Or, to be more accurate, two new bad things. Because it’s not like there weren’t any bad things in my life until these two bad things came along. For the record, my life is full of bad:

bad hair (my baby’s—it looks like someone took a machete to it)
bad language (oops, did I just SAY that?)
bad behavior (only my kids’)
bad weeds (naughty, naughty weeds!)
bad communication (my husband’s specialty)
bad memory (all mine)

But now I have two new Bads to add to the list. That I’m in love with them makes it all the worse.

Bad Thing One: thinned down dulce de leche for my iced coffee, oh yes!

(But can it be called “thinned down” if it’s half-and-half doing the thinning? Hm, I must think on that.)

1. Open a can of ducle de leche and take out a large glob.

2. Heat the glob up in the microwave for a few second, just enough to help it relax.

3. Whisk in some half-and-half.

4. Whisk in more half-and-half.

5. Whisk in more—

6. Yeah, just keep whisking and adding till it’s the consistency you want, which would be creamy and pour-able, kind of like Hershey’s chocolate syrup.

7. Store the now very skinny dulce de leche into a jar and put it in the fridge.

8. Every afternoon when you pour your iced coffee concentrate into a pint jar, add a hearty glug to go with.

(9. And if you’re feeling particularly wicked, top off your pint with a scoop of leftover whipped cream that’s been getting all lonely in the back of the fridge.)

My little dishwashing boy pounced upon the sticky bowl, and in the midst of giving it a good tongue washing, he happily announced, “Mom, I’m in love with dith!”

Bad Thing Two: chocolate peanut butter cake.

It’s all my mother’s fault. When she was here this past weekend, she brought the pre-assembled fixings for a chocolate cake and then baked it up in my oven since hers is on the fritz. The plan was to take the cakes home with her, but she made a little one for us to eat right then and there in honor of Father’s Day, and in spite of my warped and hole-y measuring cups (Jennifer, this is ridiculous!) and the unappealingly smeared-on icing (thanks to one little girl), the cake was really good.

And then my mother said, in an off-handed sort of way, “You know what I’m going to do with one of these layers when I get home? I’m going to ice it with peanut butter frosting and then drizzle a chocolate ganache over top.”

And then she smacked her lips at me.

I played it cool, genteelly nodding my head at her, but truth is, she did me in. I had to have a chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting and chocolate ganache.

So I made myself one. Because I’m practical like that.

The formula: this chocolate cake (but I used regular cow’s milk instead of coconut milk) PLUS this peanut butter frosting PLUS this chocolate peanut butter ganache from Smitten Kitchen (recipe follows) EQUALS a chocolate peanut butter cake that totally, totally, totally meets The Persistent and Persnickety Peanut Butter Chocolate Craving.

Bake the chocolate cakes in two round pans. Each cake goes a long way, so freeze the extra one or give it away. (I gave it away.)

Spread the cake with the peanut butter frosting. Really lay it on. (I’m struggling with Icing Application Regret—I should have been much more generous.) Set the iced cake in the fridge to set up—it needs to be rather firm so that the ganache won’t push it all around.

Pour on the ganache. Use a knife to push it (artfully) over the edge. Store the cake in the fridge. Cut off slices as needed.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Ganache
From Smitten Kitchen

8 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped
3 tablespoons creamy peanut butter
2 tablespoons light corn syrup
½ cup half-and-half

Put the chocolate, peanut butter, and syrup in the top part of a double boiler and cook until melted, whisking occasionally. Remove from heat and whisk in the cream. Spread over the cake while still warm (but not too hot).

This same time, years previous: lemon ice cream with red raspberries, slushy mojitos, in honor of Father’s Day: the giant green slug, a public service announcement about peas

What I said on Monday (but posted on Tuesday) was really true: I had no idea what to make for supper.

So that afternoon I went to my routine dermatology appointment, and while waiting for my name to be called, I picked up a Real Simple magazine to leaf through and there amongst all the glossy pages and coordinating colors I spied it: our dinner. It was on a two-page spread that listed off ten ways to cook eggs, all of which were real simple. Of course. (Or, of course not. Because they listed quiche as one of the simple dinners and I do not count quiche as “real simple.” It involves grating cheese and sauteing vegetables and making a crust and beating eggs and measuring things. This proves that the real simple mag editors have no handle on reality whatsoever, thank you very much.)

However, the recipe I zeroed in on did indeed look simple. True, there weren’t any greens in the meal (except for the fresh herbs and two tablespoons of herbs don’t count for a vegetable serving in my book), but that didn’t bend me out of shape too much. A meal without peas or spinach or green beans wouldn’t kill anyone. (I hoped.)

