True Confessions

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So, I just ate a slice of cheesecake.

Triple chocolate. You know, THE most sinful kind of cheesecake that can possibly be in existence. So not only did I break the no sugar cleanse, I broke it and kicked it and slapped it and spanked it and punched it and then killed it. And then just for fun, I rolled around in it.

I have but one defense. I'm a weakling, and when Chocolate speaks to me, I listen. I will do WHATEVER chocolate tells me to do. Tonight, it told me to eat him. And I'm not one to disobey.

Also, Ben really wanted some cheesecake, and what kind of mother would allow her 3 year old his OWN slice of cheesecake just moments before bedtime? Not me. So really, I shared a slice of cheesecake, out of sugar-overload protection for my son. I'm telling you, parenting is unyielding.

I'd like to say that I feel riddled with guilt, but my body is in complete sugar-buzz mode and loving every second. There's a small party going on in my belly right now. My bloodstream's like, "HELLOOOOO SUGAR! How's it going old friend? It's so great to see you! Where have you been? Can you stay awhile?" and I can hardly sit still while I type and I'm fairly certain I could endure a Lord of the Rings marathon if I had to. That is, until I sugar-crash and burn.

And because I'm having a moment of complete honesty here, I feel it necessary  to report that triple chocolate = triple fun. It probably also = a triple roll on my thighs. TOTALLY WORTH IT!

Anyway, I'm pretty sure Lent will understand.

Update

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Today is day seven of my no sugar/no alcohol Lenten commitment, and I am happy to report I am going strong. Full disclosure: I may have accidentally had a one inch bite of some leftover brownie but it felt like a rock in my belly and I immediately regretted it and swore off brownies forever. Aside from that, I've been hardcore. I was expecting detox tremors and the cold sweats, but in reality, I've just learned to function without it. For example, unsweetened applesauce is a lovely substitute for jam on my morning flax-seed toaster waffles. And who needs wine when there's water? They're practically the same thing, right? And I'm sure Dan will catch on soon, but I've learned that when he's drinking wine in the evening, if I cuddle up close and kiss him more often than usual, it's almost like I'm having a glass of wine, too. It's like getting a contact high, but with wine.

I have a feeling there will be an unprecedented number of kisses from here til Easter. See? WIN-WIN!

Cancel All Plans- Stay Home & Make This Instead...

Hello my people. Are you looking for the perfect way to tell someone "I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING, AND IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME, JUST LOOK WHAT I MADE FOR YOU?", even if that someone is yourself? Then you should by all means make my new favorite dessert tonight: Roasted Balsamic Pears with Cinnamon-Mascarpone. How could you possibly say "no" to this:

I tested this out on the family last night, and oh my heavens. It passed with flying colors. The husband was begging me to renew our wedding vows, the 3 year old was apologizing for his sassy behavior these last few days and requesting to give me a foot rub, and the baby immediately stopped teething. That's how wonderful this dessert is. There may have even been some passionate plate licking when it was all over...immediately followed by frustration that I didn't think to buy at least a dozen more pears from the Farmer's Market this weekend. Note to self: buy a ridiculous amount of pears at Farmer's next Saturday.

A few words before I get on already with the recipe- there are many reasons to love this dessert. For starters, it's pears. They sort of make you feel light and airy and like you're not really doing anything naughty by eating them, especially if you happened to fall victim to the post-Halloween sugar coma backlash. Like me. Secondly, they are so delightfully simple- but very elegant. They take about 5 minutes to prep, but they look fancy enough to serve for the most special of dinner guests (which means, if you are thinking of inviting me over for dinner, these would be totally appropriate to serve for our dessert together). Thirdly, anytime I can throw in a quirky and unexpected ingredient like balsamic vinegar into my dessert I just know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, it's going to be fantastic.And lastly- cinnamon mixed with mascarpone cheese? Do we even need to say more? Those Italians! They really are God's gift to mankind with their invention of the creamiest of all cream cheeses. My lips are instinctively quivering just thinking about it. I've been longing to incorporate more mascarpone into my life for quite some time now, so the timing is perfect.

Alright. I'll shut up now and let you get on with it. You can thank me later- have fun.

Roasted Balsamic Pears with Cinnamon Mascarpone

Serves 4
Ingredients:
2 medium-large ripe pears (we used a variety close to Bosc, but anything similar would work)
Approx. 2 tsp. brown sugar
Approx. 3 tsp. butter
Balsamic vinegar, for drizzling
1/4 cup white grape or apple juice (or...a combination of brandy + juice would also be divine)
6 T. mascarpone cheese (Trader Joe's sells it in a small tub!)
2 tsp. granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
2 T. chopped toasted walnuts (optional)
Kosher salt (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 375. Halve pears lengthwise and core with paring knife. (We left ours unpeeled because the peel got so soft in the cooking process that it tasted delicious. But feel free to peel first if you prefer.) Place cored side up in a medium baking dish. Spoon about 1/2 tsp. of butter and 1/2 tsp. of brown sugar into each cavity. Pour grape or apple juice (or BRANDY!) into baking dish. Lightly drizzle balsamic vinegar over all pears, allowing some to drizzle into grape/apple juice as well. Bake 20-25 min., or until pear halves are tender and lightly browned.

