December's Near Death Experience

Ok, so MAYBE I'm a little overdramatic.

Yes, it's been a while since I blogged....I had an incredibly busy month of December, followed by a ridiuculously crazy kickstart to the year.  But I am back with burning vigor.  Well, as I said, maybe I overdramatize things just a little bit.

In any case, I was lucky enough to get to drive out to Utah to see my sister and her small people, and EVEN LUCKIER to get to spend 18 hours in a car with them driving BACK to Chicago.  Imagine travelling 1200 miles with four children under the age of 5, one of which is potty training, and all of whom LOVE the song "the little drummer boy".  Just for the record, I HATE that song.  I hated it  BEFORE I listened to it on repeat for over 2 hours on a particularly long stretch of icy, Nebraska highway. I created lyrics about detesting the song, about the person who wrote it.  I played finger cymbals.  ANYTHING to keep the small people entertained and quiet as my sister and I traversed the longest, flattest stretch of I-80 ever.

But the near death experience did not come at the hands of a drowsy semi-driver or an overly motivated SUV doing 85 while 40 mph winds blew snow over the roadway.  It actually came at the hands of mother nature, several avalanche charges, and the stupidity that comes with going snowshoeing on my own.

As many of you know, I have become somewhat more adventurous in my old age (yes, I'm 42).  I figure you only live once, and, since I have had a death wish as of late, I am not really scared of trying anything.  At least once.  So snowshoeing seemed pretty harmless.  Me, the mountain, and a set of tennis rackets strapped to me feet, going on a hike.  In Utah.  At 8800 feet. Straight up.



My Brother-in-law gave me directions to get to "the good trails" for snowshoeing, as apparently the 60 degree climb out their backdoor and up the mountain right there wasn't challenging enough.  I drove through the mountains, past beautiful sights, and up to a ski resort called Solitude.  Hmmm....should have been my first hint.  But I kept going.  Past Brighton Resort.  The skiers were all excited about the impending storm, expected to drop 20+ inches on the mountains in the next two days.

 Still I kept going, up, up, up, until I started to get a little nervous about the steep dropoffs on the side of the roads.  It started to snow very lightly and I thought this was about the most perfect day ever.

I parked the car and, as I strapped on my sister's snowshoes, which were way more high tech than the tennis rackets I'd envisioned, I struck up a conversation with a couple of construction workers who were "building a house on the edge of a cliff" as they put it.  Just then we heard this enormous, booming sound.  I jumped.  They laughed.  I asked if it was thunder and they laughed even louder and explained "avalanche charges" to me.....that in order to ensure that avalanches don't happen, destroying homes and resorts, that they set off smaller ones so that large ones don't occur.  It apparently was nothing to worry about. They shoot them out of a helicopter and break up the heavier snow. Sounded like the Mountain version of the "snipe hunt" that rural Iowans would take their suburban friends on before leaving them in the woods for the night.  I was not impressed, nor was I going to fall for their bunch of hooey.

I headed down a path that looked like it had been previously traveled by hikers and I was off on my adventure.


Those tracks ended in about 400 feet.  At which point I could have walked back to the car and/or found the REAL trail that I was SUPPOSED to be on.  But hindsight is 50/50, and I thought "I've gone this far, I may as well continue."  Straight up the "hill".  And by hill I mean "Mountain".

Now I am in decent shape....I can ride 20 miles on my bike without breaking a sweat, run 4-5 miles for fun and swim for an hour at a time without getting winded.  So how hard could this be?  I began my climb.  Imagine my surprise when I had to stop every 50 feet and catch my breath.  This was HARD.  How could I be out of breath and sweating?  For God's sake, it wasn't like I was doing vigorous exercise!

