I won’t depress y’all and tell you that P is down another four pounds since Monday.

Personally, I consoled myself by eating some chocolate chip cookie dough at Gulley’s house yesterday.

Late Monday night, I searched the internet for some low-fat, healthy recipes because a person can only eat so many grilled chicken salads before the sight of a lettuce leaf activates your gag reflex.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Funny how it never happens with brownies.

Anyway, the next day I headed to HEB with a grocery list full of words like “fruit”, “baked chips”, and “Skinny Cow”.

When I got home, P came out to the car to help me unload groceries. Normally, this is a happy time because it’s like the York Peppermint Pattie fairy has come to visit and brought her friends, Hostess Powdered Donette and Bluebell Homemade Vanilla.

Oh, but not this time.

P glanced in one of the grocery bags and looked visibly disturbed as he asked, “Are these Egg Beaters?”

Yes. Yes they are.

But don’t use all your energy getting excited about the egg substitute because wait until you see the Guiltless Gourmet baked blue corn chips and the Orville Redenbacher Taste-Free popcorn!

I actually bought the Egg Beaters because I found a recipe on the Cooking Light website that looked pretty good and thought I’d give it a whirl.

And you know what?

We all loved it, so I thought I’d pass it along. I made it for dinner, but it would be great for breakfast or brunch.

It would also be really good with a side of Baked French Toast Casserole, however that probably defeats the point.

Garden Vegetable Crustless Quiche
from Cooking Light

Add zucchini mixture and parsley to egg mixture. Pour mixture into a 3-quart casserole dish coated with cooking spray. Top with the remaining 3/4 cup cheddar and 3/4 cup Jack cheese. Arrange tomato slices over cheese. Bake at 400 for 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350 and bake for 35 minutes or until lightly browned and set.

It really is good and, if you’re like P, it might even cause you to lose four pounds in two days.

But probably not.

I’m sitting here at the pool sweltering in the heat and wondering why I thought it was such a good idea to bring my computer.

Truth be told, I was curious if our pool really had wi-fi or if they just made the claim because what kind of moron brings their computer to the pool?

Turns out, the wi-fi is for real.

So is the heat.

And, apparently, so is the moron.

I chose not to wear my bathing suit today because I am tired of the pool and all the chlorine. My hair is about the consistency of straw, except not as soft and silky.

Anyway, after Caroline’s swimming lesson is over, we are headed home to bask in the A/C. I may even break out the craft bag in my desperation to stay inside.

Nothing reeks of desperation more than the willing distribution of glitter and glue to someone whose life motto is if a little is good, then A LOT is even better.

My biggest issue with the heat, other than the fact that it causes me to walk around with a bright red face and foul temper, is that it makes me want to run far, far away from the kitchen. By the end of the day it is just too hot to live, much less cook.

I just want to get a spoon, a quart of Dreyer’s Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream and call it a day.

There are two problems with this.

1. I would prefer to not gain fifty pounds over the course of the summer.

2. My people seem to want real food. With side dishes.

They are so demanding with all their “I’m hungry. What’s for dinner? Are we having hot dogs again?”

It takes all the joy out of my Dreyer’s Ice Cream.

Oh I kid. Nothing could really take the joy out of that. Because did I mention the chocolate and the peanut butter?

The problem is that when I look through my recipes and assorted cookbooks, nothing sounds good. Meatloaf in the summer is just wrong. Gravy in the summer seems unnatural. Frying something in hot oil seems redundant to the day I’ve already spent at the pool.

This is where y’all come in. I’m going to put up a Mr. Linky and would love it if you’d share your favorite summertime recipe on your blog and link it back here. If you don’t have a blog, then you can leave your recipe in the comments.

It doesn’t have to be sophisticated or complicated. In fact, the easier the better has always been my motto.

Not really, but it is now.

So, share the recipe love. Help a girl out.

Because, otherwise, P is going to ban me from buying anymore hot dogs at the HEB.

It’s Fiesta time here in San Antonio which means that we’ve had a really busy weekend and I’ve eaten more than my share of fried foods on a stick.

In fact, we had a late night last night filled with fireworks, homemade tortillas, and Mariachi bands.

