Patents Pending

So, I know my blog performance of late has been, well, lamesville at best.*  Sorry about that.  Honestly, I'm conflicted because I've spent so many years now being annoyed by annoying pregnant women who only ever talk about being pregnant and the miracle of life and blah blah blah vomit, and I'm probably now overcompensating now by just saying nothing at all since so many of my thoughts are consumed by this current endeavor and what will happen when we actually have a baby to take care of.  It's a tough job making sure you don't become the thing you hate.

What I'm going to try to work on is balance.  I want to share what's going on here (lame, boring-to-everyone-but-me pregnancy stories included), but to find a way to care about other stuff, too.  Important stuff like baked goods and ice cream and television and politics and stuff that doesn't have to do with fetuses or expanding body parts.

Let's start with this.

The Baggy Winecoat, a.k.a., "Someone has stolen one of my great idas."  I knew I should have gotten a patent when, like six years ago on St. Patrick's Day, Old Roommate Cris and I developed an idea to make a purse that would hold the bag from a box of wine.  My idea was less fancy than this one, granted, since it basically involved getting some ice packs and cutting the corner out of a messenger bag, but still.**

Now, before someone goes and steals another one of my amazing idea inventions, I want to tell you about a couple more.  You know, for proof.  I've already shared ash packets (still don't know why so many of you found that disturbing), so don't go trying to snag that one.  It's been documented.  ON THE INTERNET.

Here's my next awesomepants idea.  This one was developed with Tanya after we go lost in some pretty scary neighborhoods in Baltimore during high school.  We decided that we should develop maps that are color-colded according to crime rates so that people would know which spots to avoid.  Way back when, these would have been paper maps, but now this idea will take the form of an app.  And with GPS and stuff, you could even sort your data by type of crime!  Wouldn't that be awesome?  The GPS lady could be all, "Danger, danger!  Get on outta here!" and then you'd know to avoid that neighborhood.

Okay, and here's the idea that is really just incredible.  Caitie and I came up with this senior year of college when we were discussing our favorite flavors of popular candies.  Let's take Skittles, for example.  What's your favorite color?  Mine is red.  But Matt's is green.  Caitie and I decided initially that the candy companies should make bags of all one flavor, like all red or all green (but not all purple, because, seriously, who loves purple the most?  That's like loving the purple freeze-e-pop the most, which is basically like being a dirty communist.).  But then we thought that too much of a good thing could be bad, so we decided that they should make bags that are like 75% the favorite flavor and 25% everything else.  We'd call them Mostlies.  Mostly red, or mostly green.  But not mostly purple, because we are a righteous people.

So, those are my ideas, the best that I've been able to come up with in my thirty and a half years on this planet.  Don't even think about stealing them.  I already lost this game once to the developers of the ol' Baggy Winecoat (which I totally want come April, by the way).


*Would totes love to be all, "Oh man, I've been so busy at work and ellipting that I haven't had time to blog!"  But you're all smart internet readers and you know that the translation of that would be "Oh man, I've been so busy eating Halloween candy that I got for 50% off that I've been in a sugar coma and then having to ellipt to keep from getting gestational diabetes."  Shoot.


**And, no, it's not possible at all that two people could come up with the same amazing idea.

An Ice Cream Sandwich for the King.

First things first.

This weekend, during all of the kitchen bitchin', I made (along with Cris, who was quite a sport) a double batch of chocolate waffle cones.  They were super cute.

Um, you can also shape waffle cones into little bowls! 

Unfortunately, they were really finicky and hard to get just right.  I thought about sharing the chocolate waffle cone recipe with you, but think that I'll work on perfecting it first.  (Like, only about 20 percent of them were the right amount of crispy without being burnt.  They tasted okay, but the texture was. . .wanting.)  If you're really jonesin' for some waffle cones, make the vanilla ones.  They're fan-f'ing-tastic*.  Also, you don't have to feel guilty about sharing them with the dog.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah!  Chocolate waffle cone mediocrity.  Mmmmm hmm.  Well, here's something I figured out.  If you have a chocolate waffle cone that's not outstanding on its own, all you need to do is add some really delicious and creamy ice cream to it.

So, let's switch gears now (because I'm too lazy to come up with a real transition into what I'm really here to talk to you about).

I LOVE ELVIS.

I've loved him for many, many years.

When I was younger, we had cats named Elvis and Presley.

I've been to Graceland. . .twice.

I did my persuasive speech in high school about how Elvis was still alive.  (Why else would his name be spelled incorrectly on his tombstone??  You tell me that!)

I listened to the '68 Comeback Special CD my entire senior year.

I even have Elvis dolls.  And books.  And magnets.  And clothing.  And pajamas.  And the clock where his hips swivel.  The list goes on and on.

When I was young, I did a good Elvis impression.  "Hey 'Cilla, make me a peanut butta and 'nana sandwich."

My favorite Elvis song: "One Night."  My second favorite Elvis song: "All Shook Up."  I think Matt fell in love with me for real when I sang "All Shook Up" at karaoke one night.  I was particularly good at singing "All Shook Up" at karaoke because I had performed it with my vice principal at our after prom party in high school.  (Somewhere there is a video that would provide many a laugh.)

