Oreo Cheesecake Cupcakes

It's been a while since I've made cupcakes, and I'd been wanting to make these for a long time now. I'd resisted because I suspected that I would like them so much that I'd eat them all. We were having a Super Bowl party, and planning for a bunch of people, and I decided that tonight was as good a time as any. Then our party fell apart, and only four people came. Hmmmmm. More cupcakes for Mandy? Unfortunately/fortunately, yes.

I found this recipe on the 52 Cupcakes blog. Very much in the style of Julie & Julia, this woman has taken it upon herself to make all 175 cupcakes from Martha Stewart's Cupcakes. Hopefully, she's cooler than Amy Adams's Julia. I think there's a good chance she is, though, because she has a cute dog, Layla. Mitch would be friends with Layla, and he would dance with her. (PS--"dance " is my latest euphemism for "hump." He just dances like he's at the prom.)

Back to the cupcakes. They're not traditional cupcakes; instead they're a cupcake/cheesecake hybrid. Throw in some Oreos and you've got yourself something truly special. These are actually super easy to make, too, which is nice.

Pretty basic ingredients: two pounds of cream cheese, a cup of sour cream, vanilla, salt, eggs, sugar--and Oreos. Lots and lots of Oreos.

And I got to use my silicone baking cups again. (And yes, Caitie, I did wash them very well after the pupcakes featuring cat food.)

And would you look at that? We've entered the new millennium, people. Paperless recipes!


You place an Oreo in the bottom of each cup.

And then chop up the rest of the Oreos.


Whip the cream cheese.
Add sugar, vanilla, salt, and then egg. Mix in an electric mixer.


And fold in the crushed Oreos by hand.



Bake for 22-26 minutes, switching racks halfway through.
Allow to cool completely. Refrigerate for a minimum of four hours.

HOW FUN IS THAT?
And delicious, too. I had one last night and two today. And I think I might have one more before bed. Or maybe two. . .
Oreo Cheesecake Cupcakes, stolen from 52 Cupcakes who stole it from Martha

Ingredients:
42 cream-filled sandwich cookies, such as Oreos, 30 left whole, and 12 coarsely chopped
2 pounds cream cheese, room temperature
1 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
4 large eggs, room temperature, lightly beaten
1 cup sour cream
Pinch of salt


1. Preheat oven to 275 degrees. Line standard muffin tins with paper liners. Place 1 whole cookie in the bottom of each lined cup.

2. With an electric mixer on medium high speed, beat cream cheese until smooth, scraping down sides of bowl as needed. Gradually add sugar, and beat until combined. Beat in vanilla.

3. Drizzle in eggs, a bit at a time, beating to combine and scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. Beat in sour cream and salt. Stir in chopped cookies by hand.

4. Divide batter evenly among cookie-lined cups, filling each almost to the top. Bake, rotating pan halfway through, until filling is set, about 22 minutes. Transfer to wire racks to cool completely. Refrigerate at least 4 hours (or up to overnight). Remove from tins just before serving.

Happy baking, and happy snow day to our friends in the mid-Atlantic. I'm so jealous of you that it hurts. Next month I'll be posting pictures of us at the beach, and perhaps then Savannah and its stupid climate will redeem itself.

(Maybe this is our punishment for choosing a place to live based almost entirely on fact that there's no open container law?)

Fiscal Conservative in Name Only--Hilarious

THIS IS A REAL COMMERCIAL.



I think you're going to smile a little bit. Especially around 2:25.

Measure Your Risk Intelligence

Matt found this test on one of the atheist/scientist blogs he reads. It's pretty cool. Rather than simply being a measure of how much you know, it's a measure of how much you know you know, and how much you know you don't know. Fun, huh?

Matt scored a 93. (He was sober and had zero distractions.)
I scored an 85 (I was drunk and distracted by both Matt and Jeopardy!.)

Here's the test.

Here's the blog where Matt found the test.

What's your risk intelligence?

Pioneer Matt

Matt cooked a super tasty (and spicy!) dinner last night: Pioneer Woman's Cajun Chicken Pasta.

