cho cho chocolate

I wanted some...looked through my recipes...thought I'd give it a shot...

Something chocolate this way comes...

Molten chocolate nutella pudding cakes.

Just in case you don't understand what that is, let me explain....

!@!&^%$#@*&(*%$##@&*(_(*&^%$#@!@^)!, 

or in english, REALLY GOOD GOOEY MINI CHOCOLATE CAKES.

This is a recipe from an old All You magazine.  You're supposed to use individual ramekins, as shown in the picture above, but I don't have any.  So Sarah suggested we use my giant muffin pan.  

She's a smart one she is.

It worked.  Not as pretty as an individual serving, seeing as I had to dump them all at once on a platter, but yummy just the same. 

That is warm, ooey gooey goodness called nutella peeking out from the center.  It didn't run all over the plate like some molten chocolate cakes do, but frankly my dear, I don't give a darn. 
Delightful.
Here's the recipe.

1/2 cup all purpose flour

1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa

1/2 tsp baking powder

4 oz semisweet chocolate chips

One stick of butter, unsalted

4 large eggs

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup sugar

1/4 tsp salt 

6tbsp nutella

1.  Preheat to 350.  Coat ramekins with cooking spray.  I used pam for baking.  Fill a roasting pan with some hot water, about an inch.

In a bowl, whisk flour, cocoa and baking powder.

2.  In another bowl, melt the butter and chocolate chips in microwave until melted, about a minute.  Whisk until smooth.

3.  In yet another bowl, with an electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat eggs, vanilla, sugar and salt until pale yellow, about 5 minutes.  Beat in chocolate mixture, then stir in flour mixture.  Spoon half of batter into ramekins.  Drop 1 tbs of nutella into center of each.  Cover with remaining batter.

4.  Transfer ramekins to roasting pan and carefully put them in the oven.  Bake until cakes have risen and tops are cracked, about 30 minutes.  Let cool for 5 minutes.  

Mmmmm

That is so pinteresting

I     am    obsessed.

I have discovered Pinterest.
I had to create a twitter account just so I could sign up for it... and I'm not a twitter.
I have been on Pinterest everyday this week.
I am pinning everything I see online, and I'm re-pinning everything I see of Pinterest.

I am a junkie. 

Chocolate cookies, pinned
Art work, pinned
Hairstyles, pinned
dinner, pinned
party ideas, pinned
holiday decor, pinned

And the list goes on, and on and on and on and on......

Hi, my name is Kristie,
I'm 32 years old, and I'm a pinnaholic.
 

Egg shells and pancakes

I have found the greatest pancake recipe!!!  It is supposedly Cracker Barrel's recipe, and Im pretty sure I got it from a website like food.com or some such.  Whatever, I don't care.  I was low on groceries and refusing to go to the store, so I searched my recipe card box and found it.  Like a little nugget of gold. 
WHERE HAS IT BEEN ALL MY LIFE? 
Joy....rapture....bbbutter.

I really like pancakes.

2 cups sifted all purpose flour
2tsp baking soda
1 heaping tsp salt
1tbs sugar
2 eggs
2 cups buttermilk (seriously, who has buttermilk hanging out in their fridge?  Just use 2 cups o milk      and 2 tbs white vinegar.  5 minutes and voila.)
Butter for the pan, which should be cast iron, and blanketed with the shiny goodness of all the butter you've put in it.
Mix but don't over mix.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

This recipe made ten pancakes for me, but I can't seem to make anything except plate size pancakes, so...if you have the gift of making sensible proportions it could make more.

About the eggs...
I can't ever seem to crack an egg on the side of a bowl and not get some of the shell inside.  Along the lines of said failure, I can't open cereal boxes or sealed plastic bags without ripping them beyond repair or spilling the contents all over the floor.  I have a hard time with buttons and zippers and lids on sodas.   I've accepted the disability, but I heard the Barefoot Contessa say the other day that she cracks her eggs on the counter so that she can avoid getting any shells in her recipe.

I tried that.

I suppose an entire half shell is better than the tiny fragments I usually end up fishing out. 

Sigh.

No matter, the pancakes made it all better.
Shell free, butter smothered pancakes.

I am a daddy's girl

We were in Mobile a couple of weeks ago, and I found a shoe box full of pictures.  Tons of pictures.  My mom, Steven and I sat around the table for more than an hour looking through them.  We laughed at a few, set a few aside for safer keeping.  I picked up one of me as a new born.  Believe me when I say you have never seen a newborn baby this fat before.  11 pounds, 14 ounces.  Ouch.  I had seen the picture several times before and I was still in shock.  I had a good laugh at myself, then for some reason turned the picture over.  This is what was on the back.

That is my daddy's writing.  Sorry the pic is sideways and probably too light to read, but I don't feel like taking the time to fix it.  It was taken while I was still in the hospital.  Im laying on the bed next to mom.
It reads, "Kristie is awake and wanting to see what the world is all about.  She is a beautiful baby girl, and above all the compliments anyone could give her, she is my daughter."

I balled my eyes out.

While everyone else was commenting on how I was the biggest thing to ever be birthed, all he could think about was that I was his, and he was proud. 

No wonder I am such a princess.  When you are loved like that, you tend to become a bit spoiled.