So, I’ll be back later with a real post but in the meantime who wants to know how to make Chicken Cakes?

You do. I promise you do.

Even if you don’t think you do.

Plus, I promised my dear neighbors that I’d post this recipe on the blog because they let me borrow an egg. Without that egg there would have been no chicken cakes last Tuesday night.

And our home would have been filled with much weeping and sorrow.

Thank you Jana and Bill for that egg. My family is indebted to you for saving us from a fate of Hamburger Helper.

Chicken Cakes with Remoulade Sauce

Stir together until well-blended.

And if you have leftovers the next day, put some remoulade sauce and a chicken cake on some toasted bread.

You will be so glad you did.

A few weeks ago I mentioned that I purchased some Hostess Ding Dongs at the grocery store. Despite my disappointment that they no longer come in the foil wrapper, I tried one anyway.

And, honestly? Not really a fan anymore.

I don’t know if the folks at Hostess have changed the Ding Dong recipe, but I found them to be drier than dirt. Once I bit into that faux chocolate coating, the inner cake just fell apart. I did something I never thought I’d do and threw away the rest of the box.

Mainly because I knew, at some point, PMS would set back in and I’d eat the whole box in one sitting, all the while thinking how dry they taste but who cares because the chocolate? I must have it.

I hostessed my own snack cake intervention.

Then, at some point last week, P mentioned the Twinkie. Mmmm, Twinkies. Although I’m not usually a fan of the non-chocolate anything, it sounded pretty good.

So while we were at HEB (pronounced H.E.B. for those of y’all who asked) on Sunday, guess what we bought?

That’s right, baby. The Twinkie.

I had barely gotten them out the grocery bag when P opened the box. The first thing we noticed is that there is actual oily residue on the inner plastic of the Twinkie wrapper. That does not bode well for the amount of trans fats contained therein.

P opened one for himself and one for Caroline. I watched them to measure the Twinkie reaction. P said, “It tastes like white bread covered in butter and sugar and it’s leaving some sort of residue on my tongue.” Caroline took two bites and said, “I’m done with this, Mama.”

She has never turned down sugar in the history of the universe.

I took a bite of hers before I threw it in the trash and I immediately regretted my decision. My tongue had an oil coating that would rival the Exxon Valdez.

So, the house of Big Mama? No longer fans of the snack cake.

But at least now we know.

On a tastier note, several of y’all asked for the recipe for Baked French Toast. I highly recommend it because it is delightful and much better than any pre-packaged pastry. And it’s almost as easy.

I can’t remember for sure, but I think this came from Paula Deen. Best of all, you make it the night before so it’s perfect for Easter Sunday brunch.

Baked French Toast

I realize it sounds like it’s very fattening.

And it is.

I just wanted to clarify.

**Edited to add that when you mix the eggs, half and half, etc. it will all get slightly bubbly. It’s some sort of chemical reaction or something. I don’t really know why it does this because I am not a chemist. Just trust me, you’ll know it’s ready.

Also, I usually buy the thicker french bread rather than the skinny baguettes. There’s is no real trick to how thick the slices should be, but mine are usually on the thicker side along the lines of an inch to an inch and a half.

I assumed everyone probably already knew about Mexican Casserole because it was one of the first things I ever learned how to cook other than Cheeseburger Macaroni Hamburger Helper.

I adore this recipe because it’s easy. Plus, I always have all these ingredients on hand so when I realize it’s 5:30 and I’ve spent all day doing other productive things, such as picking out the right shade of polish to paint my toes, it’s a great last minute solution.

Mexican Casserole

Brown beef and onions. Drain grease. Add beans, soup, Rotel, salt, chili powder and simmer for 10 minutes. Line greased casserole dish with chips and half of cheese. Spoon half of beef mixture on top of chips. Repeat layers. Sprinkle more cheese on top. Bake at 300 for 30 minutes.

I usually serve this with a side of guacamole and flour tortillas. Unless the avocadoes I bought on Monday aren’t ripe, in which case I just serve it with Zantac.

So I really meant to have this recipe up by around noon today, but Caroline woke up around 5 a.m. holding her right ear and telling me it hurt. Of course that led to a visit to the pediatrician to confirm the ear infection and get a prescription for antibiotics.