2. Meanwhile....stir together mascarpone cheese, granulated sugar, cinnamon and toasted walnuts (if using, and I highly recommend you do!).

3. To serve, arrange one pear half per plate. Top with cinnamon-mascarpone mixture, and then drizzle with the hot apple juice/balsamic juice that's collected in the baking dish. Sprinkle with a dash of kosher salt on top (trust me on this). Enjoy!

Ants Behaving Badly

I'd like to think I've got a bit of St. Francis in me. I mean, for the most part I like all of God's creatures, and I have a pretty notable respect for life, generally speaking. Exception to this rule: I despise snakes because they're evil and scary and sneaky and they remind me of, oh you know, HELL. In fact, that is my definition of hell. Just a whole "hell" of a lot of snakes slithering around. But I don't bother them and they stay away from me, so we're cool. And while we're going there, I should mention that I really don't understand the POINT for flies to even be in existence, but thankfully we have screens on all our windows and sliding glass door. In the unfortunate event that one sneaks in, I tolerate the occasional perpetrator and roll with it. Or I make Dan kill it with a rolled up magazine, depending on my irritation level.

But the million-member ant army that ruthlessly invaded my beautiful clean kitchen last night/this morning? They can all die. In fact, they did. They're dead. ALL 2.6 MILLION OF THEM.

Here are words you do not typically want to hear from your 3 year old son at 6:45 am (who likes to get up at the crack of dawn and help himself to breakfast hors d’oeuvres hour):
"Mommy! Come check it out! There's LOTS AND LOTS of bees! All over the floor!" *

This shot me up and out of bed quicker than the smell of bacon.

There, waiting to greet us was the ant infantry. (*Because when you're 3, you are still learning insect-ology basics, including how to decipher between bees, flies, ants, spiders, and roley-poley bugs. Cut him some slack, it's a lot to learn in 3 years.) We were completely ambushed. They were not joking around, these ant imbeciles. If we hadn't caught them when we did, I'm fairly certain they would have commenced laying out booby traps. Needless to say, they were in full swing, attacking everything from the counter tops to the highchair (which I TOTALLY cleaned after dinner) to the bar stools to the random little innocent crumb that dropped on the floor after dinner. But the worst part....the very WORST PART....the part that kills me just a little bit inside, every time I think about it....they came for my fresh, organic, newborn, beautiful, made from scratch strawberry-rhubarb crisp. I KNOW! Do you need a minute to recover, like I did? It hurts, I know it. Go ahead, take a moment.

Before some of you begin thinking I'm too emotionally attached and involved with my food, let me just say a few words about this crisp. It's inception was quite sweet, really- Dan & I had both been ready for something fantastic to end our day with. I had some beautiful organic Driscoll's strawberries (thanks, sis) sitting around waiting to be combined with sugar and rhubarb and butter. And Dan always talks so fondly about the massive amounts of rhubarb that grew wild in his yard as a child. So....being the thoughtful wife I sometimes am, I bought enough rhubarb for a crisp and the TWO OF US TOGETHER in the kitchen made & baked it (a rarity would be an understatement here). We were so excited to pop it in the oven for many obvious reasons, but one being it was FINALLY cool enough in this county to turn on an oven or a stove and start having some kitchen fun again! (By the way, what was all that 101 degree madness we had there for a few days, neighbors? I was not a fan. Oh, and speaking of fans, they totally help. I recommend buying a few so we're all prepared for the next heatwave). We did have a little piece when it came out of the oven, both he & I. But when I say "little" I mean it. You know, because we wanted to pace ourselves and save plenty for the upcoming week. You know, we didn't want to over-indulge or anything. You know, because sometimes the only light at the end of your tunnel-of-a-day is A LITTLE PIECE OF STRAWBERRY RHUBARB CRISP!

And what do the ant idiots decide to do? Storm the kitchen walls, swarm my precious and (might I remind you) barely-eaten crisp and then drown in its sweet berry juices. Oh, for peet's sakes! Couldn't they have attacked and drowned in something a little less sacred?! Who do they think they are? Doesn't it say in the Bible somewhere that Adam & Eve were given complete reign over these creepy-crawlies in the Garden of Eden? Because now those disobedient boogers will have to answer to GOD for their crime! That's right.

So yeah, I'm a little bitter. And you should have seen the revenge that was alllllll mine. There's nothing quite like an angry mom (me) fending for her family in her mis-matched pj's (and disheveled hair and morning breath) attacking the enemy with the Raid bottle like it was my job. In fact, I may have just earned myself the employee of the month award. In fact, I DARE those ants to step foot in this house again. Make that a double-dog dare. You don't even want to see the bottle of Raid I'll be sleeping with under my pillow tonight, just in case.

And so flash-forward to tonight. Now the hubster & I are just walking around pacing the kitchen like a couple of addicts without a stash. Seriously out of luck. I would say it's painful, this deep craving we're experiencing. Just an innocent craving for the days of yore, yearning for a delicious buttery sweet-yet-tart homemade crisp. It's all I've ever wanted.

That...and a dutch oven. (To which I've just reminded myself....thank goodness Christmas is just around the corner) (DAN! See how easy I make it for you?)

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