I sure do miss my daddy.

Perfume

We've all had these experiences before;

  Walking through a department store, you pass the make up department and are bombarded by a wave of perfumes. 
 You sit down in a dark movie theatre and kick up your feet, only to have some man sit behind you who is apparently quite fond of his Old Spice. 
 You hug a distant relative you haven't seen in years, only to have a bit of them literally rub off on you, and you carry them with you... until you change clothes.

Lets face it, perfume can be offensive.  I don't wear it very often, and when I do, I have to put it on the back of my neck as to avoid despising it in a matter of minutes and having to scrub it off.  I am one of those people who smells everything.  EVERYTHING.  So I can be a good 30 yards from a perfumed offender and know they are coming.  I have a head ache just thinking about it.

But then, thinking about it, I am reminded of a perfume that may not have been so offensive.  One that, if I could smell it, may be life changing.

"Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper, there came unto him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head, as he sat to dinner.  But when his disciples saw it, they had indignation, saying "to what purpose is this waste? For this ointment might have been sold for much money and given to the poor." 
When Jesus understood it, he said unto them, "Why do you trouble this woman?  for she has done a good work unto me.  You will have the poor with you always, but me you have not always.  For in that she has poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial.  Truly I say unto you, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the whole world, this also that she has done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her."

Can you imagine that?  I have a little perfume on my wrists right now.  Just a tiny dab, yet I can smell it while I type.  This woman poured an entire container of very strong (and apparently expensive) perfumed oil on Christ's head...right there at the dinner table.  Our perfumes are mostly water and alcohol based, but the perfumes in that time were oils.  Oils stay in the skin, saturating it.  And she poured it out.  On his head.  
All of it.  
Our Lord, the Christ, was sitting down for dinner and in walks this woman with a box.  Did he stop her and tell her to wait until an appropriate time?  Nope.  He let her lavish what was probably her most treasured and prized possession upon Him.  He allowed her to pour every last drop of that perfumed oil onto His head, through His hair and down his neck and arms.  He knew what she was doing.


She was making a sacrifice to honor His sacrifice.

"...she has done what she could do; she has come beforehand to anoint my body for burial."

The fragrance would have been overwhelming.  My nostrils burn when I walk through the department store.  Can you imagine what He would have smelled like at that very moment?  
Can you imagine what He would have smelled like less than 48 hours later?

Have you ever noticed that when you wear perfume and you get hot, the smell intensifies?  Let it sink in.
Put yourself there, on one of the streets of Jerusalem.  Crowded, loud, people pushing to catch a glimpse of the accused carrying His cross to His death.  You can get close enough to see but surely, like me, you would close your eyes in horror, not able to view something so horrid.  

But then you smell it.

The perfume.

"Therefore be imitators of God as dear children.  And walk in love, as Christ also has loved us and given Himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling aroma."     Eph 5

Thank you Lord, for perfume.  

Remind me always.
 




 

 
 

Funnies ...

The kids were arguing.  Imagine that.  So I say to Sarah, "will you please be the peace maker?". 
She responds "Why do I need to be a peace maker?"

So I quote James, "the gift of righteousness is sown in the peace of those who make peace, so it seems that God grants righteousness to you if you are a peace maker."

Madelyn says, "We have to eat our peas?"

Guess whats on the menu tonight.

The Daisy Chronicles.

So as I mentioned in an earlier post, we got a puppy for Christmas.  We went and lost our Christmas minds and got a puppy.  SHE is the sole reason I haven't posted anything since.  I don't have the time to sit down without having to stop her from doing something she isn't supposed to be doing (i.e. chewing the banister, chewing the carpet, chewing the cabinets, chewing a HOLE IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR COUCH.)  I am really hoping that I don't end up with a "Marley and Me" sort of experience with this dog.  Basically, Im still just trying to like her.  The kids of course love her.  Steven says that he doesn't, but I know secretly he can't wait to come home and play with her everyday.  She absolutely adores him. 
She    adores    HIM.
Not the hand that feeds her.  Not the person who wipes her behind like an infant because she gets distracted by passing cars while she's doing her "business" and sits in it.  Not the person who takes her for walks and buys her toys. 
She adores him.

I've got to let that go.  Ive heard it said that dogs read your "energy" and feed off of it.  If you're stressed, they get stressed, if you're excited they get excited, blah blah blah.  I'm telling you right now, I don't care who says that dogs don't have human emotions, they absolutely do.  And I know this because my doggy doesn't get nervous or stressed when Im stressed.  SHE gets sassy the second I sit down to do something.  If Im up and about, she is naughty and gets in things, but it's when I sit to either eat lunch or read or do my bible study that she gets her sass on.  She looks at me and barks. 
Its not the cute bark, where the tail wags and they want to play.  No, this is a hair standing up on her back, head tilted to the side, all bowed up at me bark.  And what does she do when I stand up?  She runs.

Im getting furious just writing about it. 

She is totally being an adolescent brat, and I am clearly not ready for it.  Maybe this is God's way of preparing me for my daughters pre-teen years?            

Pray for me.

So if any of you who know and love me call me up in the middle of the day and catch a strange tone in my voice, please know that it isn't your fault that I sound like Im about to snap.
  It's Daisy's.