Pomegranate Crumble Bars

Pomegranate Crumble Bars

So this girl walks into the kitchen and finds her dog eating a puffy taco.

Pomegranate Crumble Bars Recipe

Sounds like the start to a joke, right?

I mean, I’m sure you’re expecting the follow-up to involve three rabbis in a rowboat, or someone somewhere crossing the road for some reason other than just to get to the other side…

Right?

Spreading Pomegranate Arils

Sadly, in this girl’s case, the story of the dog and the puffy taco is nothing other than cold hard reality.

And a visual metaphor for the crazy chaos that has been my first 17 days of 2013.

Do you ever see something in front of your very eyes and it just hits you?

Well that was me, watching sweet lil’ 9 lb. B. dominate the sad leftovers of last night’s vegan puffy taco feast.

I don’t know how he got his hands on that puffy taco. And I don’t know exactly why my reaction was to burst out laughing like a hyena instead of trying to tear it from his grasp and scolding him vigorously.

No. Instead I laughed, I offered to pass him the salsa, I went to my inner Zen place, and I acknowledged that I may need to slow down a little. Calm down a little. Secure the trash more tightly a little.

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Mexican Chocolate Ricotta Brownies

Is there anything better than finishing up a weekend with a major pan of brownies? If so, you’re going to have to tell me what’s what – I’ve got nothing.

I just feel that it’s important to end things on a positive note. Kind of send yourself off into the wilds of the week with a warm and fuzzy tucked in your pocket. Then, when your boss is yelling, your bills are piling, your traffic is inching, and your head is aching, you can reach back into the recesses of your mind to find that special memory and keep yourself going. Or, if you’re really a planner, you can reach into your pocket and take out that one last brownie you saved yourself and find some very special comfort there.

The seed of these brownies began germinating on Thursday afternoon.

I was thinking about chocolate and I was thinking about ricotta cheese. I was thinking about soft, moist brownies with a chewy/crisp crust. And I was thinking about what it would take to bring all of these things together in one pan.

Rich, chocolaty, gluten-free brownies seemed like the best vehicle.

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Chocolate Chunk Coffee Cake Bars

The Olympics are here! The Olympics are here!

Will you be watching? Will you be cheering? Will you be reenacting your favorite medal moments?

Reliving the winning moves from my events of choice is a critical part of my personal Olympic viewing. Most years these performances are safe (excepting only an unfortunate reenactment of a winning luge run in ’88, which involved my teeth luging into the family coffee table) and all years they are thoroughly enjoyed by my audience.

After all these years I still thoroughly enjoy watching both the summer and winter games. The extreme pageantry and commercialism does turn me off, but the sheer athletic accomplishment is hard for me to tear my eyes away from – it’s pretty exciting.

Specifically, I’m a fan of swimming, diving, tennis (table) and, of course, gymnastics. Archery, rowing, and fencing are pretty fun too. Really, it’s hard to pick a favorite so I’ll likely be glued to the TV watching all manner of Olympic feats for the next few weeks. A. will likely restrict my reenactments to events that involve the least potential for personal harm, though. Given my lack of coordination, I’m thinking that judo and taekwondo are out.

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Pinto Bean Blondies

Who’s the official wackypants in your family? I know you have one – I’m pretty sure it’s a rule of nature.

You know who I’m talking about:  that uncle, cousin, sibling, what have you that shows up to family functions wearing a pirate costume and speaking in Klingon? Or maybe a particular parental unit who insists on a quick line dance when the Muzak version of Katy Perry’s latest comes on in the lobby of your local bank.

“I kissed a teller and I liked it…  ” (No, I am NOT the official wackypants of my family.)

I have a personal theory that this wacky behavior is disguising sheer genius. I developed this theory from studying my own family’s official wackypants, Aunt S.

Aunt S. enjoys rosé wine, Hawaiian folk music, and Maroon 5′s Adam Levine. Not necessarily in that order. Preferably all at once.

