3 Cheese Macaroni And Cheese With Ham

I had a ton of ham left over from Easter dinner at my house on Sunday. I also had the stomach flu yesterday. So today when my appetite returned, sort of, I wanted something really comforting to eat. This baked ham and macaroni and cheese recipe I created turned out great! It really hit the spot and my husband declared it "possibly the best macaroni and cheese I've ever eaten." He may have been just trying to get the kids to try it. Because heaven forbid you do something radical to the worlds most kid-friendly food, like add HAM to it, or put BREAD CRUMBS on top of it. Now it somehow needs talking-into. Pschaw. Ignore the kids... I swear it's delicious!


3 Cheese Baked Macaroni & Cheese With Ham

(Serves 8)

• 4 oz ham, chopped to bite-sized pieces
• 2 cups elbow macaroni
• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/4 cup onion, diced fine
• 3 tablespoons flour
• 2 ¼ cups milk
• 6 ounces (3/4 cup) shredded medium cheddar cheese
• 2 ounces cream cheese
• 2 ounces (1/4 cup) of your favorite cheese, grated or cubed. I like parmesan, gouda, or havarti. Nearly anything will work, but cheeses with more flavor produce a better result.
• ½ teaspoon salt
• ¼ teaspoon pepper
• ¼ teaspoon garlic powder
• ¼ cup Panko bread crumbs

Directions:
• In a large sauce pan, cook macaroni for 7-8 minutes in salted, boiling water. Macaroni should be slightly al dente. Drain and set aside.
• Meanwhile, fry the ham for 3-4 minutes on medium heat until it begins to brown. Remove from heat and set aside.
• Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line a 2 quart casserole dish or a 9x13 inch pan with foil. Spray with no-stick cooking spray. This will make clean-up a breeze. No baked-on cheese to scrape!
• Now it’s time to make the roux. In a medium sauce pan, over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the chopped onion and garlic powder and cook for about 5-7 minutes, until the onions are translucent and the edges are beginning to brown. Remove from heat. Whisk in the flour, one tablespoon at a time until smooth (the onions will make it a little lumpy, but you don’t want lumps of flour). Return to the heat. Cook and stir the butter, onion and flour for 2 to 3 minutes until it thickens. Whisk in the milk a little at a time, stirring constantly. Bring the sauce to a simmer, then lower the heat and cook an additional 2 minutes.
• Now add the cheeses. First the cream cheese, cut into chunks. Once that is mostly melted, add the cheddar, half at a time. Once that appears mostly melted, add your final cheese. Stir for another minute or two until the cheese is all melted and the sauce is smooth.
• Pour cheese sauce over macaroni. Stir in ham. Add salt and pepper. Stir well to incorporate.
• Once the whole thing is nicely mixed, pour the macaroni into the prepared pan. Sprinkle with panko bread crumbs until the surface is lightly covered. (Add more if needed).
• Bake for 15 minutes or until the edges are hot and bubbly. Change heat to broil and cook an additional 2 minutes to brown the bread crumbs.

YUM!

My Weekend At Cheese Fantasy Camp

This weekend I had the chance to go visit my friend Mariella, who is a farmer/cheese-maker intern at the Rock Hill Creamery in Richmond, UT. My husband calls my little getaway "Cheese Fantasy Camp." He told all his clients, "My wife is away at Cheese Fantasy Camp." "Maybe she'll bring us back some great cheese from Cheese Fantasy Camp." Hmmm, maybe she won't if you say it like THAT. But he is right. I do have a secret fantasy about having a little farm where I make cheese, raise chickens, and keep bees for honey. It might even be more than a little fantasy. There is the slight possibility that when I can't sleep at night I lie there planning where the chicken coop will go and what kinds of fruit trees my bees will get the taste of their honey from. I may or may not think about what shade of yellow or green my little farmhouse's shutters will be, and how many sides of the house the porch will wrap around. And it's possible, but not substantiated, that if I lie awake long enough I might even dream about what my handsome, rugged, Nordic hired hand Sven will look like. But back to the cheese. The cheese at the Rock Hill Creamery, at least, is real.

