i thought of this strip this morning as i was making breakfast. i decided on oatmeal-cranberry-white-chocolate-chip scones. i love scones. they’re just healthy enough that i don’t feel bad eating them but just sweet enough you feel like you’re eating dessert for breakfast. scones.

scones, scones, scones.

point is, the word smock to me is a lot like the word scone (see what i did there).

thankfully, my oatmeal-cranberry-white-chocolate-chip scones came out pretty good today. as they should. i could make them in my sleep. which is also good, considering i’m invariably making them before my first cup of coffee. so anyway, here there are:

aren't they bee-you-tee-full?

(note my cuppa joe there to the right)

they’re incredibly simple to make. would you like to know how? thought you’d never ask. since i really only slightly modified an old better homes & gardens recipe (as opposed to, say, my damn-good chocolate chip cookies) it’s not really a secret. i’m feeling generous. here’s the recipe:

oatmeal-cranberry-white-chocolate-chip scones (or, ocwcc scones, for short)

1 cup a/p flour
3 tablespoons packed brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/3 cup unsalted butter, chilled
1 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup dried cranberries, and
1/4 cup white chocolate chips, coarsely chopped
1/4 cup skim milk
1 egg, beaten or 1/4 cup egg substitute

milk + pure vanilla extract

pre-heat oven to 400°f. line a cookie sheet with parchment. in a medium mixing bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, baking powder and cinnamon. using a pastry cutter (or a couple of forks, or knives – whatever) cut in the butter until mixture resembles course crumbs. stir in the rolled oats, cranberries and white chocolate chips (to save time and dishes, i usually chop the dried cranberries and chocolate chips together in a mini-food processor). combine the 1/4 cup milk and egg, then mix into the dry mixture (dough will be sticky).

on prepared cookie sheet, sprinkle a little flour; dump dough onto parchment, sprinkle some flour on top, then pat down into a 7 – 8″ circle. cut the circle into 12 segments (or less, if you want the scones to be larger). in your measuring cup (since its already used anyway – save dishes!) mix an ounce or two of milk with a splash of pure vanilla extract. brush this mixture over the scones. separate the scones by a few inches across the cookie sheet. pop them in the oven for 11 – 13 minutes.

this is generally just enough time to clean up your mess and brew your joe (or tea, i suppose). the scones don’t really brown much beyond the edges; so don’t be tempted to over-bake them; if you do, they get very dry and very tough.

if you’re not big on cranberries (wha?) or white chocolate (wow!), you can easily make these with just about any sort of mix-in, provided it totals a half cup; raisins, walnuts, chocolate chips, etc. i don’t know how crazy i’d get with the mix-ins, they may alter the consistency of the scones.

you don’t have to be english to love scones. and you don’t have to be a baker to make scones, either.

enjoy your scones!

but in this month’s edition, there was an article that had me crying from laughter. i don’t know destiny herndon de la rosa, but i’d love to meet her for drinks. check this out:

some people fear dying on the toilet, others on the stair stepper at the gym. but i have them all beat.

if you are a woman who has ever put on spanx in the privacy of her 3,000+ degree closet, when suddenly you hear, “mommy … mommy … MOOOOOOOMMY!” you know exactly what moment i’m talking about. “DON’T OPEN THE DOOR! DO. NOT. OPEN. THAT. DOOR!”

a bit of product history: spanx are made from a poly-carbonate product created by nasa that has been molded into the size of a double zero woman. the goal is to body-snatch that woman, disregarding all laws of gravity and mass re-distribution in the process. there is an art to this though.

i recommend some light stretching for starters, as attempting to strap one on can get a bit strenuous at certain points (around the thighs, specifically). and by stretching, i mean both you and your garment. don’t be shy: really give those satan-fibers a tug.

once you’ve worked up a starter sweat, go ahead and slide your feet in. now you may be thinking, “oh, this doesn’t seem so bad—just like regular panty hose.” save that confidence; you’re going to need it here in a second.

