Hi everyone; I hope your Thanksgiving was special and filled with love, and that you had plenty to be thankful for. As for me, I'm posting a recipe my aunt brought, because it totally made my Thanksgiving meal. It was unexpected and delicious, and I vow to make these at least twice a year in my own kitchen from now on. Are you ready? The sleeper hit of Thanksgiving this year was none other than...
POPPY SEED ONIONS
Ingredients:
6 medium onions, thinly sliced
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 Tbsp. poppy seeds
1 (4-oz.) package cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup milk
Directions:
Separate sliced onions into rings and place in a 1-quart casserole. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and poppy seeds. Blend cream cheese with milk until smooth (a hand-held electric mixer works great for this; otherwise a simple wire whisk will do the job). Pour milk mixture over onions; cover and bake at 350 degrees for one hour.
OK, maybe it didn't knock everyone's socks off, but it sure was a hit with me. We don't have a lot of onion lovers in our family. I guess Aunt Cheri and I are cut from the same cloth in that regard. I always think her dishes are unique and tasty, even if most people think they're weird. Enjoy this recipe - I'm off to find some dental floss to get the poppy seeds out of my teeth.
Love,
Jess
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
It's Kate's Party...
and she'll...nevermind. Today is my little sister's birthday! Happy 26th, Kate!
I kinda hate that you're lucky enough to still be in your 20s, but I'll forgive you just this once. Now hurry up and turn 30.
And now for a list. I love lists. This list is called "What I've Been Doing."
1. Cooking
2. Cleaning (Not really. Ha!)
3. Taking care of my kids
4. Ordering Christmas cards
5. Cooking
6. Taking care of other people's kids
7. Hemming pants
8. Washing dishes
9. Cleaning (Just a little.)
10. Cooking
Yes, I've been enjoying my new mixer. Why do you ask?
Actually I've been reading cookbooks and trying to get up the courage to make homemade bread. I had finally decided to go for it when, one night, we had some friends over for dinner, and my friend's husband said that he had been going to our local Hutterite colony, buying raw milk from them, and using his mixer to MAKE HIS OWN BUTTER. "Oh yeah, it's so simple," he commented. "Just separate the milk from the cream, get the mixer going to churn it, and about an hour later you've got a big ball of butter."
He makes his own butter?? How am I supposed to deal with that when I've never even made homemade bread and my last baking attempt (cinnamon rolls) turned out more like coffeecake? That's the last straw, Bob. You've rained on my parade with your culinary adventurousness, and now you must be destroyed.
(Or at least not invited over again until I've baked something really spectacular and can put you in your place.)
Not Your Friend Anymore Until You Stop Being Way Cooler Than Me,
Jessica
P.S. I was just kidding, Bob. You can come over. But you have to stay out of my kitchen.
And now for a list. I love lists. This list is called "What I've Been Doing."
1. Cooking
2. Cleaning (Not really. Ha!)
3. Taking care of my kids
4. Ordering Christmas cards
5. Cooking
6. Taking care of other people's kids
7. Hemming pants
8. Washing dishes
9. Cleaning (Just a little.)
10. Cooking
Yes, I've been enjoying my new mixer. Why do you ask?
Actually I've been reading cookbooks and trying to get up the courage to make homemade bread. I had finally decided to go for it when, one night, we had some friends over for dinner, and my friend's husband said that he had been going to our local Hutterite colony, buying raw milk from them, and using his mixer to MAKE HIS OWN BUTTER. "Oh yeah, it's so simple," he commented. "Just separate the milk from the cream, get the mixer going to churn it, and about an hour later you've got a big ball of butter."
He makes his own butter?? How am I supposed to deal with that when I've never even made homemade bread and my last baking attempt (cinnamon rolls) turned out more like coffeecake? That's the last straw, Bob. You've rained on my parade with your culinary adventurousness, and now you must be destroyed.
(Or at least not invited over again until I've baked something really spectacular and can put you in your place.)
