Browned Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

I remember the first time that I saw one of my students in public.  It was at Lowe's, and I had just walked through the main entrance.  Right in front of me, next to a potted plant display, stood one of my fourth graders and his mother.  He was quite the character in class and kept me on my toes, for sure, but I've never had a student I didn't love.  I caught the boy's eye, smiled, and approached to say hello to them both.  Then the funniest thing happened.  This boy, who was already significantly taller than my 4'10" frame, hid behind his mother.  He most definitely ducked behind her as I walked up.  He wasn't quite cowering, thankfully, but I thought it was odd that he would use his mom as some type of battle shield against me.  I didn't come armed with a surprise homework assignment or anything.  I said greeted Mom, peered around her shoulders to give a wave, and continued on my way.

As I wandered off through the aisles to find lightbulbs or extension cords or whatever I had come for, I remembered back to the days when I was in elementary school.  I only saw a teacher of mine once or twice in all those years, but it certainly freaked me out.  It was like seeing a Siberian tiger sauntering through the freezer section of the supermarket.  Didn't those ladies LIVE at school?  What were they doing out of their habitat?  Of course the first response would be to hide; it's just unnatural to see a techer outside of school!

These thoughts ran through my head at our latest elementary teacher team meeting.  We're all stressed out beyond belief.  (I believe the saying goes, "There's no tired like beginning-of-the-school-year-teacher-tired.")  So we joked about making it a party.  At the first team meeting, I passed around my candy jar.  This time, I was determined to do it better.  I brought these "healthier" chocolate chip cookies and some "healthy" popcorn to get us through the afternoon with a bit of a smile, but my party partner-in-crime/music teacher/third grade teacher really brought the stress-relief.  She came armed with a CD of "party music" to get our meeting started.  And you know what she played for us?  "The Chicken Dance."  Loud and proud.  We cranked up the speakers and got to giggling at ourselves.

And so it was during the chicken dancing, as I was watching my principal and fellow teachers flapping their arms and clucking around the room, that I had a flashback to when I was a kid, seeing teachers out of their natural habitat.  As humans.  Humans that shopped, cooked, and had families beyond the school walls.  And I couldn't help but wonder what the students peering through the window were thinking as we shook our tushies to the beat.

Chicken Dance Cookies

adapted from Cooking Light, October 2012

 

*Using browned butter means you can use less of it with some adding nutty flavor.  Don't be scared of trying it, just watch it carefully.  Subbing in some canola oil decreases the saturated fat.  Replacing some of the white flour with whole wheat gives you some whole grain, so you can feel a little less guilty.  Don't forget the health benefits of dark chocolate, too!

 

**Baking tip: Don't skip the parchment paper on this recipe, unless you want cookie crumbles instead of cookies.  Even my nonstick cookie sheet barely got these cookies off in once piece.  The paper, on the other hand, is like magic.  You can find it in the baking aisle or near the foil and plastic wrap.  It usually goes on sale in the fall and winter.

 

 

Yield: about 32 cookies (The original recipe says 40, but that's a LIE.  I only got 31 cookies when I used my trusty cookie scoop.)

 



6 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons canola oil

5.6 ounces all-purpose flour (about 1 1/4 cups)

3.3 ounces whole-wheat flour (about 3/4 cup)

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

3/4 cup packed light brown sugar (substitute part Splenda Brown Sugar if you like) 

2/3 cup granulated sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips

1/3 cup dark chocolate chips or morsels

Preparation

1. Preheat oven to 375°.

2. Heat butter in a small saucepan over medium heat; cook 5 minutes or until browned. (Watch carefully, and remove from heat when butter starts to take on a light caramel color; it burns quickly.)Remove from heat; add oil. Set aside to cool.