I would have taken pictures and documented the process, but there's no need, because Pioneer Woman already did it--way better than I would ever be able to.

Cheap, delicious, and easy. Just like your mom.

Sorry, that was juvenile, but not juvenile enough for me to delete it.

Bam Bam Wins Again

I've mentioned before Matt's obsession with podcasts, and how he has to be entertained during every waking moment. How he takes the Zune on its speaker dock into the bathroom with him while he showers.

Well, a few days ago, the speakers stopped working. I maintain that the speakers died because of all of the moisture during shower/podcast time.

Matt maintains that the speakers died because of all of the times that I tripped over the cord (WHEN THEY WERE IN THE BATHROOM!) and flung them onto the tile floor.

Knowing that no good would come from blaming Matt's need to be constantly entertained, I directed my anger at Altec Lansing, the makers of said Zune speaker dock. And I decided that, since the speakers were already broken, some Mandy fix-it-ness was in order. Couldn't hurt, right? (In some ways, this experience is analogous to one of the storylines of the Lost premiere.)

My first great idea was to just throw the dock onto the ground several times to see if I could knock things back in place. It didn't work, but it wasn't a complete bust, either. I saw a flash of light, and became more hopeful. But then after a few more tosses to the floor, nothing.

So I went to my toolbox, and retrieved my trusty hammer.

And, frustrated that I had spent $100 on piece of shit speakers, I began to hammer away. And would you believe it? When I plugged them in, THEY WORKED!

Maybe I need my own reality tv show where I fix things with hammers and eat cupcakes? Oh, and take naps. Naps would have to be included. Sounds like a hit to me.

Marital Bliss

Me: I mean, I was just having an entire conversation with you and you didn't hear me. You and your damned podcasts!

Matt: Sorry. Maybe if you need to tell me something you could just record it as an audio file and put it on the Zune. Then I'll hear everything you say.

Pupcakes!

Since yesterday was Mitch's birthday, we decided to spoil him a little bit [more]. For his birthday he received a new Kong, and got lots of pets and praise and snuggles. Unfortunately, it was raining and cold, so there were no long birthday walks. We'll make up for that come spring.

Also, we made pupcakes. I found this recipe on the interwebs and modified it a little. One of the best parts of the pupcakes is that they helped me to fulfill my dream of putting bacon on cupcakes. (Well, partly. I'd have to be pretty hard up to take a bite out of these. Matt refers to them as "yuckcakes," and you'll understand why in a minute.)

Like too many of the best things in life, these pupcakes start with bacon. Three strips. I accidentally bought maple-flavored bacon, which I thought would be gross but was pretty good. Plus, it made the kitchen smell AMAZING.

Another fun thing about making pupcakes was that I got to use the silicone baking cups Matt's mom gave me for Christmas. I was initially skeptical about them, but they're pretty great. (Mine are the Calphalon ones. NOTE: they're not nonstick unless you make them nonstick by spraying some Pam, preferably the baking kind, inside of them. Once you do it once they should be good.)

Six eggs. (Which means you can't eat pupcakes, Ship.)
Two cups of shredded carrots.

And here's the gross part. The recipe called for two cans of chicken-flavored baby food. But I was ingredients shopping at Target, and our Target doesn't carry baby food. So, I had to improvise. Here's what I came up with: chicken cat food. It's gross, I know. But I thought about how many times I've seen dogs eating cat food, and decided it might work. It was at this point that I knew that I would NOT be taste-testing these baked goods.

BLECK! (I just gagged a little. It's incredible the sacrifices that parents will make for their children, isn't it?) Oh, and around this time that wonderful maple and bacon aroma disappeared and was replaced with the disgusting, disgusting smell of cat food. Sacrifices, I'm telling you.
And once you add the flour, the bacon grease, the butter, and everything else, you get batter that looks like vomit, only grosser. (Grosser? More gross?)
Yuckcakes.
The funny thing is that once they had baked, they didn't look half bad. But don't be fooled; they still contain cat food.

