So I’ve had multiple requests for the eggnog cookies recipe. MULTIPLE.  So here it is:

Mrs. Fields Eggnog Cookies

2 1/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1 1/4 cups sugar
3/4 cup SALTED butter, room temp (Mrs. Fields calls for this)
1/2 cup eggnog
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 egg yolks
1 tablespoon nutmeg (optional)

Preheat oven to 300F.

In a medium bowl combine flour, baking powder, cinnamon and nutmeg; mix well with a wire whisk and set aside.

In a large bowl, cream sugar and butter with an electric mixer. Add eggnog, vanilla and egg yolks and beat at medium speed until smooth. Add the dry ingredients and beat at low speed just until combined.

Drop by rounded teaspoons onto ungreased baking sheets, 1″ apart. Sprinkle lightly with nutmeg or skip this step and sprinkle on the nutmeg after you ice the cookies. Bake for 23-25 minutes or until bottoms turn light brown.

Transfer to cool, flat surface immediately with spatula.

Eggnog Icing
3 C. confectioners’ sugar
1/4 C. softened butter or margarine
1/3 C. commercial eggnog (use as much as you need)

In small mixer bowl, beat confectioners’ sugar and butter or margarine until well blended. Gradually beat in eggnog until icing is smooth. Makes about 1 1/2 cups.

VIA

And then I heard a friend who made them talking about how she couldn’t make anymore because she didn’t have any yokes.  And I said, “Huh?”  “You know, the two egg yokes.”  “Oh, I didn’t do that:  I used one whole egg.”

Likewise:

• I measured the baking powder in the palm of my hand
• I squeezed in an unknown amount of cinnamon out of the plastic container
• I grated nutmeg til I was tired of grating
• I did not use salted butter
• I added salt (palm-measured, of course)
• I did not mix the dry ingredients in a separate bowl
• I baked them at 375

SO be forewarned:  just because you get a recipe from a cookie that I made, it doesn’t mean that I actually *followed* the recipe.  It’s more a set of guidelines to give some generous boundaries with wiggle room in between.

And I wonder why my chemical-engineer-father and math-major mother and bio-chem-brother and I don’t see more eye to eye. 

Foodie Facts | 2 Comments »

JJ bounded into the car after school yesterday.

“Mama, we played upstairs today!  Teacher L did ‘eeny meeny miny mo …. and …. you get to go!’  So M, she was my puzzle partner, I picked her to go because my row got to go, and M and K and I went upstairs!  And we played mommy and daddy and I was the daddy and M was the mommy and K was the doggy and A was the cat.  And I was driving really fast in a truck and I went ‘wrhhhrhr CRASH!’ and banged myself and had to go in the ambulance to the doctor!  And the doctor gave me a bangaid and I felt better, and M drew me a picture and so did K, and A brought me a blanket and M brought me stickers and A turned on a movie and they took care of me and made me feel better because I was the daddy.”

I swear it’s genetic.

JJ Jawings | No Comments »

Yesterday I noticed Amazon was having a sale on albums:  100 listed for $5.  One of those listed:  John Denver and the Muppets:  A Christmas Together.  I love John Denver; I love the Muppets; I like Christmas:  I was sold.

I sent the link to the Hubby who makes all our music purchases, to which he promptly downloaded it.  At dinnertime he hooked up the Ipod to the stereo to enjoy the vocal stylings, and then commented, “I got a lot of comments at work about this.”

“Huh?”

“Apparently it changed one of my coworker’s “you might like” list to be all Muppets.  He didn’t seem to like that.”

Hubby also sent the link onto a friend who promptly told him it was horrible.  “The Muppets, or John Denver?”

“Both.”

“Dren may not like you anymore.”

My father used to own every John Denver record known to man.  I remember going to a concert in Boise when I was a small tyke.  Everyone was so happy, singing along.  My folks had the Rocky Mountain Holiday record, which Hubby got for me (record – unopened) for my birthday the year we were dating.  Every time we’re in the car, my kids ask for “The Muppet Cast, please” which got us through quite a few CSA pickup runs.  And every morning for the past two weeks I’ve woken up with some song from The Muppet Christmas Carol stuck in my head.

Perhaps it’s because muppets are funny with little to no cares about daily life.  Perhaps it’s because they remind me of a simpler time.  Perhaps it’s because their songs are irritatingly catchy.  At any way, it’s a time of Christmas, but christmas with felt-based created creatures around here.  And if you can’t handle it, then I bang you on the head as only Monster can bang with his drum sticks, but with love, of course.

