Happy Days! (And the Back in the Day Bakery Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe!)

Let's talk for a hot second about everything there is to be excited about right now.

1.  It's daylight savings time, baby!  Now, granted this means that I will be extra cranky come tomorrow morning and will, for two weeks, be proclaiming that I am actually arriving to work at 6:15 instead of 7:15, and I will use that as an excuse to do nothing at all because of how tired I am, but still.  Daylight savings time means grilling season, birthdays, and that the clock in my car will be right again.

2.  The beach.  We're headed there soon.  I love the beach, and I am determined to float today.  If the water's too cold, then I will settle for letting Matt dig me a hole in the sand so that I can lie on my stomach.

3.  Being spoiled.  I have my work baby shower tonight, and I'm excited to celebrate CSF with some of my favorite ladies (who are teaching me, slowly but surely, how to be a Southern gentlewoman--Steel Magnolias, here I come!).

4.  My new favorite term, pops.  Shecky and I decided that it was short for popular, and that's it's extra fun when used in conjunction with totes.  For example, "He's totes pops with the ladies."  Matt hates it, and says it's the worst thing ever, something that a huge douche from WB show would say, to which Shecky responded, "Exactly."  Pops is taking off, people.

5.  Productivity.  I've been a damned go-getter this week!  I've done about 200 loads of laundry, my paper grading and recording is up to date, thank you cards are written, and the nursery is in the midst of being reorganized.  (Definitely is in the "worse before it gets better" stage right now, which is making me a little bit crazy, though.)  And tell me that cloth diapers aren't the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life.  (I mean, besides Mitch.)

6.  Mad Men in two weeks!

7.  Presents from my Matt!  Tulips and a Bo Obama stuffed dog for the boy!

8.  And, finally, The Back in the Day Bakery Cookbook is here!  It's here!  I've been waiting for a year and a half for it, and it's incredible!  I went and got my copy on Thursday, and have been drooling over it ever since.  Even if Back in the Day Bakery wasn't my favorite place in Savannah, and even if I didn't think that Cheryl and Griff were basically the cutest people on the planet, and even if I didn't idolize Cheryl to the point where I get nervous when I see her because I'm so in awe of her mad skillz, I would love this cookbook the most.  The pictures are beautiful, the instructions are precise without being intimidating, and the recipes look amazing.  There are little tips throughout the book, and little tidbits about Savannah, and it's just wonderful.  Go buy it.  (Or win the baby pool and I'll send you one!)

Last night Back in the Day was having a cookbook release party, and I went with one of my teacher friends. We got there early to get our books signed, and I wish I had been able to take more pictures of the gorgeous decorations.  Those people sure know how to throw a party!  There was even cotton candy!  The place was packed, and there were complimentary sweet treats (I think I subsisted on cupcakes and cookies alone yesterday) and so much happy energy.  Of course my camera died after about 2 pictures, and I'd forgotten backup batteries, so here are some of the pictures that my friend took with her phone.

Then, inspired, productive, and cheery, I came home and decided that I absolutely had to make the chocolate chip cookies from the cookbook.

Shoot yeah!

These cookies are really f'ing good.  They're big, and they're crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside, and I might have had two of them for breakfast this morning (one for me, one for the baby!).  Matt approves.  So does the fetus.  My doctor does not, but I'm not listening to him about sugar anymore (not like I was ever really following his instructions about not eating sugar, but I'm not going to feel guilty about not following his instructions anymore).

Chocolate Chip Cookies
From The Back in the Day Bakery Cookbook (which you should go buy right now)

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/4 teaspoons fine sea salt
1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature (which she says is between 65 and 67 degrees F)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature
2 cups semisweet chocolate chunks
Fleur de sel for sprinkling

Directions

Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.  Line two cookie sheets with parchment.

Sift together the flour, baking soda, and sea salt; set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or in a large mixing bowl, using a handheld mixer), cream together the butter, vanilla, and both sugars on medium speed until light and fluffy, 3-5 minutes.

Add the eggs and mix for no more than 1 minute; the eggs will not be fully incorporated.  Turn the speed down to low and add the dry ingredients in thirds, beating until just combined, 1 to 2 minutes.  With the mixer running, sprinkle in the chocolate chunks, beating until just combined, about 1 minute.

Use a large ice cream scoop or a 1/4 cup measuring cup to form the cookies and place on the prepared cookie sheets, leaving 2 inches between the cookies to allow for spreading.  Lightly tap each cookie with the palm of your hand and sprinkle with fleur de sel.

Bake the cookies, one sheet at a time, for 15 to 18 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through the baking time for even doneness.  The cookies should be golden brown around the edges but still light in the centers.  Let the cookies cool on a wire rack.  Store the cookies in an airtight container for up to 3 days at room temperature.

