G-d speaks a lot in this parasha. He says all kinds of things and I am confused by most of them. First He says to Moshe "Oh, for cryin' out loud, stop yer sniveling. Learn something from your ancestors. When I promised a land and a dynasty to Avraham and he had nothing but a couple of sons, did he complain? Did he ask upfront for my name as a guarantee that I am big enough to beat up all the other gods? Did Yitzchak? While suffering that whole hullabaloo with the wells and the tzuris his sons gave him, did he once ask for reassurances? Not even Ya'akov made such demands and lost faith so quickly, even when running for his life. Stop being such a ninny." Well, Moshe wasn't like the patriarchs. He was raised in Pharaoh's palace. What does he know? And even Rashi says that G-d actually did tell the avot His name, so what's up with that?
And then we hear that the whole "making life w-a-y more miserable for the slaves" was all part of the plan. Fine. What is the plan? To make the Egyptians behave so badly towards the Jews that they would deserve punishment. And you couldn't explain that up front?
Then Moshe brings up a very reasonable argument: "But, even the Israelites wouldn't listen to me; how in the world can I hope to get Pharaoh to listen?" Meaning "Look what happened last time I brought Pharaoh a message from You." Never fear, G-d comes up with a perfect solution: Aharon will speak for you. Oh, that makes perfect sense. That will make a great impression in Pharaoh's court. No wonder the two were laughed out of the palace.
You want to impress? Fine. Turn your staff into a snake. Sounds good until all the Pharaoh's magicians do the same and the miracle needs to be escalated. Those magicians are actually pretty good. They use their magic during the first two plagues, they pooh-poohed the whole thing as a "trick that everyone knows; kids' stuff." It's only by the third plague that things start to look serious, the magicians cannot undo the damage and after that they sort of give up. That's when Pharaoh starts being impressed. But G-d, starting with the 6th plague, hardens Pharaoh's heart. Now, how is that helpful? Sure, G-d wants to "beat Pharaoh up but good" and He needs the guy to be totally horrid for that, but it sort of seems like unnecessary show-offing, doesn't it?
So what's going on? Well, G-d is not playing with Pharaoh for Pharaoh's sake. He is trying to educate the Israelites. Remember His first complaint? "Your forefathers, with whom I made the covenant, did not see any of my promises come true and yet they never once lost faith. You, on the other hand, did not keep the faith even though I gave you my name and credentials. You had no patience and no long term view." Since G-d's plan was to take them out and make them into a nation of free people who choose to worship Him, He needed them convinced that He was 'worthy' of their faith. G-d did not care what the Egyptians will think of His powers and His promises. G-d wanted the Israelites so awed that they will never doubt Him again. Oy, was He in for a disappointment. Not that G-d doesn't know the future, but I think He sort of underestimated the Jews' attention span.
In all the hoopla over the negotiations with Pharaoh and the plagues, one tends to skip over one glaring problem. What in the world does it mean "The Pharaoh's magicians did the same?" Wasn't the whole point of the magic tricks to impress upon everyone the greatness and uniqueness of G-d? How can this work if simple magicians can duplicate the deed? Never mind the bigger question "How in the world did they do that?"
Hubby is an amateur magician and people always ask "How do you do that?" And many times he reveals his secrets. And then everyone knows it is simply a trick that anyone can duplicate. But that's not what happened in Egypt. G-d really did turn the staff into a snake and the magicians really did do the same with their staffs. Turns out, says the Talmud (and quite a few of later commentators), that what we call 'magic' is a real force of nature, created by G-d for the purpose of running the natural world. Some people (of all nations) who have the ability and talent, are able to harness this force (through incantations and other kabalistic practices) and thus bend the forces of nature to their will; i.e. perform miracles. Unfortunately, not all who have these abilities also have the moral fiber to use them for good. That's free will for you. I always say that G-d must have been regretting the whole notion of free will since about 3 seconds after creating it. I would.