once you’ve made it past your knees, take a sip of wine and try to conjure up every mental image you have of olympic heavy-lifters. you know that move where they go from straining to throwing the weights up over their heads really fast? you must mimic that exact move. if you try to slowly jimmy “the new you” onto your body, your muscles will atrophy and you will be praying for the sweet release of death when you see the look of horror on the emts faces as they attempt to cut you out of that full-body blood pressure cuff.

which reminds me: at this point you may want to cover up any full-length mirrors. some women find it emotionally distressing to see themselves as a human soft serve ice cream cone. (a side note: my daughter always walks in right at the soft serve step)

ok, so you’ve done the olympic hoist, pat yourself on the back—if your shoulders are still in their sockets.

now this next maneuver is very small, but mighty. You are tediously going to pinch that devil cloth up inch by inch. repeating until you reach your rib cage.

this is the point when i usually realize i should have taken more advantage of the aforementioned shin lag, because now it will be like turning the Titanic to re-adjust. if the spanx make it only halfway up to your abdomen, you may think you’re in pretty good shape, but you’re fooling yourself, sister! don’t bother getting dressed yet, because every bit of excess fat you just shoved up your torso has now become the ultimate atomic blast-shaped muffin top. you’ll be lucky if your arms can rest at your sides comfortably over that inner tube.

it won’t be easy, but here’s what you have to do. take another sip of wine while you’re still upright. wipe away the sweat. take a deep breath, hold it … and bend back over. grab every bit of excess spandex you can and, if you’re wearing the ones with feet, don’t stop until you have toe wedgies! at some point, probably around the thighs, it is pertinent that you not lose your grip or you will never regain it.

so, you’ve finally shimmied them all the way up. if you’re feeling a bit light headed that’s ok—remember you’ve been drinking a lot. and if you have any excess spanxage left, my advice is to go with the trusty old fold-over. with any luck the polymers might actually weld together from all that sweat and you’ll end up with extra-extra-extra reinforced back fat protection. or who knows? you might just end up with: ‘extra-extra-extra! read all about the chubby lady who was found half-naked, sweaty and drunk on her closet floor!’

spanx are a great product. i owe my fake-figured life to them … and hopefully i’ll never attribute them to my death. on that note, i leave you with this sweet little prayer that i honestly think should be inscribed on every package:

“as i lay me down to squoosh, i pray the lord would shrink my toosh. if i should die before i fit, i pray the lord … would just go ahead and let the earth spin off into the sun, because I swear if anyone ever found me halfway digested by this spandex cobra, mass hysteria would overtake the planet anyway.”

you’re crying too, now, aren’t you?

note: not reprinted by permission, merely with unending admiration – and let me just say again for the record that the above is not my work, nor am i claiming credit for it. also, since i’ve now discovered she apparently wrote the article back before august, 2010 (cause i do my research, tyvm) i kind of wonder if she knows that it appeared in this month’s living mag, seeing as how i don’t see them giving her credit for it? just sayin’.

edit 01/10/12 – turns out i do have her permission to post the article; (as did living mag) – see her comment below:

but really, you only know something about me that i used to do. cause i am fed up. and i know i’m not the only one. anyway, here it is. here’s my reason for boycotting quilted northern. because the grocery shrink ray has struck what used to be my favourite brand not once, not twice, but three times in recent history.

most recently, i discovered while restocking the cabinet that not only had the tube the tissue is rolled on got larger, but that the amount of tissue rolled around the tube got more loosely rolled and is shorter than ever. check this out:

old tube: 1 1/4", new tube: 1 15/16"

seriously, the new tube has grown almost 3/4 of an inch! and then, the amount of tissue around each roll:

it's hard to see it, but that's the new roll on top

alright, measuring from the outside edge of the tube, to the outside edge of the roll, the old one was 1 5/8,” the new one is a lousy 1 7/16″ – i know, i know, it doesn’t seem like a lot, 3/16″ difference, but again, multiplied over the number of rolls per package, you can see where i have a legitimate complaint, right? especially since i’m paying the same amount of money?