Mariella has been our long-time babysitter, turned grown-up, turned friend. So I jumped at the chance to see just how hard (i.e. fun) working on a dairy farm might be. I drove up in the evening. We had a nice dinner at the one fancy-ish restaurant in Logan, and stayed up late chatting about boys and watching movies about boys (The Ides of March, yum. Incidentally watched ON the Ides of March. Weird.) We slept in her little studio apartment above the cheese cave.

But morning came all too soon, as it does on most farms. (On MY farm, morning won't start until 9am, but other farmers, it appears, are sadistic and like to milk in the dark). So at 6:25 we woke up, I ate breakfast in my sleep, got dressed in my fancy farm clothes in my sleep, and made it all the way to the milking parlor before I began to wake up. (Stripey overalls and rubber waders, how picturesque!)


We shoveled hay into the manger (they actually have real mangers on farms!) and called for the cows. Here you can see the girls eating their hay. All except Ingrid. She was being sassy and made us tromp all the way down into the pasture to make her come eat.
(It's still barely dawn out, and I wasn't about to haul around my tripod, so the pictures are a little blurry.)



Next was the milking. I have to say I was a little intimidated by the size of the cows. You kind of picture them as being about chest high. But in reality they were about as tall as I am or more. And they look at you really suspiciously with their big eyes and you wonder if they might not want to sit on you if given the chance. But since they're such creatures of habit, they marched into the milking room right past me, stuck their heads in the oat trough, and started munching. No killer cows on this farm, thank goodness!



I have to get a little real with you here. It kind of weirded me out to touch their, um, teats. I felt like I should have gotten to know them first, taken them out to dinner and a movie or something. Reaching down there and just grabbing hold made me feel like I was violating them just a little. It was made worse by the fact that their teats are warm and fleshy and pretty much exactly what you'd expect touching someone's teats would be like...only their somecow's teats, not someone's teats, and are 10x the size. STIll, it was a little bit creepy. But that creepiness got me to completely forget my fear of being stomped on while milking. So before I knew it, I had squirted milk all over my foot without even being scared!

(Incidentally, the cows are not milked by hand. They're hooked up to a little four-prong milking apparatus that sucks the milk through some big tubes into the milk cans. Watching it gave me sudden flashbacks of pumping bottles for my babies. The small scrap of self-dignity I'd managed to retain while being hooked up to a breast pump completely dissolved while watching these cows get milked. Yep, I had been a human cow, nothing more.)



After all the rich, creamy milk was extracted from the six cows, Mariella weighed it (I was way too weak to pick up those huge urns full of milk) and poured it into the giant refrigerated vat where it is stirred and kept cold until cheese making day.




I wasn't there for cheese-making day, unfortunately, but I was there for cheese cleaning and turning day. So we showered, donned our special cheese making clothes--aprons, hair nets, cheese clogs (not wooden, sadly) and rubber gloves--and headed to the Cheeserie (not its real name). I got to help Jen the Farmer's Wife turn the feta first. It's stored in these big rings wrapped in cheesecloth. They sit on a big sieve where the whey drips down and goes into a big bucket. (I asked her what they do with the whey, and she said a farmer with a much bigger dairy buys it to feed to his calves. I love how everything on the farm is used for something. Even the manure is bought by other farmers for fertilizer. Nothing goes to waste!) Anyway, the feta cakes have to be turned periodically to allow the cheese to become uniformly firm, and to allow the whey to get out. So we pulled off the rings, flattened out the cheesecloth, flipped the big square cakes of feta over, and re-wrapped them. I was amazed at how solid and heavy they are! And being a big fan of feta, I loved the strong, salty smell.