 I was halfway up the mountain when it hit me.  And knocked me over.  Yes, that old addage your mother used to use to tell you that you were overweight without coming out and saying it.  I, in fact, WAS blown over in the first wind.  Apparently, the winds on TOP of a mountain are substantially stronger than those at the base.  So, as I lay there in two feet of snow, it dawned on me, for the first time, that maybe this was going to be a little harder than I had anticipated.  Also, it dawned on me that I was going to have to push myself up or die on this mountain.  I pushed myself up, grabbed a drink of water, and ambled to the top of the mountain, where I was treated to this view:

Absolutely stunning.  It looked "overcast" to me, a midwestern girl, but what I didn't realize was that the cloudiness in the distance was actually SNOW FALLING. I was kind of disappointed that I wouldn't be getting the gorgeous blue sky pics that I had really wanted, but at this point, after climbing about 600 feet in altitude, I was starving. Thank God my sister had the sense to fill my 'fanny pack' with water, clementines and granola bars. But the wind was so strong!  And I wanted to sit for just ONE minute.  Luckily, there was a little house in the distance.

Which turned out to be a TOILET.  I didn't care.  I just wanted to sit down and have a snack and get some energy. Of course, it was LOCKED.  Heaven forbid a storm overtake a snowmobiler or skiier or fatbike rider and they needed to seek shelter.  Or someone needed to use the bathroom!  I huddled under the roof and ate my clementines.  All three of them.  In record time.  Never before have they tasted so good.  I downed one of my two bottles of water, filled the bottle with snow, and put it back on my belt.

I hiked another 30 minutes, figuring it would take 1 1/2 hours up, 1 hour back.  The 'trail' I'd found was great, even though it continued to wind up the side of the mountain.  It was beautiful, quiet....I felt  like I was the only person in the world and that this is likely how it felt when the entire world was wiped out by plague and only I survived. (I believe this might have been the first sign of dehydration.....delusions of grandeur.....that, or a break with reality).  Anyway I continued.

At precisely one and a half hours, I turned around and my descent. Hiking DOWN was much easier than hiking up.  Although a little scary in some places.  As I kicked little pieces of snow in front of me, they would pick up more and more snow, creating mini snowmen as they rolled down the mountain in front of me.  OMG.  What if I fell?  I, too, would pick up snow like Shaggy in the Scooby-Doo cartoons, rolling down the side of the mountain, with only my head and extremities sticking out until ultimately I hit a tree or ran into the abominable snowman, taking him down as his mask fell off, revealing the local ski instructor trying to scare the kids away from the gold mine he'd found at the base of the slope.....!!!! (oops, there goes the break with reality again) THOSE PESKY KIDS!!!!

 As I came over the next hill, I noticed two things: first, the sky was completely dark and the snow had begun to fall, and secondly, the wind was MUCH STRONGER.  In fact, it was so strong that it had completely blown away the tracks I had made coming UP the mountain.  I panicked for a moment, but then realized I could "kinda" see where I had come from....it was just a matter of finding the bathroom 'house', then the 'big hill' (as opposed to the small hill?) the 'clearing', the riverbed and then the incline back to the main road.  I was going to be fine.


And then the big boom came.  WAY louder that the ones I had heard earlier.  And with a little vibration that moved the earth.  Apparently they were setting off charges on the mountain.  MY MOUNTAIN.  I couldn't see the helicopter, so I am guessing that they were on the other side of the mountain I just happened to be on, but I will tell you, NOTHING makes you move faster than someone setting off little avalanches where you happen to be hiking! I found out (the hard way) that I could make GREAT time if I fell on  my rump and slid down the hill.  I'm not sure there was an easy way to find that out; however, I made it off that mountain and to the clearing in record time.

Which was lucky, because now the snow was REALLY coming down.  Like "I can't see 100 feet in front of me" coming down.  I knew that I need only climb out of the basin I was in and up to the road and I would be back where I started.  But that was the tricky part.  Straight ahead?  Slightly to the right?  To the left?  I knew the road ran the entire length, but didn't want to have to take a chance, as we had already picked up about an inch or two of snow since I began.