Then, we dropped off the prescription at HEB and ran to Hollywood Video to rent a few movies in a futile attempt to keep her fairly quiet and calm for the rest of the day. Of course as we were in Hollywood Video and she was jumping from side to side, I told her she needed to keep it low-key.

She said, “Low-key? I don’t know what that means.”

Don’t I know it, baby girl.

We picked out a few movies and headed back to HEB to pick up our prescriptions. By this time her ear was really bothering her again and she actually wanted me to carry her in the store and kept her head on my shoulder.

This has never happened in the history of the universe.

I carried her up to the pharmacy counter where they informed me that because their computers were down, they couldn’t give us our prescriptions even though I could see them sitting right there on the counter.

Frustration, thy name is modern technology.

There is nothing like holding your 37 pound, whimpering child while being told you can’t have the medicine that will make her feel better. I had to pull out my Shirley McClain impression and beg them to, at the very least, give me the ear-numbing drops.

Finally, they gave us all our medications. We came home, got medicated, and have spent much of the afternoon lying in my bed watching “Muppets Treasure Island”. A true cinematic classic.

All that to say, Hey! Here’s the recipe for Chocolate Chip Brownies, and all y’all had to do was read my tale of gloom and despair to get it.

Chocolate Chip Brownies/Cookies (it can be either, it has multiple personalities much like Shirley McClain has had multiple lives)

Cream butter and sugars. Add eggs, vanilla, and dry ingredients. Do not blow in the flour unless you would like to spend the next hour cleaning up the powdery residue. Add oats and chocolate chips. Bake in a 9 x 13 greased baking dish at 350 for 25 minutes. Or for cookies, drop by tablespoonfuls on lightly greased baking sheet and bake for 12 minutes.

And let me just say, if there has ever been a 24 hour period that I’ve been thankful to have these on hand, today is that day.

I realize it’s a little late to post the Eggnog Recipe. At this point, I’m sure most of us are nogged out.

Not to mention coming to the sober realization that the holidays are over and thus, time to pay the cream-cheese-and-four-sticks-of-butter-in-every-recipe piper.

However, several of y’all asked for it and I’m going to go ahead and post it because there may be some of y’all out there who will throw caution to the wind and have one last fat-filled fling before the New Year’s Resolutions kick in.

And, if after you make it, you can’t stop drinking it, then you can do what P usually does and dump the rest of it down the drain.

Eggnog is his kryptonite.

Anyway, it’s also good time to let you know that I’ve created a separate page entirely devoted to all the recipes I have ever posted. That way if you wake up in the night and can’t sleep for wondering how on earth I make my crawfish etouffee, then there’s a quick and easy way to get that information.

Just click on the link under the About Me section that says, appropriately enough, “Recipes”.

I am so clever.

Homemade Eggnog

I finally managed to make the chocolate ice box pudding. It really shouldn’t have taken me this long to get it all together, especially since it’s the only contribution I’ll be making to Thanksgiving dinner.

I went to the grocery store last Wednesday with my goal being that I wouldn’t have to return to the store until after Thanksgiving. Grocery shopping right before Thanksgiving is like going to a bar on New Year’s Eve. You have to deal with tons of amateurs who have no idea what they are doing.

However, while I was gone this weekend, P informed me that a six foot rat had gotten into my Ghiradelli chocolate bars and that they would need to be replaced. The rat was actually nice enough to go to the store and buy new chocolate, but we ended up running out of other essential items such as toilet paper and powdered sugar. And we have to have powdered sugar.

Anyway, after our trip to HEB this morning, Caroline and I were ready to make the chocolate ice box pudding.

And since I want y’all to have a lovely Thanksgiving, I will share the recipe. Use this information carefully. Once y’all try this you may never be the same.

Chocolate Ice Box Pudding

The Diet Coke with Lime is completely optional and probably not really recommended.

8 oz. of semisweet chocolate
1/2 cup water
1 cup powdered sugar
1/2 cup sugar
4 eggs, separated
1/2 cup butter
1 tsp. vanilla
2 packages of ladyfingers

Here’s Caroline with the chocolate. If she had been home on Saturday I have no doubt that she would have served as an accomplice to the six foot rat that ate the chocolate.