3. Weigh or lightly spoon flours into dry measuring cups; level with a knife. Combine flours, baking powder, and salt, stirring with a whisk. Place butter mixture and sugars in a large bowl; beat with a mixer at medium speed until combined. Add vanilla and eggs; beat until well blended. Add flour mixture, beating at low speed until just combined. Stir in chocolate chips.  At this point, it looks goopy, but the cookies will rise just fine in the oven.  I also placed the batter in the fridge while I waited for the first batch to bake, and it didn't make much of a difference.

4. Drop by level tablespoonfuls 2 inches apart onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper. Bake 12 minutes or until bottoms of cookies just begin to brown. Cool slightly, then remove to a wire rack.

Maple Pecan Spice Cookies

I realized today that I cook to cope.  Maybe some of you already knew this and are surprised that this just occured to me.  I know some people drink to deal with life.  Some use drugs.  Some plop themselves in front of a TV so they don't have to think or feel.  (Big reason why we don't have TV at my house.)  Some are emotional eaters (um, I raise my hand on that one, too).  But I'm noticing a new pattern lately.  I try to create something beautiful, delicious, or comforting when things are out of my control.  Of course, it's not the ONLY reason I cook.  But I've noticed the desire to make something, and make something meaningful, when life is bothering me in one way or another.  I suppose cooking and baking is more healthy than some of my other coping mechanisms... as long as I'm using Cooking Light, right?

You see, this morning I woke up in my cozy bed in Virginia.  Sunlight was streaming in the window, a breeze was blowing in.  No alarm sounded, no work called us out of the soft sheets and cushiony pillows.  We were roused by enthusiatic doggy kisses instead.  We puttered around the kitchen in our pajamas, sipping steaming pumpkin spice coffee.  I whipped up some delicious Parmesan grits and sat down with a book I'd been dying to read while Drew went out to split wood for the coming winter.  It was one of those days when I stand on the porch, my nose to the breeze, breathing in the smells of leaves.  That smell is a mix of happiness, contentment, and craft shows.  Beautiful fall Saturdays always remind me of outdoor craft shows and my aunt Debbie selling her pieces, her hard labor and craftmanship, for much less than they were worth.

Eventually, Drew and I decide on a day trip to Floyd, since our fall hard cider was ready for pick up at Foggy Ridge.  First we stopped at Dogtown Pizza for some of the best wood-fired pizza I've had.  We ordered the "Kitchen Sink" with sausage, pepperoni, onions, sweet peppers, arugula, and sprinkled with a subtle, slightly sweet balsamic vingearette.  Drew also had a super-hoppy IPA from Stone Brewery (on tap), which he says went very well with the pizza.  We walked off our pizza as we checked out the shops, and when we had room in our stomachs again, we stopped in to to Floyd Country Creamery for some freshly made ice cream.  It's right underneath Dogtown; try it if you get the chance.  We highly recommend the Strawberry and Blueberry Buckle.  Both are so fresh and fruit-filled.  I'm not a big fan of fruity ice creams, but they are both big winners in my book.  If the weather is nice, you can enjoy your treat out in the courtyard on a cute little bench as you watch the people pass by on the sidewalk.

Once we got to Foggy Ridge in Dugspur, it was hoppin'.  Lots of people in for tastings and picking up their fall cider orders.  We're glad to see such a great local, artsian place get business.  I love that the lovely lady that runs the tasting room has dubbed us "regulars" and was so happy to see our faces today.  It's a bare bones facility, but they know apples and cider.  Check out their dessert cider "Pippin Black" (Drew's favorite) featured in this most recent Cooking Light.

So we spent the day together, getting wonderful food, hanging out in a fun place.  We rolled the windows down and basked in sunshine while we drove through our breath-taking Blue Ridge.  The trees are just starting to turn against the blue sky.

But for once, it wasn't where I wanted to be.  I wanted to be hundreds of miles away in New Hampshire with my family, graveside, as they laid my grandfather to rest beside my grandmother and my uncle.  Today, my heart was in New England, the land of maple syrup.  I don't know if it was my subconcious or just autumn calling to me, but I had to make these maple-pecan spice cookies.  If I can't be in New Hampshire, at least I can taste it for a moment.

