It’s raining. Butterfly is unwell. We are snuggling under blankies and watching movies in pillow piles. We’ve baked a cake. The smell of dinner in the slow cooker wafts out from the kitchen. A spot of work to finalise and then some secret squirrel crafting. No point fighting the winter, instead we’ll hunker down and make the most of it.
OCCASSION: A stroke of genius, really. Just to put it modestly.
BRIEF & RATIONALE: I made Mars Bar Slice. I thought it might go well using Turkish Delight instead.
SOURCE: My own recipe – see under the picture.
EASE OF MAKING: 10/10. Be lazy like me and you’ll only have one bowl and one slice pan to stick in the dishwasher. Winning.
CHILD FRIENDLY? Depends if you are willing to share chocolate, but in theory, yes.
REALITY V COOKBOOK: Not applicable.
TASTE: Off the scales delightful
FINAL VERDICT: Total and utter genius. And yes, I am modest, I know.
INGREDIENTS:
220g block of Turkish Delight
50g butter
3 cups of Rice Bubbles
200g block of milk chocolate
METHOD:
1) Break up the Turkish Delight into small squares and, keeping two individual squares, place into a heatproof bowl, along with the butter.
2) Place bowl over saucepan of boiling water, and melt the Turkish Delight and butter. The inner Turkish Delight jelly takes quite a while to melt, so don’t freak out, just keep stirring, just keep stirring, just keep stirring, stirring stirring.
3) While stirring and waiting for the mix to melt, take one of the two squares of remaining Turkish Delight. Open mouth, place chocolate inside mouth, close mouth. Chew. Swallow. This step is CRITICAL. What if the chocolate is POISONED? That could get embarrassing at your next take-a-plate function.
4) In a large bowl, mix the melted Turkish Delight and butter with the rice bubbles. The mix is quite thick, and won’t completely cover the Rice Bubbles.
5) Once you’ve mixed as much as you can, break the milk chocolate into small pieces and melt in a heat proof bowl over boiling water.
6) Take the sole remaining square of Turkish Delight. Yeah, you know what to do now. Can’t risk a fluke, now, can we?
7) Once the milk chocolate is melted, add it to the Rice Bubble mix, and stir until evenly coated.
8) Press the mix into a small slice tray line with baking paper and pop in the fridge
9) Make a cuppa and enjoy!
10) Pretend you know nothing about a slice when your friends come around after seeing it on Facebook.
{NOTE ON COMMENTING :: wordpress, in their infinite wisdom, have changed their systems, and if your email has ever been associated with a wordpress/gravatar account, it won’t let you comment without logging in. If you are so inclined to comment, but have difficulty, please just add LWD to the start of your email {ie, LWDyouremail@wherever.com}, and I’ll know to remove it should I want to reply by email. Thanks so much for your patience and understanding. It bugs me too.}
OCCASSION: I was hosting craft group. And felt like chocolate.
BRIEF & RATIONALE: Chocolate. Something sweet, and preferably a slice that is easy to eat without a lot of mess.
SOURCE: Taste.com.au
EASE OF MAKING: 8/10 – melting of chocolate required.
CHILD FRIENDLY? Yes-ish – the melted chocolate can be hot, but with care, the children had a little turn at mixing. And the returned to eating the rice bubbles that had landed on the bench. And the chocolate off the chopping board.
REALITY V COOKBOOK: Win.
TASTE: 11.5/10. I took off a point because some bugger ate the last piece and I couldn’t be assured as to it’s taste integrity. NO, HUSBAND, IT WASN’T ME.
FINAL VERDICT: Added to the high rotation list. Super yummy, only downfall is it leaves ricebubbles in the cupboard, which small people then want for breakfast. Meaning a new packet of rice bubbles every time, so it requires some forethought, but worth it!
First up on my twenty treats challenge – double choc chip biscuits. (not the usual choc chip I referred to in my previous post, it counts for challenge purposes!)
OCCASSION: we were in a biscuit kind of mood.
BRIEF & RATIONALE: me “who wants to make biscuits?” Bear – “chocolate ones!!”. These were the only chocolate biscuits in the first book I picked up. I’m lazy like that.
EASE OF MAKING: 6/10 – sifting and melting of chocolate required.
CHILD FRIENDLY? Yes – mixed by hand, plus the small people like helping with sifting (double the flour quantities listed if attempting this!)
REALITY V COOKBOOK: Fail. My biscuits looked nothing like the picture. I was 50g short of chocolate, but I wouldn’t have expected it to make that much difference.
TASTE: 4/10. They’re ok, but quite bitter due to high dark chocolate content. Master Three declared them “stinky”. The plate remains almost full, two and a half days later.
FINAL VERDICT: I think we’ll call them a fail for us. They are good from the point of view that it is easy-ish to get the children involved, melted chocolate notwithstanding. But everything else was a bit disappointing.
