Comfort Foods and Indulgences

Daddies, avert your eyes, because this is what your family will be serving you in bed on Sunday morning (Father's Day).  However, it's so good, the kids might help you eat it all.  And Mom, it's so easy to make, the kids can take all the credit...they will love that.

A few months ago, I didn't even know what Biscoff spread was. I kept seeing it everywhere in the blogs and finally I could no longer resist, I just had to try it.  Honestly, I wish I hadn't. It's so addicting, sweet and good...it can only be described as crack.

My favorite way to eat it....with a spoon.  If you are on a diet, I strongly suggest not bringing this into your home.  It will call to you, as it does me, from the cupboard with its creepy siren song....ugh. It always wins. I give in. Every. Single. Time.

I already fed this French toast to my husband and after one bite he looked at me and said, "Good grief, this is dangerous."

Little Gracie had been feeling under the weather all day Wednesday. She had no interest in running and playing, choosing to curl up and sleep for most of the day. And, she was coughing.

So, yesterday, off to the vet we went. When I take Gracie for a ride in the car, I feel like a new mother packing up to take the new baby out to run errands. I have no diaper bag, though. I put some water in the special bowl I have with a tight-sealing screw-on lid. Chew toys for the crate in the back seat. The leash. Treats to replenish the small supply I keep in my cup-holder in the front seat.

For this trip, I also made room for a small basket of my favorite chocolate chip cookies. I was sure the nice doctors, office staff and techs at the veterinary clinic would enjoy a people treat of their own.

Years ago I lived on Aquidneck Island (home to Newport, Rhode Island) and every June we’d head over to Quonset View Farms, high up in the middle of the island where the cold fog off the ocean just kisses the plants and fades away in time for daily sun baths. The soil must be pretty special there, too, as I swear I’ve never tasted strawberries so sweet and juicy. At Quonset View, it was hard to get out of the field without eating most of your berries.

Ever since then, I haven’t really been able to eat much in the way of commercial strawberries, which tend to be hard and white in the middle and short on flavor. I wait 11 months for the real deal. It’s kind of torturous, but pretty blissful when the local berries ripen. I try to pick enough to freeze some for later months, too, but they never last very long.

My longing was made even worse this year by the fact that Rebecca has been selling strawberry plants at the farm stand where my garden is. Every day that I pass by these beauties, another berry ripens on one of the plants, red and juicy and drooping seductively on its green stem, just begging to be eaten.

Recently I had a tryst with an old flame. No, ‘old flame’ is not quite right. You see, I’ve mindlessly used him many times over the years--even recently--meeting him most often in dark movie houses. On rare, more daring occasions we met in my bedroom, on nights when I admit I much more anticipated my latest Netflix delivery or guilty-pleasure TV show. He was always a second thought; an accompaniment; a reliable, cheap snack I held back from enjoying fully, lest I spoil the more respectable dinner waiting for me at home.

But this night was different. I was alone. . .insatiable, yet I longed for something more substantial, more fulfilling. . .more memorable. Suddenly, and for the first time, I saw him in a new light. The idea seemed so silly given our past dealings, that I needed some kind of sanity check before making the call. I did what one does when faced with such a crisis. I grabbed my phone, and desperately tweeted:

No one did (talk me out of it), but when shortly thereafter I received an inquisitive tweet from none other than the brilliant Amy Ephron (“What does homemade mean?”, “Did you grow and dry the corn, or do you just mean ‘not microwaved’?”, “Recipe, please?”), I knew I was on to something, and that there was no turning back.