Happy Birthday To The Maid: Butter Cake with Caramel Frosting

A vintage cake cover for a vintage cake

Butter and milk

Eggs and sugar

 Thing 1 informed me the other night that she knew what I liked to do with my time: cook and clean. Couple that with a birthday, all the extra baby weight I'm carrying and the natural restlessness I tend to feel at this time of year and you've got the makings of a breakdown.

...but I don't have time for a real breakdown because there's laundry to do and meals to cook and somebody colored all over the kitchen table without paper.

 Ok, maybe I can see why my eldest child just assumed that I was living my dream. Wow. Seriously, I must be, like, no fun at all....cue reservations for Breakdown City...for later, much later.

On the other hand, to be utterly and perfectly honest, I DO enjoy making my own birthday cake. It's an indulgence in my mind. Partly because it's something that is solely based on my preferences and partly because I never ever ever ever use a box mix (pahhtooey) for my cake.  Cake snob? Bet your ass.

The ingredients for this cake are simple and classic. The cake itself would be just a nice with any form of buttercream frosting but is sturdier than a box mix so it can also be filled with heavier fillings such as jams, caramel, fudge or ice cream.

Preheat your oven to 325. Grease two 9 inch round cake pans (or one 9x4 round pan--that's how I have 3 layers instead of the customary 2).

For ingredients, you will need:

1 1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) butter
1 cup milk
Melt these two together in a saucepan over medium heat and set aside. You just need the butter to be melted so don't bring the milk to a simmer or anything. Set it aside to cool.

In a bowl, blend together--

2 cups AP flour
2 3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt

And, finally, in your mixing bowl, measure out
2 cups sugar
4 eggs

The eggs and sugar need to be beaten on high until their color changes to a pale yellow and the mixture is thick and light. You will notice the sugar dissolves somewhat and the blend will climb higher up the side of the bowl.

Scrape down the bowl to remove any sugar clumps that may have formed at the bottom of the mixing bowl before folding in the dry ingredients. Don't try to get all the flour absorbed at this point. You just want it somewhat incorporated because you still have some mixing to do and you don't want to make the cake tough.

Now fold in the milk/butter blend and to this add
1 tsp vanilla extract
Fold everything together until just incorporated and there are no pockets of flour. Be sure to get down to the bottom of the bowl.

Pour the batter into your pan(s) and place in the center of the oven. For two pans, bake for 20-30 minutes. For a single pan, bake for 30-45 minutes. The cake will get golden and begin to pull slightly from the sides of the pan when it is done. Check the center before removing from the oven.  I will also say this is one of the few cakes I've made that was perfectly level on top, no peaking or sinking--beautiful!

When the cake is finished, allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes before turning it out on a cooking rack. The cake must be completely cooled before you can ice it.

So let's talk frosting. The caramel frosting here is an old-fashioned cooked frosting that takes about 15 minutes to make. You need a solid, high-sided saucepan and a wooden spoon. The wooden spoon is actually non-negotiable for authenticity so don't get all oxo good grip on me, k?

I used a double batch of frosting because I had more layers. I'll give you the single form of the recipe but it can be doubled.

1 pound (about 2 2/3 cups) light brown sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
7 tablespoons evaporated milk (NOT condensed milk)
You'll need a tablespoon of vanilla at the end.

***At this point, have your cake ready to frost, because once you start the frosting, you have to

complete the cake.



Put everything in a the saucepan and turn to a medium heat. Stir together as it melts and bring to a boil. Turn down the heat so the mixture bubbles gently and set a timer for 7 minutes. Keep stirring to make sure nothing is burning but don't pull a muscle at it anything. Remove from the heat after 7 minutes and let cool for another 5 minutes.

After the cool down period, use that wooden spoon to beat the frosting for 2-3 minutes until it thickens.

Time to frost the cake!  Be sure to spread things quickly. Let the frosting roll over the sides of the layers as you go and then smooth them out at the end once the top is covered. Work quickly. Also, if you are going to garnish with pecans or walnuts, sprinkle on before the frosting sets or they will just fall off.

IF the icing gets too hard to fast, you can soften it over low heat. Stir in a little milk to soften it. If you have a "blemish" in the finished product, try dipping your spatula in hot water before smoothing out the area.

I know everyone likes to quote Forest Gump and say that life is like a box of chocolates, but I tend to think it's more like a scratch cake--you get the quality you put in to it and the results can be delicious or disappointing, but that depends on your expectations. 

