Silly cat, chocolate is for humans!

I had a hankering to make something chocolate, but with summer coming on I didn't want to heat up the oven and thereby my residence. I found the perfect solution. My mother has a recipe for no-bake cookies that is very good, but given my preference for some "healthier" options in recent times, I decided to adjust the recipe slightly. Here's the ingredients to my mother's recipe:

No-Bake Cookies

2 cups sugar
1/4 cup baking cocoa
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup butter
1/2 cup peanut butter
2 cups oatmeal
1 teaspoon vanilla

I decided to substitute dark chocolate baking cocoa for the baking cocoa and almond butter for the peanut butter. I also use Smart Balance spread instead of butter because of its mixture of omegas -- that way I get the benefit of eating fish without eating fish all the time. The substitution turned out alright, and making the cookies is very easy.

First, combine the sugar, cocoa, milk, and butter in a saucepan. Once you apply heat, the mixture will liquefy rapidly, so stir constantly. Eventually the mixture will start to boil around the edges of the pan, just like you see here.


Continue stirring until the mixture reaches full boil, as shown here. Boil for 1 minute (or thereabouts before the mixture threatens to escape the confines of your pan).




Next, remove from heat and add in the oats and stir.







Then, add in the almond butter (oh, I love this stuff!)







Finally, add the vanilla and stir. The cookies are made by dropping the mixture in spoonfuls onto wax paper, as shown here. (I know what some of you think these cookies look like, and all I have to say to you is get your mind out of the gutter! You know you are, and so do I!)

The cookies (30 total) take about an hour to cool. But it seems that someone just couldn't wait that long! And of course, she wants the biggest one. Silly cat, chocolate is for humans, not cats! But as good as these turned out, I don't blame her for wanting some. The consistency is a little different than what I remember Mother producing, but I attribute the difference to the change in ingredients; the oils in the products I used are substantially different. That being said, the cookies did hold up well. And it's not like that requirement is all that extensive, since an individual cookie doesn't last five seconds in my hand! Yum!

The tortoise still runs

My time for my second race was better than on first, and there was this nasty hill around mile #2! I was so surprised to see that my time was actually better than the previous race as I approached the finish, and I finished feeling strong. Out of breath but strong. A full 90 seconds strong. And there was a hill!

So approaching my third race -- the Swamp Rabbit 5K -- this last weekend, I had full expectations of achieving an even better time. There were even more people at this race, and it felt electric to be a part of a huge group there to traverse the same distance. I positioned myself around the middle of the pack, and after waiting what seemed like forever, the strating gun fired. Once I was able to start running continuously, I established a good pace and didn't worry about all of the yahoos passing me. I knew that I would pass many of them soon enough. And I did. And I felt like I could keep on going, just keep running. I was Forrest Gump. "That boy is a runnin' fool." I was on track to an even better race time.

But eventually I had to slow down for my heart rate. (To understand the problem, see my post on my first race.) I alternated between running and speed walking as I felt the need, and as I approached the finish and saw how much time had elapsed, I was aghast. I was in real danger of having a worse time! I dug down deep and gave it all I had, crossing the finish line with an improved time of just one second.

I understood and yet I didn't understand. I understood that people would be passing out water and bananas to those who had finished the race. But hot dogs? I didn't understand that one. But I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I took my free hot dog, and as I sat down to eat it, I was trying to understand what had happened earlier. How could I feel so good at the start and end poorer than I expected?

Was it my starting position? There were a lot of people there and it took a while to get going. What about the hill in this race? Or did I end up walking a bit too much there at the end? I had purchased some special shorts to help me feel cooler while I ran, and it helped, but I was till sweating like crazy. Did the salt water in my eyes slow me down any? I had to dig really deep to finish as I did, and it seemed to me that I shouldn't have had to do that. It still seems to me that I shouldn't have had to do that. I guess I need to step up the training!

And all this came to me while eating a hot dog! My training was off to a great start.

Then the score sheet was released, and I found a larger race in front of me. I was listed with an even better time than what I remembered achieving. I emailed the distributor and explained my situation. I was in effect saying that I should have been listed as finishing 1035th instead of 1018th. Some people would say that this was not a big deal -- which is what the distributor told me -- but in the race of ethical behavior I wanted to finish with my integrity intact. Whether I finish 1035th or 1018th, out of 1606 total participants, I think that I did pretty good! Yes, I was in the 35th percentile, so my time is nothing to boast about. But how many of those people felt as strong as I did starting out? I was not as fast as a whole lot of other people, it's true. But I am still running the race. And with each race I run I achieve a better and better time. I am progressing. I am improving. And eventually one day my number will be something to boast about, and I will have done it through honest effort. When that day comes, this tortoise will then be a hare! What a day that will be!

Break out the mads, boys!

I thought that I had already made this post, but when I saw on my blog after my earlier post that it wasn't here, I thought to correct the deficiency immediately.