Frost with plain yogurt, sprinkle with bacon bits, and insert candle, and you'll have yourself a birthday pupcake.
Get pup to sit first.
Feed him pupcake.

And repeat.

Pup is a big fan. And I'm a fan because I can smoosh them down into the new Kong and keep him occupied during Lost.

Ingredients:

• Three strips of bacon, crumbled up
• 3 cups of wheat flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 2 cups of shredded carrots
• 6 eggs, beaten
• 1/2 stick butter
• the grease from the bacon (health pupcakes!)
• 2 cans of chicken-flavored cat food (or chicken-flavored baby food, if you want to go the less-disgusting route)
• Plain yogurt

1. Preheat the oven to 350. Fry the bacon.
2. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour and the baking powder.
3. In the large bowl of a mixer, mix together the butter and bacon grease.
4. Add the eggs, 1/2 cup of yogurt, cat food, and carrots.
5. Add flour mixture gradually.
6. Add bacon crumbles (but be sure to leave enough for sprinkles).
7. Spoon disgusting vomit-scented mixture into beautiful silicone baking cups. Convince yourself that the cups will not retain the smell.
8. Bake for 1 hour.

Happy baking to you! Your pup will thank you!

Happy Birthday, Mitch!

Mitch's Aunt Cassie wrote him an ode for his birthday.

A Birthday Ode to Mitchell

Mitchell Hedberg,

You are a perfect dog.
You are also kind of human.
We love you
very, very much.
You are, in fact,
our first true dog love.
We wanted to steal you
and name you Smitch.
But you love your Mom
too much for that to work.

You love bones,
specifically, the burying of.
You also love treats (see: homemade),
and camel, and singing us songs,
and being held by Uncle Hugh (not),
and your couch, and napping,
and protecting your home with barking,
and butt's on fire,
and especially your Mom and Dad.
You are the fastest runner,
and the cutest snuggler,
and your tail is enviable.

Today you are six.
Happy birthday to you.
All in all, you are the best
dog nephew for which
one could ever hope.
Lucky us.
Here's to many, many more years
of your dog smile
lighting up lives.

Love,
Aunt Cassie & Uncle Hugh
(and Fletcher! [he requested the exclamation mark])
(and Henry, less than enthusiastically)

Thanks, Aunt Cassie and Uncle Hugh!

And now, some photos of Mitch in action.

The day he came home to us, still wearing his collar with his old name, Chico, on it.

Lying in his dirt spot in the yard.

Gettin' political. (Thanks, Aunt Tanya, for the Bark Obama bandana!)

Getting ready to bark at some kids, or the mailman.

At the lake. . .

Hanging with Dad.

And Grandpa Spence. . .

Rolling in the freshly cut grass at Daffin. (I believe his face and fur were green for the next few days.)

Snugglin' in the bed.

And just being generally mouthy.

That dog brings instant happiness. He's greets us at the door, he's there to play with us, to snuggle with us, to kiss our faces and our arms. He waits outside the bathroom while I'm taking a shower, he hates bicycles and squirrels, and he goes absolutely bananas for yogurt-covered pretzels.

As silly as it sounds, I never imagined that a dog--this dog--would bring such overwhelming joy.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to Target to get some pupcake ingredients and a new Kong. Oh, and some science kit stuff to do in-home cloning. Do they sell those at Target?

More Proof that Dogs Are Better than Babies

On the eve of our dog child's sixth birthday (42!), we give you a smiling dog (I dare you not to smile when you watch her), Mitch's Japanese dog girlfriend:



AND, a link to a really cool article, "The Rise of Dog Identity Politics", as featured on Daily Dish.

Quick quote:

"Oxytocin is the most important social-bonding hormone, present notably between mother and child but also in just about any interaction involving pair bonding, social affiliation, and trust. More specifically, it’s involved with the gaze between infants and mothers. Researchers at Azabu University in Japan found last year that the dog’s gaze at its owner increases the owner’s oxytocin level."

I believe it. That pup, with his cute ears and his dog smiles and his snugglin', has made our lives better for six years now. (Well, six years minus some weeks--the Mitchaversary isn't until the end of March.)