A New Series For A New Chapter in Life: The Back of the Box

If you are still reading my blog, bless you for being so faithful while I have been busy elsewhere. My newborn is not so new now. Thing 1 and Thing 2 take turns loving on and then totally ignoring him as they whoosh through their own childhood experiences. And, naturally at this point, we have no real schedule or pattern for sleeping and eating and pooping and sleeping and eating and ....well, you get the idea.

That being said, my time in the kitchen is often more like the challenge round in Double Dare (see-now you know how old I really am). I have to get in, complete the task and feed the family in an unspecified amount of time before our little Dragon in Training (DIT) bursts into alertness with crying. I may have an hour to cook; I may have 15 minutes.

I'm glad I put up some meals in the freezer ahead of time but that cache is now depleted and don't even mention baking. All my years of culinary work in pastry and baking and I'm lucky if I get a pan of rice krispies together for the crew.

Which is actually what led me to think about the recipes that manufactures print on their packaging to help the consumer think of the product as versatile and indispensable. It reminds me of the post-war boom of marketing launched by convenience foods and name brands like Betty Crocker, Duncan Hines and Pillsbury.  Cake mixes, proof-n-bake rolls, dough in a tube. Meet George Jetson.

Some of the recipes found on the packaging are actually pretty good, even the off-brands from the store have some interesting ones. That's not to say that I'm about to give up on baking from scratch. But in my quest for balance in the my universe, I am willing to take short cuts now and then if it means happy kids or a few extra minutes to sit at the table while they talk about their day. They don't need to see my mad baking skills every day to know I'm awesome, right? They'd probably much rather have me give them rice krispy treats while we discuss the finer points of season 2 of the Muppet Show.

For this reason, I'll be adding a new segment to this blog that includes manufacturer's recipes; look for posts labeled "On the Back of the Box" for this group. And don't expect the big name brands either--they have their own websites (and payrolls of which I am not on).  I'm taking on some of the lesser known products out there.

And today's might be the easiest of them all...mini pies.

You need two ingredients: pre-made pie crust and a can of pie filling.



(1) Preheat your oven to 350 and pull out a couple of baking sheets. Either line the sheets or spray them with pan spray.

(2) Roll out the pie shell slightly--I made the mistake of trying to get more out of the dough than I should have and then my dough was too thin and split a little. Just sprinkle a little flour over the counter and on top of the dough and roll the dough enough to get any creases out.

 (3) Using a circle cutter (or the top of a drinking glass), cut out as many rounds as you can. Save the scraps from each of the shells and roll them out for remaining circles. You should end up with a total of 20-24.

(4) Place the dough rounds on your baking sheets.

 (5) Place a tablespoon of filling on dough-too much and it will come out of the sides when it bakes so be careful. Fold over and press with a fork to seal.

(6) Bake for 15-20 minutes until golden. You may want to rotate the sheets in the oven for more even baking.

(7) If you like, brush the mini-pies with some confectioner sugar/water glaze when they come out of the oven and are still hot. You'll get that shiny glaze on them as they cool that way.

Okay, not exactly rocket science, right? But for 20 minutes of work you have a cute little treat that you can pack in lunches, use for breakfast or an after-school treat. You could also serve them two at a time with a scoop of ice cream on top for a twist on a la mode. Have fun with the little guys-that's what they are for.

Alla Checca: Using Up Those Gorgeous Tomatoes

So....last summer I was really really industrious and I was all about preparing for the following year so I proposed saving your seeds. And then this spring, I really got a jump on things by planting those seeds so I could have a patio full of beautiful tomato plants. Ready to see the bounty of my hard work?

it's almost overwhelming, huh?

When you have finished laughing, we'll get on with the rest of the post, ok?  Actually, I kind of feel like that scene at the end of 28 Days with the guy who can't keep the plant alive or take proper care of the dog and is getting desperate....

*this was the best clip I could find *

My brain sounds something like this: I have 3 kids and a dog and run a household on many levels and can't seem to grow a decent tomato to save my life.  *cue crying like above*


Enter wonderful parents with mad skills for growing things and keeping children and dogs alive.  So then I had a box full of gorgeous home-grown tomatoes that looked like this:

hells yeah, Mom and Dad

To say that these beauties are utterly delicious is a major understatement. However, to say that we could use them up just making salsa and sandwiches before they turned was rather unlikely as well and I was NOT about to waste a single one.