And then fate stepped in.  Well, a group of three 20-something guys in their snowshoes.  I saw them out of the corner of my eye and figured they were coming from where I wanted to go.  I started hiking towards them, and towards the road.  As they approached, they said "you going in?  Don't stay out too long. We're expecting a lot of snow and it's going to get hard to walk, even in snowshoes."

"Don't worry," I reassured them, I just hiked through 2 foot drifts up that," as I turned around and pointed to the mountain behind me.

"You went up that?  Alone?"

I shrugged, passed them and continued up the incline, only to realize when I got there, that I had no idea what my sister's car looked like.  Not that it mattered, because it was covered in snow. Luckily there were only three cars, and the alarm on the key fob quickly alerted me to the right vehicle. I took off my snowshoes, took off my coat and snowpants to reveal SOAKING wet clothes, drank about a half liter of water and ate my last granola bar.

I began driving down the mountain.  And out of the snow.  And into blue skies.  And 50 degree weather.  I will never understand the weather in Salt Lake City. But I will DEFINITELY go snowshoeing again!

NOT BOX BROWNIES!!!!!

"MOM!!!???"  Jack yells to me from the kitchen, "YOU MADE BROWNIES WITH BOX MIX???!!!!  WHY???!!!!!"

Ok, it's official.  The children are addicted to natural food.  The heck with preservatives.  They look at labels and say things like "Why do I need propylene glycol monoesters in my brownies?  What EXACTLY does that DO???"  or "If I can't pronounce it, should I really be eating it???"

So now I make brownies from scratch.  Much like sewing or knitting, you don't bake things from scratch to save money.  In fact, with the cost of eggs and butter, it ends up costing more to make things from whole, natural ingredients than tossing a box of mix in the KitchenAid with 2 eggs and 1/2 a cup of oil.  But holy cow, the results are AMAZING.  It usually takes me about 4 times to get a recipe where I like it, adjusting the amount of butter, or cooking time, or finding just the right pan.

But here are "Jack's Brownies".

1 cup butter, softened
1 1/4 cups sugar
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1 cup milk
nuts if you like them (ICK)


1. Preheat over to 350.  (325 if you have the snazzy Pampered Chef pan that I am in <3 with)

2. Whip softened butter in your KitchenAid, add sugar and cocoa until blended.  Be CAREFUL when you add the cocoa.  If your mixer is on anything other than STIR, it will send a cloud of cocoa across the kitchen, the likes of which have not been seen since Hiroshima.

3. Add eggs and vanilla, mix until blended.  Add baking soda and baking powder. Some recipes tell you to mix this in a separate bowl.  I say why get more things dirty than necessary???

4.  Add flour and milk alternately a little at a time.  Add all the milk at once= sloppy mess.  Restrain yourself.

5.  Pour batter into a greased * AWESOME PAMPERED CHEF BROWNIE PAN*. No, I don't sell PC.  I should.  I love their really expensive stuff. I suppose you can just pour it into a 15 x 10 x 1 inch pan as well. It just won't be as pretty and symmetrical. Bake for 18 minutes (at 350) or 24 minutes (at 325).

At this point, make yourself a cup of coffee, catch up on email, facebook.  Maybe even fold a load of laundry.  Do something productive so that when these come out of the oven, you feel deserving of the delicious morsel you are about to eat.

You may want to get fancy.  You can even frost these if you want, get crazy with sprinkles and whipped cream...hey, whatever your feeling, go with it. Unfortunately in our house, there is a line forming when these come out of the oven. The timer on the oven is more of a "countdown to caloric chocolate chaos".  Nate usually "offers" to help take them out of the pan when they're still hot , and the kids fight over who gets which one.  After Nate and the kids and their friends all get one there is only one thing left for me.

DISHES.

A Thanksgiving tradition....Aebleskivers

Ah.....

