Most of my ‘best’ dishes happen by accident. I love feeling like a mad scientist in the kitchen – creating, substituting, and usually not measuring or following any specific recipe. I call it ‘guerrilla baking’ in jest, but in truth it’s the most freeing way for me to cook. Tonight I made something in between pancakes and crepes, using applesauce instead of vegetable oil (blech) and Ghirardelli semi-sweet morsels.
My husband sent me a “Good News!” text, and once I heard what the good news, I decided to celebrate. Hence, cooking with chocolate. What makes a heart (or tummy) happier on a cold winter’s night than something buttery, gooey, and chocolatey? I certainly can’t think of anything.
So I put a pat of Plugra Unsalted butter (my favorite, hands-down) and got to work. These are the result. They are not as thin as crepes, not as fluffy as pancakes, just the right ‘in-between’ of sweet and savory, with melted chocolate in the middle. They may not be pretty, but my taste buds are not complaining. I don’t have a recipe, though if I did I might not share it, as I like to keep my Franken-Dishes to myself.*
These ARE vegetarian – they ARE NOT vegan but could easily be modified. (Which I may do for myself tomorrow!)
*Alright, boys and girls – after several requests I’m going to post a ‘rough’ version of the non-recipe:
1/2 C milk or non-dairy milk
1/2 C all purpose flour
dash of baking powder
pinch of salt
pinch of cinnamon
1 Tbsp sugar
1 Tbsp applesauce (or vegetable oil)
1 Tbsp butter or margarine (you really want to use butter here)
1 large egg
Any chocolate you like. Dark chocolate will give a more bitter taste, so if you want sweet go with milk or semi-sweet chocolate. You could also add vanilla (I was out).
Preheat a pan or skillet and drop a small ‘pat’ of butter. (Just a LITTLE bit is fine – this adds flavor and thins out the batter a little.) Mix wet ingredients in a bowl. (Egg, butter, applesauce). Whisk together, then add dry ingredients. Mix well (mixer not needed, just do it by hand.) Pour batter in pan as you like – I started small to ‘test’ then got bigger. Makes 4-6 PanCrepes.
It’s almost Valentine’s Day! Which, when I was in my 20s, I really thought was just a “Hallmark holiday”, even though I was in a committed relatinoship at the time. I felt, like many people do, that every day should be a day – “the” day – you tell your loved ones what you feel about them, what you appreciate about them. While I still sort-of feel that way, meaning I put no pressure on my husband to show up with jewelry or take me to dinner, I must say that having kids changed my thoughts a little.
My son has my heart. Every day, all the time. One of the most enjoyable parts of having a little one is the holidays, or special treats when we’re able to give them to him. Probably the BEST thing is all of the “firsts” you get to be present for, and that includes paintings, writing valentines, and so forth. As a mom, this Valentine’s Day is a day I’ve looked forward to with great anticipation. We have been secretly making gifts for Daddy using Pinterest ideas and some of our own creativity. Little Dude has drawn love notes for people in our family and tomorrow we get to distribute them. It’s the sweetest thing! And, something I have learned, is that small children know how to love better than ANY of us. They get it. They get it like we never will. I’m so proud of my sweet boy, and his love and sensitivity for others, and of course I want to encourage and foster that in him.
So… still not a romantic holiday in my book, but I’m totally on board with loving it up on Valentine’s Day.
The way I show my love is through food. I enjoy cooking – particularly baking – for my loved ones. I created my own recipe for tomorrow’s Valentine’s breakfast. What follows here is a happy accident.
Valentine’s Apple Pie Croissants Fluffy Tarts
Yeah, so, I had the brilliant idea to do something semi-homemade, like Sandra Lee. (Don’t you love her? I just love her.) One of my favorite, super easy, dessert or breakfast add-ons is skillet apples. Cut up an apple into chunks, cook in butter, add cinnamon and some sweetener, and VOILA! Basically pie filling you can eat with eggs or ice cream, whatever you like. So I thought I’d stuff some pre-made crescent rolls with the filling and my family would hail me as the loving genius that I am.
I’m not going to name names, but instead of getting the more expensive, name-brand crescents, I purchased the store brand. Twenty cents cheaper and “it’s the same thing”, I said to myself. Big no-no in cooking, in my opinion, is cheaping out. A lot of times those costly ingredients cost more for a reason. Yes, you can go generic sometimes but other times you’re paying less because the quality is less. This was one of those times.
I got home and assembled my ingredients:
Next, I heat a “pat” of butter – I just eyeball, it’s probably about a tablespoon – in the skillet:
Add the apples, sweetener, (sugar is best but I used Stevia this time), and as much cinnamon as you like. I like a lot. You know in movies, when Italian Mobsters say “Fuggedaboutit” (sp, obviously) ? Well, one of my favorites of all time is Donnie Brasco, I just so thoroughly enjoy Al Pacino’s Lefty Ruggiero character, it’s beyond explanation. His is the best accent, the best wardrobe, very best “fuggedaboutit” in the film. And friends, I have to tell you, if “fuggedaboutit” had a smell, it would smell like this. Moving on…
Everything’s going fine, I’m thinking I’m going to get this done in 15 minutes and have time to take a nap. Yay Super Mommy! And then, it happened. I peeled back the label on the crescent roll can, holding it as far away from me as possible becauseI am as jumpy as a chihuahua and I hate that “pop” sound. The label came right off, but no pop. I squeezed. Still no pop. Finally I got a large knife and tried to cut them open, but even that was a mess. After a few minutes of wrestling with it, I finally managed to pull the dough out. Unfortunately it was hot and not at all in any recognizable shape. Instead of croissants, I would have to make something else.
