Post-Christmas Chez Wiles: Paper, Pets, Poop, Poundage and the Perfect Dessert.

Christmas is done.  The gifts unwrapped, the stockings unhung, the trashcans overflowing, and the frenzy, somewhat abated.  Looking back, there are a few things I’d like to do differently next year.  Let’s review. 

First, I'm thinking Christmas should be a giftwrap-free holiday.  It’s unseemly that I’ve got to dump trash twice for every single gift – first, when I bring it home and toss tags, original packaging, and finally, the shopping bag (and those flimsy plastic ones seem procreate if left to their own devices), and again on Christmas, discarding the wrapping paper, ribbons, gift tags, bows, and -- much as I hate to admit it -- gift boxes.  (I know.  Why is it that I feel just fine re-gifting, but, despite the Ed Begley Jr. example set by my mom, who resurrected the same Belk department store gift boxes, as well as one from a Ohio department store that started with a “K”, for decades, I just can’t bring myself to re-giftbox.)  Next year, though, ribbons only.  Or perhaps, I’ll just put the gifts under the tree, while still in those procreating shopping bags.

I’m also lobbying for pet-free holidays next December.  Honest.  I can’t imagine a better time of year to ship Josie and Lionel off to doggy daycare and kitty camp.  Not, of course, that pets are more difficult to wrangle than kids.  But what are the options with kids?  Or, what are the options that don’t result in a call to DSS?

Hopped up on this year’s holiday insanity, Lionel-the-pugilistic-cat became a ‘round-the-clock predator, stalking, pouncing, and attacking everyone Chez Wiles, including (naturally), Josie-the-anxiety-dog.

At this point, you’ve got to ask:  How hard is it for an indoor cat to track down a mostly-indoor dog?  During these agitated holidays, Josie made it particularly easy, dividing her time fairly evenly between the upstairs cat litter box (her favorite dining spot) and the downstairs dining room, where she revealed her true talent -- devaluing the most valuable rug in the house.  Yes, I’ll be calling the cleaners after New Year’s.

I’m also thinking there’s a huge need for a rice-caked based Christmas treat.  I don’t think I’ve seen a chocolate-dipped, butter-laden cake, cookie or candy these past few weeks that I haven’t used as hip-padding.  Not before, of course, topping it with whipped cream.  And washing it down with champagne, or in a pinch, red wine.

So to recap, my plans for Christmas 2010 involve no paper, no pets, and no poundage.  But since Christmas 2009 isn’t quite over, today I made these lovely little Chocolate Pots de Crème.  They’re like the most intense little chocolate puddings you can imagine – kind of like chilled and creamy chocolate truffles.

Hmm. Slight revision.  Next year, no paper, no pets and no desserts that aren’t Chocolate Pots de Crème.  There.  I feel better already.

Chocolate Pots de Crème

2 eggs

½ teaspoon salt

2 cups whipping cream

3 tablespoons sugar

8 ounces good, semi-sweet chocolate chips (I use Ghiaradelli)

2 tablespoons Frangelico

whipped cream (for garnish)

In blender, quickly blend eggs and salt for a few seconds.

Now, in a medium saucepan, scald whipping cream and sugar over medium high heat, stirring constantly.  Do not boil.  When bubbles form at side of pan, whisk in chocolate chips.  Remove from heat.  When chips are melted, drizzle a ladle of the hot mixture into the eggs, blending over a low speed.  (This tempers the eggs, effectively cooking them, but keeping them from curdling.)  Blend in another ladle or two of chocolate cream.  Then, blend in remaining chocolate cream and Frangelico.  When well blended, pour into eight small, individual ramekins.  Cover and chill at least eight hours.  Serve chilled, with whipped cream.

Christmas Love and Warmth From The Wiles. Kind Of.

Dear Friends and Family,

Depending on how you look at it, mea culpa (“my bad”) or pulvis vos felicis  (“aren’t you lucky?”).  I haven’t sent a holiday letter since 2006 – mostly because I was caught up in the complications and cussings of divorce.  Truthfully, ours was as amicable as a divorce could be.  No courtrooms.  No surprise witnesses.  No machetes.  It was final last April, and as one of the kids put it, “Divorce sucks, but we’re better than we ever thought we could be a year ago.”  Truly, we’re all fine – every one.  However, there have been plenty of goings-on Chez Wiles, so I’ll try to catch you up.

The kids are great.  Snarky Son's now in high school, which he has embraced like some kind of prickly brick wall.  Turns out, ninth grade’s a lot tougher than eighth.  Shocking.  Over Christmas break, he’s taking drivers’ ed.  I’m not worried a bit and you shouldn’t be, either.  Well, not until March, I guess.  That’s when he actually turns 15.  Now that SS is a teenager, I’m also pleased to report that he and Darling Daughter (DD) have grown a lot closer.  At one point this fall, he told her, “You’re not unattractive, you know.”  Sigh.  Just about brings tears to your eyes, right?

DD's in seventh grade and is playing basketball.  Despite being one of the (very) tallest girls on the team, she’s spending a lot of time at point guard.  Either her previous coaches have overlooked an undeniable talent, or this current team is a wee bit short on ballhandlers.  Hard to tell.  She went to summer camp this past year for four weeks.  Surprising how quickly her letters turned from, “I want to come home” to “can I stay another four weeks?”  Again, just about brings tears to your eyes, right?

DD had to come home, though, because there’s some sort of “no felines” rule at her camp, and although she might get over me, there was no getting over her 12-pound-cat, Lionel, who likely believes his name to be, “you’re an indoor cat, you’re an indoor cat, you’re an indoor cat,” which is what I say to him, over and over.  Every.  Single.  Day.

