stops by the kitchen door and repeats, "Cookies done yet?"

Again, I answer, "No."

Him and his dad take off for town. Oh, the peace and quiet...

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2 c wheat flour

1 c white flour

1 tsp salt

1 tsp baking soda

Mix just 'til combined

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1 c rolled oats

12 oz dark chocolate chips

Add and stir by hand

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Drop spoonfuls onto baking sheet or stone.

(You may need to mold them a bit by hand)

Bake @ 325 for 10-15 min.

Remove from oven, loosen from baking sheet/stone.

Let sit for 5 or so minutes.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I pour my milk and as I head to the computer to sit for bit, I pass the oldest kid when he comes in the door. He sees my cookies and bolts for the kitchen, hollering, "COOKIES!!!" This brings the horde on; his younger brother puts down his video game and rapidly follows, also bellowing, "COOKIES!!!" And then there goes their father. He's not yelling, but there is a gleam in his eye.

Thankfully, I've gotten all the cookies I wanted.

Old-Fashioned Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 00:09:00 +0000

My 13 yr old son just turned 15. Don't ask me how that happened, cause I haven't the slightest idea. But well, there it is... he's 15 now. And he's spent half his life deprived of sugary sweets.

So, for his birthday I gave him a cake with REAL icing; butter-cream to coat the top, with cream-cheese icing for the piping. No cutting of the sugar, no meddling with the recipe. Just a full blown, very bad for you birthday cake that was gonna taste oh so good!

They all scraped the icing off; every last one of them, even the sugar-deprived kid. They piled it up on the sides of their plates and dabbed the cake at it. They said it tasted like a store-bought cake. I can't decide if that's a compliment or not, since they didn't really like the icing. The whole thing disappeared in a day, though. It must've been okay, compliment or not.

Well, the gobs of gooey-sweet icing wasn't a hit, but the cake most certainly was. It's one of those old-fashioned recipes, dense and moist.

Old-Fashioned Cake
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   3/4 c softened butter
1 2/3 c sugar
   1/4 c oil

Cream together
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2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla

Beat well
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   3 c all-purpose flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
   1/2 tsp salt

Sift into separate bowl
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1 1/3 c milk

Alternately add flour mixture and milk to butter mixture. Beat 'til smooth. Pour into greased/floured pans.
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Bake @ 350 for about 25 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Yields: 1 9x13 sheet cake
   2 round/square layer cakes
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Nummy!

When She's Good, She's Very, Very Good. But When She's Bad...

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 23:32:00 +0000

While running errands today, I drove by a MickeyD's, and thought, 'Gee - a chocolate milkshake would be just the thing.' But I was good.

I said to self, 'Yeah, it's been a tough week. You've got the internship and you're working 16 hours a week now, you've pushed your school work to the weekends thereby eliminating any days off, you've hardly seen your husband in a week, and you have no idea how the boys are doing with their school work. That does not mean you need a pick-me-up.'

Then I passed a second MickeyD's. And had the same conversation.

Then I passed a third MickeyD's. Had the same conversation again.

And then I passed a fourth MickeyD's. Now, really.

There's only so much a girl can take.

Eat Cookies - Lose Weight: A Weight-Loss Program That Works

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 23:00:00 +0000

Don't talk to me about diets. They don't work. It's a painful life to live: always counting, adding, analyzing, etc... The very memory makes me sick at my stomach. One day I stopped counting. I quit adding calories. I gave up analyzing. Then I lost weight. And I kept it off. Here's how:

1. First - and this is vital - come to terms with your size. Not every woman in the world must be a size 6. Or even a size 10. Ever notice what size jeans are always missing on the clearance racks? 12's, 14's, and 16's. So... the average woman is around a size 14; give or take a bit either way. The point is, we don't have to look like toothpick Mary Jane over there. Be healthy instead of skinny. Enjoy your man having something to grab hold of instead of bemoaning your reflection in the mirror.