Next we went down into the cheese cave (its real name!). Pete the Farmer had made some new spruce planks for the cheese to sit on. They had to be tempered and sealed with olive oil, so I got to do that first. Next I helped Jen and Mariella with the affinage. It's a fancy French cheese word for giving the cheese some TLC. Mostly it means turning and cleaning the cheese wheels. They are massive! Each wheel weighs 13-18 lbs and there are 4 on a plank. The planks rest on two metal bars, one at each end of the plank. There is another rack of bars in the center of the room. So you pull a plank out and rest it on the center bar, then it becomes a sort of work shelf.
It is VERY scary to pull the planks out. They weigh about 60 lbs, and once you slide them past the back support bar, they're like a cheese see-saw! You have to balance them exactly to keep them from tipping and sending cheese wheels rolling in all directions. Once you have the plank balanced on the center bar, however, they are stable and you can begin the cheese cleaning. The Rock Hill Creamery makes natural rind, aged cheeses. This means they use raw, unpasteurized milk and allow it to cure for a minimum of 60 days (but up to 2 years!). They rub it with a special briney wash that causes a certain bacteria to grow and form a rind on the cheese. This seals the cheese in, so to speak. But like all cheeses, in which mold plays an integral part, there are bad molds. So we wiped the cheese with a soft cloth to remove any bad molds, flipped it over and put it back to continue aging. There were a few cheese wheels on which the rind was not yet forming, in the pictures you can see them as a beautiful golden color, like a giant cheesecake. So these we washed with the bacteria wash to get the rind to form.



Jen and Mariella cut, weighed, and wrapped some of the cheeses for sale at local markets and stores next. I was lucky enough that while Jen was cutting the cheese wheels into small chunks she let me sample all the cheeses. Oh my deliciousness! Every one was more yummy than the last. I got to try an Edam, a Gouda, a 1 year aged Gouda, a Tomme, the Red Desert Feta, a Gruyere, and a 1 year aged Gruyere. I thought I liked the Edam best until I got to the 1 year aged Gruyere. When it hit my mouth, it was like my taste buds exploded! (In a good way.) The cheese had such a wonderful flavor--surprisingly sweet, firm, nutty, a little sharp, and there was almost an effervescent effect on your tongue while eating it. I can't quite describe it to you, but if you ever get a chance to try a 1 year old aged Gruyere, do it!!



After all that, we were pooped! So we went with Pete to L.D's for lunch. Picture a greasy, small-town diner where everyone knows everyone and nothing has changed for 50 years and you have L.D's. Within minutes, I was in love with L.D's and everyone in it, especially L.D. himself, who came over to chat with us. He brought over a handful of photos of Pete eating in the diner about 15 years ago. He was younger, with fewer gray hairs then, but he's still just as handsome! The diner looked exactly the same as it had back then and probably since Pete started working there in 1957. Same wood-paneled walls, same kitchy decor. Including this gem:


That was my wonderful day on the farm. It was so fun, and I learned so much. I asked Jen everything I could think of about cheese and cheese making as we cleaned the cheese wheels, and she knew the answer to everything I wondered. Mostly I found out that taking care of cows and making cheese is a lot harder, more back breaking work than I had anticipated. But don't think that has discouraged me from my cheese and bees farm fantasy. Oh no. Afterall, that is what Sven is for!

Sloppy Seconds

Here I sit, on my bed, reading blogs, eating leftovers. I love leftovers. Not my own cooking's leftovers. At least, not passionately. But I passionately love restaurant leftovers. How awesome is it to go out to dinner, eat a fantastic meal, and then get to eat it again the next day!? It's very awesome, that's what. Even if you do have to share some of your coconut-crusted mahi-mahi leftovers with your cat, who is suddenly on the bed next to you, staring at you pitifully with eyes that say, "I know I won't even look at dry catfood containing seafood, and I scorn even the Fancy Feast if it has fish in it, but if I don't have a bite of that coconut-crusted mahi-mahi right now I will jump into a tank of foaming pitbulls, I swear." So you share a few nibbles to keep her from such an awful fate, and you enjoy the rest yourself, grateful that you are eating something delicious that you didn't have to cook yourself and which, of course, contains ingredients you would never buy in a millions years anyway. And that is what makes leftovers so wonderful.

You?

I Scream, You Scream

As I've said before, and though you might not believe me after all that talk about frozen custard and stuff, I'm not much of an ice cream fan. It's not that I don't like it per se. But there are just so many other sweet treats that come first on my list of sugary delights. Mostly baked goods--cake, brownies, cookies, pie, truffles, etc.