Maple Pecan Spice Cookies

adapted from Cooking Light

For the dough:

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (about 6 3/4 ounces)

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon ground cloves

3/4 cup packed dark brown sugar

1/4 cup butter, softened

2 tablespoons maple syrup

1 large egg

For the frosting:

• 1 cup powdered sugar
• 2 tablespoons maple syrup
• 1 tablespoon fat-free milk
• 2 teaspoons butter, softened

Topping: 1/2 cup finely chopped pecans, toasted

Preparation

1. Preheat oven to 350°.
2. To prepare cookies, lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups; level with a knife. Combine flour, baking soda, and spices in a medium bowl, stirring well with a whisk.
3. Place brown sugar and 1/4 cup butter in a large bowl; beat with a mixer at high speed until light and fluffy (about 4 minutes). Add 2 tablespoons syrup and egg; beat until well blended. Beating at low speed, gradually add flour mixture; beat just until combined.
4. Spoon batter evenly into 30 mounds (about 1 tablespoon) 2 inches apart on baking sheets. I use a cookie scoop, which makes things much faster and easier.  Bake at 350° for 14 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool on pans 5 minutes. Remove from pans; cool completely on wire racks.
5. To prepare frosting, combine powdered sugar, 2 tablespoons syrup, milk, and 2 teaspoons butter, stirring with a whisk until smooth. Spread frosting evenly over cooled cookies. Microwave the frosting mixture for ten seconds to get a better working consistency (but not too runny).  Working quickly, sprinkle cookies with nuts.

You betta redneck-inize...

How does one manage to redneckify a recipe that already smashes two food cultures together?  Easy.  Add beer nuts.

In the latest issue of Cooking Light, I found Kung Pao Chicken Tacos.  What could be better?  Tacos are a go-to meal with us, plus we eat Asian food two to three times a week.  Last night as we sat down to some homemade Pad Thai, Drew remarked that we ate an awful lot of Americanized Asian food for two white kids.  Our pantry is stocked with things like rice vinegar, sesame oil, and an extra bottle of soy sauce (just in case).  We lamented the loss of several staples in the fridge during the Great Blackout of July 2012.  One of the first things that we threw into our shopping cart once the power came back on (a week later) was sambal oelek.  I can't believe we survived a week without it.  It would be as bad as running out of Sriracha!  Tragedy!  In fact, while I was improvising on a less than stellar Thai dish, I realized with a big pout that I didn't replace the fish sauce... Does that happen to other people?

So it was with delight that I read through the recipe and realized that I had every single ingredient for this dish, except one.  Technically, I didn't have the dry roasted peanuts.  Drew had requested that we get honey roasted peanuts instead of dry roasted peanuts last time we went shopping, because he likes snacking on them better.  I sighed, rolled my eyes, and agreed - never mind the fact that they are almost gone because I grabbed a few every time I opened the pantry.  And sometimes I opened the pantry just because I was standing near it and remembered those sugar-coated fat drops were hiding in there.  Oops.

In the end, it was a great recipe.  We browned the chicken until it had a crunchy, salty crust - put it in the pan and don't touch it, for goodness sakes!  We had some leftover "artisan" corn and whole wheat tortillas from meal last week that we carefully toasted under the broiler.  We sliced up some beautiful red and orange banana peppers from the garden to place on top.  And then we threw in our redneck ingredient - honey roasted peanuts.  But you know what?  The kung pao sauce already has honey in it.  I was just adding, um, depth of flavor.  Yeah.  Balancing sweet, salty, savory.  You know.  Chef-type stuff.  Umhmm.

Honey-roasted or not, don't forget the peanuts on this one.  This dish has an incredible texture to it.  It's quick enough for a weeknight, especially if you have a handsome sous chef like I do.  If you don't have a well-stocked pantry for this, at least take the time at the store to grab yourself a bottle of sesame oil.  You can improvise the rest of the sauce.  Sesame oil will really add some excitement to a regular old stir fry, and you'll be glad you had it on hand next time you throw together some protein and frozen veggies.  You do the "let's clean out the freezer" stir fries, too, don't you?