2. Decrease the sugar in your food. Not eliminate - just decrease. In every recipe, cut it by 1/4. Then cut it by 1/2. After awhile you won't even miss the ooey-gooey sweet stuff, and it will take a not-as-sweet dessert to satisfy that craving. And, I'm talking about REAL sugar here, folks. Sugar substitutes just seem so - well, cheap. If I'm gonna eat it, then I want the real stuff.

3. Moderation. In ALL things. Even cookies. Just cause the teenager can knock back 5 of the little buggers doesn't mean I should. He won't gain any weight by doing so, but I will, so I'll stick to two, thank you very much.

4. Move your butt. Anyone will put on weight no matter what they eat if they sit around all day, so get moving. I don't mean a 30 minute DVD workout every morning either. Just simple stuff like:

Choosing the farthest parking space.
Walking the long way back to your office.
Taking the stairs, even if you don't really have to.
Keeping your posture straight by tensing your upper abs.
Using a push mower to cut the grass.
Cutting the grass instead of making the kid do it.
Cutting the grass twice a week instead of once.
Cranking up the music while you clean to make sure you wiggle everything.
Doing the 'twist' when the kids aren't looking. (Got a twisty chair at your desk?? Brace your arms on the desk and 'twist' away!)

This is how I survive in a house full of men who crave sweets all day long. Over the course of three years, I've gone from a size 18 to a size 14 and - here's the amazing part - I've kept it off through three holiday seasons. And I didn't deny myself a thing.

Mom: The Problem Solver

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Wed, 29 Sep 2010 13:17:00 +0000

Some days, it seems like my teenagers only think of me when they want cookies. Or cake. Or maybe brownies. *sigh* Or they just want to know when dinner will be ready.

Oh, there are times when one of the kids will walk in and say Hi mom, how are you? It's rare, but yes, it does happen. I usually look like death warmed over and it's that time of the month, but yes, it does happen. Honestly, I know they care about me beyond what I make the oven cough up. It's just hard to see it when requests for dessert and food outweigh any real conversation.

Then there are days like today.

"Hey Mom... I've got a problem" as he walks in the room.

I look up from the desk. "Yeah?"

"I've got this pain in my hip... it started when I took off running yesterday, and it hurts every time I put my whole weight on it. Do you know what it could be?"

Just when I was wallowing in irritation over only being valued for the food I create, I find I'm also valued for what I can fix. Go figure.

Cookie Granola

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 18:30:00 +0000

Remember when the kid took matters into his own hands and had cookies for breakfast? Well, I got to thinking about the recipe, what was in it and how I'd made it... and well, it seemed somewhat similar to granola. That might be a little far-fetched, but it's the path my brain took anyway.

It happened like this. The kid's wanted cookies again. And we were craving something different for breakfast, sooo... I thought, why not? Yeah, okay. No wonder the kid ate cookies for breakfast. He came by it honest, no matter how hard I try to play the good mother.

Anyway, traditional granola starts with liquid. Fats and sweets. Any combo of oil, peanut butter, brown sugar, honey, etc, all melted together and gooey. But, the cookie starts as creamed fats and sweets; no melting. That's okay though. I was willing to roll with the differences. I did drop some of the sugar and replace half of the rest with honey. After all, we are talking breakfast here.

Granola doesn't normally contain egg. Sometimes it has vanilla, but that's just personal preference. Hmmm... it was really looking so non-granola at this point. Very cookiesh, rather.

And here's where I made the ultimate switch from cookie to granola. I replaced half the flour with more oats, on top of the 3 cups of oats I already amended the recipe with. It ended up being a respectable 4 cups oats and 1 cup flour. Maybe it was 5 cups oats... Anyway, I was looking for texture. It had to be stiff, but not too dry. If that makes any sense. And really, it still didn't look very much like granola.

Instead of placing spoonfuls on a baking sheet, I spread little clumps out into a 11x13 baking dish, then baked at 350 for about 30 minutes while I stirred it every so often.

I liked the way it turned out; little clumps of sweetened oats wrapped in a bit of cookie dough. I had envisioned an 'add your own toppings' scenario for breakfast: toss in a few nuts, chocolate chips or raisins, maybe a few seeds. Nah.... we never bothered. Just poured milk right over the cookie pieces and ate it up.