Not Your Friend Anymore Until You Stop Being Way Cooler Than Me,
Jessica
P.S. I was just kidding, Bob. You can come over. But you have to stay out of my kitchen.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
It's My Party
...and I'll cry if I want to. I'm not really crying; I just wanted to finish the song lyric because it would've bugged me if I hadn't.
I turned thirty-two today. I spent my birthday sleeping until 8:00 while my kids watched Looney Tunes, trying out my new kitchen toys from my wonderful hubby (more on that in a minute), eating a lovely steak sandwich from Quizno's, playing with my kids at the park, baking myself a birthday cake, taking an hour-long nap, sewing a new hem into some pants for my daughter, painting her nails, preparing a birthday supper (more on that too), then attending my daughter's very first piano recital. Now she's at a slumber party for her best friend's birthday, and my two boys are snugly tucked into bed for the night. The only drawback, besides being reminded that I'm another year older, is that Surgeon Hubby is on call this weekend. I've hardly seen him today. Oh well, things can't always be perfect.
Now for the birthday present and fabulous food details! I made myself a chocolate sheet cake. It was absolutely delightful. And I got to play with my brand-new KitchenAid stand mixer (present #1 from my wonderful guy). I also enjoyed a lovely cup (okay, two) of decaf coffee made with my new Keurig one-cup brewer (present #2). And while I made supper, I used my sleek, sexy Wusthof Santoku knife (present #3) to dice tomatoes and slice oranges. It almost sliced the food by itself, it was so insanely sharp. My knees went a little weak with kitchen-utensil lust. (Sorry.)
Oh, I almost forgot - supper was grilled lemon-pepper chicken and bowtie pasta with pesto cream sauce and diced tomatoes. (The orange slices were for my fruit-loving little monsters.) The pesto was even homemade! I had so much fun in the kitchen today. The big pile of dirty dishes can bloody well wait till tomorrow. It's my birthday for three and a half more hours, dang it, and I'm not touching those dishes. I won't do them! No one can make me! (maniacal laughter here)
Love,
Thirty-Two-Year-Old Me
I turned thirty-two today. I spent my birthday sleeping until 8:00 while my kids watched Looney Tunes, trying out my new kitchen toys from my wonderful hubby (more on that in a minute), eating a lovely steak sandwich from Quizno's, playing with my kids at the park, baking myself a birthday cake, taking an hour-long nap, sewing a new hem into some pants for my daughter, painting her nails, preparing a birthday supper (more on that too), then attending my daughter's very first piano recital. Now she's at a slumber party for her best friend's birthday, and my two boys are snugly tucked into bed for the night. The only drawback, besides being reminded that I'm another year older, is that Surgeon Hubby is on call this weekend. I've hardly seen him today. Oh well, things can't always be perfect.
Now for the birthday present and fabulous food details! I made myself a chocolate sheet cake. It was absolutely delightful. And I got to play with my brand-new KitchenAid stand mixer (present #1 from my wonderful guy). I also enjoyed a lovely cup (okay, two) of decaf coffee made with my new Keurig one-cup brewer (present #2). And while I made supper, I used my sleek, sexy Wusthof Santoku knife (present #3) to dice tomatoes and slice oranges. It almost sliced the food by itself, it was so insanely sharp. My knees went a little weak with kitchen-utensil lust. (Sorry.)
Oh, I almost forgot - supper was grilled lemon-pepper chicken and bowtie pasta with pesto cream sauce and diced tomatoes. (The orange slices were for my fruit-loving little monsters.) The pesto was even homemade! I had so much fun in the kitchen today. The big pile of dirty dishes can bloody well wait till tomorrow. It's my birthday for three and a half more hours, dang it, and I'm not touching those dishes. I won't do them! No one can make me! (maniacal laughter here)
Love,
Thirty-Two-Year-Old Me
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Beef Stew and Cinnamon Rolls
A triumph and a failure, respectively. Yesterday I decided to start practicing making homemade cinnamon rolls, because my recipe makes eight pans of them and I want to donate some to our small Christian school's auction fundraiser in February. Baked goods always bring ridiculous prices there - Grandma Baas' pecan pies used to go for hundreds of dollars. Everyone knows who the good bakers are, so when their items come up for sale, people get their bidding numbers READY.