{chocolate chips baked with my boy on Saturday while sick baby slept and Daddy took Bear to soccer}
We love to bake around here. There’s nothing like the smell of warm cake or fresh biscuits to bring the kitchen to life. The boys excitedly drag chairs over, and Butterfly will perch up on the bench, and then the squabbling begins. I want to put it in, no I do, he got to put in more than me, why can’t we do the eggs…but it all works out, and then we count down the minutes until we can pull it out and get it cool enough to eat.
But I’ve found, we tend to stick to two tried and true recipes. Chocolate cake, and a plain sweet biscuit. Both of which came from my great grandmother, and both of which I know by heart. It’s easy. It’s quick. Occasionally we’ll bake choc chip biscuits for a change, but this is the first batch in more months than I care to admit. Even my slices are in a rut. Bring a slice? Caramel slice it is.
So. I’m setting a challenge for myself. Twenty Treats. Time to crack out the recipe books and try something new. Sweet or savoury. Cake, biscuit, slice. I would say one per week, but we all know how that’ll end up!! So Twenty Treats, and not the same thing twice in a row. I may end up the size of a house.
Laden with fruit, the lemon tree begs to be useful. With a basket in one hand, and a small little boy clinging to the other, we answer it’s call. Bare feet cushioned by grass invigorated by unseasonally rainy weather, warm spring sunshine beating on our backs, we fill the basket. One. Two. Three.
Traipsing inside, I assume the captains position, and issue directives as the lemons are sliced opened and juiced. Flour. Butter. Sugar.
In goes the butter and sugar, the beaters go on… And the baby wakes. With Baby Butterfly in her sling, we start again, but apparently she’s starving. No one *ever* feeds her, dontchaknow? Eventually we get the batter made, into the tin and in the oven, and the smell of fresh lemon cake wafts tempting through the kitchen as we have lunch.
Butterfly is 10 days old, and growing quickly – our MCHN visit earlier in the week showed she’s put on 240g in a week. She sleeps well, feeding every two-ish hours during the day and three hourly at night.
This week, husband is back at work, and I think we’ve just about found our feet. Today has been a gloriously sunny day so far. A picnic for morning tea. Stories in the sunshine. The house is clean. The cake is baking away nicely. Baby and toddler are sleeping. Our visitors aren’t due for another two and a half hours. I see lunch and then a spot of crafting coming up. Bear has requested an aeroplane softie. And then I might try and make *something* pink. Anything, really. If I get a chance, a quilt and doona set has just about finished designing itself in my mind – next step, the paper version. A pile of scrapping is calling for attention. As is the folding pile. Eh, go fold yourself, washing. Wednesday already, where is the time going?
… is perfect for some baking!
“What shall we make?” I ask the board. “Biscuits with porridge in them, please, mummy”, says the big one. “Bikkie, bikkie, bikkie”, chants the little one. “Umm… no coconut, and no oats, little boy”. “Wah” says the big one. “Bikkie, bikkie, bikkie”, chants the little one. With a feeling of kinship with Old Mother Hubbard, I survey the pantry, desperate for a diversion. “What about choc-chip cookies?” I plead. “We have biscuits, not cookies, silly mummy”, states the big one. “Bikkie, bikkie, bikkie”, chants the little one.
And so, crisis averted, we make choc-chip biscuits. With white chips, since it appears someone may or may not have eaten the chocolate ones. And despite not being “biscuits with porridge”, Bear seemed to have no qualms in accepted an offered beater. “Who wants a lick?”
“Me, me, me” chants the big one. “Mine, mine, bikkie, bikkie” chants the little one.
Sometimes, there’s nothing quite like a quiet day at home. Playing. Cleaning. Baking. Being. Just what a Monday should be!
So I didn’t get the quilt finished. But it turns out the deadline isn’t as tight as I thought it was, so I’ve got a bit of wiggle room. I’m planning a big week of creating this week. A change mat. Perfecting (or at least improving) my FMQ technique. Some scrapping. Today was my day of rest. Tomorrow I get busy! Let’s do this!
A small voice tickles me elbow as it begs “We make muffins, mummy?”. So out comes the recipe books. “Honey ones, mummy!” “Honey?” “Yes pweese, I like honey. Honey is my FAVOURITE!” Flick, flick, flick. Hmm. “Sweetie, there’s no honey ones. What else would you like?” “Ooo, those ones, pweese. I like chocolate. Chocolate is my FAVOURITE!”
The bench is rapidly covered in various tupperware containers, as the flour, sugar, & cocoa are evicted from the pantry. The chair scrapes as Bear pushes it over to stand on. Chubba Bubba clings to my legs, and whines to have a turn too. Anoterh chair appears. Into the bowl goes the dry ingredients. A little hand on my left sneaks in and *thwack* in goes the wooden spoon, and soon enough both the smaller boy child and I are covered in flour. Maybe the wooden spoon wasn’t such a good idea.