What are you excited about today?

Imperfect Match: A Guest Post from Shecky

Hello there! You haven't heard much this week because work's been bananas and I'm completely unmotivated right now. But, lucky for all of us, we have a guest post from none other than Shecky, my former college roommate, the minister at our wedding, and my twin. Without further ado, I hand you over to Rev. Shecky. Enjoy!


So, after being single for, um, too long, I decided it was time to find my prince charming and my very own happily ever after. Actually, I just wanted to have a couple of dates so that when family members ask, I can be like, oh yeah, I’m dating, just no one special right now, instead of getting the, “I’m sorry that you’re going to be alone forever and live with 50 cats until you die and they eat your face” look. Oh, and I wanted some free dinners. So, after looking at the pool of dating prospects, I narrowed it down to 3 options:

1. Date someone from work.
2. Date the 54-year old unemployed alcoholic who lives in my complex.
3. Join Match.com.

Well, I’ve tried the dating at work thing, and let’s just say--not an ideal situation. Imagine 2 weeks after a breakup running into the 35-year old you dated for a year in the lobby, only to have him jump on the elevator and press “door close” just as you are about to step on so he doesn’t have to ride up with you. Uh huh, awesome way to start a Monday. As for the 54-year old, I realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to pay for dinner, so that was out.

So, what was I to do? That’s right, I had Mandy write my profile, and signed up for Match.com. The theory behind this whole dating site phenomenon is that based on your answers to some overly personal questions, a bunch of scientific research and possibly voodoo, the computer will learn about who you are most attracted to and compatible with, and find you your dream date. Then you just send a wink and an e-mail, and the rest is history. Um, yeah.

Well, the first few months, there was little activity, besides for a few lovely 50 something year old “gentleman”, usually wearing camouflage and holding hunting trophies (Really? Did I NOT mention that I am a vegetarian? And also, that I already know a 54-year old unemployed alcoholic, so I don’t need match to help me find others?) Guess not.

Anyway, one day last week, I came across a much more reasonable prospect in my “daily 5” (my supposed ideal matches). This was a 35 year old (check) employed (check check) male (double check), who did not list hunting, robbery or murder anywhere on his profile. Nor did he show any cell phone pictures he took of himself shirtless in the bathroom mirror (this guy really could be a contender!!) The one picture of him was very small and blurry, so I wasn’t really sure what he looked like, but decided to keep reading. Lives nearby. Works in IT. Has a dog. Named Zara. Hmm, that’s strange, I know someone with a dog named Zara. Catholic. Loves to tailgate at OSU games. Odd, this is sounding pretty familiar. That’s when I took another look at the picture, and it all came together. Yep, I had been matched up with my cousin. My FIRST cousin. After laughing/crying for the next 10 min, I called my mom to tell her, and she informed me that it is illegal to marry your cousin, so I shouldn’t even think about it. Thanks, Mom, because it really had crossed my mind.

Now, you may think, well, it’s not Match’s fault, they couldn’t have known that you were blood relatives. True. But they did probably know that he is ultra-conservative (like, doesn’t believe that any social programs should exist. I’m a social worker. Oops), is super Catholic (like believes that you can treat everyone like dirt all week, but if you confess, all is forgiven. Then you start over next week. Awesome), and has a concealed carry weapon permit. And actually carries (no further comment needed on that one). Way to go Match; you have really found what I’m looking for. Or not.

So, I figured, well, that was pretty much rock bottom, so it has to get better from there. Right? Wrong.

This week, as I was dutifully going through my “daily 5’s” (did I mention that I may be a masochist?), I was alarmed when I clicked on a profile to see none other than the face of the dude I broke up with 6 months ago, you know, the elevator superhero. Was I shocked because I thought he should be at home pining away for losing my love? Was I disturbed because his profile started out, “I am really needy, require constant reassurance from my partner. . ."? (He later went on to indicate that he was kidding. Funny enough, that was the most truthful part of the profile) No, I was alarmed, because I thought Match was supposed to figure out what I am looking for, and find it for me (way easier than ME having to do that), but instead, it gave me the same emotionally unavailable, whiny baby that I dumped earlier this year. I mean, I can do that all by myself using only my good looks and charm.

Again, way to go Match, way to go. I guess it really is time to cancel my subscription. . .

"Ode to the Cadbury Creme Egg"

Last week I sent Shecky a link to this recipe for Cadbury Creme Egg brownies. (Which may or may not be considered sabotage under the official, very strict rules and regulations for Operation: Skinny Unicorn.  Shoot.)