well, not anymore. i’m switching brands. not that i’m telling you which brand i’m switching to.

that would be too personal.

later that day, i dispatched them across the country via a variety of methods, including hand delivery. the reactions i received varied. they want something like this:

from the recipient that was furthest away, i received a “mmmmmerry christmas” text, in appreciation of my goodwill.

from the recipient that was closest, i.e., my boyfriend, i was told i really should be selling my baked goodness. i’d make a fortune. (okay, sure, he’s biased, but still…)

from the recipient to whom i delivered the goods personally, i received the most heartfelt gratitude. an email extolling his thanks.

and from the recipient upstate, for whom i’ve only baked on one other occasion, and for whom i’ve custom designed other gifts in the past? what gushing of gratitude did he have for me? how did he thank me, you ask?

nary a word. i gave him the entirety of the week, and, nothing. *crickets*

well! guess who doesn’t get cookies next year?

because, yeah – a simple ‘thank you’ was really all i wanted.

merry fucking christmas.

or maybe i just need more.

anyway, as promised, here’s how it all went down. on wednesday, i baked two pumpkin spice cakes; one with nuts, one without. every baker knows the best way to keep the frosting from melting when you frost is to make sure the cakes are completely cooled; so i figured, give ‘em a whole overnight to cool. in the meantime, i formed some pumpkin leaves from white chocolate colored with green food coloring. in hindsight, i probably should have also gone ahead and made the frosting, to let it set up again overnight as well; but i got distracted, cutting out the dozens of leaves for the pie. i didn’t think i’d have time to get theme all cut out, and get the pie assembled, and the cake frosted all before the big meal on thursday. so thursday morning, while the pie baked, i made the frosting and frosted the cake. anyway, in the end, it didn’t come out quite as beautiful as i had hoped, but the flavor, the texture, the consistency, were all more than i expected. and it wasn’t exactly ugly, certainly not wreck-worthy:

better than expected - sooo much better

oh, and turns out, adding a whole can of organic pumpkin to a cake adds quite a bit of heft to a cake (or two, for that matter) so in the end, the whole thing weighed damn near five pounds.

the pie, on the other hand – well, that’s what i get for going against my better judgement on the recipe. there simply wasn’t enough flavor, and while the crust ended up nearly burned, despite lowering the oven racks and lower the temps, the apples didn’t hardly soften and for that matter, the cubed butter didn’t even melt in some places, despite being in the oven for just over an hour. i shouldn’t have put the leaves over the top of a flat crust, essentially doubling the top crust, especially knowing that the leaves would overlap so much, making the crust, in some places, three and four layers deep.

then, because it didn’t get hot enough under all that crust, as the pie cooled on the sideboard during dinner, almost half a cup of juices came out of the apples, returning the bottom crust to a nearly raw state. and finally – my own fault – i had forgotten to add a little water to my egg yolks when i brushed the leaves, making the crust turn a deep brown rather than a golden tan.

my pie... not so much

in the end, i don’t recommend using the recipe i used; and maybe just use their picture as an inspiration, not a guide.

but this year’s gonna be different. this year – no pumpkin pie. *gasp!*

instead, i’m baking two things – the most beautiful apple pie i’ve ever laid eyes on, and a pumpkin-shaped, pumpkin-spice cake. and i admit, i’m a little nervous.

because this is what i want to bake:

it's so bee-you-tee-full!!!

and this:

is it real? or is it... cake?

and it stands to reason that someone with my experience and skill-set can, with some patience, and if i hold my tongue right, create these masterpieces. but what’s been running through my head since the day i committed to these two edible works of art, is that what i’m going to end up with is this:

screw the leaves, i'm just gonna pile the crust on... and pray

and this:

wait, pumpkins have green veins?

to be continued…

well now i do. nyeah.