So the little lesson here, hiding in a very big and important parasha, is: G-d gives everyone certain abilities. What do we do with these abilities? That's the key question. It must be true; even Dumbledore said so. For example: G-d gave us something called 'monkey bread'. The only monkey bread I ever heard of was a sweet one. Yet, here is a recipe I came across while wasting my life in front of a computer screen, that describes a savory monkey bread. I will have my kids try it out (I'm too busy wasting my life in front of a computer screen, as mentioned) and you can try it, too, and tell me what you think. After all, it's all about how we use it.
Magic Monkey Bread
1 packet (2 1/2 tsp ) dry yeast
1 1/3 cup warm water
1 tsp sugar
3 1/2 cup bread flour
1 tsp salt
2 Tbs olive oil
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbs dried parsley flakes
4 oz fresh mozzarella cheese
3/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook attachment, combine yeast, warm water and sugar. Allow the mixture to stand until bubbly, about 5 minutes. Add flour, salt and olive oil. Knead dough until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl, turning to coat. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise at warm room temperature until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours.
2. Combine butter, garlic and parsley in a small bowl. Punch down dough. Tear off a small piece, flatten to a disk and place a small piece of fresh mozzarella in the center of the disk. Wrap dough around the cheese and pinch to seal. Roll in melted butter mixture and place in a bundt pan. Repeat process until you have covered the bottom of the bundt pan with a layer of filled dough balls. Sprinkle with 1/4 cup of Parmesan.
3. Continue process to form a second layer, sprinkle with another 1/4 cup Parmesan. Create a third layer and sprinkle with the rest of the Parmesan cheese. Cover pan with plastic wrap and let rise at warm room temperature until doubles in size, about 45-60 minutes.
4. Preheat oven to 350F. Uncover dough and bake in the middle of the oven for 35-40 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from oven and move to a wire rack to cool slightly. Cool in pan for 20 minutes and then turn onto a serving plate.
Serve warm with marinara sauce for dipping.
We don't always understand G-d (Oh, who am I kidding? We rarely, if ever, do) but we really should not demand endless proof in order to keep our faith. The whole point of faith is to not require so much proof, no? It's really enough to believe He is on our side and that, whatever happens, He's in charge so it would somehow turn out to our benefit. And yes, I know, that is a very tall order. I am still struggling with this one myself. Every day.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Bring the goat into the house
This is that very famous story about a poor Jewish guy who came to the rabbi to moan about his difficult life. He and his wife and their 12 kids and his mother in law all live in a one room shack and the noise, mess and confusion are unbearable. What is a Yid to do? Said the rabbi, get your cow and bring her into the house with you. A week later the Jew is back. Oy, things are worse than ever. What to do? Says the rabbi, bring your chickens into the house. The next week, here is the poor man again, at his wits' end, and the only advice the rabbi has for him is to bring his goat into the house to live with him, his wife, the kids, the MIL, the cow and the chickens. The very next day the Jew is there before sunrise. Rabbi, he says, I cannot take it another minute. Fine, says the rabbi, take the goat out of the house. That very Shabbat, after prayers, the rabbi approaches the man in shul and asks, Nu, how are things at home? Rabbi, says the man, you are indeed a genius. I had no idea how spacious and comfortable my house was. Now that the goat is gone, we have all that room, it's wonderful.
Moral of the story: It's all in your perception. The Israelites were very miserable in Egypt. Their cries of suffering rose high enough to get to heaven. I'm sure they felt that their lives are the worst lives possible. Then Pharaoh demanded that they not only keep up the bricks quota, but also find their own straw for making bricks. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire. Pharaoh's reasoning actually made sense. Apparently the Jews had too much free time on their hands. Free time to come up with silly notions of "We wanna go into the desert and worship our G-d" Excuse me? What G-d? In four hundred years you never once mentioned a G-d who needs a three day sojourn into the desert. Where did this so called "G-d" of yours come from? From idle talk during idle lounging around doing nothing. That's where. From Pharaoh's point of view, it seemed a logical conclusion.
For the Israelites, this was the last straw (pun intended.) They were not the ones to come up with this fokakteh idea, why should they be the ones to pay the price? From their point of view, this Moshe person, who suddenly showed up from the desert, was nothing but a pain in the backside.