Hence search engine to compensate for mommy brain....uncooked sauce? Sure!

This recipe is (1) soooo easy (2) time flexible and (3) really pretty--try it for company or a stay-in date for instance.

Basically, if you can cut things and boil pasta, you can make this.  Which pretty much covers how much brain power I have to devote to making dinner at this stage in the game anyways.

Stage 1:

Dice 5 tomatoes, removing the seeds

Chop 1/2 cup of fresh basil (one plant I did manage to grow properly this summer)

Stir together in a non-metal bowl along with 

1/2 cup olive oil

1 tsp salt

1 tbs minced garlic

pretty

yes, it sits on your counter
all day--no one will die,
I promise

Stir this all together and cover with plastic wrap. This is now going to sit, on your counter at room temperature for at least 2 hours and up to 10 hours. See? easy. 

Stage 2: 

Boil one pound of pasta-shape and size of your choice. Drain off water and pour the tomatoes over the hot pasta and toss--along with some parmesan cheese. Adjust salt and pepper to taste.

pasta and sauce

pasta

pasta, sauce and cheese

Stage 3: 

Eat.  Possibly with a bit of crusty garlic bread. This will serve four generous portions by the way so if you are feeding more people, just  double as needed. 

See what I'm saying here? Easy. Simple. Good. 

And no mothers were stressed in the making of this dinner.

Where Babies Come From (Let Betty Break It Down):

I've just come home from the hospital. Surprised? I wasn't. I think I burned out that particular emotion in the past 9 months--used up my portion for a while as it were.

Because nothing in my life these past 9 months has been testbook anything...except perhaps a giant life lesson in how little I control in the universe (including myself sometimes).

So when the contractions started wracking my body at midnight this Saturday into Sunday, a little voice in the back of my head kind of chuckled (I'm actually one of those weird people who laughs more when in pain-the harder I'm hurting the harder I'm laughing; it's sick, I know....but kind of funny).

Sometime after New Years, I found out that I was pregnant. I was not thrilled. In fact, after taking multiple tests, I was actually sobbing on my bathroom floor, door locked to keep everyone away from me and my panic/fear/sheer unluckiness.  Do I hate babies or something? No, I am madly in love with my girls; I'd adopt babies from China in a heartbeat if we had the money.     IF  we had the money. We don't.  And we didn't have the money (or insurance or space or .......omg anything but love....for another child). Anything but love.


And that's really all I had to grasp onto for a few months as I wrestled with the fact that my body was once again housing a little person that would need me and resources that I didn't know if we could find. Twelve years of birth control and being very planned and very responsible and now this? I was, honestly-I was embarrassed and angry and terrified. 


The Dev's, by the way, never once showed an ounce of that to me. His reactions from moment one (and by "moment one" I mean me screaming out of a bathroom at 7 am with rising panic, waving a pregnancy test) were nothing but compassionate and loving and never accusatory. I've heard of men who freak out and run away at the thought of (another) baby. Not my husband. Instead, he just held me while I sobbed on the floor....and then got the girls down to the breakfast table for the morning routine while I tried to pull myself together. 


And then came the morning sickness. I have never experienced morning sickness before this baby really. I thought I felt pretty yucky for a couple of weeks with Thing 2. Yeah, that was nothing compared to this  pregnancy. The sheer inability to function when people need you sucks. Again with the resentment that I was pregnant against my will. Trapped. 


And then we went away on vacation with my in-laws when I was 15 weeks....the panic I felt upon finding out about this pregnancy was absolutely nothing to the gut-wrenching vomitous feeling at looking down and realizing I was gushing blood in some random restaurant in a city far from home. It was as if this little person had heard my thoughts and said "Fine, you don't want me-I'll go." NO NO NONONNONONOOONO..... I lost count how many times that night I beg God and this little person to not leave me, to stay, that I was so sorry, that of course I love him. 


Threatened miscarriage. Wait 3 days and see what happens. Flying home the next day with two kids, feeling every twinge and discomfort anxiously, sure each was the end of this pregnancy, the end of this heartbeat. 


It wasn't. The bleeding continued but so did the baby's heartbeat. For weeks. Along with the foreign concept of bed rest. Asking for help = I'd rather gnaw my arms off. I have discovered the flavor of my pride, having had to swallow so much of it already at this point...how could things get worse? 