I would have never thought that I would have made something French before my brother did -- and certainly not something like madeleines (for those who don't speak French, it's pronounced "mad-a-lanes"). But it seemed like the surprise I had planned for my brother turned out to surprise me as well. I thought it would be a great idea if I would surprise my brother on Easter Sunday with some fresh madeleines from my oven. He was coming clear across the country to visit me, and he has always loved everything French, especially since his mission in Paris. He has even been back a couple of times. And I knew how much he enjoys a very simple breakfast in the European fashion. So I decided to surprise him. And this is how they turned out. Not bad for my first attempt, even if I do say so myself!

With the consistency of spongy pound cake, madeleines are surprising easy to make. And because they are small like a cookie, they bake very quickly. There are lots of mad recipes around. I used one that I found online that supposedly comes from France (wow, what a surprise). Here is the recipe:

Madeleines au Citron

2 large eggs
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teasppon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
1/2 cup all-purpose flour, sifted
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Farenheit. Prepare pan with non-stick cooking spray or by heavily brushing softened butter into each molds with a pastry brush, taking care to butter every ridge, and then dusting the molds with flour and tilting the pan to coat the surfaces evenly and remove any excess.

In a large bowl, combine the eggs, granulated sugar, and salt. Using a wire whisk or a handheld mixer on medium-high speed, beat vigorously until pale, thick, and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Beat in the almond and vanilla extracts and lemon juice. Sprkinle the sifted flour over the egg mixture and stir or beat on low speed to incorporate.

Using a rubber spatula, gently fold the lemon zest and half of the melted butter just until blended. Fold in the remaining butter.

Divide the batter among the 12 prepared molds, using a heaping teaspoon of batter for each mold. Bake the madeleines until the tops spring back with lightly touched, 8-12 minutes. Makes 12.

The distictive seashell shape comes from the special pan used to bake them. You can tell they are done when the edges brown and the puffy center springs back upon touch. When filling the molds, I learned that it is okay for the batter to fill the mold entirely, coming flush with the top of the pan. Minus the special pan, I am sure that this recipe would work well for mini muffins. I also recommend using an electric mixer, as the hand method will take considerably longer and requires a little bit of skill to achieve the same effect. With the mixer, I can have these in my mouth in 25 minutes. Per my usual habit with any recipe, I omitted the salt. I figure I get enough of that from what I already eat.

My brother was so impressed with my effort to make him this very common Frech teacake that later that evening he asked if he could make more for his plane ride the following morning. I of course consented. It was then I learned that he had never before made mads, and so I was surprised that I had made something French before he had. He used my recipe, only he added the lemon juice, which I had not used for my first batch. In his generosity he left some for me in a plastic sandwich bag. When I got back the next morning from having taken him and his wife to the airport, I found the bag sprawled out on the kitchen counter with little nibbles in the bag and on the mads inside. Tashi! I swear that cat has food on the brain!

Recently I went out of town to attend the funeral for Uncle Darrel (details in my previous post). Tashi could not come with me, so I asked my good friend Kim to feed her for me and also to play with her if she wanted. Kim was very good to Tashi, and so as a thank-you gesture I decided to make her some madeleines. Here is how this batch turned out. I know it looks like Tashi got to some of these as well, but truthfully I didn't quite use enough cooking spray on the pan, and so the mads somewhat stuck to my so-called non-stick pan. For some reason that escapes me, these also seemed to cook a little faster. That's not a complaint -- I like crispy -- just an observation of the experience. Whatever the reason, I am totally in love with mads. I'm sure to be making more of these in the future and drinking them with some dark chocolate cocoa. Mmmm mmmm good!

Why cats need to learn English . . . or some other people language

Tashi has this insane habit of insisting that I wake up around 5 AM to feed her. She is very mannered; she doesn't climb all over me and poke at me to wake me up. She waits for me to wake up, but then once I am awake, she is relentless in making sure that I know that she is starving to the point of death. Of course, those of you who know me well know that it takes a while for me to leave the land of dreams and return to the land of the woken. So I'm not completely here as I meander to the kitchen to feed the cat, but it takes her no time to gulp down all her food. It makes me wonder if she even chews it that much. This is the usual procedure.

What wasn't usual was what I saw the other day. I had just put away the cat food after feeding Tashi when out of the corner of my eye I saw it. My cat had made mince meat out of my paper towels! I thought to myself, Guess I need to get a scratching post for this cat.


I was naive to think that was all this cat had done. When I got back to my bedroom I saw that the cat had destroyed the blinds! The close-up shot shows better what the cat had done. She was obviously getting up into the window while the blinds were down, and her body moving in between the blinds bent them out of shape so much that they snapped off. She didn't do this all at once; I had seen earlier where she had bent some of theblinds back, but they had never fractured. Well, that has obviously changed. And it will take a while before this gets fixed. Why? Because things like this are honeydews, and I have no honey to get me to do them! Women offer refinement to men -- just one of many reasons why it is not good for man to be alone. But what more had this cat done? And where was she?

