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

When it comes to gifts, Mr. Handsome is about impossible to shop for. He has distinct tastes, but he never lets on what they are. Me, on the other hand, I outline everything in detail, frequently mention my wish list, and even go so far as to grill the kids to make sure they understand everything.

But Saturday was Mr. Handsome’s birthday, not mine. His birthday is sandwiched between mine and Yo-Yo’s—mine 14 days before and Yo-Yo’s 14 days after. In this house, fall is otherwise known as Birthday Season.

Even though I knew I’d get nowhere, I still tried to pry some information out of the man. “What do you want for your birthday?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, hon. You’ve got to be a little more helpful than that. Do you want time alone to work on the barn? For us to go on a family outing? A certain tool?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated. “The kids could clean the barn, I guess.” And after a reflective pause he added, “Just don’t spend too much money. We don’t have much left after buying that camera of yours.”

So it wasn’t much to go on, but still, it was something. This is what we came up with.

1. Little Notes

I sat down with each of the kids and asked them what they liked best about their papa. The three older kids then wrote the notes in their best handwriting, and all of kids decorated the bits of paper.

They worked on them a little bit each day for a week and ended up with a grand total of about 20 notes.

Saturday morning, the Birthday Boy had to stay in bed while the kids scurried around the house (and upstairs and out to the barn and down to the basement) taping the notes in all the places Mr. Handsome was likely to go: on the back of the toilet, on his deodorant, on the steering wheel of his truck, on the air compressor, etc.

Then they waited for him at the bottom of the stairs…

and followed him around to watch him find the notes.

“Hey, guys,” I whispered to them. “Just act normal. Pretend you don’t know anything about the notes.”

But my kids don’t know how to act normal. The continued to employ the Cluster Method.

Mr. Handsome would read each note…

and them look at them and smile.

He told us later that it was his favorite thing about the whole day.

2. The Human Package

After breakfast, Mr. Handsome was ordered to the sofa. The rest of us relocated to the basement where I draped a sheet over the kids, stuck a push broom in Miss Beccaboo’s hand and smacked a ribbon on Yo-Yo’s head. They shuffle-footed into the house and stood before Mr. Handsome. And waited.

“I think you have to unwrap it,” I suggested pointedly to Mr. Handsome.

He pulled off the blanket to reveal three giggling kids and one theatrical boy who read from a scroll that sported a bunch of hieroglyphics, the gist of which was: we will clean the barn for you.

So they did … for about thirty minutes. Then they gave up.

It was a nice gesture, though.

3. The Birthday Supper

He mentioned that he’d like meat for supper, perhaps spaghetti with sausage. So I made a huge pot of sauce with fat Italian sausages, loose sausage with onions, and meatballs. It was a veritable meat orgy.

And I didn’t cook any vegetables to go with the meal. Mr. Handsome eats his vegetables like a champ (not to mention a bunch of other weird creations), but they just aren’t his thing. I counted the green-free meal as one of my gifts.

4. Birthday Presents

The kids gave him their gifts: “spicy” (cinnamon) gum, “spicy” (barbecue) chips, Pringles, and a gift certificate to a bagel shop.

Yo-Yo played him a song on the piano.

Though it wasn’t actually a song. He just played chords while reading a poem about getting older, bald heads, and middle age spread. (Ever since some people did a reading at church while piano music was playing in the background, Yo-Yo has been big into playing chords while reading scriptures or poetry.)

Then I gave Mr. Handsome my gift, an assortment of frozen food, all prepackaged and ready for his lunches. There were:

*pepperoni rolls (Recipe forthcoming, once I get it perfected. Sorry, Mr. Handsome. I gave you 16 unperfected pepperoni rolls. Plus, I forgot to take off the plastic wrapper thingamajiggy. Plus, I ate one of them so you really have only 15. Hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience.)
*containers of fruit salad
*bags of gorp
*molasses crinkles

Oh yes, and two pounds of precooked bacon strips since he is such a bacon freak.

(My one, non-food gift was a year’s subscription to Newsweek.)

5. The Tussle

Then the kids jumped on their papa.

They tickled him.

They knocked the lamp over.

And they drug him away.

It was an unplanned attack, but it may become a tradition. You know, a show-us-your-stuff test to see how decrepit you’ve become (or not become).

However, I think he’s pretty much guaranteed to get his butt whupped from here on out, regardless of his strength. The kids are gaining on him and there’s nothing he can do about that. Especially once The Baby Nickel gets a couple years older and a couple pounds heavier. Then there is no hope for Mr. Handsome whatsoever. The Baby Nickel moves like a wrecking ball.

This same time, years previous: anticipating the mothballs, potential