This is AJ showing Caroline how to eat the powdered sugar right out of the pan. It was really helpful.

This is the mess I made on the stove when I decided to sling hot butter and powdered sugar everywhere. Tomorrow I will give thanks that at the moment the hot butter hit my hand I managed to not yell any profanities.

Here’s the inside of the cabinet where I keep all my silver serving pieces. Please note that they are all neatly wrapped in silvercloth and stored in Ziploc bags. I am very proud of this because it is the only area of my life in which I am this organized.

However, it still took me 15 minutes to find my medium sized Revere bowl in spite of it being labeled “Medium Sized Revere Bowl”.

I don’t know why.

These are the ladyfingers. It’s a very complicated recipe.

Here they are lining the Revere bowl. This is a crucial step in the process. You must ensure that you have the proper pudding to ladyfinger ratio or Thanksgiving will be RUINED.

Here is the finished masterpiece. Don’t you think Jenni and DeAnna would have been completely okay with the whole Brad dumping them thing if they’d had a bowl of this to self-medicate?

Come to mama.

Caroline insisted that she lick the spatula. And the bowl. And the spoon.

The good news is I don’t plan on washing her face, so tomorrow she can just eat whatever is leftover.

She obviously has no self-control where chocolate is concerned. I don’t know where she gets it.

And I don’t know whose hand that is.

I hate to say what I’m about to say. There are some things that are almost too embarrassing to say out loud.

I have never had mashed potatoes with a Thanksgiving meal. Until yesterday I honestly thought I was in the majority of Thanksgiving diners. But 90+ comments later, wherein the majority of y’all professed an undying love of the Thanksgiving potato, have opened my eyes to the cruel reality that is my life.

I have been deprived of an additional carb at the Thanksgiving table. I feel like I’m on an episode of Maury Povich and can hear the studio audience audibly gasping as my darkest family secrets are revealed.

But let me state for the record, P’s family never served mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving either. Which leads me to believe that God brought us together so that we can share our common grief over what were, obviously, deprived holidays. It’s a wonder we survived, what with just the turkey, dressing, cranberries, and green bean casserole.

The horror of it all.

Anyway, several of y’all asked for the recipes I mentioned, specifically the Broccoli-Rice Casserole and my mother-in-law’s dressing. I am more than happy to share those recipes with y’all along with my recipe for mashed potatoes.

Oh, that’s right. I’ve never had mashed potatoes with Thanksgiving dinner.

Obviously I’m trying to block that out.

Broccoli-Rice Casserole

Don’t let the sophistication of this recipe scare y’all off. I know just the thought of using a gourmet food like Cheez Whiz is a little intimidating, but it will be so worth it.

Unless of course you’re like my in-laws. I brought my beloved Broccoli-Rice Casserole to my mother-in-law’s Thanksgiving one year and everyone looked at it like I had just set a steaming cow poop on the dining room table.

What do they know? They don’t even have mashed potatoes with their Thanksgiving meal.

The dressing doesn’t have a formal name so I will just call it the BEST dressing ever.

Best Dressing Ever

And lastly, for the perfect accompaniment to the BEST dressing ever, make some homemade cranberry sauce. Eating cranberries straight from the can may be worse than not having mashed potatoes, if that’s possible. It’s just uncivilized and could be grounds for having your American citizenship revoked.

Cranberry Sauce

Gently boil sugar and water for 5 minutes. Add cranberries and simmer uncovered without stirring for 5 minutes. Skim off some of the foam. Stir in orange rind. Pour into bowl and cool to room temperature. Refrigerate until served.

At some point in the next day or so, I’ll share the recipe for Chocolate Ice Box Pudding complete with a photo cooking tutorial. The above recipes don’t get a photo tutorial because I’m not making them.

I’ll be too busy whipping up some mashed potatoes and trying to erase our shameful family legacy while Caroline is still young enough to not be permanently scarred.

I woke up this morning with Caroline right in my face. She was looking at me very carefully and finally asked, “Mama, why do you have stripes on your forehead?”