But in the summer time, and even in the spring when the days are getting warmer and my blood starts to stir, I do appreciate a good scoop of ice cream. SCOOP is a big part of it, because soft serve is, to me, a big swirly waste of calories. So unsatisfying. But a nice, rich scoop of Baskin Robbins, for example, is just the ticket every once in a while.

When I was a kid, I went through phases of liking a certain flavor and only getting that for a very long time. My first love was Daiquiri Ice, light and refreshing. Then came Chocolate Fudge. (Ironically, this is now Daphne's favorite flavor--totally unsuggested by me--and when I tasted hers, I about died from chocolate overload. I guess some things do change.) Then came a phase where I only liked Jamocha Almond Fudge. Even as a kid, I loved the taste of chocolate and coffee together.

During my teens and early 20's, Baskin Robbins had a seasonal flavor called Chocolate Raspberry Truffle. It was TO DIE FOR. And it only came out a couple of times a year. You were very lucky if you went while it was in season. That was, and still is, my all-time favorite ice cream flavor. But, alas, I haven't seen it in years.

Now my fave is Chocolate Peanut Butter. I love how the huge wedges of peanut butter get semi-frozen and then melt in your mouth. Wonderful. I will occasionally try something new. And when I'm in the mood for something not quite as rich, I will sometimes have a scoop of Pralines 'N' Cream or my old standby, Daiquiri Ice, but I'm pretty much a Chocolate peanut butter girl for now.

What about you? Are you an ice cream fan? And what's your favorite flavor?

H2 Oh Yeah Baby

Why does water taste so awful during the day and so absolutely wonderful just before bed?

Is it just me???

(I wonder if it's because my body ENJOYS waking up to pee 12 times a night. That must be it.)



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And While I'm On the Subject Of Christmas...

I know it's 3 whole weeks since Christmas and so this topic may seem SO passé, but I'm just now finishing up the last of my stocking candy (What can I say? I like to nurse it.) and it lead me to wonder...What kind of candy do YOU put in your stockings? Do you put different stuff in yours than your kids? Do you have traditional candy items you put in every year or do you mix it up depending on your mood? Do you also put in presents, fruit, or other things? Or just candy?

Do tell!


As for us, we Davis kids grew up with real socks, not those giant store-bought stockings. They were my mom's cable knit knee socks. We had no mantle to hang them on, so usually they were just laid out in front of the tree or the Franklin stove. In a way those socks were really fun. Because they were stretchy, you could see shapes and bulges in them, which lead your imagination to run riot for those few minutes until you could open them and find out what those shapes were. You could always see a big bulge right in the center where the orange was stuffed, like a an ostrich who has swallowed a baseball.

Inside we almost always had peanut M&M's, my dad's favorite. There were mini peanut butter cups in honor of my mom's favorite candy. There were always nuts of some kind, usually cashews. And the rest seemed to vary year to year. My parents weren't big on presents in our stockings. Maybe a pair of socks wrapped up or a small item like a nail polish or chap stick. Mostly they left the room for lots of candy.

As a mom, I usually try to stick in a few small gifts for my kids--things from the dollar section at Target, their own box of tic tacs or a pack of gum, that sort of thing. I put in peanut M&M's to satisfy the traditionalist in me, and a Reese's peanut butter tree (better peanut butter to chocolate ratio). I throw in some cashews for protein, and the rest is filled with each child's favorite: mint for Beck, peanut butter for Daphne, Milk Duds for big Daddy, and usually a Ritter Sport Marzipan bar for me. And then Big Daddy and I usually try to sneak a small gift or two into each other's stocking without getting caught.

So, that's my stocking story. How about yours?

The Only Reason Why I Love Winter

Guess What?






That means my favorite--


And my second favorite--


And even my former favorite, which is now too sweet for me, which is now my kids' favorite--


(Does anyone even eat those other crappy flavors???)
Hint:



I'm sorry if my local Brownie feels like this come March...