A mere two days until Thanksgiving.  I am not sure that we as Americans need a holiday that does nothing more than celebrate food and laziness. However, it is followed by the real holiday where we wake up early and run from place to place, ready to run over our fellow competitors in order to win trinkets. I call this a triathlon.  Others call it BLACK FRIDAY.

"So.  What are you bringing?"  This was the question my mother asked me.  Coming from 3 1/2 hours away, this rules out most items.  I figured I'd eat her food and give her some cash for feeding us all for a couple of days. Apparently, she had other plans.  I now have a list of items which I will be cooking today.  The Twinkie Casserole, of course, will be brought by my cousin Lin.  My Aunt will be bringing "slimy sticks", also known as finger dumplings.

Me?  I am bringing Aebleskivers.  Now mind you, these are not a make ahead item.  I am bringing all the ingredients to make Danish pancakes on Thanksgiving morning, because my sister wants them.  And she is pregnant.  So she will get them.  Even though we are not, in fact, Danish. We are Irish, German and Lithuanian....about as far from the Danish as possible.  So today I am doing a run through on the neighborhood kids, as I just received my Aebleskiver pan in the mail (yes, this recipe requires it's own EQUIPMENT) and need to test and season it. 

It isn't a hard recipe, and looks a lot like pancakes.  It's just tricky in that one of your pieces of equipment is A KNITTING NEEDLE.  No, I am not making this up.  I will demonstrate as I go.

This follows my "happiness in recipes" rule of no more than seven ingredients.  I'm happy because there is less mess, less clean up, and less crap that you don't need in your food.  You need 2 cups of flour, 1 tsp of salt, 1 tsp of baking soda, 2 cups of buttermilk and three eggs.  Also oil for cooking and powdered sugar for, well, powdering....

Separate eggs.  Whip whites til they form peaks.  In another bowl, mix all the other stuff, then turn it into your egg whites.  It makes a really nice, fluffy batter.  

Get out your aebleskiver pan, set it on your stove on medium heat, and put a little oil in each well.  Don't get the oil too hot or your aebleskivers will burn :(  that was batch #1. 

Fill each well 2/3 of the way with batter and let cook for about 45 seconds. 

Using a metal knitting needle, run the needle around the outside of each cake, then jab the cake and flip it over. 

Let the other side cook for about 45 seconds as well.  To remove from pan, jab again again with the knitting needle like you are getting a free sample of cheese at a Farmer's Market.  Jab like you mean it.  Set on a plate, cover with powdered sugar and enjoy :)

You can also add things to the aebleskviver- in fact, "aeble" means apple, because these originally had apples inside of them.  I like to add a small, thin slice of honeycrisp apples...the only difference is to fill the well 1/3 with batter, then add the apple, then cover with batter.  These are AMAZING.

For kids, you can add jams or chocolate, but they find it is easier and less messy to simply cover the plate of pancakes with cool whip and chocolate. For special occasions, sprinkles may be an order.

And of course, I was met with the "Geez.  Can't you be a NORMAL mom and just make pancakes????"  I get no respect. 

Off to make the honey-wheat raisin walnut bread, pretzel bread, and shortbread cookies, each of which will be hoarded by a different family member, hoping to hold out until I come back at Christmas....

Twinkie's last stand......a SECRET family recipe....

TWINKIE CASSEROLE.  I am really not certain how this recipe came to be a guarded secret in our family. Actually, i am not certain how this got to be a recipe at all, but I am guessing it took place in a household, not so different from your house or mine, and the conversation went like this...

KID: Mom.  We have a concert tonight at 630.  And we are supposed to bring a snack to share.
MOM: "$#@* it's already 6:00!!!  And I don't go to the store til tomorrow.  What can I make? 

(mother checks the cupboard, but, like old Mother Hubbard, her cupboards are bare)

MOM: All I have is this box of twinkies, some vanilla pudding and some old candybars left over from Halloween.
KID:  Gosh, if we only had some Cool Whip....
MOM: We DO!  
KID:  All is saved, mom.  I have an idea......