Because my skin is losing collagen by the day. Thank you.

We spent the morning going to gymnastics and then invited Caroline’s friend, Emily, over to play. The girls had a great time other than occasional skirmish over Barbie Princess shoes. There is nothing 4 year old girls enjoy more than a chance to tattle on each other.

And make chalk handprints on your backdoor.

While Caroline was occupied in a game of tug of war over assorted Barbie jewelry, I spent my time cutting and taping recipes into my recipe notebook.

What’s a recipe notebook you ask?

It’s a handy notebook that I bought many years ago and whenever I find a recipe that I like, I cut it out and tape it into my notebook. The only problem is I tend to pile up about six months worth of torn out magazine pages and shove them into the notebook where they fall out all over the kitchen floor everytime I go to look up a recipe.

It may sound like I’m unorganized and well, I am. The important thing is that eventually they end up in the notebook on a color coded page according to whether they are a main dish, a side dish, or a dessert.

I’ll just go ahead and confess that the dessert section is by far the most populated segment of the book. It’s not that I’ve actually made an Ooey Gooey Snickers Ice Cream Cake, but I am comforted to know that I could if the need arises.

For instance, if the writers’ strike continues and all the good shows go off the air.

Obviously, I am reserving it for a huge crisis.

So, while I was going through the recipes, I found a recipe I had cut out for Baked Oatmeal and thought hey! a hearty, nutritious breakfast possibility for Caroline. I mean she really needs something in her stomach before she starts in on the Halloween candy.

And, since I had all the ingredients on hand along with a big helping of delusions of grandeur, I decided it would be fun for Caroline and I to make it together.

Here’s Caroline with a lemon and frozen blueberries. She can hardly contain her excitement over the lame afternoon activity I’ve come up with.

Here are all the other ingredients and Caroline, who was asking that ceramic rooster, whom she’s apparently named Carlos, if he would like to marry her.

Kid, if you’re going to keep baking here you’re going to need to stay off the drugs.

(Yes, the picture is blurry. Do not adjust your monitor. If you’re looking for good photography, you’re in the wrong place)

While I’m in the midst of trying to wrangle Caroline before she runs off with Carlos the rooster, P comes in with some new navigation software that he’s purchased and needs to install it on the computer.

He heads towards my beloved Mac and puts the CD into the drive.

Nothing.

Takes out the CD and tries it again.

Nothing.

Takes it out and sees wording on label that says, “Not compatible with Mac Systems”.

So, he tries it on our PC.

Nothing.

He enlists my help. So now, I’m a cook and IT support. You do not want me to be your IT support because you know what I know about computers?

Not much.

My main tech support move is to just repeat the same thing over and over again to see if maybe it will work on the 143rd click of the mouse. Or maybe if you just put in the CD one more time it will actually work.

This time I even pulled out the big guns and took the CPU out of the cabinet where it’s housed and kicked it really hard on the side to give it a jumpstart.

Bill Gates has nothing on me.

Meanwhile, Caroline is holding an egg yelling, “MAMA, CAN I GO AHEAD AND BREAK THIS EGG? CAN I? CAN I? CAN I? CAN I? NOW?”

Not yet, Sweetie. Let’s wait and see if you can ask 132 more times and make my head explode.

And what do you know? She can.

P is messing with the computer which makes me very nervous because P doesn’t really have my computer skills or finesse. You have to know how to kick it just right.

Caroline is holding eggs and talking non-stop.

The phone is ringing off the hook because Buckmasters needs to know if P is renewing his subscription.

It really was the peaceful cooking moment I imagined in my head.

But nevertheless, the Baked Oatmeal turned out to be pretty good. And I’ll spare the internet and not tell y’all what Caroline said it looked like as we poured it into the baking dish.

Just know it tastes better than it looks.

The real reward is I have a nutritious breakfast that I can reheat and serve to Caroline in the morning which means I won’t have to share my chocolate Pop-tarts.

In case any of y’all are still reading and interested in the recipe, here it is.

Baked Oatmeal

That’s all the ingredients except for the blueberries and lemon shown in an earlier photo.

Have a great day and don’t run off with any roosters named Carlos.