Because I think my car will be packed with happiness.


p.s. The above picture does not demonstrate an intent to distribute. I am strictly a consumer (on a massive scale).

The Honeyguide Bird and the Badger

In case you don't know, my preferred method for sugar intake is mixed with flour, butter, salt, eggs, usually chocolate, and then some amount of baking. Frosting is also usually involved.

I'm not much of a candy eater. Certainly not milk chocolate. I think there was a time when I preferred milk chocolate to dark. I think I recall being pissed off when I got a Special Dark in my Halloween bag. But somewhere along the lines, that changed. And milk chocolate became too intense for me. But even back in the days where I enjoyed it, candy just wasn't my thing. And chewy, sour, fruity candy wasn't even close to being on my favorite treat list.

So come Halloween, I would usually dump out my pillowcase full of candy, organize it into groups: candy bars, gum, fruity candy, candy with little pieces, suckers, etc., then further break it down by name, count it all up and write it down to compare to previous years, and then retreat to my room to eat a few choice pieces. Usually the Almond Joys and Mounds first. Then a Twix. Maybe some peanut M&M's. But by the next day I was pretty much over it.

My mother's great idea for sparing our teeth from weeks of eating sugar was to demand that all candy be consumed within 24 hours, and whatever wasn't would be confiscated. And despite the fact that I neither relished my candy nor intended to eat much of it past the first day, I am, by nature, a saver. Mostly out of panic of not having something later when I really want it. So I would find secret places to hide away most of my candy so that it couldn't be taken away. In shoes. In coat pockets. In jewelry boxes and Barbie car trunks.

And then I would forget all about it. Ya, I might run across a small stash now and then. I can't remember if I would eat any of it. I just know that keeping the candy was very satisfying to me. Eating it? Meh. Christmas was the same story. Easter? You guessed it. One time I got a giant 1 lb Hershey's Kiss from a friend for Valentine's Day. After a small nibble, it went on a shelf next to my knickknacks until it eventually went stale and got thrown away. Or so I thought... But more on that later.

My sister, who bunked downstairs from me, was cut out of quite a different cloth. Her love affair with candy was not the patient, bashful one mine was. It was passionate, voracious, and all-consuming. She usually DID eat all her candy within 24 hours. Halloween was her fondest dream, as far as I knew. And any opportunity to spend money was always, always spent on candy.

So flash forward to years later. About 25 years later. My sister, brother, mom, and our spouses were sitting around one night playing games and laughing over old times when my sister confessed to me that she would secretly sneak up to my room following each holiday and hunt around for candy. She knew of all my secret hide-outs (even my mom never bothered to look in my snow boots, but Jennie did). She scoured every corner. She unearthed all my stashes. And ATE THEM. Ate every piece. Remember that giant Hershey's Kiss on my shelf I thought had been thrown away? Eaten. Slowly. Once tiny slice at a time over a period of weeks. Carefully, so that I would never notice.

Well, I didn't notice. Not with the Kiss. Not with the Easter candy. Not with my Christmas stocking. And certainly not with my many stashes of Halloween candy. I guess I pretty much functioned as The Candy Store Upstairs. I just never cared about candy enough to notice. (You're welcome, Jennie). I think, really, we had a symbiotic relationship. Like those fish that follow sharks around and eat the slime off their gills. Or those birds who live on Rhinos' backs and eat all their fleas. We worked well together, even if I didn't know it at the time.

So what now? What am I going to do with my sister living a thousand miles away and all this extra candy around the house?

I think today I found the answer hiding behind the couch....




Perfect. At least until the next dentist visit.

Ode To Dairy

I really like Havarti Cheese;
Havarti Dill is better.
I probably won't marry Havarti Cheese,
But I think I'll write it a love letter.