[source]

Only minutes later, I received an email that included this poem.  The poem itself is, as you'll see, already a literary masterpiece.  But the thing that I like most about it is when I think about Shecky sitting in her cubicle, wearing some power suit and being all professional and whatnot, giggling because she's actually writing a poem about her favorite candy.

So, on this fine Easter Sunday (He is RISEN! Praise the LORD!), I share with you Shecky's "Ode to the Cadbury Creme Egg."

Certainly delicious

Amazingly Awesome

Duh, like the best food ever

Best idea in the history of the world

U should really try one

R you kidding me that you don’t like them?

Y are they so freaking tasty?

Could I love them anymore?

Ridiculously addictive

Eggcellent (haha, that’s funny, right?)

A new addition to the food groups

Mmmnnn, yum yum yum

Earth Shatteringly good

Good for you (right?)

God love’em!!!

May your Sunday be filled with too much sugar and too much fun!  Moderation is for sissies.

Haunted.

Did you know that Savannah is the most haunted city in the universe?  Yep.  Sure is.

I mean, there are ghosts EVERYWHERE! And tonight I had my second brush with one.  (Read about the first here.)

You see, Matt is at work until late, and it's just me and Mitch here at home.

So here's the scene.

The house is quiet.  TV's on mute.  Mitch is lying on the couch being comfort dog.

Gratuitous pictures of the cutest dog on the planet.  He is very clearly upset by our ghost infestation.

I'm talking to Shecky on the phone.  I go outside to get the last load of laundry from the dryer, and when I come back inside I hear a ticking.  A bomb?  No, but the kitchen timer is on!  And it was set for seven minutes!  (And, duh, I didn't set it and neither did Mitch.  Plus, everyone knows that seven is a ghost's favorite number.)

And then I decided to take out the camera because I figured I could get a shot of the ghost that way.

And I did.

Look.

If that's not a ghost, I don't know what is.

Mmmmmmmmmm hmmmmmmm.  A ghost.

Also, I was trying to figure out what the MO of our little house ghost is.  Here's what I think: this ghost shoves Hershey's nuggets into my mouth, puts me to sleep, and then wakes me up and pours wine down my throat.  I  mean, basically, what we have here is a party ghost.  Could be worse, I guess.  Could be one of those murderin' types.

Operation: Skinny Unicorn*

So, as I've mentioned here recently, I am currently so fat that I will soon be wearing tarps as clothing. Also, I'm about three bowls of Homemade Samoa Ice Cream away from exceeding the weight limit for my desk chair. My car is scraping the bottom of the road when I drive, and I'm kind of afraid that it's going to catch fire or something, and then I'll get into a fiery crash.**

And, by the way, I'm not at all confused about why I'm fat. I know that it's because I eat way too much and don't move around enough. Whaaaaaaaaaa? You mean that eating an entire loaf of French bread as a quick snack and then lying on the couch watching Teen Mom II isn't going to make me thin and beautiful? Well, shoot.

So, anyway, it's time to make a change, and I'm motivated to make this change (finally!). On Sunday, when Matt and I were heading to the beach, I was talking to him about how I wanted to join Weight Watchers. And then when I got home I talked to Shecky and she said that she wanted to join with me.

And, in our classic form, because we are ridiculously competitive maniacs, Shecky and I decided that we should make it a contest. So we are competing to see who can lose the most weight (in a healthy, non-crash diet kind of way). The sad thing about this contest is that Shecky and I, what with our tendency to cheat in contests such as these***, have had to lay down a few extra ground rules.

For example, if Shecky (who is prone to illness) gets so sick that she has to go to the hospital and she loses weight because of the sickness, that doesn't count.

Also, I am not allowed to mail her baked goods, or hundreds of Cadbury Cream Eggs.****

Our contest will end on August 1, and the person who has lost the most weight wins. The loser, then, must purchase for the winner a nice pair of shoes that the winner desires.

NOW, if both of us lose 40+ pounds (which would be hard, but is certainly do-able), then we get a much bigger prize which has yet to be determined. Any suggestions?

Don't worry, though. This blog isn't going to transform into some daily record of meals and tenths of pounds lost. And I'm not going to stop making delicious desserts, either. I'll just have to eat smaller bowls of ice cream and fewer cupcakes. You might see some more sorbets and yogurts, but I can assure you that none of them will be made with Splenda or Diet Coke.

So there you have it. My quest to be less fat. Wish me luck! (I really want these.)


*Unicorn because Shecky and I were/are both big fans of the Sweet Valley Twins and High books, and in college we considered ourselves honorary members of the Unicorns because we were basically bullies who loved to wear purple.

**Safety first, people.

***See, also: The Great American Girls v. Boys Keg Race of 2002.

****Foiled!