No leftover tortillas?  Just steam up some rice, and you're good to go.  (Rice tip:  Boil the water, add the rice, put a lid on it for 10 minutes as it simmers on low.  Then turn off the heat and let it steam for 10 more minutes.  Don't stir it!  Your rice is perfectly happy in its little stove-top sauna, and it doesn't need you poking around in there disturbing it.  It can cook just fine without you peeking in or giving it a pep talk or whatever you do when you lift the lid.  Most of my amateur cooking mistakes were messing too much with the food.  See chicken browning tip above.)

Kung Pao Chicken Tacos
(adapted from Cooking Light)

3 boneless chicken breasts, cut into bit size pieces
3 T soy sauce, divided
1/4 c plus 1 1/2 tsp cornstarch, divided
1/4 tsp sea salt
2 T canola oil, divided
1 1/2 T honey
1 T dark sesame oil
2 tsp rice vinegar
1 tsp sambal oelek (in Asian food aisle, near Sriracha sauce)
1 large garlic clove, minced
3 T coarsely chopped dry-roasted (or honey roasted) peanuts
3/4 c sliced celery
8 (6-in) corn tortillas
1/3 c sliced green onion tops
2 red/orange sweet banana peppers (or 1/2 bell pepper)
lime wedges, for serving

1. Marinate chicken pieces in 2 T soy sauce, at room temperature, for 30 minutes.  If you are pressed for time, marinate chicken while you prep other ingredients and make sauce.

2. Remove chicken, discard marinade.  Place 1/4 c cornstarch in gallon-size plastic bag. Sprinkle chicken with salt.  Add chicken to bag and shake until chicken is coated.

3. Heat large skillet (don't use a non-stick if you want good browning) over med-high heat.  Add 1 T canola oil to pan; swirl to coat.  Add half of chicken; saute for 6 minutes or until done, turning to brown.  Remove chicken from pan, drain on paper towels.  Repeat with remaining chicken and canola oil.

4. Combine remaining 1 1/2 tsp cornstarch, 2 T soy sauce, honey, sesame oil, rice vinegar, and sambal oelek in a microwave safe bowl, stirring with a whisk until smooth.  Microwave on high, stirring every 30 seconds, until thickened.  (My microwave took 1 minute.)  Stir in garlic.

5. Combine chicken, peanuts, celery, and sauce.  Stir to coat chicken.

6. Toast tortillas under a broiler until lightly blistered, turning once.  Place tortillas on plates, placing 1/8 the chicken mixture on each tortilla.  Top with green onions and bell pepper strips.  Serve with lime wedges.

Priorities, ladies?

During a Bible lesson on King Solomon today, I fought the urge to launch into a feminist, self-esteem talk with my girls.  I will save it for another day, 'cause this is just sad.

=====================================================================

Me: Okay, fourth grade friends, I want you to imagine that God speaks to you in a dream.  God says that you may ask for anything you want.  Remember, this is God we're talking about.  No limits.  God can do anything.  What do you ask for?

Girl 1: A husband.

Me:  Oh.  That's... original.  Hadn't heard that one before.  Anyone else?

Girl 2: I want a husband, four kids, and a monkey.

Me:  Sweetheart, you only get one.  But you know, depending on who you ask, the husband and the monkey are the same thing.

Herbed Goat Cheese Stuffed Banana Peppers

Have you ever been at the garden center and say to yourself, "Hey, self, that looks interesting.  I'll buy that for 3 bucks.  Hmm, a four pack.  I don't even like these that much, but what the hey?"  And then you go to the fancy pants section and buy what you really went there to get.  And then you go home, lovingly manure, mulch, and give pep talks to your planned plant purchases that you pined for all those winter months.  And then you forget about the impulse buy for a week, until you notice it withering in its black plastic container.  And then you remember and half-heartedly stick them in the ground just to get them off of your deck.  And then a stupid Bambi and Thumper cohort eat your expensive farmer's market seedlings while your discount banana peppers thrive on weed crowding, zero irrigation, and general neglect.  Yeah.  You know what I'm talking 'bout.