Anyway, I started making these cinnamon rolls, and two things happened that may have influenced the poor outcome. One: After scalding the milk mixture, I had to go pick up the kids from school, and by the time I got home, it had cooled too much, so I had to re-heat it slightly before adding the yeast. I don't know if that made any difference, but the timing wasn't optimal. (As you might be able to tell, I'm a very inexperienced baker.) And two: I let my eight-year-old measure the flour and pour it into the scalded milk. She assured me she measured exactly four cups (I made a half-batch), but the dough was floppy and wet instead of...well, dough-like. I ended up adding at least a cup more flour, but this morning the dough was still too soft. I flung them into a pan and baked them anyway. We'll let you know how they taste. If you put enough frosting on them, they'll probably still be a hit with my kids. Little sugar fiends.
Now for the triumph of the beef stew! I've had this recipe for lowfat beef stew in my recipe box for years and never made it before. I got it off a package of aluminum foil, along with several others, that were designed to be sealed in a packet of foil and cooked on the grill. First I got out a package of sirloin tips and thawed them. I sliced them into bite-sized pieces. Then I sprinkled on some Lawry's salt and seared the steak pieces on both sides in a hot iron skillet with a little bit of canola oil (probably two minutes, maximum, on each side).
Next, I laid the meat in a 9x13 pan and layered some chopped baby carrots (bite-size) and thinly sliced red potatoes over the top. I topped that with more Lawry's and pepper, and then I carefully poured about 1 1/2 cups of beef gravy into the pan, being careful not to rinse the seasonings off the potatoes. I covered the pan tightly with aluminum foil and baked the whole deal for 30 minutes at 375 degrees. And here's the triumph part - my whole family loved it!
I couldn't believe they ate it so well. My kids are picky, to say the least, and I don't think I've ever found a recipe that they'll all eat without complaining (except cheesy bread from Domino's). But last night, there were clean plates and requests for seconds. I nearly wept with joy. It's simple things like this that keep me from despairing, giving up cooking altogether and hiring a catering service to feed my family.
Love,
Me (Maybe Not So Bad a Cook)
*Note: The cinnamon rolls had a cakey texture. They tasted good but weren't like real cinnamon rolls; it was more like cinnamon coffee cake. Can any of you bakers tell me what I did wrong? I would appreciate any advice.
Anyway, I started making these cinnamon rolls, and two things happened that may have influenced the poor outcome. One: After scalding the milk mixture, I had to go pick up the kids from school, and by the time I got home, it had cooled too much, so I had to re-heat it slightly before adding the yeast. I don't know if that made any difference, but the timing wasn't optimal. (As you might be able to tell, I'm a very inexperienced baker.) And two: I let my eight-year-old measure the flour and pour it into the scalded milk. She assured me she measured exactly four cups (I made a half-batch), but the dough was floppy and wet instead of...well, dough-like. I ended up adding at least a cup more flour, but this morning the dough was still too soft. I flung them into a pan and baked them anyway. We'll let you know how they taste. If you put enough frosting on them, they'll probably still be a hit with my kids. Little sugar fiends.
Now for the triumph of the beef stew! I've had this recipe for lowfat beef stew in my recipe box for years and never made it before. I got it off a package of aluminum foil, along with several others, that were designed to be sealed in a packet of foil and cooked on the grill. First I got out a package of sirloin tips and thawed them. I sliced them into bite-sized pieces. Then I sprinkled on some Lawry's salt and seared the steak pieces on both sides in a hot iron skillet with a little bit of canola oil (probably two minutes, maximum, on each side).