Check out sexy Elvis.

Well, enough already about my past obsessions (that also include: water guns, blankets, puppies, bubbles, cupcaking, Adam Lambert, and Sally Hansen's Complete Salon Manicure nail polish).  I actually still love all of these, but they've just been put on the back burner to make room for new obsessions, like ice creaming.

And what I have for you today is the marriage between new and old, between past obsession and present obsession.

"'Hey, 'Cilla, make me a peanut butta and 'nana ice cream sandwich."

OKAY! (Also, someone had a little too much fun with the Elvis doll.)

It's really, really amazing.

See, I'd been ice creaming all weekend, and I wanted to try a few new recipes from David Lebovitz.  I made this peanut butter one, which is insanely, dangerously, easy to make.  And I made his roasted banana one, which is more involved, and is pretty good as well.  (Full disclosure: if you need to make banana ice cream to stand on its own, make banana puddin' ice cream.  It's better.  But this banana ice cream is better for the sandwich and better for mixing with other flavors.)

So here are the recipes you need.

Peanut Butter Ice Cream
Source: The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz

¾ cup smooth peanut butter

¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

2 2/3 cups half-and-half

Pinch of salt

1/8 teaspoon vanilla extract

Chocolate Covered Peanuts (recipe follows)

Puree the peanut butter, sugar, half-and-half, salt, and vanilla in a blender or food processor until smooth.

Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions. 

Roasted Banana Ice-cream (also from David Lebovitz)

3 medium ripe bananas

75g brown sugar

1.5 cups (375ml) full-cream milk

2 tablespoons caster sugar

1.5 teaspoons lemon juice

half teaspoon vanilla extract

quarter teaspoon salt

1. Preheat the oven to 200C.
2. In a small baking dish, chop up the bananas and toss in the brown sugar. Bake for around 40 minutes or until the bananas are cooked through, caramelised and golden. Turn them once during cooking.
3. In a blender or food processor, blitz the hot bananas, the syrup from the dish, milk, sugar, lemon juice, vanilla and salt until smooth. Chill this mixture until cold in the fridge or ice bath.
4. Churn in an ice-cream machine until thick or place in a plastic container, pop it in the freezer and give it a good whip every few hours.

 

If you're still reading, I commend you on your patience and stickwithitness.  

Thank you, thank you very much.

*You know what's awesome?  Infixing.  Not a prefix, not a suffix.  It's an INFIX.  Fan-fucking-tastic.  That's what infixes are.

There's No F'ing Jello in the Jungle!

I mentioned before that Matt (Felds) and I were going to be attending the showing of The River Why as part of the Savannah Film Festival.  (Again, many thanks to Cris for giving us her tickets.)  All week I'd been hearing about the different celebrities who were in town for the festival, so in the back of my mind I had this secret wish that Matt Saracen (whose real name is Zach Gilford, but I will forever know him as Matt Saracen and I don't care how obnoxious that is) would be there for this movie.  But I didn't even mention that secret wish because I'm weirdly stupidly superstitious and didn't want to jinx it. 

So on Friday night we headed downtown to the Trustees Theater and found our seats.  I had to go to the bathroom (maybe I'd had 6 Diet Cokes at dinner?) and while I was waiting in line one of the other women was talking about how she and her husband had just seen Matt Saracen on the street. (!!!!!!) So I began to freak out.  When I returned to our seat, I was giddy, and told my Matt, "Guess who's here!!??!!"  My Matt seemed interested, but not crazy like me, and then sent me back out to the lobby to get us something to drink.  (In his defense, he would have gotten it himself, but I was already up.)  So I returned to the lobby to get our drink, and the line took FOREVER.  When I got back to the theater, the credits for The River Why had started.  I sat down, and my Matt timidly told me while I'd been waiting in line Matt Saracen had come out to introduce the film.  "But he's coming back out for a Q&A after the movie!," he made sure to add, perhaps fearing that I would never ever let go of the fact that he sent me away and made me miss Matt Saracen.  (Like the time Tanya made me miss meeting Dan from the Miami season of The Real World when we saw him at the Cherry Blossom Festival.  Don't think for a second that I've forgotten about that!)

We watched the movie (that wasn't very good--sorry, Matt Saracen) and then we watched a short, Streetcar, that was very good, and then we got to enjoy Matt Saracen's Q&A for the last thirty or so minutes.  I know that it's not cool to be starstruck or to giggle incessantly when in the presence of a star from one of your favorite shows, but I don't care.  I was so excited to sit there and listen to him talk.  I was even more excited to learn that real-life Matt Saracen is really funny.  Like really funny. 

He mentioned the latest show that's he's working on, Off the Map, which is about doctors in the jungle.  In describing the difficulties of practicing medicine in the jungle, how there are none of the luxuries to which we've all become accostumed, Matt Saracen told the interviewer, "There's no fucking jello in the jungle."

He also assumed a [hilarious] air of authority for the rest of the interview (even though he was clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention), telling us all, "I'm a goddam doctor." 

