The Pizza That (FINALLY) Broke My Water

For me, being pregnant was all kinds of awesome.  From the moment we found out we were expecting we were completely in love with the tiny little miracle that had just checked into a womb at the Coke Four Seasons.   In addition to that, I had also fallen in love with choosing names, creating our dream nursery, visiting Dairy Queen once a week, never having to suck in my stomach, and living in yoga pants and flip-flops the final three months (along with the first six).  I never had morning sickness, never had to stop wearing my rings, never grew a moustache and didn’t turn into a complete hormonal mess (well, no more of a mess than my usual state).  Yes, for me, pregnancy was *super* awesome.

The days, weeks and months ticked by; April 16^th was fast approaching.  We were beyond excited.  The only thing more awesome and exciting than being pregnant is being unpregnant.

At our March 25^th appointment, we found out we were one centimeter dilated – hooray!  Right on schedule.  We were past our “weekly appointment” stage, and our midwife decided we should come back in a few days.  We were eager to see what progress had been made.  Our next few appointments went something like this:

-         April 1^st: one centimeter.
-         April 5^th: one centimeter.
-         April 8^th: one centimeter.
-         April 10^th: one centimeter.
-         April 15^th: one centimeter.

Yes, the day before D-Day, and we were still at one centimeter.  I was having serious, lengthy discussions with then-named Baby C about the importance of arriving on time (this, from a woman who was perpetually 10 minutes late for everything before having children).  I explained to Baby C that mama is notoriously challenged in the punctuality department.  I started thinking that this was God’s way of impressing the importance of timeliness upon me.  Nice one, Big Guy.

At our appointment on April 18^th, our midwife let us know she was perfectly fine with us going one week past our due date, but then they would induce.  I was completely and adamantly against induction; not because I’m some hippy who just wanted things to happen on their own (although that was part of it), but because I absolutely terrified of being induced.  I had learned enough from friends, birthing class and horrifying mommy blogs to know that the last thing I wanted was someone cramming a knitting needle up my hoo-ha to break my water, then “kick-starting” labor with an IV bag full of the worst contractions ever, thankyouverymuch.

So we left the appointment, scheduled to come back the next day to see if we were any further dilated.  I had another very serious conversation with Baby C.  Something along the lines of, “You have seven days to get here or you’re grounded until you’re 30.”

Friday’s appointment rolled around.  We were now three days past our due date.  I remember my midwife asking me if it would make me feel better if she just lied and said we were dilated 2 centimeters, wink-wink nod-nod.  I said yes.  And with that, the induction was “tentatively” scheduled for the 24^th.

I started maternity leave.  I waddled miles and miles around the block.  I bounced on an exercise ball.  I ate spicy food.  I tried dancing in my living room.  I attempted some maternity yoga that ended with me ass-over-tea kettle and laughed at by three of our four cats.  I’m pretty sure I even heard my husband’s stupid parrot laughing at me.  Yes, we did everything (and I mean everything) we could think of to encourage labor.  Baby C’s response was always a series of kicks to my ribcage, followed by an elbow to the bladder and some wicked heartburn.    

Saturday, April 20^th.  Still plenty of time.  We went to Publix to pick up the ingredients for our pizza, which we make every Saturday night.  When we were checking out, our regular cashier (with her endearing Bostonian accent) asked us the same question she asked every week, “When ah yah due?!”  Tonight, my response was, “LAST TUESDAY.”  She smiled and said, “Take the bumpy road home tonight and pack yah hospital bag, that baby’s comin’.”

So we took the bumpy road.  We made pizza, extra red pepper flakes.  I poured a glass of red wine (at four days late, the kid was done baking).  We stuffed our faces, and watched an old horror movie.

At 2:30am, I got up for the 47^th time that night to pee.  I sat down, and started thinking, “Good grief, how much water did I drink?”  Then I realized what had happened…

I quietly and calmly awoke Evan, and told him my water broke.  Then I did what I’m sure most women going into labor do: I took a shower, shaved my legs, mopped the house and emptied the dishwasher.  I also called the maternity ward (I never wanted to be one of those women who goes to the hospital umpteen times thinking she’s in labor) and just like a Verona Beach retiree, I could hear Rod Roddy’s voice telling us to COME ON DOOOOOOWN!  We were the next contestants on, “Guess How Dilated You Are!”

We arrived around 4:30am, and were taken to maternity triage.  Another girl, probably 30ish weeks along with the most horrific morning sickness ever, came in right behind us.  There, in the 30x30 room, separated only by little curtains, we got to listen to her chorus of vomiting for half an hour before the triage nurse came in to see if I needed to stay.  Yes, even though I was sitting in a puddle of amniotic fluid (on a pee pad; yes, all dignity is out the window when you embark on the adventure of having children) we still needed to decide if Baby C was really on the way.

The nurse decided we’d start the first round of “Guess How Dilated You Are!”  By now, Baby C had dropped so low that it was nearly impossible to get to my cervix (don’t worry; this is about as TMI as it gets today).  When the nurse finally found it, the pain was so intense that I had one of those Linda Blair in The Exorcist moments.  I apologized, knowing the nurse had probably heard and seen much worse.  She just smiled and said, “Don’t worry honey, you’re three centimeters dilated!”  Now, that might not seem like much, but after holding steady at one centimeter for what felt like six weeks, we were excited.

Unfortunately, the poor girl across the curtain got to hear my momentary possession.  I could almost see her second thoughts about childbirth.  Here I was, not even really in labor, practically climbing the walls and wailing in pain.

6:30am – Contractions start.  Not too bad, but not something I’d want to experience on the reg.  All back labor, thanks to Baby C’s headfirst plunge into the birth canal.

8:00am – Still three centimeters.  Contractions getting stronger.

9:00am – Still three centimeters.  Pitocin started.  Extreme terror sets in.

9:15am – Triage nurse comes in, increases pitocin to 3mL.

9:30am – STILL. THREE. CENTIMETERS.  Pitocin increased to 5mL.

10:00am – Sigh.  Still three.  Pitocin increased to 7mL.

10:15am – Contractions getting super strong.  The last four hours have been spent bouncing on an exercise ball between bouts of what I’m certain sounds like a pelican squawk.  Women with children, you know what I’m talking about.  The nurse comes in – again – and increases the pitocin to 9mL.

10:30am – Nurse comes in.  I give her the death stare.  Evan laughs at me.  Pitocin goes to 11mL.

11:00am – More death stares, more pitocin.  Evan may also have a few fractured fingers.

11:30am – Sadistic nurse sent by the Anti-Christ comes in.  Sees my face.  Wisely decides against more pitocin.

Noon – Time for round two…FOUR CENTIMETERS DILATED!  Now I’m allowed to lay down, hallelujah.  We’re officially in “active” labor (I don’t know what they called the last three hours of pitocin hell…) and we can “expect” to dilate one centimeter every hour until we hit the big 1-0.