We've been collecting what seems like a bushel of sweet banana peppers a week from our four little plants in the garden.  I don't even like them that much.  I would rather have a hot pepper than a sweet pepper any day... and banana peppers don't exactly stand in for bell peppers in recipes.  I've tried.  I've willed it to work.  But, alas, they are quite a useless vegetable in my kitchen.  So I thought that maybe I should kick it out of the kitchen and onto the deck instead.  There, on the charcoal grill, they found redemption in their pairing with cheese.  That strategy works with pretty much any food, I think.  When in doubt, add cheese.

(Side-note: My lactose-intolerant brother really throws a kink in this philosophy when he visits.  Our conversations about meals usually turn into me reciting a monologue that sounds something like "Hey, you want some cheesy scrambled eggs for breakfast?  Oh... I'll just whip up some of my incredible cream cheese dani... Oh, sorry... Well, I can't wait for you to try the three cheese stromboli recipe I've been work... Oh... How about we just go out for some ice crea....  Oh.... There's this great frozen yogurt place... Crap.  Here's a carrot.  Enjoy.")

Not only are these stuffed peppers a good way to use up the end of summer bounty, but they make great appetizers for a party.  They cook quickly while the grill is heating up for the main course.  I never like to waste any effort (or charcoal).  Make them up just before guests arrive and stick them in the fridge, covered with plastic wrap, or make up the cheese mixture and put your friends to work.  It's about as complicated as spreading some weird process cheese ball on a cracker anyway.

Herbed Goat Cheese Stuffed Banana Peppers

4 sweet banana peppers, halved and seeded
2 oz. goat cheese
2 T sour cream
2 oz. cream cheese
2 tsp chopped chives
1 T chopped fresh cilantro
salt and pepper to taste

Fire up the grill to about 400 degrees.  Mix cheeses, herbs, and a dash of salt and pepper together in a small bowl.  Divide the cheese equally between the pepper halves.  Throw the peppers on the grill, cheese side up, for 2-3 minutes over direct heat, then move them to indirect heat for about 5 minutes.  Remove to a serving platter and enjoy warm.

Makes 4 appetizer servings.

Organizing Recipes

Every home cook has one - a disorganized stash of recipes that you've clipped from a magazine, printed from your computer, or scribbled down on the back of an envelope.  The question is... what's your recipe hoarding style?  Do you stuff them in a drawer?  A cute little recipe box that is so packed that the lid won't even balance on top?  A cardboard box hiding in a cabinet?  A file folder that spews a few papers every time you pick it up?  Or my choice - crammed in between my cookbooks.  The trick is to stuff them far enough in that no one can see them...

As an avid explorer of new food territories, I really rack up quite a collection of recipes.  Between Pinterest, my favorite food blogs, and my Cooking Light subscription, I've been cooking up 3-7 new recipes a week this summer.  Some worked out wonderfully (and I share them here), and some need some work.  Usually, I don't just toss a mediocre recipe away; I tweak it until it's yummy.  Combining the volume of recipes I collect and all the changes I make to the originals can get a little ugly.  Add in the fact that I'm a terribly messy cook, and you have a recipe (ha!) for trouble.

I've kept a 3-ring-binder for recipes for years, but it was becoming so overloaded that the binding was breaking.  And it wasn't pretty.  It wasn't terrible either.  It was just a plain white binder splattered with various dried sauces from my culinary experiments.  But if it isn't pretty, I'm not going to be motivated to keep it organized.  Enter the $2 recipe binder overhaul.