Next, I laid the meat in a 9x13 pan and layered some chopped baby carrots (bite-size) and thinly sliced red potatoes over the top. I topped that with more Lawry's and pepper, and then I carefully poured about 1 1/2 cups of beef gravy into the pan, being careful not to rinse the seasonings off the potatoes. I covered the pan tightly with aluminum foil and baked the whole deal for 30 minutes at 375 degrees. And here's the triumph part - my whole family loved it!
I couldn't believe they ate it so well. My kids are picky, to say the least, and I don't think I've ever found a recipe that they'll all eat without complaining (except cheesy bread from Domino's). But last night, there were clean plates and requests for seconds. I nearly wept with joy. It's simple things like this that keep me from despairing, giving up cooking altogether and hiring a catering service to feed my family.
Love,
Me (Maybe Not So Bad a Cook)
*Note: The cinnamon rolls had a cakey texture. They tasted good but weren't like real cinnamon rolls; it was more like cinnamon coffee cake. Can any of you bakers tell me what I did wrong? I would appreciate any advice.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Yesterday my precious husband had a hard day. It was the twelfth anniversary of his dad's death. I hate to see him sad. I know grief affects everyone differently, and I always wonder how other families are coping with their own tragedies, especially if it's been many years.
Are we normal, I wonder, compared to other families who've lost a loved one due to someone else's selfishness, stupidity, or just plain evil? How long does healing take when the loved one was killed (accidentally or otherwise) as opposed to dying of natural causes or an unpreventable freak accident? Do people ever really heal from something like that, or does the date on the calendar never pass without an unavoidable reminder of that dark day?
Would we grieve less, or be somehow less broken, if my husband's brother hadn't also died in an accident? In a previous post about my son R., I mentioned that his situation wasn't the first family crisis I'd gone through; in 1997, my husband's brother, Dave, was killed in a car accident on his way home from college to visit his family. Dave was the oldest of my in-laws' three kids; brilliant, dynamic, handsome, and devout. When he died, their seemingly perfect world was shattered. I grieved for a good friend gone, and for the teenage boy I'd been dating for eight months, now mourning his only brother.
A. and I kept dating through the college years that followed. We were happiest when we were together, and as the months passed, we slowly began to feel normal again. My identity was wrapped up in us as a couple; I had little to no contact with A's parents or sister, nor did I want any. I knew A and I would get married someday, and I reasoned (as selfishly as only a teenage girl can) that the rest of his family could take care of themselves. I had never been close friends with A's sister, and his parents had each other.
One Saturday in November 1999, A. was visiting me at my college, two hours away from his own. We talked about a lot of things: the mini-vacation to Las Vegas his parents had gone on that weekend, how they were doing with the loss of their older son...about our being in love and wanting to get married someday, about our original plan for me to finish college first (I was a year behind him in school). We/he had healed some from Dave's death, and we decided that life was too short to wait any longer. We wanted to be together, and we already had irrefutable evidence that 'tomorrow' was not guaranteed to us. We drove two hours to the "big city" and went looking at engagement rings for the first time. College would take care of itself. We were getting married. A. and I went home to our respective dorms that night, giddy with excitement and new hope for the future.
The next morning, the phone in my apartment rang. It was my dad. While walking down the Strip with his wife that Sunday morning, A's father had been struck and killed by a drunk/high driver. The car missed A's mom by inches.
In less than three years, A's family had been cut down from five to three, and A was now the only man left. No brother, no dad...just a broken mother and sister depending on him. His loving, devoted dad, the linchpin of a damaged family - A's mentor in life, faith, and the medical field - had been ripped away. The one who had held the most strongly to his faith in God throughout the tragedy of Dave's death was now gone himself. We reeled, again - this time not sure whether we would get back up at all.
