A Mother’s Magic Touch
Quick reminder: the homemade cookie giveaway ends this Friday! Post a comment on my new URL to enter!
I tried mixing up a batch of just-like-Mom’s blueberry pancakes last week. After burning the first plate and chucking it in the trash, I realized I really should have paid closer attention to Mom’s cooking in the kitchen as a 5-year-old instead of banging on pots and pans with a wooden spoon…
But I was just too picky of an eater! The moment that Mom flipped my plain pancakes onto my plate, I’d smother them in syrup and happily munch away, completely ignoring Mom as she stirred fresh blueberries into the remaining batter. (I hated things mixed into my pancakes. No fruit, no nuts, no oats… Well, I might’ve been okay with chocolate chips or sprinkles.) (more…)
Sweet Hearts
Every Valentine’s Day, my brother and I would stumble into the kitchen. After rubbing the sleep from our eyes, we’d sort through the little piles of chocolate kisses and conversations hearts on the table that Cupid’s fairies dropped off during the night. (If Christmas has Santa and Easter has the Bunny, why wouldn’t Valentine’s Day have its own candy-carrying character?)
Then Mom would sigh and reluctantly allow us each to eat one sweet treat before making us a special breakfast. She usually whipped up pancakes, waffles, or cinnamon sugar toast — practically a dessert itself! As soon as she set our plates in front of us, we’d inhale the food before rushing off to school.
But if February 14th fell on a weekend, we’d enjoy a more leisurely breakfast. Mom would bake Pillsbury croissants or even homemade muffins, if we promised not to sneak extra chocolates while the pastries cooled on the counter. And with such festive muffins waiting for us, we readily agreed! Continue reading for recipe.
Sweet and Sneaky Ways to Eat Your Veggies: Carrots
aka “Earning Desserts as a Five-Year-Old”
I always ate my three daily servings of fruit as a kid. I drank my “crazy drink” (OJ + fizzy water) through a straw at breakfast, munched on apple slices at lunch, and popped grapes like candy as an after school snack. But vegetables?
Totally different story. Continue reading for recipe.
Sweets for the Sweet
On Christmas Eve when my man set my wrapped gift under the tree, he placed another present down with it. Although I had only met her once, his grandmother sent me a set of four glittery red boxes filled with saltwater taffy, caramel corn, and peanut brittle. How sweet! (No pun intended…) Continue reading for recipe.
Better Than a PB&J
Many children dread this Monday morning. Classes begin again, and the school bus will shuttle them off to memorize more multiplication tables and write big book reports. The recess bell sounds too quickly, the lunch break ends too soon, and the drive back home drags on and on.
But they aren’t alone. Continue reading for recipe.
The Farkle Risk
While waiting for the ball to drop on New Year’s Eve, we watched four five reruns of Big Bang Theory, ate leftover Oreo Dream cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory, and played Farkle. Despite my staunch chocolate and cookie addictions, the last part was the highlight of the night. Continue reading for recipe.
The 100-Mile Miracle
A very suspicious package appeared under the tree on Christmas Eve. To every other family member, it resembled an unremarkable square box, but my Santa-senses started tingling when I spied my name on the gift tag. Continue reading for recipe.
Fudging Through a New Tradition
Every December, various family members bake large batches of gingerbread cookies, fruitcakes, and buckeye balls to share and mail. But not once, in all of my sugary Christmas seasons, can I remember a single relative sending fudge our way. We surely didn’t make our own—the chocolate would have disappeared before Mom pulled out the recipe!—so any fudge came from the store or a neighbor. Continue reading for recipe.
Sprinkle A Little Cheer
I dragged my mom out to Ross in the afternoon on Black Friday, well after the early-morning shoppers had collapsed into their beds for a long nap. As we strode past the perfumes and workout gear, a Christmas display called out my name.
Not one to resist a little holiday cheer, I doubled back to gaze at the goods. As I turned away from the stockings and candles, a muffin pan swayed on the hanging rack as another customer walked past.
This wasn’t just any old muffin pan. No, this was a bright green silicon muffin pan with cups shaped like gingerbread men, stockings, and Christmas trees. Continue reading for recipe.
Bending the Rules
I’m not allowed to keep bags of popcorn kernels in the house. It’s a safety-comes-first type of rule. The temptation is just too great to pour them into a pot, heat it uncovered on the stove, and watch as the fluffy white morsels explode out and rain down on the kitchen floor.
Instead, I’m required to have adult supervision whenever I make a popcorn snack. No picking super small pots or hiding all of the lids. (Yes, I’ve tried…) Continue reading for recipe.
Foods for the Soul 