The great thing about this project is that I only had to buy one thing - the tabs.  Everything else I had already.  I had two white view binders out in the garage as part of my school supply storage.  The clear page protectors were already in use from my previous binder, and the scrapbook paper was part of a huge pad that I had purchased for another project.  I already had the cupcake punch as well.  You can see it at the top of the desserts binder.  Just 'cause it's cute, and I had it.  Why not?  Cupcakes make everything better.  EVERYTHING.  Except diabetics.  Doesn't make them better.  Sorry.

The labels came together very quickly because I already had created the template for organizing my pantry.  So yes, my recipe books and pantry match perfectly - fonts and all.  Those who know me well are not surprised in the least.

First, I sorted out all the recipes I'd never tried or weren't that good.  If I don't love it, it's not worth keeping.  I had to come to terms with the fact that if I haven't made a recipe in the past 5 years, I'm never going to make it.  Make room for the good stuff, people!  Life is too short to spend making and eating crappy food.

Then I separated out my main dishes from all the other stuff.  For the entree binder, I created categories for breakfast, poultry, beef/deer, pork, fish/seafood, and meatless.  For my etc. binder, I have tabs for small bites (appetizers), side dishes, drinks, cakes/cupcakes, breads, and other desserts.  After I decided on my categories, I made a label and attached to a different, coordinating pattern of scrapbook paper.  Slip the paper into a plastic sheet protector, add the corresponding stick-on tab, and you're practically done!

I've discovered an unexpected perk to this kind of recipe keeping.  It's great for someone who messes with a good thing - moi - because I can note any changes I made while cooking with a dry erase marker.  When we taste-test the meal, I have notes to remind me if the tweaks worked well.  If not, I simply wipe away the marker, because the recipe is encased in plastic.  I should have thought of that sooner, since I've used the same sheet protector technique for cheap personal dry erase boards in my classroom for three years.  C'mon, Mrs. N, let's work on generalization of knowledge here.  Duh.

If the recipe is really good (a 7 out of 10 on the Drew scale) or I think I can improve it to that level on the next try, it gets a permanent spot in the binder.  If not, I don't waste space or calories on it. 

There you have it.  My way of conquering the hidden mountain of kitchen paper clutter.  The next frontier?  My bulging binder of recipes that I "want to try sometime..."

Get-out-of-my-house Bars

These peanut butter bars are so delicious, so addictive that I tried any way I could to get them out of my house.  First, I halved the recipe to reduce the amount to tempt me.  Then I gave them away to our neighbors to snack on while they watched my husband and I make fools of ourselves on the front lawn (more on that in a minute).  The next day, I brought another load over to my dear friend, Suzanne, to share with her family.  Thank goodness I did... because I ate nearly every single "ugly" square that didn't look quite right and promptly got a stomachache from it.  AND I KEPT EATING THEM.  If I had made the whole batch and kept them, I'd be in the hospital from peanut butter cup poisoning.

While the hubs and I waited for the squares to firm up in the fridge, we went out for our nightly game of badminton.  We don't play every night, but we hit the birdies back and forth a few times a week.  We're such nerds that our net has stayed up since Memorial Day, and we just mow around it. Eventually, we succeeded in destroying every single shuttlecock we had.  I'd like to say it was because of our strength and sheer mastery of the sport that did them in, but really, it was because we are cheap.  We bought the bottom dollar, flimsy fluorescent birdies that broke apart if you stared at them too hard.  Add that Tater likes to "retrieve" said birdies when they go out of bounds, and you have pile of useless, neon plastic quickly. 

That night, we were celebrating the purchase of NEW shuttlecocks.  Of course, I couldn't bring myself to purchase the pro line, so we got more cheap ones.  But these were WHITE and DIFFERENT.  As soon as I smacked the sucker with my racket, we watched it peter out about halfway to the net.  I pouted.  The engineer was not deterred.  He ran down to my craft room, whipped out my glue gun, and hot-glued a penny to it.  A frugal fix!  I love that guy.  We continued walloping the new birdie at each other, all the while yelling and laughing and causing a general ruckus.