anyway… this isn’t the first time shenandoah’s large and in charge have managed to completely piss me off. (nor the woodlands for that matter.) but now that i’m a business-owner (co-owner, but still) this one really made my blood boil. did you see this atrocity in last week’s villager? according to the article, the shitty council actually had the balls to tell a company (healthsouth rehabilitation hospital of the woodlands) to change their name instead of letting them change their existing sign.

yeah, no. you read right. the either/or they gave them was to either go back to the secretary of state and change their name or put up a completely new sign. i shit you not.

in case you don’t want to read the whole article, the short version is this: hsrhotw has a sign that is aerial right now, meaning you can (almost) see it from the highway, cause it sticks up off the ground. they recently changed their name from healthsouth rehabilitation hospital of north houston to healthsouth rehabilitation hospital of the woodlands.

sidenote: this is not an easy task; you have to do all kinds of things to make this happen, like have board meetings and pass resolutions and file documents with the secretary of state and so forth and so on. not to mention pay some attorney to handle the paperwork, because there is plenty of that. plus, this is a hospital, so there’s all those insurance companies to deal with. it’s a long and arduous (and expensive) project. i’m just sayin’.

anyway, they changed their name, so they want to change their sign to reflect that. should be easy, right? noooo… turns out there are rules in shenandoah about those signs, the aerial type. turns out, you can’t have them. and i get that, i do. they clutter up the horizon. but since they apparently passed the rule after hsrhotw had their sign stuck up in the air, they’ve got to keep it all this time. but the council decided that if they want to keep that aerial sign, they have to call themselves – wait for it - healthsouth rehabilitation hospital of shenanadoah. otherwise, they have to take the sign down altogether and just have one at street level.

to which i say – what the fuck, shenandoah? what. the. fuck. i mean, do you not want businesses to come to your little corner of the woodlands sandbox anymore or what?

and it’s not just hsrhotw they’re picking on, either. their stupid rules also affected fleet feet sports (who simply wanted their sign to be the same size as their next door neighbor’s) and valero, who wanted, omg, two signs (one at each entrance). and this isn’t the first time that their signage rules have affected business owners, either. i knew the owners of a florist that went out of business in shenandoah last year. she told me she felt she lost a lot of business based on the fact that no one could find her. seems after more than a half a dozen attempts to make the shitty of shenandoah happy with their sign, they gave up and never put one up.

as for how the woodlands pissed me off – oh, you know… just more blatant wasting of our money for things that don’t really matter instead of things that do matter, like, you know, dead tree removal. but that’s another post.

here’s the problem: their job didn’t live up to the guarantee. now, if i was a cash-paying client, i’d either get a refund or a do-over. but in this arrangement, am i entitled to the same options, or would i seem greedy, expecting their work to be doubled to meet my satisfaction?

what do i do? what would you do??

BAM

it’s been two and a half months.

sigh.

so, no apologies this time. just following up on a request. i cook a lot. and bake. i used to bake more – quite a bit actually – but my slowly expanding ass won’t allow me to keep baking all the time like i used to. especially considering my level of physical activity has slowed to a sloth-like pace.

still and all, i love to spend time in the kitchen. wait, back up. i love to spend time in the kitchen when my efforts are appreciated. thankfully, they are appreciated.

one of my most appreciated dinners is steak marsala. a little something i stumbled across years ago when i first started concerning myself with eating healthier – which not-too-coincidentally happened about the same time i could start affording better foods. organics. grass-fed beef. finer cuts. you get the idea.

so – steak marsala. i’m not a big meat eater – my whole problem is the longer i think about it, the more i start to visualize that i am, in fact, eating flesh, and it turns my stomach. but when i do get a hankerin’ for a good piece of meat, steak marsala is by and large my favorite. it’s fast, it’s healthy, and it’s easy. and did i mention fast?

so if you want to make it yourself (and you know you do) you don’t have to have any fancy kitchen equipment or a degree in the culinary arts; but you’d better have a desire to cook more often. because, i’m warning you, this will get requested again.

the grocery list:

• 2 nice thick (like 2″ or more) tenderloin steaks (a.k.a. filet mignon), about 6 oz. each; not bacon-wrapped
• marsala cooking wine (the cheap $hit in the spices aisle, holland house)
• non pareil capers (usually in a 2.5 oz jar in the canned food or salad dressing aisle)
• minced garlic (i don’t bother w/fresh garlic, though some people swear by it. in jars in the produce section)
• salt & pepper (seriously, you don’t have this already??)
• fresh green beans, or asparagus, or broccoli – enough to steam for two of you

the good news is, other than the steaks, there will be enough of everything else to make this about 4 more times. the bad news is, this first trip to the store for an incredibly short list will likely run you about $40-$50.

alright. when you get home, leave the steaks on the counter while you rinse the fresh veggies. if you’ve got a large pot and a steamer basket, great, add about a 1/2 inch of water to the pot and put the veggies in the basket. put that on to boil/steam while you prep the rest. if you only have some bowls and a nuke-box, put about a 1/4 cup of water in a bowl, add the veggies, put some plastic wrap over it and stick it in there. don’t cook them yet.

now, unwrap your steaks, spray a frying pan with some cooking spray and put the steaks in there. spread about a half teaspoon of the garlic on top of each of them, then flip them and do the same, and shake some salt & pepper on both sides. turn your burner on about 1/3 to 1/2 way. let your steaks cook for maybe 7-10  minutes, resisting the urge to poke or turn them. once the brown starts to spread about half way up the sides, flip them and let them cook another 10 minutes or so.

the beauty of filet mingnon (especially a good one) is that you can eat them way more rare than you would, say, a strip steak or t-bone. to test these for doneness, press your thumb into the center; the resistance should feel about like when you’re pushing your thumb into the heel of your hand. this means they’re about medium-rare.

remove them from the pan (leaving the heat on) and set them on a plate. if you’re steaming your veggies on the stove, you can turn them off at this point. if you’re nuking them, now’s about the time you want to get them going. 3-4 minutes for green beans or asparagus, 5-7 for broccoli.

take a half-cup of the marsala wine and put it in the pan. it should almost immediately come to a boil. add in two tablespoons of the capers. using a spoon or something that won’t scratch your pan (if you’re worried about it) let the marsala cook down for about 3-5 minutes while scraping the garlic up off the pan and stirring the capers around. you should end up with a nice, brownish-red juice.

put one steak on each plate, along with about half of your veggie of choice. spoon some of the juice from the pan along with the capers over each steak.

tada! steak marsala. isn’t it beautiful? don’tcha look like a friggin master chef?

okay, we ate ours before i snapped a pic, but it looks a lot like this, only with more juice.

(and thanks to goGLco for making me finally write something.)

but then, out of the blue, about six months ago the boss texts me. “hey. how ya’ doin?” and proceeds to tell me how oh, so much has changed. that yes, the implosion had continued in a downward spiral, but really, they just might make it. that really, everything i tried to tell her was true (though she didn’t put it exactly that way) and that yes, she had to fire off several of the employees i tried so desperately to warn her about. she asked what i was up to. and then she finally asked what it would take for me to come back.

simple, i said. one hundred million dollars.

no, not really.

i told her i wanted all the responsibilities i said i could handle before that she never trusted me with. done.

i told her i wanted her to $hitcan the asshole that got the job that should have been mine in the first place. she said it was in the works.

i told her i wanted his salary (it was roughly 1.5 times what mine was when i left). done.

i told her she had to listen to me. she said she’d try, she really would.

and then… nothing. the conversation died.

until! until last week. i get a new text, “hey, is this still your number?” and proceeds to tell me that yes, the downward spiral is nearly complete. but really she needs my help with some things i used to know that she doesn’t know. so i lend a hand. i find out from the person i’m working with that she wants me back when she can afford it. i find out that they want her to want me back. i find out that my work is apparently some of the best work they’ve ever seen. and then…

nothing. the conversation died.

seriously?

seriously.

just quit it.