We have a new addition to our household.  (C’mon, now.  Don't even go there.  Remember that I’m 47 and single.)  In February, Josie-the-rescue-dog came to live with us.  She’d had parvo and been starved nearly to death, so mostly what she wants from us is to be fed and loved.  Here’s what we want from her:  To leave the #%$@* cat alone.  Every.  Single.  Day.

I’m still a stay-at-home-mom (I told you the divorce was amicable), so my life as cook-driver-sock-finder-poop-picker-upper continues.  I have, however, been keeping a blog, Feminine Wiles, which I hope you’ll read sometime after the holiday rush slows down.  I try to include a recipe in every post, as well as a funny story.  Or, at least, a story that is funny to me.  To find it, just Google “Cheri Wiles blog” or “Cheri Feminine Wiles.”  Or, try, “master stir fry in peru keep cats in basement.”  No kidding.  Someone once landed on my blog by Googling these very words.  I can't even imagine.

The response to Feminine Wiles has been mixed here at home.  DD says the word “blog” (which actually is short for “web log”) sounds disgusting – like some sort of bodily function.  Nice.  SS's friends actually read it, but what he wants to know is, “Does this mean you’re finally getting paid to write?”  Uh.  No.  But thanks for asking.

Which is all to say that 2009 has treated us just fine, and we all hope it’s treated you just as well -- or in some instances (poop-scooping comes to mind) even better.

Much love and happy holidays,


Cheri


P.S.  If you need a great coffeecake for Christmas morning, I've got an idea that's a snap. Note that you've got to assemble it the night before and pop it in the oven the next morning.  As unlikely as it sounds, it always turns out perfect.

Butterscotch Monkey Bread
1 bag frozen parkerhouse style rolls
1 (small) box butterscotch pudding (not instant)
1 cup pecans, chopped
3/4 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup butter


The night before, spray bundt pan with nonstick coating.  Place frozen rolls in pan.  Pour dry pudding mix over rolls and sprinkle with pecans.  Combine brown sugar and butter in a small saucepan and bring to a boil.  Drizzle hot mixture over frozen rolls and cover pan loosely with plastic wrap.  Leave pan out on counter overnight.


The next morning, preheat oven to 350.  Rolls will have risen, doubling or tripling in size.  Bake, uncovered, for 30 minutes.  Let cool slightly and pass the napkins!

Exams Are Over, and All I Want For Christmas Is A Clean House. And Soup.

With so many stomach “bugs” going around, I’m wondering whether furniture can get sick, too.  Because here we are, Day Four of exams, and it appears that every desk, dresser, backpack and closet Chez Wiles has violently and uncontrollably spewed their contents. Hoo boy. This, my friend, would be a good day for a HazMat suit.

Mysteriously, it’s not only textbooks and quizzes, notecards and calculators, highlighters and writing utensils that now carpet every flat surface. It’s also laundry and blankets, soft drink bottles and bread wrappers, dust pans and tape dispensers, boots and bathing suits (bathing suits? really?), and an extensive collection of "lucky" wool socks. (I also understand that "studying" is lucky for exam-taking, but what do I know?)  

It's going to take more than a vacuum to reverse this wreckage.  More like a shovel.  Or a backhoe.  And of course, the aforementioned HazMat suit.

The kids aren’t solely to blame. In an effort to minimize distractions and maximize opportunities for exam prep, I let a lot of things slide. That ride, however, is over.  I am the Fat Lady, and I have sung.

So today, we’re back to the real world. Back to beds made before noon. Litter boxes cleaned before the cat relocates his potty to my down comforter.  Bedtime before sun up.  Shoes put away before the dog uses them as expensive – very expensive -- chew toys.

We’re also back to “mom” food.  Not that the kids have been complaining as we’ve enjoyed everyone’s favorite breakfast-for-dinner (Waffles of Insane Greatness), hard-to-argue-with Pan-Roasted-Chicken and many meals featuring the Wiles’ family favorite food group, sausage (Not So Dirty Rice, among other delights.)

A few weeks ago, when Little Sis (LS) was here (and the kids were not), she made a huge batch of avgolemono (Greek lemon egg soup) for me and some girlfriends. Tart and well-seasoned, it’s one of my favorite soups ever.  LS, of course, made it the “real” way, starting with a whole chicken and vat of water.  And that’s what I craved while the kids sat for exams and Project Exam Aftermath commenced here at home, but I didn’t have time for all that.  So, using some of the chicken stock I had stashed in the freezer, I came up with this “Greek-inspired” lemon soup.  Not authentic, to be sure, but making this quick, and somewhat more hearty, version gives me a little more time to get the house back in order.

Does this HazMat suit make me look fat?

Greek-Inspired Lemon Chicken Soup

Six cups chicken stock with chopped chicken

1 bay leaf

1 teaspoon oregano

1 teaspoon lemon zest
½ cup orzo (or rice)

2 eggs, separated

juice of one lemon

salt and pepper to taste

In a large pot, bring stock, bay leaf, oregano and lemon zest to a boil.  Stir in orzo.  As orzo cooks, whip eggs whites in a mixing bowl until soft peaks form.  Whisk in, individually, egg yolks.  Whisk in lemon juice.  When orzo is almost done, remove stock from heat, and remove and discard bay leaf.  Very gradually, stir in one cup of hot stock into egg mixture.  (This important step tempers the eggs, so they stay frothy and don’t curdle.)  Gently stir tempered egg mixture into stock.  Soup will be creamy-looking, and somewhat frothy.  If you want to be fancy, sprinkle fresh chopped parsley, or better still, fresh dill, on top and serve.