Girl Detective

In an unsupervised moment, my toddler Drake managed to break all twelve of a new carton of eggs. In a frenzy of home economy, I stored the unshelled eggs and determined to find a recipe that would use them all as quickly as possible. I decided on a cheesecake, calling for 6 eggs plus 2 yolks.

I started at noon and was not able to slice it till 9:45 p.m. And slice it I did, rather than leaving it for the next day. Because there was no way I was not getting at least a little piece of what had taken up nearly all of the day and caused no small amount of trouble.

First, I had to bake the cookie crumb crust. I did; it looked great; I removed it to cool. Then, when I was heating the oven to 500 so the cheesecake could get a glossy top, smoke started pouring from the oven and the smoke alarm went off. Butter from the crust must’ve leaked out of the pan and onto the oven bottom. At 500, it had been burned to a black, smoking mess that could not be dislodged even with a scraper. What to do? Abandon the cheesecake, with its 2 and a half pounds of cream cheese and 8 eggs? Ask the neighbors if we could use their oven? Instead, I checked to see if the pan would fit in our toaster oven. It did, so I put the cheesecake in, burned the top because of how close the fit was, but then lowered the temperature. While the cheesecake baked for 90 minutes, I started the cleaning cycle on my regular oven. Once the cheesecake finally was done it had to cool for 3 hours, then chill for 3 hours, then sit at room temperature for 30 minutes. And at that point, I finally got cheesecake.

Was it worth it? I’m not sure. It was good, and I’ve eaten quite a lot of it this week. (In my defense, I haven’t been out much, so haven’t had the opportunity to share it. And cheesecake really isn’t toddler food.) I used a gingersnap cookie crust and put chopped bittersweet chocolate in it, so it’s got a bit of sass to it. But I’m not sure any dessert is worth all that trouble and time.

That way they’d determine which parents are so distractable when out to dinner that their child can not only grab and eat a fistful of butter, but repeat the stunt with mayo, then barbecue sauce.

I just hope the doctor won’t be testing Drake’s cholesterol at his next checkup.

I got back from the grocery co-op yesterday, and my husband G. Grod started to help me put away the groceries. Unfortunately, this meant we both turned our attention away from Drake. When we did notice him, he had opened the carton of eggs and managed to crack every single one of them. He was upset when we dragged him away, since he can’t understand exactly why raw egg is not the best plaything ever. Only one egg was lost and I may still salvage the rest. I made two pies and have a cheesecake on deck. I hadn’t planned a bake-fest, but if the cheesecake turns out well I’ll hardly be in a position to regret the egg debacle.

This holiday season is a little different for us this year. My husband was laid off last month, and I resigned last May to stay home with our baby, now toddler, Drake. We are now a family of three with a new house, and no jobs. I gave some serious thought to setting aside a small budget for gifts. In the end, it became clear that even if we did small things, they would add up, so we opted out of buying presents entirely this year. Both our families were very understanding about this.

Since I haven’t been running about buying gifts, though, I have had a little time to ponder what I might have given. I came up with a fairly comprehensive list of virtual gifts for my family. And while I was wishing, I did jot down a few things for myself, as well: bras, and more importantly–time to shop for them; turtlenecks for this very cold winter; a new bulb for my sun lamp; and a babysitter. Exciting stuff, no?

Here’s the list of virtual gifts I thought about giving others, though it’s so late in the season that it will help nobody with their holiday shopping. The list is strangely missing books, music and movies. Apparently my giving spirit is disdaining the media this year. Instead, go visit your local library and appreciate a librarian and all the free books, music, movies and more that s/he can help you to find.

Sorry that this list is so late, folks, but it’s the holiday season–even without gift buying I’m working on a time delay. But since they’re all imaginary anyway, what if we imagine that they are on time, and real. Go ahead, take your pick. From me to you. Enjoy. Happy holidays.

Graeter’s ice cream–any flavor that has chocolate chips
A writer’s retreat–a weekend at a cabin in the woods, with meals taken care of
A new cream by Clinique to soothe redness-prone skin
A week’s stay at a mind/body wellness spa like The Golden Door
Framed Conde-Nast art
Zyliss garlic press
Microplane fine grater for lemon zest and parmesan cheese
Kitchenaid box grater
Subscription to Cook’s Illustrated
Subscription to Lucky magazine

My husband and tech guy G. Grod adjusted the comment controls to filter out likely spam from the comments so we wouldn’t have to approve each comment. Check out the comments on the first post. One got through–skillful spammer.

That slippery comment is as clever as its namesake lunchmeat. For reasons I can’t comprehend, G. Grod not only likes but actively seeks out Spam, the product. I shouldn’t be surprised. We are both from the Philly area, but only one of us has a penchant for scrapple. It’s not me.

Don’t know what scrapple is? Robbie Fulks sings a good definition, which you can listen to here. It is what it sounds like–mysterious meat.

Why is Spam clever? If you have not had the occasion lately, and I can’t blame you if you didn’t, check out a can of Spam the next time you’re in a grocery store or even Target. The copywriting on the Spam can is hilarious. They know it’s a joke, so they celebrate it. I will not even quote it here; the experience of reading it on the rounded, rectangular tin of meat is part of its charm.

The can is so well-written that it almost makes me want to eat Spam to show my support. But not quite.

Track #3 of Fatboy Slim’s latest CD, Palookaville.

Evening in Missoula tea (actually, not a tea but a tisane, as you can read about at Tea Source, sweetened with Ames Farm honey.

The books of Jane Austen, of which I just finished Emma. Charlotte Bronte had a point when she wrote

What sees keenly, speaks aptly, moves flexibly, it suits her to study; but what throbs fast and full, though hidden, what the blood rushes through, what is the unseen seat of life and the sentient target of death–this Miss Austen ignores.

Yet sometimes I need soothing rather than stirring, and in those cases I prefer to spend time with Miss Austen.