Slowly but surely, the other ingredients make their way into the bowl, a quick mix, a spoon or three, and the muffins are in the oven. The bowl becomes a tug-o’-war. And with a deft little diversion, mummy emerges victorious! The bowl, it’s mine, all mine! My preh-shus…
And with the taste of muffin batter lingering, I confess that this is likely my last entry for 2009. And what a ride it has been. The next few days are absolutely frantic, as I throw myself headlong into Christmas preparations. Cards are written and just require posting. Presents to post. And wrap. And it would probably be a *huge* help if I actually bought some. Time with family, both immediate & extended. Eating way to much. Regretting the size 6 shorts I bought just yesterday. The way my family does Christmas, size 10 would have been much smarter. Cuddles, carols & Christmas lights. Cleaning. Savouring the little moments. The glow of children’s eye, wide with enchantment at the magic of Santa. Life is short, so I’m holding my special ones very close this holiday season. And always keeping my eye on the Reason for the Season. Giving thanks. Wow. Christmas, you are finally here. 2010 is a blank canvas, and I intend on painting my story with bright colours. Merry Christmas everyone. Travel safely, eat muchly, and I’ll catch you on the flip side. Festive Season 2009 is HERE! LET’S DO THIS!
Thank you all for your lovely comments on my quiltinaday project! It was a lot of fun to make, and the recipient absolutely loves it! The tight deadline as I stitched down the binding was a bit much though! So after my valiant effort, and my two little boys being very patient, today is all about being creative at a toddler’s level!
Baking is high on the “mutually-enjoyable-quality-time” activities in our house. (Much more fun than, say, repairing the train track for the 546th time because 1yo ChubbaBubba walked on it and sent 3yo Bear into floods of tears…). Admittedly, we tend to stick to our “old faithfuls”, because, in my mind, toddler+preschooler+mixmaster+hot oven is enough of a combination to juggle without adding “read-the-recipe-300-times-because-I’ve-never-done-it-before” to the mix. And of our four or five rotating recipe, there is one that is popular in our house that sticks out, in my mind, at least, as being one of the very few that scream “childhood”.
Our version of honey crackles is modified oh-so-slightly – I crush the corn flakes so that it is easier to use the smaller paper cases. Ideal for tiny little 3 & 1 year olds, who like a special little sweet treat, but mean onld mummy won’t let them have too much. Bad, very very bad, for mummies who think that the small size means that two (or three, or four) are ok, because in total it’s the same as a full-sized one. Ok, so maybe I’m pushing my luck on that one! I’ve got to justify my overindulgence one way or another…
So, with the honey crackles crisping nicely in the oven, we had a quick pit stop for morning tea (them) and washing up (me), as the smell of the goldening (is that even a word?) honeyed flakes filled our nostrils. Soon enough, it was time to take the tray out and survey our handywork. Only problem was, small boys thought they needed to taste test. Now. RIGHT NOW.
Eeek. Panic sets in (me). Tears threaten (them). What to do? Diversionary tactics are needed. The adreneline kicks in and the survival instinct takes over.
“Who wants to do some painting?” It works. The crocodile tears vanish in an instant. “Me! Mummy, me, please! White paint today, I fink?” (Bear) “Ah ah dah duh” (Chubba Bubba) “Sounds good.” (me again).
With a door between the children and I, I rummage through the craft box, and come up trumps. Two small canvases, gifted to the boys for their birthdays. We retrace our steps to the toy room, and sitting on the timber floor, we surround ourselves with puddles of paint, trapped on layers of scrap paper. “Don’t forget the white, mummy” (Bear). “*squish, slide, wiggle*” (Chubba Bubba). “Sweetheart, please don’t paint your leg” (me, to Chubba Bubba). We sing silly little songs about the mixing colours. “Red and yellow make orrr-anggge, blue & yellow make greeeeen…” I know, my singing sucks, even in the cyber world. It was fun though. And the little canvases look so awesome, I’m thinking this might be the start of a longer-term project.
Bear’s masterpiece:
And little Chubba Bubba’s:
As I cleaned the paint off Chubba Bubba’s legs, I heard a chirpy little voice at my elbow. “We put them up on the wall now Mummy?” And why not indeed, my small boy. These little canvases are only 4″ across, so I plan to string some ribbon across one wall of the toy room, garland style, and attach the paintings. I am also planning a major assault on the local $2 for a bunch more of these to add to our garland, as well as a few to do just in Christmas colours for our loungeroom. Maybe one every year? Who’d have guessed there’d be so much potential in giving two small boys two small canvases?!
So after a lovely morning, both tiny boys are tuckered out and curled up in their beds. I have just opened a new pack of canvas sheets and am planning a materpiece of my own. Ok, so masterpiece is an overstatement. But if I can enjoy the process of painting with the same innocent abandon, I’ll consider it a success. Once again, they have reminded me that the doing is as good, if not better, than the “done-and-tick-it-off-the-list”. So I’m painting like no-one’s seeing the end result. Which might involve singing like no-one’s listening. And quite possibly a little hip-waggle-bust-a-move like no-one’s watching. Because life is more enjoyable when we do what makes us happy, not what others want to see. Wonderful Wednesday, you’ve been so good to me. Keep it up, k? Let’s do this!
