1. Set the party date for a couple months out, hope for good weather, and tell everybody.
2. Freak out, sit down with your husband, and together process all the reasons for freaking out, of which there are a discouraging many.
3. Make lists.
4. Stress, worry, giggle hysterically.
5. Make more lists, show them to your husband, and get your panties in a twist when he shrugs the list/you off.
6. Let your husband know, in no uncertain terms, that making light of your stress does not help reduce it.
7. Every few days make a new Panic List and show it to your husband. Have no shame—if things don’t get checked off quickly enough, resort to hysterics.
8. If things get really bad, throw down your dish rag and threaten to leave.
9. Decide to attend a five-hour belly dance workshop in a distant city on the day before the party and agree to dance at a swanky restaurant (in the same distant city) that night at 10 o’clock even though you know full well it means you won’t get home till 1:30 in the morning and you’ll have to get up three hours later to start making the dough.
10. Feel sheepish (and ever so slightly guilty) and bust your butt doing lots of work.
11. On second thought, decide that hundreds of donuts on three hours of sleep might not be such a good idea and back out of the swanky restaurant part of the deal but hold steadfast in your workshop plans ’cause belly dance is awesome.
12. Stress some more.
13. Combat the stress by making more lists.
14. A couple weeks pre-party, snag a newlywed couple after church and cordially invite them to come help the afternoon of the party. When they say yes, bask in several blessed hours of stress-free relief.

15. Buy mums, pot them, and set them on the front porch away from the main thoroughfare so your children won’t de-flower (not in the Shakespearean sense) them.
16. Wash windows, dust, wash more windows, dust more dust.
17. Watch happily while your husband cuts down ratty trees, puts the garden to sleep, spruces up the chicken coop, mows, weed wacks, pressure washes the porch, etc.
18. Watch not-so happily as your husband decides that it’s time to build a woodshed, but don’t say anything as you know he’ll just cock an eyebrow and say mildly, And, um, the belly dance workshop?
19. Buy 50 pounds of bread flour, 24 pounds of confectioner’s sugar, 3 gallons of oil, ½ gallon of half-and-half, and a bushel of empire apples.
20. Accept a church friend’s offer to provide the apple cider—he will press it the day before—and do a Little Happy Jig because fresh-pressed cider rocks.

This same time, years previous: apple cake, Italian cream cake, the stash of 2008, deprivation

So, like I said, I made pepperoni rolls for Mr. Handsome’s birthday present. They looked and smelled so delicious that the kids commenced a-wailing when I bagged the rolls up and shoved them in the freezer with nary a crumb tossed in their direction.

But a couple days later, after snitching one from the freezer (and tossing a couple crumbs to the kids while I scarfed down the majority), I decided they (the rolls, not the kids, or as well as the kids but let’s not get into that right now) had lots of room for improvement.

Improvement #1: less bread.

Improvement #2: more pepperoni.

Improvement #3: some Parmesan in the bread dough.

Improvement #4: remove the plastic casing from the pepperoni slices. Nobody likes to floss while chewing dinner.

So I made pepperoni rolls all over again, and this time, thank goodness, I got it right.

Boy oh boy, did I ever get it right.

I first got the idea for pepperoni rolls from Larisa. Up until July of this year I did not know Larisa existed, but then I mentioned to someone that I was hoping to buy Miss Beccaboo some horseback riding lessons for her birthday and that person said, “Oh, you ought to talk to Larisa.”

So I did. And Larisa, a college student and horse back riding expert, agreed.

For six Saturday mornings she instructed Miss Beccaboo in the art of all things horsey.

Miss Beccaboo loved it.

And then it came time to pay up. Larisa and I had talked about compensation in the very beginning but she had yet to decide between bartering and moolah, straight up. So at the last lesson when I walked up to her with my checkbook, Larisa said, “Um, I was thinking that I might like some cooking lessons from you.” And so it came to be that Wednesdays found the two of us flitting about my kitchen, cooking, talking, tripping over kids, and washing dishes.

Foods we (she) made:

*yogurt
*roasted cherry vanilla ice cream with dark chocolate
*apple pie with this pastry
*roasted tomato and garlic sauce (in fact, she provided some of the inspiration for this recipe)
*sourdough bread
*orange cranberry biscotti
*cheesecake
*strawberry sauce
*ginger cream scones
*flour tortillas
*whipped cream
*and perhaps some other things that I’m forgetting

I taught Larisa all those foods (she already knew quite a bit about cooking) and she, in turn, reminded me of pepperoni rolls. It was just a passing comment she made in one of our many conversations, something about a shop in Pittsburgh that causes her to drop her vegetarian habits every time she goes there just so she can feast on pepperoni heaven, but it planted the birthday gift nugget in my brain.