By the time we each made it to the end of our respective bowls, we were all ready to barf.

This was a very unstructured experiment with no hope of it turning into something to write about, hence no pictures. (I mean, who really wants to admit they willingly fed their kids cookie dough bits for breakfast?)

Never Enough Chocolate

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 16:27:00 +0000

Brownies won out this week. Take a peek:

You can find the recipe here:
http://relishingdesserts.blogspot.com/2010/08/triple-dark-chocolate-brownies-recipe.html

Now Serving: No Dessert

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 14:30:00 +0000

Instead, I served up Finals with a dash of Sick Mama.

Finals... Ugg. It's not so much taking the test that is stressful, rather, it's the preceding week of studying that drives me up a wall. Do I have it down? Do I really know this? Must I read that for the thousandth time? To cram or not to cram? That is the question.

Case in point: I'm taking a remedial algebra course. Now, I never claimed to be on good terms with Algebra. We've had issues ever since high school. Yeah, we go waaay back. Anyway, my bruised ego aside, I've been taking this class, doing my homework, taking tests (all the normal requirements), but then I've been going over the units with my 17 yr old as a refresher before he takes the PSAT. This means I've spent an extra 10 hours/week on this class above the recommended requirements. So, I ask myself, just how much more studying can I really do??? If I ain't got it now, I ain't ever gonna get it. Nope, won't study extra for it.

The night before the final, I realize I'm getting sick. Pain, exhaustion, a possible trip to the Dr... that's just the ticket. Murphy loves me, ya know? Trooper that I am, I'd scheduled all my finals for one day. Saving fuel, never minding the stress hormones. So on we march, showing up at 8 am after a restless night. Digging in the book bag, I realize I've left the calculator at home.

Now, what kind of doofus shows up for an Algebra test without a calculator?? Yeah, me. While I squirm with pain and make the effort to raise my sleepy lids, it dawns on me - I've got to make my brain work twice as hard. And I didn't practice doing these calculation without the calculator. In my mind's eye, I see my teacher at the board, bragging about her days in school when they didn't allow calculators. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Time to call in all the reserve brain cells.

Consequently, my guys didn't get any sweets this week. Poor fellows. I'll have to come up with something good for this weekend. Any suggestions?

Nestle's on a Diet: It's a Cookie... It's a Granola Bar... Gulp - It's Gone!

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 19:03:00 +0000

Labor Day labors...

There's a nip in the air, the windows are up, and the curtains are blowing in a fresh breeze. It's geranium weather! A cool 67 in the morning, and a delightful 81 in the afternoon. And such a relief from the torturous summer heat. It's the kind of weather that screams, 'Let the cleaning begin'!

The cabinets were emptied, walls wiped down, pantry gone through, dishes re-organized. Knowing that everything is clean and neat creates such a fresh, homey feeling. It also creates other feelings in the tummies of those that help out...

14 yr old: "Ya know, we haven't had lemonade in a long time. Do you think all this work is worth some lemonade?"
Mom: "Definitely. Are you making?"
14 yr old: "Yeah. Actually, this massive amount of work is worth COOKIES."
Mom doesn't reply. She's just lookin' at him.
14 yr old, after gauging the reaction, or lack thereof: "I'll make lemonade if you'll make cookies"
Mom: "Deal."

The cookies:
(based on the recipe from the infamous Nestle's Chip bag. I've perfected it since that fateful day 19 years ago...)

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1/2 c shortening

1/2 c butter

1/2 c brown sugar

1/2 c raw sugar

Cream well

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2 eggs

2 tsp vanilla

Beat for 3 min, or 'til your arm feels like it's gonna fall off

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2 c wheat flour

1 tsp salt

1 tsp baking soda

Mix just 'til combined

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3 c rolled oats

12 oz dark chocolate chips

1 c. pecans

Add and stir by hand

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Drop spoonfuls onto baking sheet or stone.