The End

Berry Season

I will resist the urge to use the word "berry" for the word "very" in this post. It's so trite. But it's also berry hard. Whoops! I mean very hard. Because what else is there to say when you post pictures of the luscious strawberries, red raspberries, and purple raspberries that are bursting forth all over your yard? Except maybe how sad you will be that they most likely won't be YOUR berries by this time next year. That does make one berry sad. Oh dang it! Very sad. Anyway, if you have a spare patch of ground in the corner of your hard, I highly recommend some berry bushes or a berry patch. They grow back on their own every year and are berry very little maintenance. Start with everbearing strawberries. They'll start blooming in early spring and by late May or early June you'll have your first handful of delicious, sweet berries. In July your raspberries will bear fruit and will do so all month long. In August you will still get a few raspberries and some strawberries, though they will dwindle a bit in the heat. And then in September, as it cools down, you'll get one last burst of strawberries. There are so may ways to use raspberries and strawberries in your food: You can freeze them for smoothies, boil them with some sugar for hot berry sauce over vanilla ice cream. You can throw them on your cereal so that you feel all official like the cereal box picture. Mix them into your lemonade or pancake batter. Sprinkle them between layers of chocolate cake. Or, just eat them right off the bush, like my daughter and I love to do. No matter what way you use them, summer berries, fresh from your garden, are, well, berry berry good.


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THE Best Bet Win

A few years ago Big Daddy and I got in a "discussion" over whether TCBY's name was THE Country's Best Yogurt (me) or THIS Country's Best Yogurt (him). Normally when I bet against Big Daddy, I lose. Not so much because he is always right and I am always wrong (not even close, Sweetie), but more because he only likes to bet on things he is sure about (Don't pretend it isn't true. You know it is.) while I am willing to take a risk. ANYWHO...for once I won. I don't remember what I won. Probably something inappropriate to mention on a family blog, cause that is what we like to wager most. Or it could have been $5....same difference, right? (JUST KIDDING, HON!) But mostly I won the sweet moment of being able to strut around as victor. And you can be sure that every time we see a TCBY now, I point out my victory again.

Anyway, I thought I'd throw this 2 for 1 coupon out there for anyone who likes frozen yogurt --THE Country's Best Yogurt. You know by now that I'm more of a baked goods eater than a connoisseur of frozen treats. But this time of year I have occasionally been known to sacrifice precious dessert calories for something cold and creamy; it's that hot. So if you, too, need a sugar-filled cool down, and you have a friend to go with you (or if you're into eating two at a time, whichever)....voila!




p.s. Every time you print and use this coupon, my friend Kelli gets entered into a company contest for a flat screen TV. So eat up, people!

The Great Pizza Debate

You wouldn't think crust, sauce, and a few meats and veggies could have so much variation, and cause serious marital strife, but sometimes they can. When it comes to pizza there have been a few heated discussions around here about what kind to get and where to get it.

MY favorite is Pizza Hut with the pan crust. Because grease is delicious, of course! I like the regular crust OK too, but I'd rather have the golden, crispy-fried goodness of the pan crust if I'm going to blow the calories.

Big Daddy is my pizza opposite. My foil. My bizzaro pizza person. He likes thin crust, the thinner and crunchier the better. He always says that if it tastes like you're eating pizza on crackers, the crust is perfect. (Um, BLECH!)

Because of our extreme differences, we usually have to meet somewhere in the middle with a normal hand-tossed crust that neither of us is crazy about. And since he doesn't like the sauce or toppings or some unidentifiable factor about Pizza Hut pizzas, even with the crust compromises, Pizza Hut is not an option for him. He likes Papa Johns. I'm OK with Papa Johns, but I find their sauce a bit too zesty for my taste.

When we just can't agree, we usually solve the issue by going cheap. And by cheap, I mean Little Caesar's. I think neither one of us can feel too awful about not getting the Pizza of our Dreams when we only paid $5 for the whole thing.

Yesterday, though, we tried a take and bake from Costco. I've had their pizza by the slice in the cafeteria. I'd rank it at the lower end of my pizza deliciousness scale. It's very greasy. And not the crispy, golden, magical kind. It's the pools of red-orange cheese-and-pepperoni-byproduct-drowning-the-pizza kind of grease. (NOT magical). But the take and bake was good! The crust was thick enough to satisfy me and crunchy on the bottom, very reminiscent of crackers I believe. The toppings were good, the sauce was just right. I think we might have a winner! When pizza-in-a-pan-of-fat is not on the menu, of course.