But they did. And soon I was calling a good friend asking him to recommend a decent lawyer to help me file for divorce. I can't and won't go farther into the matter more than to just say that my world was a devastated wasteland at this point. My belly seemed a metaphor of my soul, swelling with grief and the unknown. I could only hold myself in and rock. 


20 weeks is the half-way point of a pregnancy. A turning point. The Cape of Good Hope in a way. An ultrasound revealed that my bleeding stemmed from a subchorionic hematoma. A blood clot between the membranes of my uterus. The specialist later explained that while it was no where near my placenta and therefore not likely to cause an abruption, it was the largest one he had ever seen in special practice--the size of a lemon at that point--and could trigger pre-term labor and needed constant monitoring. 


Which gave us plenty of time to see that this child that I was carrying was really my son. Our son. 


Despite not wanting to continue our marriage further on a personal level, every moment I watched my children share with their father led me to believe that I should at least attempt to seek counsel--if for no other reason than the belief that they would tell me if I was crazy or not to continue to seek divorce. My list of requirements for staying was fairly long and specific. 


Never scoff at the prayers of your mother. 


Weeks past. People came forward to offer free babysitting so we could attend counseling sessions. The bleeding stopped. The clot began to diminish. Our son thrived. I began to feel hope and joy again. And began to fear that same hope and joy with the terror that someone or something would rip it away from me, like tearing off new skin from a burn. I met the day with a brave face and a trembling heart, like the balance I was attempting between staying busy and really truly taking care of my body to protect my unborn child. 


Boxes of clothing and gift cards started to appear in the mail. The girls got to spend a week with their grandparents, leaving me with a full week of nothing but time to prepare for baby and spend time with Mr. Devlin. There has been car trouble and unpaid bills and worries about two kids in diapers but each fear has been met with some kind of specific blessing, some new encouragement that we are being provided for as long as we do what is right and good. 


And then I hit 35 weeks and the doctors and nurses that I was seeing collectively drew a sigh of relief and told me I could as well. Baby would be fine if he came now and I should relax and enjoy these last few weeks of pregnancy. And I felt I actually could. 


I no longer felt the sting of careless comments from strangers about my appearance or the fact that we were having another child. I felt unbridled anticipation as I held other's newborns or looked at the pictures posted on facebook of my friends and family's latest additions. I felt ready.


Week 36. I felt funny. Off. Uncomfortable. I spent the morning at the OB's but didn't bother to have an internal. The next day at the specialist, the technician told me the clot we tracked all this time was no bigger than 4 cm and my son was probably over 6 1/2 pounds. She thought I would go soon. So did I as I had already lost my plug the night before (a new experience for me and an utterly disgusting one at that--pregnancy is NOT delicate). And I could feel my ribs again so I knew he had dropped. It was also our 11th anniversary. A day 5 months before I never would have thought we would celebrate. We had a dinner date planned.


That afternoon, while taking a nap, I rolled over and thought for sure that my water had broke. I called the Dev's and my mom and frantically stuffed a few more things into my hospital bag and crossed my fingers. Friends came to take care of the girls and we rushed to the ER, laughing that of course he would come the one night we had plans. We tracked the random shuffle of songs on the playlist and noted that-just as on our wedding day--there was a car on fire, tying up traffic. Burning cars are romantic to us. I actually get a little sappy every time I see one. 


I could feel the contractions steadily now as we waited in the ER for my OB. And then, just like that, they stopped. I had been 1cm at the beginning and had gone to 2-3 in that hour but then....nothing.  So we walked....and walked....for an hour-which seems much longer when you are anticipating the unseen magic your pregnant body works. The sky was clouding over in Nashville as they admitted me; I was 3-4 cm with spasmodic but undeniable contractions. We called everyone. I had never been in a hospital for more than 4 hours without delivery so surely this was our night.

I can control nothing beyond my reactions. Not even what my body decides.

I spent the night pacing the floor, answering the same questions over and over and realizing that just as our anniversary had past, so had the window of having our son that day.  It simply wasn't going to happen.  I don't know why I thought I should take that personally but I did. Again, I felt embarrassed and apologetic. My OB told me he'd see me soon--if not that night than at our next appointment--go home, take a bath, stay busy. We went out for a huge breakfast and I soaked in the tub while Mr. D picked up Thing 2 from the babysitters. I followed the dr's advice like it was the prescription to birth.