Aunt S. has been inspiring and confounding since I was wee.

Aunt S. is responsible for the brilliance that is these Pinto Bean Blondies.

All hail Aunt S.

Aunt S. and I communicate via the written word (because texting, emailing and phoning are all just too normal) so I wasn’t surprised to receive this latest letter. There was chit chat, there was family news, and then there was a brief mention of ‘Blonde Brownies’. Aunt S. made hers for a friendly gathering out of only 1 can of pinto beans, puréed, and 1 box mix of Pineapple Supreme Cake.

Liking stuff from scratch a little more and pineapple a little less, I decided to make a few adjustments. But the seed was planted. That ingenious little seed.

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Chocolate-Dipped Agave Bars

Not a lot of words today. Just a few pictures.

Pictures telling the story of a clumsy batch of Agave Nut Bars that tripped and fell into some melted chocolate.

Really? Be more careful, lil’ Agave Nut Bars! What if you’d fallen into a pot of my mole negro?!? Uh…  whatever. More on that later.

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Black Bean Brownies

You’re going to be seeing a lot of hearts this week.

Probably some red garments. Quite a bit of chocolate. A fair number of roses.

Possibly a few people saying ‘He went to Jared!’ and singing ’Every kiss begins with Kay…’

Ew.

You’re also going to need to call me Hot Lips this entire week.

Double ew.

And totally just kidding.

Let’s just stick with Hot Lips Socks – significantly less awkward.

This is how we do brownies in the AZ.

Where do you live?

This is how you should do brownies in Denver.
This is how you should do brownies in Cleveland.
This is probably how you should do brownies in Okeechobee.
This is definitely how you should do brownies in Palo Alto.

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Sweet Potato Casserole Cookie Bars

Cookies are a beautiful thing, don’t you think?

So are butterflies. And rainbows! And puppies. All very beautiful.

And these beautiful things were exactly what I was thinking about when I came home yesterday and found my house flooded.

Why? Because I’m a lady.

That’s right.

My mother and my grandmothers taught me well, and I engage in ladylike behavior at all times.

It doesn’t matter that your dishwasher, washing machine and kitchen sink all decided to simultaneously explode all over your house. No.

A lady at all times!

And as a lady, you would certainly never curse. It wouldn’t even occur to you!

So there’s no way that, as you watch poor little B. sail into the bedroom on a stack of cooking magazines, you would unleash a torrent of profanities that would make Charles Barkley blush.

Never.

And because you’re a lady, you’d never even think an unpleasant thought about another person. No, sir!

So it just couldn’t be that you would spend hours telling A. how you’re going to track down that Maytag Man, kick him in the shins, punch him in the face, and then laugh while cries.

Nope. Not you, lady.

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Corona Blondies

I’ve always considered myself to be someone who follows the rules.

I mean the important ones. I’m totally OK with ripping the tags off of my pillows and wearing gobs of white after Labor Day.

But the important ones, yes. I guess that’s just how I was raised.

The down side that I have found in following the rules is that you come to expect that everyone else is doing the same. And when someone breaks the rules, it can catch you by surprise. Making that face. That ‘I totally can’t believe he/she just did that’ face.

My neighborhood has a rule that dogs must be walked on their leashes. Maybe your neighborhood has a rule like this.

So there I was yesterday afternoon walking in my little neighborhood with my little dog at the end of a little leash.

All of a sudden, a streak of pink lightening flashed and I found myself staring down the muzzle of an extremely vocal, unattended Yorkie.

She was adorned in a coordinated series of little pink bows.
She had better hair and nails than I have.
She was coming after my poor, leashed doggie and I.

I was so surprised by this development that I snatched up my dog (he has requested to remain anonymous for reasons that should be eminently clear) and began backing into the flora lining the sidewalk.

The pink bows were advancing.
I was retreating.
And my back was up against a row of cacti.
I will refer you to the seat of my yoga pants for confirmation.

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