And this is how the Twinkie Casserole was born.  I have taken this everywhere- from snotty New Year's Eve parties where people are wearing sparkly, low cut dresses; to my den, with a spoon for me and my husband.  I have had to hide it from the children.  I have had to hide it from adults.  Yeah, it's that good.  But I can't share the recipe, because then people would call it by it's true name "I ran outta time to think about your party and threw some stuff together and sprinkled it with crack" casserole.

This is a photo recipe, because otherwise I could write it in one sentence.

Tear open plastic wrapper.  Teeth work well. Cut the Twinkie in half, separating the top from the bottom.

Line the bottom of a 9 x 13 pan with Twinkie bottoms.

Make up a batch of instant vanilla pudding.  Pour it over the top of the Twinkies.

Sprinkle Health bar bits over the top of this layer.

Place the Twinkie "tops" in a layer over the pudding.

Cover with Cool Whip.

Sprinkle with the rest of the Heath Bits.

Wear your favorite 1950's apron and SERVE IT UP.  

(honestly though, let it sit in the fridge for about 2 hours for BEST results.  

But if the meeting/concert/event is immediately, you'll be ok)

My daughter walked in while I was making this and, honest to God, asked "are we having company tonight?"  Nothing apparently says "fancy, special dinner" quite as well as Twinkie Casserole.  

ENJOY.  I'm going to hide mine in the basement fridge......

Panera Bread......or my trip to the ER.

So, my wonderful friend Debbie brought me a new book.  Actually two.  Today, I really do NOT feel like doing anything, although there is a lot to do (finish winterizing the gardens, yuck) so I figured, "I think I will read these books.

They are, of course, bread cookbooks.  I decided on making a nice Sour Dough bread with the starter recipe in the Panera Bread Cookbook, until I read these words: let ferment 12 hours.

TWELVE HOURS???  I could be in CHINA by the time this fermentation is complete!  I could have run not one but TWO entire Ironman triathlons!  I could drive to the East Coast (well, if Nate was in the driver's seat, we'd likely be in roughly Ohio) or have repainted my kitchen!  But for a loaf of bread?  Maybe tomorrow.  It's late already.

So, instead, I decide on a nice wheat bread.  I get the starter going, leave it on the counter while I start a load of laundry and clean the 2nd floor.  In thirty minutes, I am ready to mix the rest of the ingredients.

Including VEGETABLE SHORTENING. Well I don't know about you, but I find vegetable shortening repulsive and disgusting.  It has no expiration date.  It stays solid even when it is 100 degrees outside.  It never changes in appearance.  I am fairly certain, if there is a nuclear war, that the only 2 things left would be cockroaches, of course, and shortening.  In fact, when I did my first triathlon, instead of buying expensive body glide, i was told to use Crisco.  I did, and ended up with the worst sunburn ever.  But I digress.

As the shortening was on the top shelf, and I am only five feet tall, I was forced to play the popular college game of "getting stuff with stuff".  My sister claims she invented this game; truth be told, we have all played it.  She just elevated it to a new level.  The premise is this:  LAZINESS.  Imagine you are laying on the couch (in her case, likely hungover) and you need your glass of water, which is just out of reach, on the table.  You immediately scan the area for any object that might be long enough for you to reach the glass of water.  This is how you find yourself using a flipflop to push the remote into the glass, which rebounds against the physics books, moving just close enough for you to get it without lifting your head.

Or, coincidentally, how you find yourself using a butcher knife to get down a 2 pound container of vegetable shortening.  obviously, I am a master at this game, as I have been short my whole life.  But I didn't take into consideration the bottle of corn syrup.  Which fell out of the cabinet.  And hit the butcher knife.  Which cut directly into my finger.  to the knuckle.