Here’s the thing about contractions…they are completely unexplainable.  There’s no way I could put into words what the feeling is like; it’s painful, but not like any pain you’ve experienced.  I think because it’s pain with a purpose.  Oh yes, it hurts, but once the contraction is over you enter a brief (very, very brief) state of euphoria.  You’re hooked up to the monitor, and you can watch your contraction lines going…you can see how long they are, and how strong they are.  The monitor picks up the strength just seconds before you really feel it.  I remember lying on my side, watching that stupid green line as it would dramatically jump into Mount Everest territory.  I would prepare myself for what was coming next.  And then it was over, and you could recover, even if it was only a few seconds.

We had decided against the epidural long ago, after watching a terrifying video during birthing class and reading some horrific posts on a few mommy blogs (stay away from the too-serious mommy blogs, ladies…)  Those few seconds of recovery helped to reaffirm that I could do this; it wasn’t that bad.

Around the time of The Green Line of Torture, my midwife came in for the third round of “Guess How Dilated You Are!”  It was 1:00p.  She sat down at the table to do some of our paperwork, and listen to me during the contractions.  One contraction later, and she decided it was time to play.  It had been an hour since active labor began; I was expecting to be at five, if we were lucky, six.  In my mind, I kept thinking that I had six more hours of this before sweet Baby C would arrive.  I was feeling t-i-r-e-d.

My widwife checked, and her face lit up like we’d hit the $10,000 slot on Plinko…

TEN CENTIMETERS!

Holy cow.  All I could think was, “That was fast, that was fast, that was fast!”  I also wanted to throw confetti and spray champagne on people.  It was time.  Like really, REALLY, time, to start The Big Show.

The next hour was a blur, except for the end.  We were in the homestretch.  Baby C’s gigantic noggin was out; shoulders were out, just one more push and…STOP.  My midwife asked me to stop.  You want me to what?!  You spent the last 45 minutes asking me to push, push, push, push some more, breathe and push again, and now…just stop?

She asked me to stop so that Evan could be the person to deliver Baby C; so that he would be the first to hold our sweet baby, the first to know what our baby was.  Here we go…

One.  Last.  Push. 

I will never, ever forget Evan’s face when he erupted with, “It’s a BOY!”  I will never forget that instant feeling of love, of accomplishment, of pride, of joy, of peace, of family.  My goodness, your heart will literally explode.

Miles Clark Coke, 7lbs. 11oz., born April 21st, 2013

Love at first sight!

April 23, 2013 -- The two men who melt my heart.

People will tell you throughout the journey of starting a family that you will never feel another love like this; that you never knew you could love like this.  I used to chuckle at the whole sap-fest of it all…the Lifetime movie stories my mom friends would tell me.  And then, we became parents.  Everything you’ve ever heard is absolutely, positively, 110% true.  There is no love like this.  It will overwhelmingly consume you.  You will know God in a new and amazing and incredible way, because you have experienced a miracle unlike any other.  There aren’t enough words in the world to express how becoming a parent changes you, for the better.  No, it isn’t always easy, but it is completely worth it.  Because for every long night of rocking in a chair with your sick baby, every hour of crying when teething begins, every ounce of spit-up dripping down the back of your shirt (again!), there are ten thousand moments of giggles, smiles, new discoveries, snuggles and love.  Your child will look at you in a way that will fill you with fear, with the realization that you are responsible for this tiny person – for their well being, their safety, their life.  But, you will also fill with complete joy, unconditional love, overwhelming thankfulness, and gratitude at the blessing you were given.

To say, “a love like no other” is really just the beginning of the adventure.

PS – Here’s the link to our pizza recipe: Makin' a Pizza!

Thanks for hanging in there!

Nap Time and Pound Cake

Like many soon-to-be new moms, I had lots of plans for my maternity leave.  Days of snuggling with our little bundle, then while he napped, I would have a chance to organize the linen closet, finish painting our bathroom, put together his fabulous baby book, and most certainly prepare delicious meals and bake oodles of goodies.  Yes, these 10-12 weeks would be just like a Lifetime movie.  Right?  Right…

During the first few weeks, I was thankful and blessed to have meals we’d frozen ahead, and wonderful friends and neighbors who kindly brought over food for us as well.  The linen closet remains a disaster.  Our bathroom will never be finished (to be fair, it’s been in this state of limbo for about 10 months).  Much like showering daily, I didn’t actually begin cooking until the near the end of week two.

Once I had gotten the hang of cooking in stages (starting dinner at 4pm, knowing when Miles would probably be up to eat next, so I could manage to get dinner on the table at a somewhat reasonable time) I decided to attempt baking.

Knowing that my sweet little boy can have a somewhat unpredictable sleeping/feeding schedule when he hits a growth spurt, I thought that cookies would be a fairly safe choice for my first baking attempt post-baby.  Seems easy enough; mix a few ingredients, pop them in the oven for 10-15 minutes a batch.  Simple.  Until I realized that baking four or five batches of cookies (or attempting to) actually belongs on the “ways to wake up your newborn” list.  Putting cookies in the oven inevitably calls for a diaper change, feeding, or general fussy time.  And so, you’ll spend the next hour or two running around like a crazed woman: checking the oven, checking diapers, burping a baby, yelling at the dog (why does she follow us everywhere?!)  And you’ll probably burn your cookies, too.  It will not be the relaxing baking experience you had imagined.

The key to baking and parenting a newborn simultaneously (besides waiting until you’re husband is home so you can have a few glasses of wine while baking…) is to choose a baked good that requires a longer baking time; and something you only need to remove from the oven once.  Preferably while baby is sleeping.  I know this for a fact, after my attempts to remove dinner while hauling Miles around the BabyBjorn ended with a pulled back muscle (but the kid didn’t fall in the oven, so we’ll call that a win). 

My two favorite desserts with lengthy bake times and little follow-up needed once popped in the oven are cheesecake and pound cake.  I have yet to bake a cheesecake while on leave; those require more prep, so we’ll save that for week eight.  But a pound cake is a great choice…pretty simple to throw together, and one of those “no fail” recipes that everyone loves.

Sour Cream Pound Cake

Ingredients:

3 cups cake flower, plus a little extra for flouring the pan

2 ½ cups white sugar

¼ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

2 sticks butter, softened

6 large eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

8 oz. sour cream

*You’ll also need a bundt pan.

Directions:

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees.  Butter your bundt pan, then sprinkle with flour and set aside.  Sift together all dry ingredients and set aside.  On medium speed, cream your butter and sugar together until fluffy.  Add eggs one at a time, then add your vanilla extract.  Sift half of your dry mixture over your butter and egg mixture, then gently fold with a spatula.  Add your sour cream, and continue stirring gently.  Add the remaining dry mixture, stirring until the flour is completely incorporated.  Pour batter into your bundt pan, then gently tap on the counter to remove air bubbles.  Bake for one hour, or until the top is golden brown and a knife or skewer inserted comes out clean.  Allow cake to cool for 10 minutes on a rack before removing.