Ah, there's the little stinker! Guess all that destruction just wore her out. Look at her -- she's so cute, especially when she is sleeping! So naturally it is easy to forgive her whenever I see her in all her cuteness. And I went out and got a scratching post for her, which of course she doesn't use. And I'll fix the blinds. If only Tashi could speak English or Spanish or even Chinese, we could avoid all of this mishmash! I know what she would say, though. Most of the time she would say something like "Feed me" or "More, please." That cat has food on the brain!

One good thing from all of this -- I got a great picture of Tashi's distinctive V marking on her belly. I didn't notice it when I first got her because she had been neutered the previous week, and the vet shaved her belly as a part of the surgery. So at the time I thought that her marking was the white spot on her chest. Only recently has her belly hair grown back, revealing her distinctive V marking. What does the V stand for? Well, if she could speak, then we'd know! For the time being, it can be whatever I want it to be. With my imagination, I'm sure to think of something!

Tribute to a hero gone home

My plans were recently disheveled when I learned that Uncle Darrel had passed away. Not many people can say that they know their great-grandfather's brother, but not only can I say that I knew Uncle Darrel, I knew him fairly well.

Of course, it helped that he lived right around the corner from where my folks live. They didn't even know they were moving so close to him when they bought the lot for their house, but they soon found out and were joyed to be living so close to family. Being so close to my family, Uncle Darrel was always on my radar when I have been in the vicinity of home.

I actually didn't care so much about him when I first came to know him. I was actually looking for information about my great grandfather, and so I had come with my dad's voice recorder and some questions. But it didn't take long before I was swept into the story of Uncle Darrel, and very soon I had changed my objective to collecting more information about him.

He was born in the roaring 20s, so he lived through the Great Depression as a youth. When WWII broke out, he quit high school to serve his country in the Coast Guard. He was based in San Diego and saw action in the Pacific. The emotional scars from that conflict left an indelible impression upon him, and I could tell that it was difficult for him to talk about, so I maintained a respectable distance on that subject.

He came home from the war and was celebrated as a hero. He went on to do lots of things both with his career as a craftsman and his family. He was married twice and loved both his families. But by the time I came on the scene he found it difficult to control his emotions when they were deep about anything, and so there were some things that we just never talked about. But I always enjoyed his company and the growth of our relationship. He always expressed his appreciation for my visits and phone calls.

Last year he was especially helpful to me. I had some amazing experiences that are too sacred to share here, but Uncle Darrel was a part of some of those, and for the part that these experiences brought good things into my life I have to thank Uncle Darrel for his contribution. I would not be the man I am today without any of it.

It was about three weeks ago that I found out about his stroke. Uncle Darrel was never one to be idle; he was always up and about as much as his body would allow him, which some days wasn't all that much. But this stroke really took it out of him. He was paralyzed completely, a condition that must have frustrated him. At first he could not even so much as talk and had to get his food through a tube, but slowly as his feeling started coming back into his body, he could wiggle a foot or a finger, but only on one side of his body. This made his speech sound very slurred, since he was only using half his mouth to speak. It was hard to understand him the last time I talked with him over the phone. But he kept at it and made some improvements, so much that it looked like he was going to pull through.

Then a second stroke came and placed him in a coma. When I got the news I sensed that we were looking at the end of the road. I wasn't too far off the mark when Mother called me the next day and told me that Uncle Darrel had passed away that morning. I was home sick (with a head cold, not swine flu) but still working. The news didn't surprise me, but I still felt something at the news. For a while, all I could do was sit in my chair and say over and over, "He was a good man." I shed a few tears.

There were more to come. As I made my way home, I thought about all that Uncle Darrel was to me, and again all I could say was that he was a good man. It was good to be with family and meet some that I had not seen before. But it was also good to learn things about Uncle Darrel that I never knew.

I never knew that during WWII he watched our government deliver one of our warships to the Russians off the coast of Alaska.

I never knew that he was deeply involved with Scouting. There was never any paraphenelia around his house to indicate that. But since it was hard for him to control his emotions late in life, it makes sense that all of the "triggers" would be kept out of sight.

And I never knew that the Lord was tenderly merciful to him at the end of his life. The first stroke he suffered clogged the vessels that delivered blood to his emotional center, thus effectively killing that part of his brain and freeing him from the trouble that had plagued him for many years. Because his emotions would now not fly out of control, he could have some tender moments with his family as they sang to him songs that he loved to hear. The second stroke then escorted him through to the other side with a minimal amount of pain and suffering.

As I sat in the funeral service hearing all of this, I could not help but weep like a child -- weep not only for the good man that Uncle Darrel had been to me but also for the good that the Lord had done for him. I had been holding back my tears up to that point -- maybe it was a subconscious macho thing -- but there at the end I just let go and let the salt water flow. It was very cathartic.

My thoughts since then have been often poignant, thinking back upon Uncle Darrel and the times that we spent together. I've been thinking about the influence that one good man can have in the lives of others, because I saw that in the the life of Uncle Darrel as reflected in those who came to pay their last respects to the hero called home. And I have been wondering about the influence that I have had and will have in the lives of those around me.

I'm certainly going to miss Uncle Darrel. But I'm certainly also looking forward to that day when I will see him again.