Can a family heal from two horrible tragedies? Lots of people heal from one, I think, but two? I'm not sure. Maybe we're better off than I realize; after all, I've always been afraid to ask questions about it. A's mom saw things that day that were sheer evil. Maybe she's doing as well as can be expected. I guess I wanted to cover up the pain whenever we were with his mom and sister, just change the subject and talk about other stuff. The grief was always there, but as long as I didn't ask questions, I didn't step on any toes or make anyone sadder. I wanted to escape, yet not enough to break up with the guy I loved.
The ex-felon who killed A's dad went to back to prison for seven years and was then released. For some reason, Nevada didn't have a vehicular homicide law at the time (maybe they still don't; I don't know), so the most he could be charged with was involuntary manslaughter (at least that's my understanding). Parole was denied as long as it could be, but once the seven-year sentence was served, the felon was free again. How's that for justice.
Maybe we're doing fine; maybe we're not. Sometimes I wish we had a normal family, un-ravaged by tragedy. I wish holidays were truly joyful. I wish everyone would come to my house at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and that the house would be full of people and noise, just like it was when I was growing up. I wish I could play hostess to a big family gathering instead of just my mother-in-law (who we spend lots of time with) and sister-in-law (who doesn't eat anything). If my brother-in-law were alive, he'd be married with kids of his own, and my kids would have cousins. If my father-in-law were alive, my husband would probably be in family medicine instead of being a surgeon. (Which might not be a good thing, because A. didn't like family medicine; he's much happier as a surgeon. I don't know if he'd have switched specialties if his dad were still living.) If they hadn't died, maybe my sister-in-law would be happy and well-adjusted instead of bitter and alone.
No pictures of them hang in our house. A. hardly ever speaks their names. His mom keeps a cabinet full of mementos at her home - and it's taken a few years, but she has pictures of them on the wall now. She talks more freely about Dave and my father-in-law than she used to, just by what I can tell from my kids. They at least know who their grandpa was - that he existed, that he was a good and godly man, that they'll meet him when they get to heaven someday. I tell my kids about their uncle and grandpa in heaven. They see pictures of them hanging on the wall at our small Christian school; there is a scholarship given each year in Dave's memory, and a plaque commemorating my father-in-law's years of service and dedication outside the gym, which also bears his name.
Sometimes I still can't see how any good has come of these losses, except that now we take special care with other people who lose loved ones. We never forget the anniversary of someone else's loss, and I know that means a lot to people whose grief is fresher than ours. After everyone else goes on with their lives, people who've been through it too - they remember you. We keep reaching out to others who've lost children, parents, and/or spouses.
Time does heal, to an extent, but there comes a point where time is no longer your friend. There's a difference between healing and restoration. I believe healing is something time does, and beyond that, restoration is something that only God can give. I can only pray that He will restore us, because it doesn't feel like we're whole. I know things will never be like they would have been if these losses hadn't happened, but there could be a new joy, a stronger, deeper, more lasting, unshakable groundedness. That's what I think we are missing.
Are we normal, I wonder, compared to other families who've lost a loved one due to someone else's selfishness, stupidity, or just plain evil? How long does healing take when the loved one was killed (accidentally or otherwise) as opposed to dying of natural causes or an unpreventable freak accident? Do people ever really heal from something like that, or does the date on the calendar never pass without an unavoidable reminder of that dark day?
Would we grieve less, or be somehow less broken, if my husband's brother hadn't also died in an accident? In a previous post about my son R., I mentioned that his situation wasn't the first family crisis I'd gone through; in 1997, my husband's brother, Dave, was killed in a car accident on his way home from college to visit his family. Dave was the oldest of my in-laws' three kids; brilliant, dynamic, handsome, and devout. When he died, their seemingly perfect world was shattered. I grieved for a good friend gone, and for the teenage boy I'd been dating for eight months, now mourning his only brother.
A. and I kept dating through the college years that followed. We were happiest when we were together, and as the months passed, we slowly began to feel normal again. My identity was wrapped up in us as a couple; I had little to no contact with A's parents or sister, nor did I want any. I knew A and I would get married someday, and I reasoned (as selfishly as only a teenage girl can) that the rest of his family could take care of themselves. I had never been close friends with A's sister, and his parents had each other.