Tip for removing your cake: once flipped onto your plate or dish, gently tap the bottom of the bundt pan with a spoon or knife handle before lifting.

Marbled Sour Cream Pound Cake: I love a good marbled pound cake, and that’s easy to make with this recipe.  Melt four or five semi-sweet chocolate baking squares in a double boiler (or in the microwave; just set your power to medium, and stir every 30 seconds until melted).  Take about half the cake batter, and in a separate bowl, combine it with the chocolate.  Alternate vanilla and chocolate cake batter in your bundt pan, swirl with a butter knife, bake as usual.

We like to serve our pound cake with fresh berries, and a decent amount of Reddi Whip or sprinkling of confectioner’s sugar.

While I cannot become the Super Suzy Homemaker I’d envisioned while on leave, I have found that enjoying every minute that I can with Miles far trumps testing out a fancy new recipe or organizing towels by size and color (although I have managed to put together an impressive baby book; that was very important to us, as Miles will need to know all about the first time he peed on me, and I’ll need to show all his embarrassing bathtub photos to his future girlfriend).   

In reality, just getting a hot meal on the table is accomplishment enough in a hectic day.  Maternity leave has given me a newfound respect for stay at home moms…you ladies are forces to be reckoned with, for sure.  Happy baking!

Meatless Mondays

Over the past 9+ years, I've found ways to improve the way we eat in the Coke House.  I've replaced ground beef with ground turkey,white pasta with whole wheat pasta, white bread with whole grain, and white potatoes with sweet potatoes.  I add vegetables to things like my turkey meat loaf, to sneak in extra servings of those wonderful vitamins and minerals.  We don't buy potato chips, candy or cookies; we don't drink soda or caffeine (save for my daily cup of joe), and I no longer sweeten our iced tea.  Instead of ice cream, it's frozen yogurt...and instead of regular, fruit on the bottom yogurt, it's Greek.

Right now, you're probably thinking there's no possible way I could make this any more fun than it already is.  Well, guess what you've forgotten about?

MEATLESS MONDAYS! 

That's right...nearly every Monday, dinner is meat-free.  And, because it's been such a success (seriously), I thought I'd share two of my all-time fave Meatless Monday recipes with you.  Both are delicious, easy to prepare, and will leave you with enough leftovers for a second meal.  Perfect, right?

Before I share these coveted recipes, let me preface with this statement: we are not vegan, vegetarian, or ovo-lacto-whateverarians.  This is one meal a week with no meat.  Trust me; if Publix puts New York strips on sale, I'm going to by an 18oz. package and we're going to spend Saturday night eating delicious, grilled cow flesh, which I'll most likely pair with a giant baked potato loaded with butter, Colby Jack cheese, sour cream and bacon bits.  Oh, and a salad.  You see, it's okay to splurge...if it's just that, an occasional treat.  Besides, Meatless Monday makes it totally okay for me to have a steak, or make a pizza, or eat an Oreo Brownie Explosion Sundae from Dairy Queen over the weekend.

The Cokes could never, ever, ever give up meat entirely.  As my wise cousin Wally once said, "If God didn't want us to eat cows, why would He make them so delicious?!"  And so, with that in mind, here are my top two meatless meals...enjoy!

Roasted Spaghetti Squash Lasagna

Ingredients:

One 3lb.+ spaghetti squash

2+ cups tomato sauce

Ricotta cheese

Mozzarella cheese

Salt and Pepper

Olive Oil

*Yes, I realize there are missing "measurements" in my ingredients.  I don't conform to The Man's request of tablespoons and cups all the time.

Directions: Roast your spaghetti squash.  Oh, how do you do that, you ask?  Cut the squash in half lengthwise (tip: it'll be really hilarious and challenging the first time you try it) brush it with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and black pepper, then roast it face up at 350 degrees for 45-60 minutes.  Once your squash is roasted, let it cool a few minutes, then remove the flesh with a fork.  You'll find the flesh pulls apart in spaghetti-like strings; hence the name.

In an 8x8 baking dish, place your first layer of spaghetti squash.  Pour some tomato sauce over it, sprinkle on some mozzarella cheese, dollop some ricotta, and repeat the process one more time.  Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes and voila - dinner is served!  

Mozzarella: I buy Sargento whole milk mozzarella in the block, because it's gooey and delicious.  But you can use pre-shredded out of a bag, too.  I normally shred half the block (16oz.) and end up shredding more, to completely cover the top of the lasagna.  I also top the lasagna with some chopped, fresh parsley.

Sauce: If I haven't had time to make my own sauce (see earlier post on sauces), I buy Barilla Arrabiatta.  It's a spicy marinara, and it's awesome in this dish.  It lends well to the sweetness of the spaghetti squash.  If I'm using jarred sauce, I'll use the entire jar.

Polenta and Bean Casserole

This is a modified Weight Watchers recipe.

Ingredients:

One can black beans, rinsed and drained

One can Ro-Tel tomatoes

16 oz. frozen corn kernals

16 oz. frozen lima beans

1 yellow squash, chopped

1 zucchini squash, chopped

1 cup salsa

Chili Powder

Ground Cumin

16 oz. tube polenta, sliced (available in produce section)

Shredded cheese (we prefer Colby Jack)

Directions: Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Combine all ingredients except the polenta and cheese in a large Dutch oven, bringing to a low boil.  Reduce heat to low, and simmer while covered 10 minutes.  Transfer to a large baking dish (9x13 pan) then arrange polenta slices on top.  Bake 25 minutes; remove, sprinkle with cheese, bake an additional 3 minutes.  Allow to stand 10 minutes before serving.

We add sour cream and chopped green onion to ours.  It's like a Tex-Mex Bean Fiesta in a bowl!  Really yummy, easy to put together, and perfect for a busy weeknight. 

Explaining Cobbler to a Yankee

Of all the desserts I love - and trust me, there are A LOT of them - I must admit, peach cobbler holds a special place in my heart.  Cobbler is one of those "any season" desserts, since you can use just about any fruit that's in season, but there's nothing quite like peach cobbler.  For me, it embodies the sweet, spiced, warm memories of Fall...there wasn't a Thanksgiving that my mom didn't make her famous peach cobbler.  Warm out of the oven with a heaping scoop of vanilla bean ice cream...it was heavenly!

I remember the first time I made a peach cobbler for my husband (the Yankee).  First, I tried to explain what a cobbler was.  Much to my chagrin, Evan's response was something along the lines of, "So it's like an upside down pie?"  Now, that sentence would make any Southern girl clutch her pearls...an upside-down pie?!  No, honey.  A cobbler is nothing like a pie.  But bless your Yankee heart, sometimes we forget you don't have biscuits "up north", and our Southern ways can be confusing.  Let me explain...