Entertaining Evidence | 1 Comment »

Tonight at Book Group, we did not discuss a book; we watched “Lars and the Real Girl” and ate cookies.  A dear woman I knew passed away this evening, and a scene in the movie seemed so relevant (minus the fact that the girl in the movie was made out of plastic, but hey:  it’s symbolic):

Sewing Circle Lady 3 – Hazel: Well that’s how life is, Lars.
Mrs. Gruner: Everything at once.
Sewing Circle Lady 2 – Sally: We brought casseroles.
Lars Lindstrom: Thank you.
Lars Lindstrom: [Lars looks around the sewing circle. The three ladies are knitting and doing needlepoint] Um, is there something I should be doing right now?
Mrs. Gruner: No, dear. You eat.
Sewing Circle Lady 2 – Sally: We came over to sit.
Sewing Circle Lady 3 – Hazel: That’s what people do when tragedy strikes.
Sewing Circle Lady 2 – Sally: They come over, and sit.

Someone commented on how that’s not done a lot anymore.  Maybe we should do more of that – just coming over, and sitting.

Daily Drivel, Entertaining Evidence | 1 Comment »

[Conversation from this afternoon.]

“What did you do?!!”

“Huh?”

“The toilet.”

“It’s white.”

“I know!  How did you do that?”

“I read a blogger’s adventure on how she cleaned her toilets.  She lives in New Mexico and has all this hard water build up and *nothing* would remove it, so she resorted to using a pumice stone.  And I thought, ‘Ah ha!  Good idea!  I should do that!’  And never got around to it.  Until just now.”

“So it doesn’t damage the toilet?”

“But I don’t *care.*   ….  What are you doing?  Are you googling if it hurts the toilet?”

“I’m looking up porceline toilet pumice stone.  Oh, it’s spelled porcel*ain* – interesting.”

“And?”

“And it looks like it’s okay.  You’re supposed to wet the stone.”

“Yep.”

“Don gloves.”

“Meh.”

“Scrub gently to remove stains, not to hard as to scratch.”

“Sure.”

“Flush to admire your work.”

“Multiple times.”

“And touch up any places you missed.”

“Check.  By the way, why does one care if a thing that deposits (we’ll use the word ‘excrement’ rather than the more graphic descriptors spoken – my parents do read this blog) is ‘damaged’?”

“Uh, well, it could get scratched, and then residue buildup occurs, and …”

Blank stare.

“Right.  Well, it sure is white!  Nice work!”

Daily Drivel | 1 Comment »

I fell asleep last night.

A Friday night.

Before 9:15pm.

In bed.

While watching NCIS.

On a computer.

‘Nuff said.

Random Remarks | 2 Comments »

It’s funny living in a small town.  This evening while trying to catch up with my family who was hightailing it to the car due to some not-so-controlled-behavior at a downtown holiday event, I passed the local jewelry shop.  Peering in, I was hoping to spy one of my neighbors/JJ’s classmate’s mama.  Instead, I saw a friend from church/book group/the Dee.  She opened the door and pronounced,

“Apparently you’ve been recruited to make soup.”

“Ah, sure!  I love to make soup!”

“For the gathering for next week:  do you have any soups you are known for?”

Which I do.  But it’s not so much my recipe as the highest-rated soup recipe on the Cooking Light website, because when in doubt, go for the lots-of-stars/lots-of-comments recipes.  And add garlic:  mmm, garlic.

Then my friend went on to question whether it would be okay to have store-bought bread (yes:  it’s just a vehicle for the yummy soups) and talked about making her black bean vegetarian soup that she made last night, except it had kidney beans, and she threw in ground beef, and then was appalled that her family thought it was chili.  Because it wasn’t:  it was her black bean (but really kidney bean) vegetarian with ground beef soup.  Duh.

If I lived in a big town, I would probably not have that conversation on a cold December Friday night in a jewelry store.

Foodie Facts | 1 Comment »

I’ve always been an avid reader.  I remember making the trek all the way across town to the Boise Public Library(!) to check out a slew of books.  My eyes were often bigger than my available time, and I’d come to the checkout counter, barely able to carry the stack.  I remember one specific time that Mom made me Put.Books.Back (GASP:  the Horror!):  it was like saying that I had too many friends and I must reject some.  The pain was excruciating.  Obviously.  Which could explain why I check out PILES of books currently.  Because I’m spiteful like that. 

I also remember in grade school aching to graduate to the big kids section of the library.  The books were separated/segregated into picture books/easy readers and the Big Kid Books known as Juvenile Fiction.  Finally one day I told the librarian that I wanted to check out a book from that area of the library:  these other books were too pedestrian.  She made me get a book (Moby Dick, I believe) and read out loud to her to prove that I could handle it.  Psh:  easy challenge.  I remember her being a little surprised (obviously she didn’t recognize my literary genius as my parents and aunt had, which added to my humble nature) and finally allowing me access, meaning I could check out ANYTHING.  Sweet Freedom!

Yes, I’m a geek.  And I’m still a geek.  But I can’t decide if I’m a getting-smarter geek or a dumbing-down geek.  Geekdom can either make you a better, stronger person, or it can create an obsessive, non-communicative lump.

Lately, I can’t read “good” literature.  I’ve checked out the latest Barbara Kingsolver, Nick Hornby, Anne Rice, Margaret Atwood, and countless other “recommended” “top pick of the year” “masterpiece” reads.  And I can’t read them.  My mind goes blank, my eyes cross, and I realize I’m simply turning pages to turn pages:  and when I have so few moments of silence that I can do something I want to do without the demands of the Little People Nation, turning pages for closure isn’t one of them.