One Saturday in November 1999, A. was visiting me at my college, two hours away from his own. We talked about a lot of things: the mini-vacation to Las Vegas his parents had gone on that weekend, how they were doing with the loss of their older son...about our being in love and wanting to get married someday, about our original plan for me to finish college first (I was a year behind him in school). We/he had healed some from Dave's death, and we decided that life was too short to wait any longer. We wanted to be together, and we already had irrefutable evidence that 'tomorrow' was not guaranteed to us. We drove two hours to the "big city" and went looking at engagement rings for the first time. College would take care of itself. We were getting married. A. and I went home to our respective dorms that night, giddy with excitement and new hope for the future.
The next morning, the phone in my apartment rang. It was my dad. While walking down the Strip with his wife that Sunday morning, A's father had been struck and killed by a drunk/high driver. The car missed A's mom by inches.
In less than three years, A's family had been cut down from five to three, and A was now the only man left. No brother, no dad...just a broken mother and sister depending on him. His loving, devoted dad, the linchpin of a damaged family - A's mentor in life, faith, and the medical field - had been ripped away. The one who had held the most strongly to his faith in God throughout the tragedy of Dave's death was now gone himself. We reeled, again - this time not sure whether we would get back up at all.
Can a family heal from two horrible tragedies? Lots of people heal from one, I think, but two? I'm not sure. Maybe we're better off than I realize; after all, I've always been afraid to ask questions about it. A's mom saw things that day that were sheer evil. Maybe she's doing as well as can be expected. I guess I wanted to cover up the pain whenever we were with his mom and sister, just change the subject and talk about other stuff. The grief was always there, but as long as I didn't ask questions, I didn't step on any toes or make anyone sadder. I wanted to escape, yet not enough to break up with the guy I loved.
The ex-felon who killed A's dad went to back to prison for seven years and was then released. For some reason, Nevada didn't have a vehicular homicide law at the time (maybe they still don't; I don't know), so the most he could be charged with was involuntary manslaughter (at least that's my understanding). Parole was denied as long as it could be, but once the seven-year sentence was served, the felon was free again. How's that for justice.
Maybe we're doing fine; maybe we're not. Sometimes I wish we had a normal family, un-ravaged by tragedy. I wish holidays were truly joyful. I wish everyone would come to my house at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and that the house would be full of people and noise, just like it was when I was growing up. I wish I could play hostess to a big family gathering instead of just my mother-in-law (who we spend lots of time with) and sister-in-law (who doesn't eat anything). If my brother-in-law were alive, he'd be married with kids of his own, and my kids would have cousins. If my father-in-law were alive, my husband would probably be in family medicine instead of being a surgeon. (Which might not be a good thing, because A. didn't like family medicine; he's much happier as a surgeon. I don't know if he'd have switched specialties if his dad were still living.) If they hadn't died, maybe my sister-in-law would be happy and well-adjusted instead of bitter and alone.
No pictures of them hang in our house. A. hardly ever speaks their names. His mom keeps a cabinet full of mementos at her home - and it's taken a few years, but she has pictures of them on the wall now. She talks more freely about Dave and my father-in-law than she used to, just by what I can tell from my kids. They at least know who their grandpa was - that he existed, that he was a good and godly man, that they'll meet him when they get to heaven someday. I tell my kids about their uncle and grandpa in heaven. They see pictures of them hanging on the wall at our small Christian school; there is a scholarship given each year in Dave's memory, and a plaque commemorating my father-in-law's years of service and dedication outside the gym, which also bears his name.
Sometimes I still can't see how any good has come of these losses, except that now we take special care with other people who lose loved ones. We never forget the anniversary of someone else's loss, and I know that means a lot to people whose grief is fresher than ours. After everyone else goes on with their lives, people who've been through it too - they remember you. We keep reaching out to others who've lost children, parents, and/or spouses.