My husband has been an eager taste-tester for Southern cooking from the day we met.  The first time I had him over for dinner, I fried porkchops.  Don't you know you're someone special if you're getting bone-in, double-dredged fried porkchops?  Evan sat at the table, and I proudly placed the heaping plate of comfort in front of him...and the first words out of his mouth were, "I didn't know you could FRY a porkchop!"  Heaven help him, I knew then that we had a looong way to go.

About six months after that, we stopped by his parent's house one afternoon.  Evan hadn't seen them much over those six months, but I'll tell you that when we first started dating, he weighed 135 pounds soaking wet. But again, that was before he met me.  The first words out of his mother's mouth that afternoon were, "What have you done to my son?!"  And my simple reply?  "Why, I fed him of course."  Again, those Yankees are unfamiliar with our Southern ways!

Nine plus years and 30 pounds later...Evan is quite the fan of the cobbler.  And so, without further ado, I'm going to share my famous peach cobbler recipe.  Enjoy!

Filling Ingredients

8 large peaches, cut into wedges (I don't peel mine)

1/4 cup light brown sugar

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon cornstarch

Spices as you like.  I use cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and a dash of cloves.  Or, if I'm especially lazy, just use pumpkin pie spice (shhh...that's one of my lazy baker secrets).

Biscuit Ingredients

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup white sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

3/4 stick cold, unsalted butter, chopped into pieces

1/4 cup boiling water

Directions

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.  Toss all filling ingredients together in a large bowl, then pour into a two quart casserole dish and bake for 10 minutes.  While the filling is baking, blend together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt.  Mix in the butter with your fingers, until mixture is crumbly.  Stir in boiling water until just combined.  When filling is done, remove from oven and top with spoonfuls of your biscuit topping (it will spread as it bakes).  Pop in the over for another 25-30 minutes, or until your crust is golden brown.

Serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, or all by itself.  Right out of the casserole dish, if you're like me... :)

Happy baking!

Bakin' with Bacon

The title of this post should provide an instant indication of how awesome these recipes will be...because they happen to include a special guest appearance by my all-time favorite breakfast meat: BACON.  Well, unless we're talking biscuits and gravy, then my favorite breakfast meat becomes sausage.  But, unlike its crumbly (yet delicious) step-sibling of breakfast, bacon has two of the qualities I find important in a dessert: salt and crunch.

People have mixed responses to bacon infused desserts.  Some are skeptical; others are curious, and a good handful know that if there's one way to improve upon anything, it's to add bacon.  Think about it...your tomato and mayonnaise sandwich seems a little dull, right?  Add bacon.  Your salad just doesn't have nearly enough protein or crunch?  Bacon would go nicely.  Maple donut seems a bit bland?  Crumble some bacon on top, and you've got a convenient breakfast ring of pancakes, syrup and bacon - to go!  The porky possibilities are endless.

A few weeks ago, we finally took the plunge and had our first bacon baking experience: Maple Bacon Bourbon Cupcakes.  They were just as delicious and sinfully decadent as you're imagining.  A simple (from scratch) chocolate cupcake topped with a maple bourbon frosting, with bacon crumbles on top.  We also added bacon and bacon drippings to the batter prior to baking.  The result was a Kentucky Derby breakfast brunch in one sweet little cupcake.

Be still, my heart!  And arteries.  And cholesterol.

Most recently, we decided to go the brownie route.  Brownies are, quite possibly, my favorite baked good.  There's nothing quite like a gooey, warm, chocolatey, fattening hunk of brownie.  And what could possibly be done to improve upon one of the oven's most perfect desserts than bacon?

Behold...the Caramel Bacon Brownie!

(insert delicious photo here...)

While I wish I'd managed to snap a photo of the entire pan, they just didn't last long enough.  So, imagine a delicous brownie with swirls of caramel, infused with bacon.  Mmmm.

In fact, moments before I wrote this post, I found myself picking the crumbs of caramel, bacon and chocolate out of the brownie pan.   Anyone ever see the episode of Sex and the City, where Miranda can't stop eating the chocolate cake?  She goes as far as to throw the entire chocolate cake in the garbage can, in an effort to banish the unwanted calories.  A few minutes later, she sneaks back into the kitchen, and takes a hunk of cake out of the garbage can.  Then, in utter disgust, she grabs a bottle of Dawn dish soap, squirts it all over the cake and slams the lid to the garbage can.  She then calls Carrie to revel in the embarassment of eating "garbage can cake."  Yes, folks...that's where I was headed moments ago...garbage can cake territory.

Personally, the brownies were better than the cupcakes, so that's the recipe I'm sharing with you today.  I hope your physician thanks me later...

Caramel Bacon Brownies

Brownie Ingredients:

1 cup sugar

1 cup flour

6 oz. bittersweet chocolate

1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

8 tablespoons salted butter, cut into pieces

3 large eggs, room temperature

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon almond extract (optional, but delicious)

Bacon Caramel Ingredients:

One package maple bacon, fried crisp (yes, fried)

6 tablespoons salted butter, cut into pieces

1 cup sugar

1/3 cup heavy cream

Directions: First, we need to make the caramel...it needs some time to cool before getting plopped into all that brownie goodness.  Fry two strips of bacon in a medium non-stick saucepan, then remove (you can fry the rest in a larger frying pan, or if you prefer, bake it at 400 degrees for about 25 minutes - DO NOT MICROWAVE).  Once you've removed the bacon, add your heavy cream (to the bacon drippings), then set aside to cool.  In a medium sautee pan, melt the sugar over medium-high heat.  When the sugar has melted and turned an amber color, and the butter and heavy cream mixture.  Stir until butter has melted, then set aside to cool.  Crumble the rest of your bacon, and set aside.

Next, preheat your oven to 350 degrees.  Melt the bittersweet chocolate in a double boiler (or microwaveable bowl), then transfer to a large bowl and add the cocoa powder, mixing well.  Add the eggs, sugar, vanilla (and almond extract, if using), and then the flour.  Stir until combined.

In a greased and floured 8x8 pan (hint: just use Baker's Joy), pour half the brownie batter.  Drop spoonfulls of the caramel, then a few sprinkles of the chopped bacon.  Add the remaining batter, drop the remaining caramel, and sprinkle the remaining bacon.  Swirl with a knife.

Bake for 35-45 minutes (mine took the full 45 and were still gooey and soft).  Caramel will not seem set when brownies are removed from oven; it will firm up a bit after cooling for about an hour.

These are a perfect blend of sweet, salty and rich chocolate...and definitely "eat with a fork" brownies.

Enjoy!