Nothing happened. By 8 that night, with the girls in their beds, confused but glad I was home, we crashed. I think Mr. Devlin and I were actually in the middle of a conversation. We both basically died. The adrenaline was gone along with any hope that today was the day we would meet our little traveler. He even seemed a bit sluggish.

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. I had resolve as I mentally planned my day over fresh coffee. Saturday is my day to clean the house--a regiment started early in my life growing up in my mother's home and something I do consistently: the house must be cleaned  before anything else. And so it was--in less than an hour actually. So I started the laundry. And baked. And put dinner up in the crockpot. And took the girls to the store with me for odds and ends. And got groceries. And put the crib together in spite of the ready to use bassinet. And made lunch. And scrubbed random spots of the floor. And set out Sunday clothes. And took the girls to the pool. And made dinner. It was a fabulous day but a day with out many contractions. By 10 that night, watching a movie with my man and enjoying a massage at his hands seemed the perfect way to end the day. It was great and I can honestly say, I didn't feel a moment of regret that I still wasn't in active labor. I would be 37 weeks on Tuesday and that would be better for the baby anyways. I closed my eyes, thinking that if the damned dog doesn't stop following me around, I'm going to go insane.

I laid down at midnight, hoping for another night of solid sleep before we headed off to Mass in the morning. An unexpected contraction rolled over my body, forcing me up and into a chair. Hey, I can totally sleep upright-no worries...

....But I can't sleep through contractions that are coming 15 minutes apart. After an hour of this, I suggested that we might need to go to the hospital after all. This is when things get sketchy.....

Having spent basically 24 hours without food during our previous stay, Big D decided he better eat a sandwich before putting on clothes or calling a baby sitter or any of the things I thought would be rational next moves. I will swear to a jury it took him 15 minutes to eat that damned sandwich while he smacked his lips and discussed how delectable it was. Contractions are now 8 minutes apart and I have been in the bathroom twice for each one of them.

I spot blood.

A dear friend who was incidently supposed to be out celebrating her birthday can come watch the girls and house for us if we pick her up. I skitter around the house while this happens, writing a note for Thing 1 so she isn't confused when she wakes. Pulling the blankets back over her and Thing 2, I kiss them goodbye/see you later.

Contractions are now 4 minutes apart and I start to feel panicked. The tire is unmistakably flat on the cruiser and we should take the dog out for a pee----REALLY??????? NO, please please please let's go-this is really happening now.

We are finally on the road. It's 2:30 am in Nashville on a Saturday/Sunday. Vandy students are hugging telephone poles and flagging taxis. I see lightning in the distance and the air is electric.  I can't stop one contraction from rolling into another. Despite the pain, I feel oddly alive and outside of my self.

The Dev's signals and weaves between taxis. Blue lights flash and the cop car waves us over. I am moaning in pain. We aren't criminals but I will be if this cop gives me trouble. I suddenly fear the Dev's will make a rookie mistake and try getting out of the car, only to be shot by a startled cop. Of course, this doesn't happen and the moment the officer gets to the window and hears the explanation, he waves us to go go go. We are laughing now at our sitcom moment. Life takes a moment to taste like apple pie and pop culture.  I laugh and feel my water break.

The nurse in the ER at 2:45 is crusty and jaded. She asks redundant questions as I undress for a gown and I explain we were just in two days ago and why. She treats me like I'm spoiled for indulging in my pain with moaning. More questions. They make me walk up to the next floor. I'm 6 cm and ready for the show. This is not a drill.

In the elevator it feels that everything in my body could drop out on to the floor. I say so. I am met with more experienced humorlessness--this simply isn't possible, you know. A woman's body doesn't change that fast. I mention this is my 3rd child. She shrugs.

The staff of nurses go from stagnate to flurried as they fall into position. I see lightning through the window. It is closer and brighter than before. I can no longer sign forms and give verbal consent for the rest of my information. I remind them that I was just in and it's ok-I'm ok. I'm fully dialated. It's go time.

A man I've never met before is now my doctor. There is no pride or shame in a delivery room. My father could be there and I wouldn't care what part of me is exposed. I feel intense pressure and feel like I could float away if Mr. Devlin lets go of my hand. He grounds me. I'm still with this. I feel empowered by him, by the fact that he is still with me, that this is our child and our marriage and our story. There's no need to push long.  Our tiny son is only 6 pounds 6 ounces but I am sure that is mostly lungs. His startled discomfort is the most amazing sound.