Tomorrow's plan: buy a new Kong for the dog (to keep him busy during Lost) and some homemade pupcakes (bacon chicken pupcakes, to be exact).

Purple Patent Leather Pumps!

This weekend has been super busy and stressful, but I did manage to find time to swing by my local TJMaxx in an attempt to find some [more] new school shoes. (Yeah, the shoe quest has become a bit of a problem. But since I don't do drugs or steal, I'll hang on to this vice.) I found these. They're not quite as garish as the ones I wanted a few weeks back, but they're still obnoxious and sassy. Perfect.

(What do I love more? New shoes? Or alliteration?)

Look how shiny!

Tomorrow begins the second semester of the school year, and we all know what that means, right? HALF WAY TO SUMMER! WOOOO-HOOOO!

Right now things are looking good. Big project is complete, laundry is done and folded, Matt's cleaning the house tomorrow and cooking dinner. (Matt plays Betty Homemaker on Mondays when he has the day off and I have work and a class afterward.)

This week we're looking forward to Mitch's 6th birthday, another visit by his dog friend Reilly, at attempt at Martha's adaptation of Julia's beouf Bourguignonne (I still don't know how to say it), the premiere of the final season of Lost (tell me what those damned numbers mean already!), relaxing for a minute, and then hosting a Superbowl party. And maybe I'll even do our taxes. Eh, that might be pushing it.

What do you have planned for this week?

Perfect Fit Button? WTF?

I am not on board with the Perfect Fit Button. What do you think?

PS--I call bullshit on the claim that people won't even notice. Well, maybe if you also wear a belt? Do the makers of Perfect Fit Button also make belt extensions?

Saturday Ramblings

January has been a crazy month for Matt, Mandy, and Mitch. If all goes according to plan, though, February will be much more relaxed. With work and life being so crazy, I haven't found much time to blog. (I also haven't found time to take the load of laundry out of the dryer--the same load of laundry that's been there since Sunday night.) My brain is fried, the school year is officially half-way over, and my house is 65% wreck. But it should get better soon. Until then. .

• Last night, I had a dream that I was on a road trip with my girlfriends and we stopped at a farm and saw hot-air balloon races. Races! Oh, and I think there were guns, and Obam'.
• Speaking of Obam', how about that question and answer session yesterday? I want to kiss him on the forehead, and then have him flash that winning smile. Whether we agree on the politics or not, I think we can all agree that that man has an amazing smile.

• And speaking of smiles, the other night we watched Julie & Julia. I wish that it had only been Julia. Julie sucked. I couldn't wipe the big grin off my face during Meryl Streep's scenes, but allowed my face time to rest during Amy Adams' scenes of suck.

• Mitch is still the cutest dog on the planet. No surprises there.
• Yet again, it's snowing everywhere else and not here. F'ing Savannah.
• We've been eating slightly better. In fact, last night we went grocery shopping [for the first time in almost a month], and we have a menu of pretty healthy meals planned for the next couple of weeks. For tonight: spicy pork stew.
• Have grand plans to get back to posting recipes on here. During the last week, most of our meals have been pasta with parmesan cheese, and I expect that you already know how to make that.

Well, I'm off to enjoy a productive Saturday [hopefully]. First up: getting that load of laundry out of the dryer.

Have a great weekend, and make a snow angel for me if you can!

R.I.P., Mr. Salinger

Boy, when you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody. ~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Goodbye, Mr. Salinger. We are sad that you're gone.

(Well, I am. Matt's happy. He's been saying for years that he can't wait until Salinger dies because he knows Salinger's been holed up, hiding from the world, writing and writing. And Matt can't wait to get his hands on all of those books and stories.)

Here's to hoping.

And here's to you, Mr. Salinger, you curmudgeon, you brilliant weirdo.

Michelle Obama's State of the Union Dress

Michelle Obam' = sassmonster. And tonight, a purple-adorned sassmonster.

I kind of want to be her. I think I'm too mean, though. And lazy.

Oh well. I guess it's time to throw on a purple t-shirt, brush my hair, and practice my First Lady wave.