How To Make Hot Chocolate

My oven broke. My oven broke on Thanksgiving Day. It broke right after I took the turkey out, and right before I could heat up the rest of the food. So I drank. I drank one two many cranberry Champagne cocktails (coming soon to my cocktail blog), and then accidentally sent out a silly video text to a group of people.

I blame the oven.

Our new stove will be delivered on December 18th, which means that Christmas in my house might not be happening this year.

What’s a Christmas without Christmas cookies?

The good news is that the stove top works, and so today I made myself hot chocolate. The real deal hot chocolate. Not hot cocoa, which is thin and sweet, but hot chocolate, which is thick, rich, and chocolatey. It’s David Lebovitz’s Parisian Hot Chocolate recipe and it’s divine.

I drank that delicious hot chocolate while I thought. I stared right at my Christmas tree, drank my hot chocolate, and thought long and hard. And that’s when it hit me. There will be Christmas this year at my house, by golly! I poured myself another mugful, took out a pen and a piece of paper, and made a list of all of the no-bake Christmas cookies I could think of. 

It was a Christmas Miracle. Let’s make some hot chocolate.

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Peanut Butter Chocolate Cake

I’m in a play! I’ve been cast as Agnes in Edward Allbee’s A Delicate Balance. I haven’t been on the stage since 2003, so I’m a little rusty, but I’m loving every second of it. This tiny community theater is just down the road from me. A few nights a week I pack up my script, my pencil and highlighter, and a bottle of water, gently remove my pleading children off of my legs, and then I’m off. I walk 10 minutes in the balmy October night to play make believe for 2 hours. I come home exhausted, a little wired, and feeling very satisfied. I cannot think about performances just yet, or panic will begin to set in. I can, however, be grateful for every little magic moment we have during rehearsals, and every time I remember another line, and for how exciting and fun it is to pretend to be someone else again. I’d forgotten all of that.  Hey, look… I made a peanut butter chocolate cake! Continue reading →


Raspberry Mousse Mirror Cake

 I have come to the realization that I was born to be a forty-something year old woman. Sure, I’m only a  year and a half into my forties, but I’m really having a good time. And I’m doing things that I would never have done when I was younger. Take this mirror cake for example– I would never have attempted this mirror cake in my twenties for fear of screwing it up, and I wouldn’t have made this mirror cake in my thirties because I was more preoccupied with having a baby, and then I was more preoccupied with getting some sleep. But I made this mirror cake in my forties. I made it three times in my forties! I made it while my oldest was throwing a basketball against the basement wall, which shook the entire house. I made it while my youngest was slapping me on my behind with a medieval, foam sword.  I even made this mirror cake while sipping a very dry vodka martini. That’s how awesome my forties are. 

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The Brownie Blondie Bar


Help! Summer has held me hostage. I’ve been forced to swim with my kids. Read more books. Sleep in. Socialize with other human beings. Cook my food outdoors. And sit back and watch my house get messier and messier. Summer has been such a tyrant! She convinced me that I shouldn’t eat much because “it’s swimsuit season, dear”, but she also encouraged me to drink a lot more wine. I told her that wine has a lot of calories, and she told me that “wine calories” don’t count and I should just shut my trap.  It’s been a nightmare, I tell you! I snuck away briefly from Summer just to post this recipe on Project Pastry Love. She doesn’t like me to be responsible, you see. I did manage to bake a little while Summer had her back turned. I made a birthday cake for someone special. I made a mirror cake to impress you (coming soon), and I baked these Brownie Blondie Bars. Anyway, I’ve got to go. There’s a conga line forming in my backyard, and I best jump in before Summer notices my absence. 

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