He's here. He's finally here. No more fear.....for now.  I feel like his is our little messenger from God--not just a gift, but a gift with a card attached.   Sit down and shut up and know that I'm your God.


Outside, the sky rips open and unleashes a storm. The morning is scrubbed clean and I hold my son outside of my self for the first time. I am alone in my body for the first time in 9 months and I don't recognize myself.

Let Me Ex'plain....No, There Is Too Much....Let Me Sum Up

I know many of you are hoping I'll get back to posting useful things. I have, however, been saving all my "good energy" for nesting projects as we are 3-5 weeks out from Baby Boy's arrival. I've been scrubbing random things and waddling around the house, looking for problems that aren't there.








Mr. Devlin has been busy too, trying to keep me placated and relaxed, putting together cribs and hanging decorations on the nursery wall in between running for Big Mac's and Snickers bars.





And it's not that I haven't been cooking or baking. It's just that most of it is going into the freezer for "after baby." Well, most of it--we have all developed a certain dependancy on buttermilk brownies from the last post. I'm not about to tell you how many pans of that have been consumed around here of late (and not just by me!).




I am a little upset that I just don't have enough energy to work on certain projects--like really stocking up the jam pantry or hitting the Farmer's Market a little more to put up corn and other veggies in the freezer. I'm sure I'll be kicking myself later (when I can move my body that way again....).






Thing 1 started back to school today so I'm allowing myself a certain amount of sentimentality to take over my morning. She looked so tall and so much older in comparison to the little kindergardeners scurrying around our feet this morning....was she ever that little?







Thing 2 is enjoying free-reign of the toy box and movie selection in her sister's absence. Her vocabulary has expanded to include all things Baby but I know she will have some trouble when her little brother arrives in the next month so I am trying hard to include lots and lots of cuddle time. That she will be 2 soon, with training pants and toddler beds in the wings has not escaped me either. She is my delightful handful right now and soon to be a middle child-a position I can identify with all to well.






Despite all the concerns over Baby Boy, we have made it past the danger zone of pre-term delivery at this point. The relief is palpable. I am aware that many other parents have survived much harder pregnancies and I bow to your experience. But since this is my baby and my body, it has been a long and anxious time for me, hoping for the best and dreading all the worst. I rejoice in every day that he wakes me at 5:00 am to kick and punch me to start the day. We basically have a month to go, give or take. Many of my original plans have fallen through for his delivery but I know regardless that we'll have a good story to tell in the end.




So this is where I am today. Tomorrow brings its own challenges and blessings and I will handle them when they get here (that's what I've been telling myself at least). I will try to post some useful things again soon. In the meantime, I hope you are all having a wonderful, safe, memory-filled summer.

Buttermilk Brownies: Grab a Fork

Buttermilk is a workhorse I often employ in this house-it's cheaper than sour cream or yogurt and more versatile in baking, with just as many savory applications as sweet...and fantastic for soaking your chicken or fish in before frying if you aren't making biscuits, scones, muffins, pancakes or soda bread. And now I can add brownies to the list.

These are not your traditional brownies, dark dense and chewy. Actually, they remind me of a Texas sheet cake-complete with the frosting you apply while the pan is still hot, creating a crusty glaze. The base is moist, with a fine crumb. And  while they cut clean and easy, you might be tempted to use a plate and fork to eat them....or a spoon and a scoop of ice cream. You get a lot of brownie for the work-you'll need a 15x10 pan instead of the traditional 9x11 pyrex or casserole dish.

So, grab your big pan and give it a spray then preheat your oven to 400 (see, not even your usual baking temperature).

In your mixer bowl, combine these ingredients:

2 cups of sugar
2 cups AP flour
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda


Measure out
1 cup of buttermilk
2 eggs
1 Tbs vanilla

Now for the fun part; in a saucepan, melt together
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
1 cup water
1/4 cup cocoa
1/2 cup oil

Stir while you bring this all to a boil. Remove from the heat and pour over the flour/sugar mixture in your mixer bowl. Blend them together and scrape down the bowl with a spatula before adding in the buttermilk and then the eggs and vanilla.

the batter is thin and
shiny

Pour this lovely, shiny batter into the prepared pan and set your timer for 15 minutes. There is a good chance you will need to bake them longer-closer to 20 minutes but in the last few minutes, you'll be mixing up the frosting that gets added to the brownies hot.