Time does heal, to an extent, but there comes a point where time is no longer your friend. There's a difference between healing and restoration. I believe healing is something time does, and beyond that, restoration is something that only God can give. I can only pray that He will restore us, because it doesn't feel like we're whole. I know things will never be like they would have been if these losses hadn't happened, but there could be a new joy, a stronger, deeper, more lasting, unshakable groundedness. That's what I think we are missing.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Giant Breakfast Cookies
Today I wanted to share a great recipe from my son's preschool class cookbook. These have become a regular breakfast treat at our house. The kids love them because it's a cookie! For breakfast! Has Mom gone a little crazy, they wonder? Does she realize she's serving us cookies for breakfast? And I smile and chuckle wickedly to myself, because I know that these cookies contain NO SUGAR (unless you use chocolate chips) and a ton of healthy fiber from the whole-wheat flour and rolled oats. Now I'm not a great food photographer who takes beautiful pictures of her whole recipe from start to finish (I love you, Pioneer Woman. Be my BFF?), but I simply must share this recipe anyway. Your kids will love them, you will love them because they're healthy, and you might even love them just for the taste. I ate two for breakfast myself! So here goes:
GIANT BREAKFAST COOKIES
1 cup butter, melted
3/4 cup honey (Spray the measuring cup with nonstick cooking spray first, and the honey will slide right out.)
2 eggs
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup buttermilk (If you don't keep buttermilk on hand, you can just add a tsp or so of white vinegar to just under a cup of milk and let it sour for a couple minutes. I use this trick all the time.)
2 cups whole-wheat flour
2 cups whole rolled oats (I was out of plain rolled oats, so I substituted instant maple-brown sugar flavored oatmeal, and it worked beautifully.)
1 cup raisins or chocolate chips (I used mini semi-sweet morsels)
Mix butter, honey, eggs, salt, cinnamon, baking soda, vanilla, and buttermilk. Stir in flour and oats. Fold in raisins or chocolate chips. Scoop heaping tablespoons of dough* onto a greased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Allow cookies to cool for 3-4 minutes on cookie sheet before removing them to a wire rack to cool completely.
*Note: I scooped really big cookies - 1/4 cup of dough for each - and this recipe made exactly 20 cookies for me this morning. Also, my oven baked them perfectly in 15 minutes; just start at 15 and go up from there till you figure out how long they need in your oven. Enjoy these!
GIANT BREAKFAST COOKIES
1 cup butter, melted
3/4 cup honey (Spray the measuring cup with nonstick cooking spray first, and the honey will slide right out.)
2 eggs
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup buttermilk (If you don't keep buttermilk on hand, you can just add a tsp or so of white vinegar to just under a cup of milk and let it sour for a couple minutes. I use this trick all the time.)
2 cups whole-wheat flour
2 cups whole rolled oats (I was out of plain rolled oats, so I substituted instant maple-brown sugar flavored oatmeal, and it worked beautifully.)
1 cup raisins or chocolate chips (I used mini semi-sweet morsels)
Mix butter, honey, eggs, salt, cinnamon, baking soda, vanilla, and buttermilk. Stir in flour and oats. Fold in raisins or chocolate chips. Scoop heaping tablespoons of dough* onto a greased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Allow cookies to cool for 3-4 minutes on cookie sheet before removing them to a wire rack to cool completely.
*Note: I scooped really big cookies - 1/4 cup of dough for each - and this recipe made exactly 20 cookies for me this morning. Also, my oven baked them perfectly in 15 minutes; just start at 15 and go up from there till you figure out how long they need in your oven. Enjoy these!
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Groan
Stomach flu has come to our house. *Moan* I don't feel so good. Surgeon Hubby was up all night with stomach pain, vomiting, and that other disgusting bodily symptom of the flu, which I'm not going to name because it would just be too much, and I'd lose all my readers. Wait - I don't have any readers! I'm still not going to say it. Nevermind.