Bake @ 325 for 10-15 min.

Remove from oven, loosen from baking sheet/stone.

Let sit for 5 or so minutes.

Quietly pour a cup of milk.

Hope no one walks in as you taste the ~~first~~, ~~second~~, third cookie.

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The Last Cookie

So, this morning the afore mentioned kid is running late for school. And what does he grab for breakfast? You got it. Cookies. I was lucky to have one left to photograph! Good thing I cut the sugar in half, used wheat flour, and put in all those oats, huh?

Naturally, I'm still waiting on the lemonade.

Mom of Two Boys

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 13:52:00 +0000

This comic strip is my life in a nutshell. Created by my two darling boys when they were younger, it still brings a quick smile.

Through the back hatch of the jeep:

Yep. My boys lived to sabotage and conspire against me. They even wrote a manual for other kids to follow. Thankfully, the inspiration wore off before they wrote much more than a page.

*Sigh* Missing them.

Triple Dark Chocolate Brownies - a Recipe Modification Gone So Very Right

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 14:00:00 +0000

Remember that nasty little craving I mentioned in one of my previous posts? Well.... when the hubby requested chocolate chip cookies, I flat out refused. I had a gnawing in the pit of my stomach and it wasn't for no cookie. I desired something like cake. Something with gooey chocolate, lots of chocolate. BROWNIES. He said he was okay with that. He's a smart man and knows better than to contradict a PMS'ing woman who's craving chocolate.

I pulled out my trusty Better Homes and Garden cookbook and looked up the stained recipe for Cake Brownies . It's nothing fancy - just a quick and simple dump and mix.

Original
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  3/4 c butter
  1/2 c cocoa
1 1/4 c sugar

Melt butter in saucepan and add cocoa and sugar.
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2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla

Add to mixture in saucepan and stir thoroughly.
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1 1/2 c flour
   1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda

Sift into a separate bowl.
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   1 c milk

Alternately mix milk and flour to the mixture in saucepan.
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  1/2 c nuts

Add if you like... or not.
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   Pour into 8x8 baking dish. Bake @ 350.
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Now comes the fun part: modification.

The first thing I always change in a recipe, is the sugar. I cut out a half or a quarter of the total, depending on what I'm making. Cutting in half is extreme, so I don't recommend it unless you're adding some fruit or something else that will add sweetness. I dropped my sugar from 1 1/4 c. to 1 c.
I added a couple of squares of dark chocolate to the melted butter, along with the stated amount of cocoa. This stuff was really quite bitter so I was a little concerned, but I was at the mercy of the chocolate beast and just kept on adding.
Just before baking, I sprinkled some dark chocolate chips over the top. I was really hoping for the gooey here, but instead, I got little pockets of pure chocolate. This confirms my belief in beneficial disappointments.

Modified

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3/4 c butter

1/2 c dark cocoa

1 c raw sugar

Melt butter in saucepan and add cocoa and sugar.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla (okay, maybe a little more)

Add to mixture in saucepan and stir thoroughly.

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1 1/2 c Naturally White All Purpose flour

1 tsp aluminum-fee baking powder

1/4 tsp baking soda

Sift into a separate bowl.

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1 c milk

Alternately mix milk and flour to the mixture in saucepan.

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1/2 c pecans (cause the 17 yr old said pecans were best)

Add if you like... or not.

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Pour into 8x8 baking dish.

Sprinkle top with 6 oz dark chocolate chips

Bake @ 350.

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When it was done, I was the first one to dive in. Mmmmm. Beast satisfied.

I know I give the impression here that it's my guys that are the sugar-freaks, and that is absolutely true. But, when the mom denies herself for so long (in other, more specific terms - watches the guys sit around and indulge in Ben & Jerry's when she must abstain), she becomes just as freakish as the rest of 'em.

At least that's my story... and I'm sticking to it.

Memories... of being a SAHM

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 13:38:00 +0000

I'm cruising my blogroll and this post about the struggles of being a SAHM comes up from Leigh Ann, the author of Living with Three Hobbits and a Giant. How I remember those days...