Ich Bin Ein Hamburger

I have noticed over about the last year that trendy new burger places are popping up all over the place. Not only did In 'N' Out Burger make it to our state, and not only did a few copy-cat restaurants open up, it seems like everyone wants to get in on the burger business all of the sudden. There is a new burger shop on every corner practically. And I keep hearing "Oh, Such-and-Such a place has the BEST burgers." Five Guys. Whataburger. Chadders. Smash Burger. They are everywhere. And even though I haven't tried them all, the few I've tried....well, they just taste like burgers to me.

Do you have a new hamburger place by you that is just amazing? Is there something special about their burgers, some mouthwatering ingredient or sauce that makes you love them? Or do you find, like me, that overall burgers are burgers?

So far, I think nothing beats a thick, juicy, homemade burger, hot of my backyard grill. Mmmmmmmmm.......

I'm A Cheater

I have four words for you....

TWO BITES OF BLISS

Daily Weight Loss: 0.8 lbs

Total weight Loss : 8 lbs!

You Stay Young If You Eat Straight Sugar From a Spoon, Right???

I'm not much of a candy eater. I've mentioned this before. I take my sugar with flour, baking powder and eggs, baked, please.

Sugar is just too sweet for me now. Especially candy. Especially milk chocolate candy. And marshmallow candy. And sugary-crystal-coated candy.

But every year I eat just one Peep, out of respect for my childhood. As a child I loved Peeps. I no longer love Peeps. I might even be just a little bit disgusted by Peeps. But I think part of me fears that I will be betraying my inner child if I shun the Peeps completely. So I pay my homage to the Gods of Continuous Youth by eating sickeningly sweet seasonal children's candy and hope for the best: one yellow peep and one Cadbury cream egg, every Easter. Like medicine. GAG. (Shhh, don't tell The Gods. Cadbury Cream Eggs were my absolute DREAM candy as a child. A chocolate egg with an egg yolk made out of pure liquid sugar? Are you kidding me?!?)

I seriously hope it's keeping the wrinkles away. Please tell me it's keeping the wrinkles away. 'Cause it sure as hell isn't helping my hips.

Cockoo For Cocoa Puffs

You know that saying that you have to choose your battles? Well, I finally waved the white flag when it came to the Great Battle of the Cereal. Big Daddy wanted to buy the sugary kind, I wanted to give the kids something more nutritious. I actually threw out the Lucky Charms a couple of times because my kids would only eat the marshallows (that's what they call them). But the Corn Pops, Sugar Smacks, and Honeycombs kept coming in, and naturally they liked them better than the Dirt & Bran Twigs and Pecan Pine Cones I kept buying, so I gave in.

Personally, though, I prefer less sugary cereals. For one, those sugar cereals aren't very filling. But also, breakfast candy just isn't the same now as its 1980's counterparts. Sugar cereals used to be delicious treats on the rare occasions that we got them. But now Cookie Crisp and Peanut Butter Captain Crunch are made of a strange space materials that resemble cereal......until it gets wet. Then it blows up in to this nasty, frothy goo. EEEWWW. No thanks. But for some reason my kids still love it. I guess cause they don't know any better.

Well, this week I found a new sugary atrocity in my cabinet, care of Big Daddy: Cocoa Puffs. I couldn't remember actually ever buying these, even as a kid. But somewhere in the furthest recesses of my mind, a dark chocolaty flavor waved around like a cocoa mirage. I wondered if I actually had eaten this cereal and if it might actually be tasty, as my memory seemed to suggest.

IT WAS! Sweet heaven of chocolate breakfast, it was. My first bite almost made me drop my spoon, it was so good. It tasted like super fudgey brownie bites! FOR BREAKFAST! I quickly scarfed up a whole bowl. Then another. Then another. I guess those sugary cereals CAN be filling. All you have to do is eat three bowls.

Hmmmm.....maybe losing a battle once in a while isn't such a bad thing after all.