*On a side note, I did pretty well with my sugar-free day yesterday. One tiny lick of buttercream frosting, one sip of hubby's Mello Yello, and...ok, I admit it: my sweet friend Betty gave me a packet of Little Debbie chocolate-iced mini donuts, and I ate them. But it's still a huge improvement from how things have been lately. Also, I went to the dentist this morning, and I have two cavities. I'll think about the correlation between those things...tomorrow.
Back to the flu - my older son had it this weekend, and it ran its course in about 24 hours, so I hope it clears up as quickly in Hubby. My younger son has been complaining of a tummyache today, and my own appetite is nonexistent, which means something's gotta be wrong. All I felt like eating for lunch was sugar-free orange Jell-O and soda crackers. We had invited some friends over for dinner tomorrow night, but it looks like a cancellation is imminent. I think I hear my pillow and duvet calling...
Love and Pepto-Bismol,
Jessica
*On a side note, I did pretty well with my sugar-free day yesterday. One tiny lick of buttercream frosting, one sip of hubby's Mello Yello, and...ok, I admit it: my sweet friend Betty gave me a packet of Little Debbie chocolate-iced mini donuts, and I ate them. But it's still a huge improvement from how things have been lately. Also, I went to the dentist this morning, and I have two cavities. I'll think about the correlation between those things...tomorrow.
Back to the flu - my older son had it this weekend, and it ran its course in about 24 hours, so I hope it clears up as quickly in Hubby. My younger son has been complaining of a tummyache today, and my own appetite is nonexistent, which means something's gotta be wrong. All I felt like eating for lunch was sugar-free orange Jell-O and soda crackers. We had invited some friends over for dinner tomorrow night, but it looks like a cancellation is imminent. I think I hear my pillow and duvet calling...
Love and Pepto-Bismol,
Jessica
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
My Sugar-Free Day
I've been consuming obscene amounts of sugar lately. In the past, my pregnancy cravings have always been for salty/savory foods, but this time I'm just a sugar fiend. It's gotten quite out of hand, and I decided (after a Halloween candy incident yesterday) that today I would go completely without sugar.
Basically that means, none of the granulated or powdered white stuff, no Halloween candy, and no baked goods. I was going to say no calorie-containing drinks, but I did have some 1% milk on my Raisin Bran for breakfast, and I polished off the last cup of orange juice in the carton - not that those are horrible things. I'm not really a pop-drinker, not regular pop anyway. I sometimes buy diet Sprite or diet Rite cherry cola. Cherry Coke is my favorite pop of all time. My kids each got a can of cherry Coke Zero at one of the houses we trick-or-treated on Monday. I'm having a hard time staring at it in the fridge every day without stealing a can. I think they would wonder, though...
So, in the interest of being completely honest, I cleaned out the fridge this morning, and when I threw away the three remaining pieces of my son's birthday cake from two weeks ago, I did take one small lick of buttercream frosting. Considering how much sugar I've been eating lately though, I think that's still a vast improvement. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to drink some water and eat some broccoli.
Your Veggie-ness,
Jessica
Basically that means, none of the granulated or powdered white stuff, no Halloween candy, and no baked goods. I was going to say no calorie-containing drinks, but I did have some 1% milk on my Raisin Bran for breakfast, and I polished off the last cup of orange juice in the carton - not that those are horrible things. I'm not really a pop-drinker, not regular pop anyway. I sometimes buy diet Sprite or diet Rite cherry cola. Cherry Coke is my favorite pop of all time. My kids each got a can of cherry Coke Zero at one of the houses we trick-or-treated on Monday. I'm having a hard time staring at it in the fridge every day without stealing a can. I think they would wonder, though...
So, in the interest of being completely honest, I cleaned out the fridge this morning, and when I threw away the three remaining pieces of my son's birthday cake from two weeks ago, I did take one small lick of buttercream frosting. Considering how much sugar I've been eating lately though, I think that's still a vast improvement. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to drink some water and eat some broccoli.
Your Veggie-ness,
Jessica
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