Meanwhile, our neighbors across the street sat on their porch in rocking chairs, probably questioning our maturity, intelligence, or both.  The next day as I was weeding in the garden, our neighbor down the road leaned out her car window and asked if we were playing badminton tonight.  Apparently, she had watched the whole show from her porch and quite enjoyed our antics.  Better than TV.  Looks like next time I'll have to bring her a snack, too.

These squares are like Reese's cups, but even better.  The larger the crumb of graham cracker, the more crunch you will get in your square.  I prefer pretty finely crushed, but not to the point that it's just dust.  You can save yourself even more time and effort by purchasing graham cracker crumbs in the baking aisle, but (like I said) I am cheap and wanted to use as many calories as I could making these.  I pondered churning my own butter, but it would take a week of that to work off one of these little delights.

If you dare make these, have a few disposable containers at the ready to pass out to neighbors.  Don't say I didn't warn you. 

Reese's Peanut Butter Bars

from Let's Dish Recipes

Ingredients
1 c butter, melted
2 c graham cracker crumbs (about 15 squares)
2 c confectioners' sugar
1 1/4 c peanut butter, divided
1 1/2 c semisweet chocolate chips

In a medium bowl, mix together the melted butter, graham cracker crumbs, confectioners' sugar, and 1 cup peanut butter until well blended.  Press evenly into the bottom of an ungreased 9x13 inch pan.  (Tip: An off-set spatula works great for this.)  In a microwave safe bowl, melt the chocolate chips and remaining peanut butter, stirring every 30 seconds until smooth.  Spread melted chocolate mixture over the peanut butter layer, again using your spatula to make things nice and smooth.  Refrigerate for at least 1 hour before cutting into squares.

Yield: Way too many to keep in your fridge safely.

Raspberry Linzer Cheese Danish

I've been in the habit of searching for new recipes and experimenting in the kitchen.  Currently, I'm on a breakfast foods kick.  I could say that it's because Drew has a tendency to get stuck in a rut with breakfast, eating the same thing every morning for a month or two and then never wanting anything to do with it for another six or more.  I could pretend that it's about being a thoughtful, loving wife.  But that would be a lie.  I need to win.  No, I need to CRUSH all competition.  BLOW them out of the water.  EMBARRASS them with their novice attempts at baked goods and bow down and worship me, goddess of sugar and butter.  Okay, maybe not that bad.

See, I've got this class coming up next month.  Each person signs up for a day to bring "snack."  It was suggested that you bring in a box of doughnuts, maybe some juice.  Then one of the facilitators casually said, "I've made quiche and scones, but you don't have to be that fancy."  Then there was murmuring about her food and how great it was.  After the murmuring died down, another facilitator chuckled, "Yeah, there was a little bit of competition going on last year." 

My ears perk up.  Food making?  Competition?  I MUST WIN.  My eyes bug out at my friend sitting next to me, who knows I bake and was part of the same class last year.  She also knows that I have a complex about being the best at everything.  Without missing a beat, she whispers, "Don't worry, you'll win."  I smile to myself, but quickly mouth something that should have come across humble.  That's what I was trying to fake anyway.  She knows better.

Later that class, I meet with my mentor, who happens to be the aforementioned competitive scone and quiche lady.  I learn that not only does she have an agent for her food memoir book, but she used to own a restaurant.  Crap.  This should have busted my crazy competitive bubble, right?  No, of course it just makes me work harder to find a kick-butt recipe or two to wow everyone.  I contemplate signing up for more snack days.  I mentally run through how I might bribe someone to give me their snack day too - maybe one of those people who think that an acceptable edible is something that has been sitting on a supermarket shelf for three weeks and is packed so full of preservatives that it wouldn't decompose in my backyard compost pile in less than a decade.  Drew had the common sense to point out that I'm a tad bit crazy, so I'm scaling it back.  But I think I found the Golden Recipe.  I may go broke buying the ingredients to make several dozen of these, but by golly, I'll win!