Until I started researching recipes, I thought everyone knew what pepperoni rolls were, but no! I learned from my reading that they are a West Virginia specialty. Seeing as I grew up in West Virginia and pepperoni rolls were as common as white-tailed deer, mountain mamas, country roads, coal mines, and ramp festivals, I could hardly believe my eyes and—

Wait! That means YOU probably don’t know what I’m rattling on and on about. How rude of me.

Allow me to fill you in on the delicious details. It would be such an honor.

First, a definition. A pepperoni roll is simply: pepperoni-and-cheese-infused bread wrapped around more cheese and lots of pepperoni and baked. The rolls can be made small and served as an accompaniment to dinner, or they can be made large and eaten in place of a sandwich, or as a hearty snack.

So now that you know what I’m talking about, let’s break it down with a few pictures and some simple instructions. With me playing maestra, you will master the art of the noble pepperoni roll in two shakes of a rat’s tail.

To your favorite pizza-like bread dough, add some Parmesan cheese and chopped pepperoni. It’s important that the rolls don’t just hint at pepperoni—that’s boring. No, the rolls must SCREAM PEPPERONI AT THE TOP OF THEIR VOICES.

Roll the dough out into a large rectangle, about a quarter inch thick. (Mr. Handsome will take one look at that picture and say indignantly, That’s not a quarter-inch thick! Geesh! That’s five-sixteenths! Don’t you know anything?)

Using a pizza cutter, divide the dough into smaller rectangles by a) first cutting the dough in half lengthwise and then b) crosswise into an many pieces as you want to get. (Approximate size to aim for: six to eight inches by four inches. More or less.)

Sprinkle a little mozzarella on the dough. Just a bit. The predominant taste is pepperoni, so go easy on the cheese.

Now it’s time for the pepperoni. Make one layer of side-by-side pepperoni pieces. There is no need to stack it, just make sure the pieces are covering three quarters of the dough and extending all the way out to the edges. You want to see pieces of pepperoni sticking out of the dough. Nobody should mistake these rolls for anything but a pepperoni roll. Even if they don’t know what they are. A person should look at it and say, Oh, look at that. That’s PEPPERONI sticking out of that roll! So it must be a PEPPERONI ROLL. Nifty!

Roll up the dough, using your fingers to tuck in any escaping bits of meat and cheese.

Place the rolls, seam-side down, on an oiled and cornmeal-sprinkled pan.

Brush the rolls with an egg wash.

Bake and eat. The end.

Pepperoni Rolls
Inspired by Larisa, with a bit of guidance from the blog Chickens in the Road

If you buy large slices of deli pepperoni, make sure that they removed the plastic casing before cutting the slices. Otherwise the rolls will be more toothsome than you anticipated.

These rolls beg for creativity (though then they will no longer be able to fall under the title of “pepperoni roll”):
*Add, or substitute, some browned sausage or bacon.
*Try different cheeses.
*Add caramelized onions, or some hot peppers.
*Add some minced fresh garlic to either the dough or the filling, or both.
*Omit the meat all together and make a vegetarian version using a filling of feta and spinach, perhaps with a few green olives thrown in for spunk.

The measurements are intentionally vague. This is a process more than a recipe.

1 recipe five-minute dough
½ cup (or more) finely ground fresh Parmesan
1 cup chopped pepperoni
Lots more pepperoni, either in whole slices or chopped
Mozzarella, grated
a bit of olive oil, for the pan
cornmeal, for the pan
1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon water for the wash

After the flour has been stirred into the dough, add the grated Parmesan and the cup of chopped pepperoni. Let the dough rest for an hour or so.

Roll out the dough into a large rectangle. Using a pizza cutter, cut the dough into smaller rectangles. Top each rectangle with a bit of mozzarella and then generously cover it with pepperoni slices. Roll the rectangles up and pinch the seam to seal (leaving the ends open).

Spread the baking sheet (use a sided one to keep the drippings from dirtying your oven floor) with olive oil and sprinkle with cornmeal. Set the rolls seam-side down. Cover with a clean cloth and let them rest for 30-60 minutes till they are slightly puffy. Brush the tops of the rolls with the wash.

Bake the rolls at 400 degrees for 15-20 minutes, or until toasty brown.

Yield: as many as you make!