Getting Sauced

Getting sauced in the kitchen is one of my favorite things to do (insert wine joke here).  Very much like myself, sauces add flavor, spice, zest, personality and pizzazz to just about any boring dish.  

I'm going to share a few of my favorite sauces with you, and how I use them...but before I do that, I'm going to tell you a saucy story about my wonderful hubby.  Rated PG, of course.

A while back, I told you about pizza night.  Years ago, and sometimes even now when I'm not feeling incredibly lazy, we make our own pizza sauce.  We'd just get the plain, canned tomato sauce, and add our own fresh herbs from our garden, along with a few spices, and some cayenne pepper, because we do like to keep things spicy in the Coke house (wink!).  Normally, I handle the sauce making.  I love my husband, and I appreciate his culinary efforts endlessly, but there are certain kitchen tasks I just cannot completely trust him with yet...and one of those tasks is anything involving cayenne pepper.

One night he insisted on handling the sauce, and I finally caved.  He poured the plain sauce into the pot on the stove, and dug into the spice cabinet, not allowing me to see anything he was adding (he does the same thing with his turkey burgers - "super secret" recipe, no one can know what goes in).  He stooped over the pot, sauce beginning to bubble, and began chopping herbs and shaking jars.  Pretty soon, my stove was covered in oregano and parsley, and Evan was a whirling dervish cloud of garlic powder.  Despite the mess (which is reason number two I prefer to handle tasks involving seasoning and spicing) the sauce was really smelling heavenly, so I let it go.

We sauced the crust, topped it with our cheese and veggies, and popped it into the oven.  A glass and a half of merlot later, the timer buzzed and we were ready to chow down.  And we were hungry.  Ev sliced up the pie, plopped the piping hot, gooey mess onto our plates, and grabbed some silverware.  A quick blessing, and it was time to TCOB (for the few BTO fans who may be reading this).

I cut the perfect bite - the edge of a corner piece, cheese bubbling and slightly browned, veggies cascading down the side, and plenty of sauce, since I'm an "extra sauce" kind of gal (not a surprise, I know).  Chomp!

Oh man, it was hot...boiling hot, lava hot, 100 yard barefoot walk across an asphalt parking lot in Florida in an August heatwave hot.  "Gee," I thought, "I really should have let this cool down some before taking such a big bite."  Against my better judgement, I continued chewing.  And the heat did not subside.

Now, instead of having a mouthful of blazing hot asphalt, I thought I may have inadvertently used jalapeno peppers as a topping.  Nope, hotter.  Habanero?  Hotter still.  Scotch Bonnet?!  The heat was causing my eyes to water; I could feel my throat closing up, my sinuses becoming an endless waterfall of snot, and the skin on my lips melting right off of my face.  I looked at Evan, and he looked at me...and for that brief moment we shared the same thought: CHEESE AND CRACKERS, WHAT ARE WE EATING?!

Some of you may have spit the food out, and that's probably what I should have done, as it would have prevented the six hours of heartburn I suffered through later that night.  But, in an effort to support my husband's attempt at saucing the pizza, I swallowed.  After swallowing, our shared thought became my very vocal outcry.  I immediately went to the kitchen for a glass of milk.  There was no stinkin' way I could finish that pizza.

Evan knew it was too hot, and he profusely apologized.  But, lip skin be damned, he soldiered on and ate his pizza.  I distinctly remember him telling me, through huge mouthfuls of pizza and gulps of milk, "It's not so hot if you just keep eating...you just can't stop eating it.  Once you stop, the heat comes back.  Just keep chewing."  No sir.  I value my lip skin; my lips are one of my best features, and I wasn't going to have them marred by your "Cayenne Pepper SMD" - Sauce of Mass Destruction.

Since the Saucetastrophe of 2005, Evan has toned down his seasoning frenzy.  He likes to season with flare; grand sweeping gestures, sprinkling from high above the pan, just like they do on Food Network.  But, he's learned that you can accomplish the same thing with a pinch that you can with a hearty shake of the can.  Those hearty shakes are for herbs, not cayenne.  Then, a few years ago, we discovered Barilla's jarred Arrabiata sauce, and we've rarely made our own since then.  Arrabiata is a spicy marinara, and it's fabulous, with the perfect amount of heat (and my stove top doesn't even look like someone emptied their lawnmower bag all over it).

Sauces aren't just Italian, and the aren't just for pizza or pasta (although I will share my favorite quick Italian sauce for pasta).  A quick note on our recipes: we only use extra virgin olive oil; any sauce using chicken broth was made with fat free reduced sodium broth, and all sauces are made in a large sautee pan (with the exception of the first sauce).

So, without further ado, here are my top five sauces for busy weeknights...

Lemon Yogurt Sauce - Perfect for...fish, chicken, lean pork chops.

Ingredients:

1/3 cup plain yogurt (we prefer Greek)

2 tablespoons honey (we prefer orange blossom)

Juice of one lemon (we prefer yellow...ha, just making sure you're paying attention!)

1 teaspoon chopped fresh parsley (optional)

Salt and pepper to taste 

Directions: Whisk together in a bowl, then top your meat.  Simple, right?

Raspberry Balsamic Glaze - Perfect for...chicken or lean pork.

Ingredients:

1/3 cup seedless raspberry preserves (you can use with seeds as well, just floss really well after dinner)

2 tablespoons Balsamic vinegar

Sprinkle of thyme

Salt and pepper

Minced red onion, sauteed (optional)

Directions: If using red onion, sautee until tender, approximately 2-3 minutes on medium-high heat.  Reduce heat to medium-low, and add all remaining ingredients, whisking until combined.  Pour over your meat.  You can also cube or slice your meat, and toss it in the sauce.

Fig and Marsala Sauce - Perfect for: pork loin or lean cuts of beef.

Ingredients:

Medium Vidalia onion, sliced

10-12 figs, chopped

Three slices uncooked bacon, diced

8 oz. baby bella mushrooms, sliced

3/4 cup Marsala wine

1/2 cup chicken broth

2 tablespoons butter

Olive oil

Directions: On medium-high heat, sautee the onion, figs, bacon and mushrooms together until onions begin to carmelize.  Add wine, and cook until liquid has reduced to half.  Add broth, continue cooking an additional 2-3 minutes.  Remove from heat, add butter.  Pour over meat (include onions, mushrooms and figs - super yummy).  We only get this one a few times a year, when figs are in season.  This is from an Apron's recipe Publix had a couple years ago, they used a whole pork loin roasted with rosemary - superb!  We've found the sauce goes great with other cuts of meat as well.

Creamy Swiss Sauce - Perfect for: chicken, lean pork, or veggies.