So, wash out your mixing bowl and blend together the following:

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
1/4 cup cocoa
1/3 cup buttermilk
1 tsp vanilla
1# or 4 cups of powdered sugar
1 cup chopped pecans

Beat them together-it will lighten in color a little as it comes together.






As soon as your brownies are done (test it like a cake-use a toothpick for no wet batter or press lightly on the center to see if it springs back), pull them out and spread the frosting over the pan. Weird, huh?  But oh so yummy.








 As the pan cools, the frosting forms that delicious crustiness. These aren't overly rich or chocolately-just the right amount for an after school snack or to dress up with ice cream with some sauce for after dinner dessert.  And since the pan is large, it's great for potlucks, company or the now-possible Sunday football game crew.
 I should have side view of the finished product but I've been busy eating them or laughing at Mr. Devlin's guilty look as he goes back for seconds.

Chorizo Black Bean Pockets: Easy Betty Says It's Too Hot To Work

Last week, my little crew escaped to the Old Country (aka Pennsylvania) for a week to be spoiled rotten by the grandparents. Considering that the Dev's and I haven't been alone together for over two years and I hadn't had a moment to really get ready for Baby Boy, a week without Thing 1 and Thing 2 was a gift, plain and simple. Your mother in law may drive you crazy, showing up at your house all the time, taking the kids blah blah blah. You bless that woman right now. You don't know what a gift you have having family near you.

Needless to say, after we (kind of) adjusted to the quiet in the house (and the fact that we could eat candy for dinner and watch movies really loudly at night with no fear of waking the sleeping dragons), we transitioned beds and cribs and moved around bedrooms and painted stuff and scrubbed carpets and washed baby clothes. And after a baseless meltdown about the state of my body, the hospital bag is also packed and ready to go. So while I have no idea who is going to watch the girls while I'm actually at the hospital birthing their brother, everything else is ready for this child to actually enter the world (knock on wood).

I don't need to tell you it's blistering hot outside--yes, it's summer and it should be hot; but this is like "I'm sorry, I repent" hot out. And as I'm nearing the final stages of this pregnancy--this long and difficult pregnancy--I've reached that point where I don't leave the house unless absolutely necessary. If not because the cashier at my local grocery store can't keep her annoying comments about my appearance to herself, then because the heat index is in triple digits by 9 am.

And since I'm avoiding said grocery store, I need to get a little more creative with dinner around here. This is what I came up with tonight:

You'll need:
2  8-oz cans crescent rolls (shut up, they were on sale and I had a coupon)
1 pound chorizo sausage (I used mild for the sake of the children)
1 large or 2 small tomatoes, diced
1 cup cooked or 1 can rinsed and drained black beans
8 oz shredded cheddar

Preheat your oven to 375 and prepare a baking sheet. While your oven heats, use a skillet to cook the chorizo (remove the casing) with the black beans, adding in the tomatoes once everything else is cooked through. Cut the heat and taste your filling to see if it needs something more. If you like spicy, add in some hot peppers or some chili powder.  Mexican sausage is pretty flavorful though so you may not even need salt and pepper.






On the sheet pan, separate out the first can of crescent rolls so you have 8 triangles.









Now top them with a heaping tablespoon of the filling and top with the shredded cheese. Leave the edges clear.










Using the second can of rolls, top the triangles and seal the edges with a fork. You may need to stretch out the top piece a little to cover the filling but since it's not a super-wet filling, you shouldn't have to worry about them exploding open.

 Now you have 8 triangles....and also about half the filling left-freeze it for later or use up 4 cans instead of 2 and feed the neighbor kids that just got out of your pool.

Pop the pockets into the oven for 12-15 minutes and bake until golden brown. I served these with a little salsa and sour cream for dinner. Fruit salad on the side and you have a full meal. Easy peasy. Dinner in less than half and hour.

The filling on these could be anything really. Leftover chicken with some spinach and feta? Mozzarella, pepperoni and mushrooms with a marinara dipping sauce? A little ground beef with diced carrots and peas? Look around in the your fridge or pantry and use up that stuff that's just sitting around.  If you add cheese to it, I guarantee you can slip in some veggies without the kids caring.