These rolls freeze beautifully. To freeze, allow the rolls to cool to room temperature before bagging. To thaw, remove the rolls from the bag, wrap them loosely in a cloth, and thaw at room temperature. If desired, reheat them in a 350 oven for 5-8 minutes.

This same time, years previous: sweet onion corn bake, the clubhouse (started two years ago and it’s still not done), pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting

I have not been doing much creative cooking lately. I miss it.

I miss discovering a brand new-to-me recipe, assembling the ingredients, and then chopping and stirring my way to exciting new taste sensations. Cooking traditional favorites is satisfying and pleasurable (especially when no one complains and everyone leaves the table happily stuffed), but it gets boring after awhile. I get bored way too stinkin’ fast.

When my days are relaxed, I can fritter (ooo, that reminds me, I want to make apple fritters soon!) about all I want, crafting and concocting to my heart’s content. One of my favorite happy feelings is waking up in the morning and then remembering that I get to play with, say, empanadas in a couple hours—oh, joy! Playing with food makes me giddy.

So if I like it so much, why am I not doing it? Because creative cooking takes brain energy and time, and right now my time is getting poured into my kids (and The Donut Party of 2010 and belly dance and church meetings) because—get this—I’m homeschooling my kids.

People have often said to me, ““I don’t know how you do it—homeschooling four kids…wow!” and up until recently, I didn’t understand their shock and awe. Homeschooling was no big deal. It simply consisted of us living together, growing older together, and learning about cool stuff together.

Which is true.

I also believed that homeschooling didn’t need to take much time.

Which is not true.

Folks, I can not believe I am saying this. My shock is profound. I am gape-mouthed and puzzled, scratching my head and spinning in circles. I am choking on my huge forkful of crow.

What in the world ever happened to my nice little idea of homeschooling?

I’ll tell you what happened. What happened is that my four little squirmy, pooping, suckling, screeching, grabbing, crawling babies done did growed up into four opinionated, inquisitive, mouthy, emotional, energetic not-so-little-anymore people who use up a lot more of my mental energy than I ever would’ve thought possible.

And that’s the truth.

Turns out, both babies and older kids are exhausting, but in different ways. How I’ve experienced it, caring for the physical needs of a baby is boring and draining and nonstop. Caring for older kids is less physical but much more mentally exhausting.

Here are a couple examples to drive home the point.

Example #1: A mama can (not that she does) have deep thoughts while changing a poopy diaper and rinsing it in the toilet. A mama can not have deep thoughts while teaching a child how to scrub the toilet.

Example #2: A mama can read a book while nursing a baby. A mama can not read a book while supervising table manners and appropriate mealtime conversation.

Example #3: A mama’s mind can go elsewhere (though it may be too exhausted to do much gallivanting about) when walking a baby to sleep. A mama’s mind can not go elsewhere when explaining Why Not to an angry child.

So see, after the morning sessions of Fred and piano, spelling and geography, science and Bible, my brain is zapped. I don’t have the energy to dream expansively of fancy dishes and savory sauces—just dreaming up the next day’s menu is all I can muster energy for, and then, just barely. Several hours of being fully present to my children does me in.

I think it’s right about here that I’m supposed to gush happily, “But I love homeschooling my children even more than cooking! It’s so wonderful!”

Except that I don’t know if that’s true.

(And no, I’m not playing Mama Martyr.)

It’s just that cooking involves dirty pots and sore feet, but homeschooling involves grit and exhaustion on a much deeper level.

And, yes, yes, happiness, too. It’s just that the happiness is more muted (and profound) than the giddy high that a flaky pie crust brings. (Also, children aren’t as easily moldable as a pie crust. There is no instant gratification when it comes to homeschooling.)

An Analogy: Homeschooling versus cooking is like a good night’s sleep versus caffeine. Homeschooling is like a full night of sleep and cooking is like a shot of strong coffee. The former is more satisfying, the latter more electrifying.

So there you have it, a long-winded, analogy-riddled and example-filled explanation for why I’m not cooking much these days. Things may shift (they always do) and suddenly I’ll find myself with lots of time to fritter and futz with food.

When that happens, you’ll be the first to know.

(Note of clarification: cooking creatively is relative. As soon as I was done with this post (minus the editing part), I got up off the couch to go experiment with some pepperoni rolls. So see, I’m still cooking creatively. It’s just not as much or as often as I’d like. So in other words, don’t be totally shocked when you see a new recipe pop up in this space. It doesn’t mean the big yellow bus has whisked my little ones away.) (Though the fact that the big yellow bus hasn’t stopped here doesn’t mean that I don’t sometimes wish it did.)

This same time, years previous: puzzling it out, a milestone