Ingredients:

2 teaspoons olive oil

2 garlic cloves, minced

2 tablespoons minced Vidalia onion

2 tablespoons flour

1 cup chicken broth

1 cup skim or fat free milk

6 oz. Swiss cheese (we buy the block and shred it ourselves)

Splash of dry white wine (optional, but you can always just pour a glass for yourself)

Directions: Heat olive oil on medium heat, add onion and garlic, cook until onion is translucent.  Add flour, whisk until combined.  Add broth, milk and wine, bring to a boil, then remove from heat.  Add your cheese, stir until melted.  If serving over meat, pour.  If serving with veggies, add veggies to pan and stir to combine.  Great with broccoli, cauliflower and baby carrots.  This is from a Skinny Taste recipe for Chicken Divan, but we've found the sauce is great on its own or with veggies.

Lazy Pasta Sauce - Perfect for...pasta.  Use it with spaghetti, rotini, or as your lasagna sauce.

Ingredients:

28 oz. can crushed tomatoes (we use Tuttorosso - get the green label, it's the absolute best)

3 garlic cloves, smashed

4-6 plum tomatoes, chopped or sliced

1 pound hot Italian turkey sausage (we use Jennie-O)

16 oz. Ricotta cheese (you can use full fat, we go with part skim, and it's still delish)

Fresh basil

Directions: Remove sausage from casing, and cook until brown.  Add garlic, cook an additional 2-3 minutes on medium-high heat.  Reduce to medium-low, add chopped tomatoes, crushed tomatoes and ricotta.  Combine well, allow to simmer 5 minutes.  Top with chopped fresh basil.  This is my husband's all-time fave sauce, and it is beyond easy to throw together on a busy weeknight.  The Jennie-O sausage is so perfectly seasoned, we never have to add a thing to this sauce!

And there you have it...now you're in on my saucy secrets.  Cheers!

Makin' a Pizza!

The Cokes are pizza lovers; but, because I'm also super conscious about the food we eat (read: Weight Watchers brainwashed me forever...) we don't indulge in pizza very often.  Twice a month, always on a Saturday night, we'll make our own deep dish pizza at home.

I like eating out, but I love eating in.  I love eating in when it's a meal we've spent time perfecting; when we've created something that we truly do love because it has our favorite spices, flavors, etc.  And after a few years of experimenting, we have become the Pizza Masters.

It started off as a basic supreme pizza on a hand-tossed crust, and evolved into the deep dish vegetarian monster we have today.  I'm going to share the foundation for our recipe with you, but first, I thought I'd share a funny pizza story.  That's what you're really here for anyway, right?

Now, there are two funny pizza stories I could tell you.  The first involves Evan making the sauce, and consequently causing all of our taste buds to melt in a Mount Vesuvius frenzy of cracked red pepper.  The second involves Evan...well...makin' a pizza.  Because I have a few sauce recipes I'll be sharing down the road, I think I'll save the cracked red pepper tale, and go with what's behind door number two (lifetime supply of Turtle Wax!) :)

Evan asked me to marry him in August 2004, and two months later, we went on our first vacation together to Bryson City, NC (a combo engagement-birthday-Kristin is FINALLY 21-trip)...and PS, the "Kristin is FINALLY 21" is also a story to share...maybe I'll do a wine post one of these days.

I digress.  In this early-ish stage of our relationship, we weren't living together yet (we became heathens the following year) but we did spend most of our time together, and had started cooking dinner together as well.  One of the meals we'd done was, in fact, pizza.  We get our pizza dough in the Publix bakery...their fresh dough is fabulous, and waaay easier than making it yourself.  Back then, we were still in our "hand-tossed" phase, which meant lots of stretching, pulling, rolling, and yes, tossing the pizza dough into the air.

Back to vacation.  We'd arrived at our cabin after a 12 hour drive.  We were definitely ready for some R&R.  Evan decided to take a shower while I unpacked.  I made a few trips to the truck, bringing in bags and cleaning out the remains of our road trip, and each time I came into the bedroom I could hear Evan talking.  Now, I talk to myself frequently, so I thought nothing of it to hear Ev in there, scrubbing away and yammering on.  I tuned him out.

Finally, I brought the last suitcase to the bedroom, and began putting clothes away in the armoire.  My ears perked up as I heard what I thought was a jolly Italian man - in our bathroom.  I slowly opened the door, and tiptoed inside.  I stood there, staring at the shower curtain, positive the noise I'd heard was coming from that direction.  All of a sudden, the washcloth came flying up into the air above the shower, then sailed back down.  "Well that's a very strange way to shower", I thought to myself.  It happened a couple more times in silence, and then, I heard my jolly Italian man...

"I'M-AH MAKIN-AH PIZZA!"  (washcloth up, washcloth down)

Excuse me?  Did you say what I think you said?

"I'M-AH MAKIN-AH PIZZA!!!"  (washcloth up, washcloth down)

Oh yes, he did.  He said exactly what I think he said.

I stood in the bathroom, in awe and disbelief, as my fiancee of two months tossed "pizza dough" into the air while he showered.  I was in love!

From that day forward, every single pizza night in our house has started with the phrase, "I'm-ah makin-ah pizza!"  It's the kitchen equivalent of, "Gentlemen, start your engines!"

I'm sure my husband will be thrilled to know I've shared this story with you all.  Coincidentally, it was shared today in the same manner it's been shared in the past - after two glasses of shiraz. :) And now, because you've been so patient, here's how the Cokes do pizza...

Deeeep Dish Pizza

Ingredients

Pizza dough (no recipe, I'm lazy - go to the Publix bakery)

One jar of Barilla Arrabiata pasta sauce (still lazy - also, sauce story and recipe to follow)

One 16 oz. block of Sorrento whole milk mozzarella

Olive Oil (no measuring)  Hint: I am in l-o-v-e with the Crisco Olive Oil spray (like Pam, but better)

Parmesan Cheese (no measuring)

Italian Seasoning (you get the idea...)

Toppings

Directions

Preheat your oven according to the Publix directions.  Drizzle or spray your olive oil in a 9x9 pan.  Sprinkle parmesan cheese and Italian seasoning in the bottom of the pan, liberally.  Really liberally.  Then, when you think you have enough...add more parm.  Trust me, the crust will be fab.  Work your dough (punch, knead, stretch, whisper sweet nothings) into the pan, and bake for about 10 minutes.  While the dough is baking, prepare your toppings and shred the entire block of mozzarella cheese.

Once the dough is out (won't be done, but this helps to ensure it won't be raw in the middle) pour your sauce on top...all over, there's no crust, so we don't need to be polite.  Once the dough is sauced (like me - haha!) sprinkle one third of the cheese on top, then add all your toppings, and finish with the remainder of the cheese.  Sprinkle some parsley on top, and toss that puppy back in the oven for another 20-25 minutes.  You'll know it's done when it's oozing over the side of the pan, sizzling in the bottom of your oven.  We always let our pizza rest about five minutes before slicing.