I remember it was hard being a mom. I hated being stuck with little people all day, every day, 24/7. Stuck, being the operative word. No fuel, no extra money, and sometimes, no vehicle. Times are hard on a one income family, especially in a new town, far from family. We had recently moved to a really cute old house, with a fenced yard and nice neighbors. It was perfect, but I was miserably lonely. My then three and one year old kids were loud and needy. My 'alone time' in the morning was frequently interrupted. Dinner preparation usually needed more than the extra six arms I'd grown since giving birth. And my husband would come in from a 12 hr day, exhausted and barely able to follow my lengthy chatter.

Then, one day when I was particularly sour and trudging through the grocery story with 2 toddlers (one screaming and the other one crying), a sweet old lady passed me and said, "What a precious package you've got there!" She smiled widely and kept right on walking. I stopped and looked at my kids. Precious? These guys that drive me crazy are precious? They're misbehaving like crazy here! Precious? Really? Hmmm...

By the time I made it home, my outlook on being a SAHM was beginning to shift. I remembered my mother-in-law's advice when, while pregnant with the second child, I told her I could barely keep up with one kid - how was I ever going to handle two? She said, "God gives us grace for whatever comes." Indeed. Grace began to show itself as my perception altered. A package, the old lady had said. Like a gift. When I treated my boys like gifts, I smiled more readily. I wish I could say that I became the perfect mom. I can't. What I can say, though, is I was a happier mom which went a long way towards being a GOOD mom.

Now, my babies are nearly men. They don't pull at my knees or beg for my attention. We don't make cookies together anymore, or hang the wash out on the line together, or marvel over the baby birds in a new-found nest together. They don't cuddle up on the couch with me while I read anymore, or beg me to tell the story about when they were born. Those days are gone, and miss them so much.

While I go have myself a good cry, check out a couple of my favorite SAHM blogs:
Living with Three Hobbits and a Giant
Leigh Ann has such a sweet spirit that comes through in her writing. Her life makes me realize that my irritations were nothing more than little blips on a radar - really nothing at all. Thanks goes to you, my dear, for sharing your story.

ashleyann - Under the Sycamore
Ashley Ann takes some really gorgeous photographs! It's always such a pleasure to see her artistic flair a couple of times a week and encourages me to keep trying to snatch the occasional photo of my grown boys.

Enjoy!
(The blogs and your very own little precious gifts!) ;)

On the Lookout for No Bake Desserts: Orange Mousse :: Lynn's Kitchen Adventures

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 18:00:00 +0000

I'm still burning up here in the south with 100 degree+ days and with the exception of a very nasty craving, the oven has remained off. So far, I find myself relegated to pudding pies and ice cream. The ice cream was creating a blob out of my body, so it's really the guys who get to indulge in Ben & Jerry's while I'm left with the pudding pies. Sometimes life is just not fair.

There's only so many pies you can truly enjoy before boredom sets in, so I find myself perusing the web looking for new recipes. They must meet 2 criteria: no-bake and corn-syrup-free.

This one sounds promising...

Orange Mousse :: Lynn's Kitchen Adventures

But alas, there is corn-syrup in it. I'm thinking about substitutions for the marshmallow creme, but as it's such and integral part of the recipe, I keep coming up blank. Any suggestions are welcome.

Well, no - I'm really begging here. Somebody PLEASE help me find something else sweet before I turn into a chocolate parfait!

Corn Syrup in This??

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica) — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 02:59:00 +0000

Ten of the strangest things I've found corn syrup in:

Cheese crackers
Hot dog buns
Hot dogs
Canned beans
The deli's fresh-made French Bread
Cool Whip
Worcestershire sauce
Ketchup
Granola bars
Plain coffee creamer

All of these items have had me shaking my head in disbelief in the middle of the grocery store aisle. The granola bars - yeah - some of them are quite sweet (and could substitute for candy bar even). And the cool whip I understand. But the canned beans... now that one was a doozy. Guess that's what I get for trying to sneak in a quick pot of chili, huh?