It didn't start bleeding right away.  That's the thing about Cutco knives.  They do such a great job slicing and dicing, that when they slide through your skin you don't notice.  As I looked up at my finger, it turned black.  As the blood began to pour down my arm and pool on the floor, my first thought was "crap.  I already proved the yeast.  I have to finish this loaf before I deal with this cut."

So I did what any other sane person would do.  I put a gauze pad on it, and taped it up with hockey tape.  I figured it was waterproof; the blood couldn't seep through.....

Four dressings later, the bread was finished and rising on the stove, and a friend stopped by.  Not wanting to be a martyr, I went on a three mile walk with her, only to get home in time to start driving the bus route home from school, and getting everyone where they needed to go for their after school activities. It really wasn't until the next morning when I couldn't get dressed by myself without it starting to bleed again that I thought "hm.  Maybe I ought to get this looked at".  but there was laundry and yard work and baking and cleaning to do....

So at 2 in the afternoon, I finally went to the urgent care center where, since it has been more than 8 hours since my injury, they put a gauze pad on it and taped it up. Well heck.  I should have stayed home.

And made another loaf of bread.  WITHOUT VEGETABLE SHORTENING.

Le croissant, le croissant, he he he hon hon hon....

Yes.  I did it.  I made CROISSANTS.

It took a total of six hours.  Approximately 30 minutes of work and 5 1/2 hours of sitting doing NOTHING. Well, for those of you who know me well, NOTHING meant cleaning, doing laundry and sewing curtains for the boys room, with an intermittent "beat down".  No, not of the children.  Of the dough.  Now I understand why these damn things are so expensive.  If you don' plan on being home all day, there is not a chance that you would make these!

I admit, I used Julia Child's recipe.  I figured I loved that movie, Julie and Julia, and if a large American woman could do it....well then I could too.  I now realize the movie depiction of her being incredibly bored was very accurate. 

I started out by mixing 1/4 cup warm water, 1/2 tbsp of sugar, 1/4 tsp of salt and 1 tsp of dry yeast in a bowl.  I let the yeast prove itself by letting it rest for 5 minutes until it was frothy and yummy smelling (gosh I love that smell!!!)  

I then added 2 cups of unbleached flour (it has less gluten and doesn't get rubbery if you overwork it). 3/4 tsp salt, 2 tbsp canola oil, 1 tbsp sugar and 1/2 cup of tepid milk. I poured the yeast mixture into it and set my KitchenAid on mix with the dough hook attachment. After three minutes, quite honestly, it looked like hell.  I thought "What have I done!!???" so i pulled it out and kneaded it by hand.  It immediately looked better and within three minutes I shaped it into a ball, covered it in oil, and began the two hour long wait for it to double......

I punched it down into a flat circle, as directed by Julia, then wrapped it in wax paper and put it in the fridge for 20 minutes.  I thought this "was a crock" as my mother would say, but it did make the dough easier to handle. Next I set about beating the butter.

It must be cold, and you beat it unto a 5 inch flat circle.  WARNING: THIS IS NOT AS EASY AS IT SOUNDS.  As it warms up, it sticks to everything.  I suggest using a marble cutting board that has been chilled, should you have access to one.  I ended up try to do this on wax paper (didn't work) and then on  the counter (stuck to it) so in the end, it was probably not as chilled, but spread a whole lot easier.  Which made me wonder "why did I chill it in the first place?"  but I digress.

Next, roll your dough into a 9 inch circle, then place to circle of butter on it. 

   Fold the dough like an envelope around the butter.

Now its time to start "the folding".  Roll this package into a piece of dough 15 inches long and 5 inches wide, with the seal side up.  When you have that piece, fold it like a tri-fold brochure.  Then, put it in the fridge for 20 minutes. 

REPEAT THIS FOUR TIMES!  yes, that's right.  roll for 3 minutes, sit in the fridge for 20, roll for 3 minutes, sit in the fridge for 20,roll for 3 minutes, sit in the fridge for 20.  Ridiculous.