Vegeterian Monster Toppings

We don't do sausage, pepperoni, ham, etc. on our pizza (anymore...sorry, Ev!).  We're a veggie-only household now.  Our faves?  In no particular order...Roma tomatoes, green pepers, Vidalia onion, portabello mushrooms, black olives, zucchini, yellow squash, broccoli and cauliflower, along with some fresh basil.  And sometimes, some spinach.  You should see the mess in the bottom of my oven!

Cheers! :)

Leftover Peanut Butter and Overripe Bananas

In our open-concept kitchen pantry (read: no doors or cabinets - totally open, and beautifully constructed by my hubby) we have what's called a "baking basket."  Let me see if I can find a photo...

There...top left corner, that's the baking basket!

 Of course I have to show off a little bit more...

 Aaand...done.

Have I mentioned how awesome it is being married to a handyman?  This also reminds me I should update the rest of our remodeling photos, now that the construction is finished.

Anyway, back to the basket.  So this baking basket holds exactly what you'd think: sprinkles, coconut flakes, chocolate chips, brown sugar, pecans...everything I need for holidays, birthdays and special occasions.  It gets used pretty frequently from October through December, then again from March through May.  After that, there comes a lull in baking.  But, in good Southern spirit (and with my mom's voice in the background reminding me that I should never waste anything) I'll haul that sucker down and take a peek at what's inside.  And that, my friends, is how many of my husband's all-time favorite cookie recipes are born.

Since "Baking Basket Day" began a few years ago, we've had some really tasty treats come out of this oven...all in oatmeal cookie form.  So today, I thought I'd share the coveted basic oatmeal cookie recipe that all my BBD wonders are made of...

Basic Oatmeal Cookies

Ingredients

1 cup light brown sugar

1 cup dark brown sugar

2 sticks unsalted butter, softened

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

3 cups rolled oats (aka "quick cooking" oats, in the oatmeal section)

2 cups all-purpose flour (wheat flour works, too)

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 eggs

Directions: Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.  In a medium bowl, combine the salt, baking powder, baking soda and flour.  Using a hand mixer in a medium bowl, or a stand mixer, cream together the butter, white and brown sugars, then add the eggs one at a time, then add the vanilla extract.  Add the sugar mixture to the flour mixture, stir together, then add your quick cooking oats.  Add your favorite baking basket goodies.  Scoop by tablespoon onto a greased baking pan, then bake for 8-12 minutes, depending on whether you like chewy (8ish minutes) or cripsy (12ish minutes) cookies.

So, what can you add to a baking basket oatmeal cookie?  Well, here are the ingredients I've added to the basic recipe in the past:

Coco-Choco Oatmeal Cookies: Added the rest of a bag of coconut flakes (I'll guess a bit more than 3/4 full) along with half a bag of large semi-sweet chocolate chips, and a full bag of mini semi-sweet chocolate chips, along with a dash of pumpkin pie spice.  Yes, pumpkin pie spice...it's a super lazy way to get all my fave spices in one shake!

Triple Chipperdoodles: Decent amount of white chocolate, semi-sweet chocolate and butterscotch chips, two teaspoons of cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg and a dash of allspice (note: I am a big fan of allspice).

Graceland Oatmeal Cookie: Two very ripe mashed bananas, half a jar of chunky peanut butter, a bag of jumbo semi-sweet chocolate chips and half a bag of walnuts (crushed) and I'm certain some allspice...just a tad.

You may notice there are no real measurements to the basket ingredients...and that's because I am literally cleaning out the basket.  So, whatever half-empty bags of chips, flakes, sprinkles, etc., are in there, go into the cookie.  It's really about feeling the cookie; getting that cookie vibe, knowing whether it needs coconut or peanut butter.  Is it a sweet little butterscotch cookie, or a ticked off ginger cookie?  Dark chocolate, or white chocolate?  Where are my dried cranberries?  And just how many chocolate chips is my husband going to think I didn't see him eat?!

BBD has taught me which spices I love (cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, allspice, cloves) and which I hate (okay, none...).  It's an awesome way to get creative, come up with a recipe of your very own, and really understand how flavors can work together.

If my mom is reading this (as she should be...) she's probably surprised I shared a recipe.  Normally, I won't share the true recipe; I always omit something, or change a measurement (I know, I know).  I'm pretty big on keeping family secrets close to the vest; I usually only share the real-deal recipe with the closest friends, and only when asked repeatedly (also, after bargaining for cat-sitting services or bottles of wine).  But this is one recipe I'm happy to share, because it's really not mine...it's yours.  Yours to create something utterly decadent, or totally screw up (stay away from dried apricots).  The choice is yours.

Finally, I'll share one teensy little baking tip that I've found makes cookies and breads even more delicious.  If you come across a recipe (such as the basic oatmeal cookie) that calls for both brown and white sugars...take the white sugar amount, and cut it in half.  Now, add that amount to the brown sugar.  That's it.  It gives the cookies or bread a warm, sweet, molasses taste, without the super sweet, teeth gritting kick you'll sometimes get from just plain old white sugar.

And now you know my BBD secrets.  The next time you see a cookie post, rest assured that the inspiration truly was, "what am I supposed to do with three bags of Christmas M&M's in July?!"

Happy baking!







Blood Loss and Brownies

Preface: I am not a health “nut” per se, but I do pay very close attention to the foods we eat, in the least OCD way I can manage. J

 Every once in a while, I’ll read about something new in the world of healthy living…could be a new workout routine (damn you, Jillian Michaels), a new vitamin supplement, a new vegetable I can add to our “salad in a blender” breakfasts, or a new way of eating (I refuse to call it a diet – Weight Watchers trained me well).  About a year ago, I met one of those “ways of eating” that I knew we just had to try.

 It was going to change our lives.  It would cure Evan’s (undiagnosed) gluten intolerance.  It would help us thwart the (conspiracy theorist’s idea of) government’s control over the nation’s grain industry.  We would sleep better, feel better (after three weeks of the “Atkins Flu”), and look better.  It was a revolution in food…a foodolution, if you will.

 We were going paleo.

 What is Paleolithic eating, you may ask?  Simple, really.  It’s following the same diet as our hunter-gatherer ancestors.  You know, spearing free range, grass fed buffalo; gathering nuts, berries and twigs.  Catching salmon with our bare hands from cool, Alaskan streams.  Did you know Paleolithic man was in better physical health than today’s average man?  Eating all-natural whole foods, protein without chemicals and hormones, and never, ever under any circumstances ingesting dairy (Louis Pasteur wasn’t around back then).  Also, never eating potatoes.  Or legumes.  Or grains of any sort (no flour, wheat, barley, etc.)  No alcohol (gasp!), caffeine or sugar.  Big deal if the average life expectancy was only 34, right?  They were in rockin’ good shape!  Probably from being chased down by mountain lions, setting up camps and literally fighting to survive.  Sort of like a trip to Publix on a Saturday morning when the Apron’s lady is prepping the “meal of the week.”  I know that I always seem to find myself surrounded by ravenous senior citizens on those days.