Light bulb! I pulled the dough apart and made six somewhat even balls. I sprayed my brand new muffin tin with Pam, and lined six muffin cups with the dough. Tarts! Pies? I don’t know, we’ll see. It’s better than wasting my fuggedaboutit apples, AmIRight?
I quickly – hurriedly, even – filled the dough ball wads with apple goodness and put them in to my preheated (350 degrees) oven for 10 minutes.
The outcome? Better than I could have hoped, all things considered. They are like quiche without egg, like tarts if tart makers allowed a “home-style crust” option. They taste wonderful, and I was still able to get that nap!
They’re buttery, crisp on the outside, soft in the middle and filled with warm apple cinnamon LOVE. Sweet and tangy and everything I want my Valentine’s breakfast to be. This is why cooking is so wonderful! It’s magical, a true adventure… and so are love and mommy-hood.
We celebrated my dad’s 60th birthday last week. I volunteered to make the cake, because for me, that’s the dream job. The coveted task. When birthdays come around I’m like the kid in the front row in school who knows they know all the answers – throwing my hands up going “ooh! pick me, pick me!” Thankfully my friends and family are willing and even happy to hand this particular task to me. They’re thankful to scratch it off the list, and I am giddy with ideas and anticipation. This one is a big deal, too, the big 6-0. Actually I don’t know that 60 means anything special, but milestones do feel more special than the rest, don’t they? So I set to work brainstorming ideas for the perfect cake (or cupcakes, or chocolate fountain, or tiny butterscotch animals playing croquet, I’m open to ALL inspiration in this stage of the process.)
It didn’t take long for me to land on an idea. My dad’s a cool guy. A former marine and bodybuilder, now Sunday School teacher and true maverick, he reminds me of dark-haired “Hannibal” from The A-Team, with a more “Magnum, P.I.” face. I have so many childhood memories of my dad, eating Butter Pecan ice cream in bed at night. Or sometimes after a celebratory dinner he’d bring it out. It’s a lifelong favorite of his. Surely there MUST be a way to incorporate this into his birthday cake! What a brilliant idea, I patted myself on the back.
Pinterest helped a little, as did Google. But after searching a while and not coming up with any recipe that struck my fancy, I decided to just “do it myself.” For me, especially in baking, this means I’m going into mad scientist mode. The good news is, I’m confident in my abilities and I do seem to have a knack for it, so very seldom does an experiment go horribly, terribly wrong. I put an old mix CD my brother made for me and set to work. (It’s mostly Evanescence, if you must know.)
If the mix of fragrances in the kitchen was any indication, this would be good.
Well, it wasn’t good. No, not good, but downright yummy. Now, I do think I’m biased, so I was still nervous about my dad’s reaction. The rest of the guests, too, but mainly Dad. I didn’t want to associate his up-until-now favorite flavor with something unappetizing. Happy to report that he loved it. The cake was GONE quickly after the candles were blown out. In fact, I received some texts the next day from party guests asking if I had any left that they could come and pick up. Yes, the cake – or pie? – looks homemade, but if you didn’t grow up with homemade cakes, you don’t know what you’ve missed. “That look about it” is what my mom affectionately says – it means I made it with my two hands, my mind, my heart, my soul and creativity. It’s a delicious gift that’s also a part of me. So I’m fine with the look.
What’s that line? … I love it when a plan comes together.
Reading the title causes me to immediately sing (in my head) “The Heart of the Matter” by Don Henley, except with the word meat in it. Anyone else? Bueller?
Primal/Paleo is difficult for me some days. I crave potato chips when I’m watching a movie with my family. Stress makes me want to pick up some french fries and ice cream and lose myself in their salty, sweet, carb-filled comfort. I walk past the bakery and the scent of baguettes stops me, mid-stride. The smell is enough to make me weak in the knees and question my resolve. Thankfully, some days (the majority, I’d say) are easy.
Today my husband was home for lunch, so we had sirloin cooked in Plugra butter (the BEST butter, if you ask me) with fresh steamed green beans. There was dark chocolate after.
Today was an easy day. Today was delicious, squared.
When I looked in my thesaurus at synonyms for “meat”, I found words like “core”, “crux”, and “essence”. Fitting, I thought, since meat really is the center of a Primal dieter’s food pyramid. Protein and fats, amino acids, iron, all found naturally in steak and all good reasons to include it in your weekly meal plan. I have found that without the extra starches, my runs are easier, my sinus issues have disappeared, and my skin is less acne-prone. Beyond that, the thing that astounds me, is that my recovery after hard workouts is off the charts. I ran sprints this morning, and I’m getting faster and faster at it, and my body is adapting incredibly well. I don’t have that “thickness” in my chest, I’m not gasping for air, in between sets. As a woman, I feel compelled to mention that my belly looks much less bloated than it used to. I know that’s superficial, but hey, nobody wants to put on their jeans to find that they look pregnant (when they aren’t), you know?
Now, I’ll admit, most of my life I have identified as a “meat and potatoes” girl. This is still true. I love meat. I love potatoes. I grew up eating celebratory dinners with my parents, family, and friends, at various steakhouses. I always got a big steak and I always ordered a baked potato on the side. However, asked to choose between the two for the rest of my life, steak is the obvious choice. A good steak is an amazing thing. It’s so filling and satisfying, I don’t even miss the potatoes. A good baked potato, even with lots of toppings, without a good steak, on it’s best day is just “meh”. Am I right?
I’m enjoying all this cooking. I’m thrilled to have found something that satisfies my foodie taste-buds, satisfies my nutritional needs as an athlete, and satisfies my vanity as a woman. If you’re thinking about trying Primal Blueprint, go for it. The benefits far outweigh a few potatoes. Or breadsticks. Or bagels…