Raspberry Linzer Cheese Danish

recipe from Rachael Ray

Ingredients

• 4 ounces cream cheese, softened
• 1/4 cup marzipan or almond paste
• 1/2 cup confectioners' sugar, sifted
• 1 large egg, separated
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed and refrigerated
• 4 teaspoons raspberry jam
• 1/4 cup sliced almonds
• 1 - 2 tablespoons heavy cream

Directions

1. Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 400 degrees . Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Using an electric mixer, beat together the cream cheese and marzipan at high speed for 1 minute. Beat in 1/4 cup confectioners sugar. Beat in the egg yolk, vanilla and salt.
2. Place the puff pastry on a lightly floured surface and roll out to form a 10-inch square; cut into 4 equal squares and place on the prepared baking sheet. Dollop the cream cheese mixture evenly in the center of each square; top with 1 teaspoon jam. In a small bowl, beat the egg white with a fork, then lightly brush some of it onto the pastry. Lift 2 opposite corners of each pastry and cross over the center, overlapping slightly; pinch to seal. Brush the tops with more egg white and sprinkle with the almonds. Bake until golden, about 20 minutes. Let cool completely.
3. In a small bowl, stir the remaining 1/4 cup confectioners' sugar and the heavy cream with a fork until smooth; drizzle over the cooled pastries.

Surprise Daylily Garden

Last fall, I made a special trip home to see my folks.  Not to see them (though that was a bonus), but bring home dirt.  Well, clumps dirt with a few hundred day lily bulbs crammed inside.  Mom needed the day lilies thinned out (for more than 10 years), and I was willing to do it for some free flowers.  Since it was fall, the blooms were long gone, and we had no idea what was where.  It appeared like just a row of overgrown grass that escaped the weedwhacker all summer long.  So I did what any good optimist did.  I declared that I would plant a surprise garden - one in which I don't know where the hell anything is.  Makes for less weeding that way.

Now that summer is here with its suffocating humidity (but moderate temperatures, thank you LORD from the girl without A/C), the day lilies have made their brief appearances in front of the garage.  And there are a few in there that startled me today, but I never remembered them in my mom's garden.  I'm sure they were there, but I didn't notice for my entire childhood and adolescence.  I mean, I only started getting into this gardening thing a couple years ago.  When I was just out of college I couldn't tell the difference between an iris and a peony.  Granted, I still am not sure that I'm pronouncing PEE-o-nee correctly, but I can pick out one from 20 yards away in late June.  And if you don't know that's something, then forgetaboutit.  Just go pick your tomatoes.  I bet you don't even prune them.  Humph.

These were the ones that caught me off-guard today.  I seriously had a panicked moment when I saw them, thinking that I had accidentally stolen some from a neighbor while digging them up.  AND THEN CROSSED STATE LINES.  That's ridiculous, of course, because these were near our neighbors bushes and no where near their gardening area.  Not that they gardened much.  The lady didn't go outside much at all.  She always gets in and out of her car inside the garage.  I think I've seen her three times in my life, and they've lived there since I was six.  In fact, we used to yell for everybody to look out the window if we saw her.  It was more exciting than finding an exotic bird at the feeder.  Seriously, we would wouldn't have watched closer if a toucan landed on the patio and ate a live squirrel.

And, Mom, if you see some that aren't actually yours, let's not say anything.

How come I never remembered one with TWO colors in it?  These ones below are the ones that I remember would pop up year after year, thriving on neglect.  I probably remember these better because they bloom first.  Mom used to ask me to pick off the whithered blooms at the beginning of blooming, but forgot to nag politely request that keep doing so for the later bloomers.  You know those, the ones that wow everyone at their high school reunions.  HA!  Without a captive audience of fourth graders, my bad jokes have to go somewhere.

Can you see the coreopsis in the background on that last photo?  Also swiped from my mom's garden.  I am not one to refuse free perennials.  This fall I'm going to hijack that mystery flower in their front yard.  No one knows what it is, no one know who planted it, no one will mind if it gets relocated.  Yes, I have the perfect spot reserved in the Mystery Garden.