FINALLY, cut your last 15 x 5 piece of dough into three equal pieces, and put two...you guessed it....BACK IN THE FRIDGE!!!  Take the one you have out and roll it to about 9 x 5.  Cut this piece into three equal pieces, 3 x 5, and then cut those into triangles.  You should have 6 triangles at this point.  

Starting from the wide end, roll the dough into the well known croissant form.  Well, at least it is well-known in my house.  Im not sure that is a good thing. Tuck the tip on the underside so it wont pop back open during cooking.  Put these on a well-buttered tray, and, as you might have suspected, let them rise for 1 to 2 hours until doubled. 

Once they have doubled in size, paint them with one egg, scrambled, with a tbsp of water added to it. Bake at 475 for 10-15 minutes.  WATCH THEM CLOSELY.  At 9 minutes, the tray on the bottom had burned and set off my fire alarm, prompting my daughter to say "don't worry mom, we all make mistakes.  You can try again tomorrow.  Like heck I can!  I don't have another six hours.  Looks like they are getting their croissants from SAMS CLUB.

HELEN C's"melting moments" (butter cookies extraordinaire)

Yes, it's been forever since my last entry.  I haven't simply been sitting around eating bonbons, however.  (Making them is more like it).  But with today's success, I MUST share!

What have I actually been doing?  Well, I went on a vacation with my sisters and mother, where we looked at my DREAM business in the location I have wanted since I was about 14 years old.  Convincing my non-risk taking husband is another matter.  I really hope he will come around.  It has been on the market for almost 2 years, has a residence attached to it, and is all I really ever wanted.  To own a bakery in the only place on Earth that makes me happy right now.

Anyway.  Also went on a college visit, have babysat for my goddaughter, work reading to kids and helping them with comprehension and sounding out words every day for 2 hours, volunteering at a local soup kitchen, and have set up a website for 200+ adult hockey league members.  SO, to say I have been busy is an understatement.  It's just the salary that stinks!

In any case, back to the Bakery.  When I was little, I lived in a magical town called Wheaton, that boasted the best bakery, Carney's.  Each Saturday, my friends and I would ride our bikes "up town" and buy stickers by the roll at PaperHouse, then walk to the bakery and buy 1/4 pound of butter cookies for $2. Throughout my life there are very few constants.  THESE COOKIES WERE ONE OF THEM.  When my parents would visit me at college, they'd bring me a pound.  When I went home, I made sure to eat at White Castle, get popcorn at the Popcorn shop, and buy the butter cookies.

UNTIL THEY CLOSED DUE TO RETIREMENT.

No one wanted to buy an old, run down building in the downtown area that housed a bakery.  It was bought and changed into....a Buffalo Wild Wings.  It's like spitting on my childhood dreams.  And denying me those cookies.

UNTIL TODAY.

My mother sent me this recipe,simply labeled MELTING MOMENTS.  and, in parentheses, it said "this is the recipe that you wanted.  Helen C".  Now, I don't know who this Helen C is, but I want to kiss her right now.  With my buttery lips.

The recipe was simple.....

Unfortunately I cannot vouch for the icing recipe.  My children consumed all 50+ cookies in the half hour following their exit from the oven.  When the 2nd tray came out, they burned themselves fighting over "the fresh ones".  The texture of these was absolutely AMAZING.  "Melting moments" is a perfect name, because they literally melt in your mouth.

As I was cooking dinner, the children kept popping their heads in the kitchen, disappointed in the croissants I was rolling or the four course dinner going on the stove.  "You gonna make more of those cookies?" was the only question on their minds.  Then the suggestions came rolling in.

Ya know, you should dip half in chocolate.
How about sprinkles?
Got any of those colored sugar crystals?

So my quest, apparently tomorrow, is to figure out how to make the sprinkles stick, although i think it may be a post-cooking process.

Thanks, Helen C.  Weird.....my name is Heather C......maybe we are soulmates.