Thanks, Ground Beef Male Royalty

On Saturday I stopped at a certain fast food joint for a snack. It was late and I didn't want anything big, but I had just finished doing a Passion Party and hadn't had much dinner before hand. I thought maybe a small order of Chicken Fries would be good.

I ordered, drove to the window, and paid. And then the man at the drive through made my day with 6 simple words: Would you like a free Sprite?

Let me say that I don't like Sprite. I would never order a Sprite. I can't remember the last time I drank a Sprite (it has to be in the double digits ago) and if given the choice between water and Sprite, I would probably choose water. But for some reason, on this night, that simple act of kindness of handing over a gargantuan Sprite that the person in line before me's credit card had declined him from purchasing (talk about being over your credit limit!) made my night. And it was the yummiest 56 ounces of Sprite ever.


(Just kidding. I only had about 3 sips, but it was the thought that counted....)

Magic Ingredients

Today I was eating some leftovers from dinner out last night, and I was really relishing the flavors. And it occured to me, there are certain ingredients that, when I see them listed on the menu together, will almost assuredly mean I will chose that dish and love it. They are:

capers

mushrooms

sun-dried tomatoes

spinach

goat cheese

pine nuts

pecans

roasted red peppers

fresh mozerella

polenta

mustard

green or calamata olives

I know, they're all kind of weird. But I like strong flavors. And I like everything from pasta to chicken to sea food if it's made with the above ingredients in the right combination.

What about you? Are there any ingredients you just love love love to find on the menu?

Let's Salsa!

I know a lot of you have had my veggie salsa before (the one with the avacados, white corn, and black-eyed peas). So would you mind going to www.allrecipes.com and rating the recipe? I've had the recipe posted for a while and no one has reviewed it yet. If you haven't tried it, do! It's such a good salsa that you'll want to eat it with a spoon, or Scoops chips piled high. It's low on tomatoes and has no white onions (only green) so it's not as acidic or as hard on your breath. Maybe the next party you go to (like this New Years Eve?), bring it and I guarantee you, at least 3 people will ask you for the recipe. I actually used to take pre-printed recipes of this with me whenever I took it to a party because so many people requested it...no joke! So I'm asking a favor...if you've tried it, please go rate it! Or make it and see what you think. Even if you're spending this New Year's Eve home being a loser like me, this salsa will be good company.

Fanks!

Click HERE to view or rate my recipe.


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Eating Humble Pie

In case any of you were wondering what pie I ended up making (no? well too bad), I went with my sister's amazing apple pie recipe.

I don't actually like apple pie much. Not an apple fan in general. But this recipe is so delicious I just can't resist it. Something about it---the mixture of different types of apples, the tartness, the firmness, the lack of carmely flavor- which I can't abide in apple desserts-and the lack of syrupy goo--just makes this pie wonderful. (If you want the recipe, you can find it at www.kingarthurflour.com.)

I got up early to make this pie. I wanted to give it time to settle (a tip I got from the website on working with fruit pies. They tend to give up their juice when cooking but they re-absorb it as they cool. So let your pie cool and then reheat later if you don't want a runny pie.) I worked on it all day...double crust (Ok, Marie Calendar actually made the crust, but I did have to roll out the top crust so it would fit. Besides, just peeling apples takes forever!). It looked so beautiful when I was done. The crust was a perfect golden brown. The inside was bubbling nicely and hadn't leaked out. I was so proud!

After dinner, I was excited to be the first to try my pie. But as I bit into the first piece, I decided that it was much too sour. Too many Granny Smiths, I decided. I should have added more sugar, I thought. And then the wheels in my head started to turn... I remembered putting in cinnamon, nutmeg, corn starch, vanilla, lemon juice....SHOOT! I forgot to add the sugar!

Luckily, with 7 different pies to choose from, no one had tried my pie yet except me. I took the other 7/8ths of my pie home in shame.

Later my mom came up with the brilliant idea of scooping out the filling, mixing in some sugar, and stuffing it back in. Delicious! And all the leftovers are at my house. Just the way I like it. (Thanks, Mom, for averting a serious pie disaster!)

Anyone for pie?