But my favorite part of the entire interview was when Matt Saracen leaned back in his chair, and with goofy confidence told us, "I won a state championship a couple of years ago--I was the quarterback--and now I'm a plastic surgeon. . .IN THE JUNGLE." 

I may or may not have taken 145 pictures of him.  Here are more than you probably want to see.

Oh, and I should also add that after the Q&A, I--along with about 6 other 30-year old women who are also obsessed with Friday Night Lights--tried to chase him down to befriend him and get our pictures taken with him.  We were, unfortunately, turned around by some SCAD guy who decided that we were not important enough to hang out with someone who had once won a state championship but now practices medicine in the jungle.

BUT, Cris--the baller, the shot caller--Cris was at a party last night with him.  She said that he was making out with some girl (I'm pretty sure that was the girlfriend he'd mentioned the night before--at least I hope it was) and that she got a picture of him dancing. 

I went to sleep consumed with jealousy, but secretly happy that she got to meet him because I'd felt guilty about seeing him with the tickets she'd given us.

Anyway, that was a whole lot of dorky rambling.  It's probably best that I didn't get to meet Matt Saracen.  In the next year I will become cool, and not starstruck, and I will meet him and we will be friends and he will teach me how to play football and how to do nose jobs.

Whoop! Whoop!-ie Pies.

Pumpkin + cream cheese = heaven.  Am I right or am I right?

I think my first exposure to this flavor perfection came when I was in high school, and worked as a shampoo girl at my aunt's salon that was in the same shopping center as the Amish market.  It was during this time that I grew to both love and hate the Amish. 

Pumpkin cream cheese rolls and soft pretzels contributed to the love part.

The cheating on the whole "no electricity" thing + the no buttons thing + the bad haircuts thing + the Nike shoes combined with awful smocks thing contributed to the hate part.  Hell, those same "Amish" are probably reading this on their iphones right now.  Cheaters!

Where was I?

Oh yeah, pumpkin and cream cheese.  The only thing that is better is a cute dog on a couch.

Yeah, dog, I mean you.  (Mitch also reads the blog on his iphone.)

But without further ado, I bring you a birthday treat, the pumpkin and cream cheese whoopie pie.

I know you're dying to have it, so here's the recipe.

Pumpkin Whoopie Pies (adapted from this recipe)

COOKIES:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature, lightly beaten
1 cup LIBBY'S® 100% Pure Pumpkin
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

PREHEAT oven to 350°F. Lightly grease or line four baking sheets with parchment paper.

COMBINE flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and salt in medium bowl. Beat butter and sugar in large mixer bowl on medium speed for 2 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add pumpkin and vanilla extract; beat until smooth. Stir in flour mixture until combined. Drop by heaping measuring teaspoons onto prepared baking sheets. (A total of 72 cookies are needed for the recipe.)

BAKE for 10 to 13 minutes or until springy to the touch. Cool on baking sheets for 5 minutes; remove to wire racks to cool completely.

CREAM CHEESE FILLING:

8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
4 tablespoons butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups powdered sugar
1 tablespoon milk

BEAT cream cheese, butter, milk, and vanilla extract in small mixer bowl on medium speed until fluffy. Gradually beat in powdered sugar until light and fluffy. 

Happy Birthday to Cris!

I realized not too long ago that we talk about Reilly (Mitch's best dog friend) all the time on the blog, but we never mention Reilly's mom, Cris.  And since today (Oct. 14) is Cris's birthday, it seems only appropriate that I take a few minutes to share with you just how incredible she is.

Cris was Matt's friend first.  She worked with Matt when we first moved to Savannah, seven years ago.   But I stole her.  She's my friend now. (I like to steal Matt's friends and keep them for myself.)  About five years ago Cris and I realized that we both needed a roommate, so we moved into a house together.  I'm pretty sure that all of our neighbors thought that we were lesbians (Particularly the old lady next door, Alma, who I'm pretty sure had sex with Elvis.  Remind me to tell you later about how Alma made me pick figs for her.).  Cris was a great roommate.  She's an even greater friend.

Cris is an actual counselor, and she's a great listener, and she gives great advice.  She's honest and loyal and smart and not afraid to stand up for what she believes is right.  She's open-minded and kind and caring. Cris is more dedicated--to her work, her friends, her family--than anyone I know.  For almost twenty years she's worked at a camp hosted by her church, Camp Moja,  a summer camp for people with developmental disabilities.  Cris is also super organized and adventurous, which means that she's always thinking about and planning her next adventure, whether it's UniverSOUL or kayaking or skydiving or attending random festivals or joining a fantasy football league. 

I think the only bad thing I can say about her is that she has terrible taste in movies.  (Cheaper by the Dozen 2, Cris?  Really?)

The cool thing about being friends with Cris is that it's fun regardless of what's happening.  Of course it's exciting to go to the soul circus, but it's just as fun to sit with her at Taco Bell and talk, or to wander around Target buying things we "need." 

[all pictures stolen from Cris's Facebook page]

It's cheesy to say, but Cris is one of those people who makes everyone around her better.  I'm so fortunate to have been able to steal her from Matt.

Happy birthday, lady!