What am I enjoying reading?  Young Adult Books.  I’ve worked in the Young Adult section of a library, and let me tell you, YA is really where it’s at.  Yes, there’s gunk, but there’s also a lot of truth there.  Lately I’ve enjoyed “The Hunger Games” and it’s sequel, “Graceling” and it’s prequel, Septimus Heap, and many other reads aimed at preteens/teens/those who don’t use semi-colons (do as I say; not as I do).  I can’t decide if I enjoy it because it’s simple and my sleep-deprived brain can comprehend it, because it’s entertaining and exciting in non-adult, non-refined ways, or because it speaks truth where adult read either allude to it or avoid it altogether.

A friend recently introduced her daughter to the young adult section of the library, and she was fairly horrified:  “I wanted to go back downstairs to the nice, happy children’s section!”  Another friend mentioned she’d rather have her daughter read “Twilight” than “The Hunger Games” (which deals with kids killing kids for national entertainment’s sake).  But oh, I say there’s room to read both.  There’s truth, it’s ugly, and teens would rather look at the ugly and explore it rather than adults who’ve been banged up by the truth too much and prefer to run away or stick their heads in the sand.

So it may be as I age that I continue to read the YAs, or it may be that my reading level has peaked, and you’ll soon see me checking out Frog and Toad under guise that it’s “for the kids”. 

Required Reads | 5 Comments »

Today I turned on the holiday music.  Normally we have 30+ seasonally appropriate cds in rotation in our stereo, but the full Holidaying of the Abode has not commenced (i.e. I’m still trying to untangle some gingerbread people garland from the one box I cracked open, and dang it if I’m opening another without having closure!).  So I turned on the two stations that play Christmas Music Til Your Ears Bleed Candy Cane Stripped Blood.

And the boys would have none of it.  Elmo and the Orchestra was the request, followed by some generic kids cd with The Wheels on the Bus, because Abe *loves* the wheels and sings it constantly, but only the last words, so it sounds as follows:

Rou

Rou

Rou

Rou

Taugh

Beep

Beep

Beep

Beep

Taugh

UpDow

UpDow

UpDow

UpDow

Taugh

You get the picture.

One of my goals as a parent is to impart the love, the excitement, the utter absolute need to listen to one holiday album each year, to feel incomplete without the melodic, culturally-relevant, lyrically-genius, melodically-classical symphonic masterpiece of:

Bing Crosby’s “Merry Christmas”

NOT “White Christmas”, mind you:  that pales in comparison to the compilation of songs carefully crafted and chosen for this album.

I love the movie “White Christmas”:  the dancing, the singing, the fake snow.  NOT the modern art piece:  thooey.  But the dresses:  oh, the dresses.  And the happy world where people come to salute their former general who’s down and out in a ski resort without snow:  now THAT’s the holiday spirit. 

Actually, I find it a most excellent means of wrapping gifts:  makes those corners and that tape awful snappy.

Holiday Hoopla, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

I’ve never been a fan of eggnog:  the thick coating that covers the entirety of the mouth and throat reminds me of a better-tasting antacid.  But so many of my favorite people adore the stuff, so when it went on sale at the store, I had to buy it.

Trying to get JJ to drink some was an effort in trying to get JJ to do *anything* new.

Place new item in front of JJ.

Count the seconds until JJ freaks out.

Tell JJ what it is.

Count the seconds until “But I don’t like …!!!” is exclaimed.

Counter with “You can’t say that:  you haven’t tried it.”

Followed by “But I don’t want to try it!”

Offered with “You should try it; you may like it.”

Nixed with “No, I won’t!”

Lured with “Ooooh, you don’t know what you’re missing!”

Obvious ploy seen through “Yes, I do.”

Give steps towards compromise, “Here, just try a sip.  I’ll dip my finger in it, and you can lick it off.”

While his arms flail, his eyes dart back and forth, and you get the sense that he’s looking for the tranquilizer gun like the scared cornered wild animal that he’s become.

After having the finger shoved in his mouth because it’s dripping on the floor, he falls over, exhausted from the ordeal.

[All while Abe has finished his cup and is laying on the floor with the cup over his mouth, tongue extended, trying to lick out as much as he can.]

And then the magical words:  “You know what this is like?  It’s like the milk with vanilla syrup that you get at Chapters.  You like that, don’t you?”

Fifteen minutes later, and we have an empty cup.

Ten days later, and at every meal, “May I drink eggnog?”

To which he hears, “Nope:  you’ve had enough.”

We’re the worst kind of pushers EVER.

But, if you have eggnog and don’t have small people following you around begging for more “MIK!  MIK!  MIK!” (as some toddlers are found to do), it can be used in:

• waffles
• french toast
• cookies
• muffins

Makes the house smell something wonderful!

Foodie Facts, Holiday Hoopla | 2 Comments »