 Fruits and veggies: If you can eat it raw, it fits (hence no potatoes or legumes).

Meat: If you can catch it, you can eat it.  I’m looking at you, annoying raccoon who won’t stop sneaking through the pet door and drinking out of our pool every night…

 So, paleo we went; albeit my husband, begrudgingly so.

 For a few weeks we did lots of fish, free range chicken and organic veggies.  With veggies on the side.  Topped with veggies.  And veggies for dessert.  Oh, and some fruit.  I’ll admit, I lost three pounds and wanted to keep on…but that little voice inside me kept telling me there was no stinkin’ way I could keep this up.

 Southerners, imagine a life with no baking or starches.  No cornbread, no biscuits, no cakes, no cookies.  No chicken ‘n dumplings, no chicken pot pie, no shepherd’s pie (gosh, we love pie for dinner, huh?), no baked potato with your steak. 

 Others, imagine a life with no coffee (gasp!) or wine (double gasp!) or ice cream (faint!)

 Oh yeah, it was exactly as much fun as you think it was.  By the way, we had also taken on the challenge of P90X at the time (oh, that will be its own post, trust me).

 After spending the better part of an afternoon at work totally goofing off and reading paleo blogs, I found the solution to my weakening fortitude – PALEO BROWNIES!  Yes!  Finally, I could bake something besides tilapia and cauliflower.  I was stoked.

 Evan took me to Mother Earth so I could get the necessary supplies: coconut oil, walnuts (LOTS of walnuts), eggs, unsweetened cocoa squares (80% caocao?  Something like that), and some other items that are still hiding in the back of my pantry.  Now, the recipe called for zero flour, zero sugar, and zero butter.  But I would not be deterred.  I was baking brownies, and because baking is one of my many talents, I knew they would be awesome.

 We got home, and immediately went to work.  By now, you might be wondering how you can have a brownie with no flour.  Well, in the paleo world, it’s rather simple.  You grind two pounds of walnuts in your food processor until they turn into nut butter (yes, you read that correctly) then you mix everything in with it.  Seriously.

 So, Evan processed the walnuts into oblivion while I finely chopped the dark chocolate squares.  Normally when I bake, I have a glass of wine.  But, this is restricted on the paleo diet, so I’m blaming this injury completely on the lack of fermented grapes in my kitchen at the time.

 I was on my very last square when it happened.  My knife skills have slowly improved, but in my famished-brownie-craving state, I slipped.  The 7” Santoku slipped off the chocolate, and into my ring finger.  Blood.  Everywhere.

 Evan quickly grabbed a kitchen towel, and instructed me to apply pressure and hold the gaping wound over my head.  All I could do was stare as blood dripped into my $12 organic dark chocolate squares.  I finally took a good look at the damage I’d done to my finger, and my knees began to buckle.  He slowly guided me to a chair, wrapped my finger, and held my arm up for me.  Because I was nearly catatonic, I stayed in that chair and in that position while he finished the brownies (side note: he finished the brownies at my request…something about not letting the chocolate go to waste…)

 Finally, the brownies were in the oven.  With my arm still draped over the top of my head, my finger throbbing and screaming, cursing me for ever buying things like coconut oil and brussel sprouts, I joined Evan in the living room to watch Jeopardy.  Eventually, the excitement of a “true Daily Double, Alex” took my mind completely off my wounded finger.  I would periodically pay closer attention to the smells coming from the kitchen, waiting for that delicious brownie odor to fill the house.  It never happened, but I was not deterred.

 At last, the timer buzzed…the brownies were done!  Man, I was so excited to have a big old brownie with a glass of…water. And a scoop of…bananas?  But it was still a brownie!

 I won’t lie; they actually looked delicious.  Tall, gooey, dark brown…exactly what I expect to see in a brownie.  We carefully cut them, with no difficulties (probably because of the lack of butter, flower, sugar and milk) and served ourselves our very first paleo baked goods.  Back to the living room for Final Jeopardy.  I hoisted our soon-to-be new favorite dessert to my piehole, and took a great, big bite.

 It. Was. Awful.

 Absolute worst baked good I’ve ever put in my mouth (and I’ve had SPAM cupcakes).  I could taste walnut butter, coconut oil, and that horrific 80% pure cocoa those paleo nuts tried to tell me was “just as good as Ghiradelli!”  LIES.

 I spit it out.  Evan didn’t even try his.  It was that terrible.

 And that was our last day of paleo.  Nearly losing a finger in my craze to have a simple baked good told me one thing…if my body was that starved for something decadent, this was not the “lifestyle change” for us.  And we’ve never looked back.

 Oh sure, I regained the three pounds.  But I also got to eat things like sweet potato soufflé, cornbread, ice cream, Belgian waffles, and cous cous.  I could also have wine and coffee again.  I was finally sane again.

 I know a few folks who stick to the Paleolithic lifestyle, and kudos to them.  But I won’t lie; every time I have a glass of merlot with a giant hunk of brie, a fistful of Pepperidge Farms crackers and a cupful of grapes, part of me cries a little for those people. 

Thanksgiving must be miserable.

Welcome...

Hey there!  Thanks, friends and family, for taking the time to read my ramblings on not one, but two blogs.  I’m so thrilled to put my thoughts on paper for the world to critique. J You may be wondering why I’d decide to have a second space filled with nonsensical ideas…well, it’s simple, really.  This afternoon, I was reminded of the time I nearly sliced my ring finger off while attempting to make brownies.  I realized what a funny story that was (to me – mostly because I didn’t lose my digit) and that I’d really like to share it with the folks who pop by on occasion…but I was struggling with finding a way to parlay that story into a devotional.  Well, aside from the obvious: God did not want me to eat those brownies.  And while that could have been a fitting, “the body is a temple” story, I started recalling other tales of the kitchen that could be fun to share…and realized that there are some stories (burning off a layer of skin while searing pork loin – damn you, Food Network, and all your clever ideas!) that I just couldn’t work into a daily devotional.

And so, “Just Add Merlot” was born.  Originally, I thought the title “Just Add Wine” was cute and clever, but I found that someone else had beaten me to the witty and fermented punch.  After a careful taste-testing, I narrowed it down to merlot (because cabernet sauvignon is too lengthy and, let’s face it, difficult for *some* of my friends and family to spell).

Occupying this space on a semi-regular basis will be my kitchen triumphs and tragedies, recipes (both my own and others I’ve fallen in love with), and, depending on the amount of merlot I’ve had, a few anecdotes about my amazing, incredible, loving and supportive husband, and our collective “zoo” of children.

So again, thank you…and enjoy the show. J

PS – For those wondering, “Coke and a Smile” was also taken…and not by a fellow Coke.  Travesty.