So after the doctor gave me a once over and an entire box of free medicine—whoot!—I hopped into my bunged up minivan and sped home to whip up my real simple supper.

While the water boiled for my eh-spaghetti (helpful hint: read it with a Spanish accent), I bustled outside to collect my herbs—basil, parsley, chives, thyme, and oregano. Back in the kitchen I minced the aforementioned green things along with a couple cloves of garlic. After that it was mostly a real simple (but kind of chaotic) process of assemblage that went something like this:

1. Saute the garlic, add the herbs and give a stir, toss in the eh-spaghetti and a little pasta water. Set aside.

2. Fry some eggs.

3. Assemble: plate pasta, top with fried egg(s), sprinkle with grated Parmesan and black pepper, and drizzle with olive oil.

4. Eat.

Moral of my tale: go the doctor when you don’t have any idea what to make for supper.

Spaghetti with Fresh Herbs and Fried Eggs
Adapted from Real Simple magazine

Enhancement suggestions: oven-roasted tomatoes, fresh tomatoes, sauteed zucchini, peas, etc.

1 pound spaghetti
4-8 tablespoons olive oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup assorted fresh herbs (parsley, basil, oregano, chives, thyme, etc.), roughly chopped
4-8 eggs, or as needed
½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
salt and black pepper

Cook the spaghetti according to the package directions. Drain (reserving about a half cup of the pasta water) and set aside.

Saute the garlic in several tablespoons of olive oil. After a couple minutes, add the herbs and cook for 30 seconds or so. Add the pasta and toss to coat. (If it seems a little dry, splash in some of the pasta water.) Cover with a lid to keep warm and set aside.

In a separate pan, fry the eggs, making sure that the yolks stay runny.

Plate the spaghetti, top with an egg or two, a hearty drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkling of cheese, and salt and black pepper to taste. Dig in!

This same time, years previous: a driving lesson

Written yesterday afternoon…

I’m in a cooking slump. Part of it, maybe most of it, has to do with the fact that my two oldest have split for my parents’ house and I’m left with the two littlest (and a niece, but now she’s back at her mom and dad’s so it really is just me and my two littles), and after cooking for four or more kids, a five and a seven-year-old just feel like absolutely nothing. When a hunk of bread and a carrot will meet the need, what IS the point, huh?

I didn’t feed them bread and carrots for lunch. I made a pesto pizza with leftover dough, a splat of pesto, and some odd cheese ends (and oven roasted tomatoes for my part). If they get hungry this afternoon, I have four hotdog buns banging around (in an airy sort of way) in my bread drawer that they can have. The kids will probably get all excited about them, too.

See? Why cook?

But I do need to come up with something for supper. Mr. Handsome will come home tired and hungry and I have a pretty good hunch that hotdog buns just won’t cut it.

So that’s that problem.

On the other hand, these scones are not a problem. They were a problem at first, mostly because I hadn’t yet discovered them and was busy experimenting with other scone recipes and failing miserably and getting all grumpy about it. But then I discovered these and my problems were solved.

I made them for our family gathering and they were the first ones to disappear. I made them for our PA gathering and sister-in-law Kate has been politely hounding me for the recipe ever since. (Kate! Your day has come!) I baked some up yesterday afternoon and sent the majority home with my mom because their oven is on the fritz and my heart goes out to anyone who does not have access to a steady stream of baked goods.

But now I’m kind of regretting my spurt of big heartedness because I just ate the last scone and really want another one.

Orange Cranberry Scones
Adapted from House of Annie

To make these even more orange-y, submerge the craisins in hot orange juice for 20 minutes. Drain thoroughly before proceeding.

2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
3 tablespoons white sugar
½ teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons butter
1-2 tablespoons orange zest
1 cup heavy cream
3/4 cup craisins
½ cup confectioners’ sugar, sifted
2 tablespoons orange juice

Mix together the flour, baking powder, white sugar, and salt. Using your fingers, a fork, or the food processor, cut in the butter. With a spoon, stir in the cream and zest. Add the craisins and knead lightly to combine. Divide the dough in half and shape each half into a disk. Wrap in plastic and chill for a couple hours. (At this point you can freeze the disks.)

Cut each disk into 8 pieces and bake on a lightly greased cookie sheet at 400 degrees for 12-18 minutes.

Make a glaze by combining the confectioners’ sugar and orange juice. Drizzle it on the scones while they’re still hot.

Yield: 16 delectable scones