Now, I do not blame them. They were not the ones who spoke to G-d and had His assurance that this is all part of a Grand Plan. To them, the misery of slavery was now ten times worse than before. How were they to know that it had to get worse in order to get better? It's all in the perception.
I was sick last week (still am as a matter of fact.) It's nice to stay in bed and have everyone fend for themselves. But I was sick just before Shabbat. Every week I clean and shop and bake and cook for Shabbat. And while I do it willingly, some times I cannot help but grumble under my breath that I wish there was not so much work involved and that someone else will think to share the load. Well, here was my wish come true. I was sick and it was Thursday night and nothing was done. Did I feel good about it? As if. It was way worse than usual. I dragged myself out of bed and cooked and baked as usual because, let's face it, had I left it up to hubby (as he suggested), we would have had some undercooked onions and mushrooms with some defrosted bagels at the kitchen table (which would not have been cleared of mail, used napkins and dirty glasses.) I did make my girls clean the house (at least what had to be clean to avoid the health department quarantining us) and I did manage to get hubby to shop for some basics without too much resistance. Yet having to cook and bake while not anywhere near healthy gave me a new perspective on things.
At least I had something simple and easy to make for dessert:
Favorite Apple Cake
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 Tbs vanilla extract
3 Tbs water
1 1/2 cup self rising flour
Pinch of salt
4 medium apples, cored, peeled, quartered, thinly sliced. (originally, you're supposed to use Granny Smith apples, but any kind will do)
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
In mixer, mix together eggs and sugar for one minute.
Add oil, vanilla and water. Mix for another minute.
Add flour and salt and mix very well. The mixture should be airy and light yellow in color. Don't be afraid to mix a little longer if needed.
Divide equally between two 8-inch square, greased pans.
Toss apples slices with cinnamon and brown sugar. Spread over batter (see notes).
Bake at 350F for 50-60 minutes until done. Do not let it get too brown. The cakes should be light colored.
Note: When you mix the apples and sugar, there might be some liquid at the bottom of the bowl. Do not let it get on the batter. Use your fingers instead of a spoon, if necessary, to transfer the apples unto the batter. Also, very important: (learned through trial and error) put more apples at the edges of the pans and very little at the center. The center tends to take forever to bake and having too much juice on it (as the apples bake) makes it take even longer, while the edges burn.
I know I always try to connect the recipe to the parasha somehow, no matter how feebly, but I am still not too well and this is really what I made for Shabbat. I had too many apples lying around and going bad and I was in no condition to go out and try to get more supplies (or to think too hard about a more complicated dessert).
So how about this? You find a connection between the cake and the parasha and I will be grateful. Do not scoff. It is way harder for me to be nice than for you to find associations, believe me.
OMG!! I just realized that this is the third week in a row I am posting desserts. For someone who doesn't really like sweets, that must be some kind of a record. I promise to try for a proper dish next time. Maybe something with actual nutritional value....
Moral of the story: It's all in your perception. The Israelites were very miserable in Egypt. Their cries of suffering rose high enough to get to heaven. I'm sure they felt that their lives are the worst lives possible. Then Pharaoh demanded that they not only keep up the bricks quota, but also find their own straw for making bricks. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire. Pharaoh's reasoning actually made sense. Apparently the Jews had too much free time on their hands. Free time to come up with silly notions of "We wanna go into the desert and worship our G-d" Excuse me? What G-d? In four hundred years you never once mentioned a G-d who needs a three day sojourn into the desert. Where did this so called "G-d" of yours come from? From idle talk during idle lounging around doing nothing. That's where. From Pharaoh's point of view, it seemed a logical conclusion.
For the Israelites, this was the last straw (pun intended.) They were not the ones to come up with this fokakteh idea, why should they be the ones to pay the price? From their point of view, this Moshe person, who suddenly showed up from the desert, was nothing but a pain in the backside.
Now, I do not blame them. They were not the ones who spoke to G-d and had His assurance that this is all part of a Grand Plan. To them, the misery of slavery was now ten times worse than before. How were they to know that it had to get worse in order to get better? It's all in the perception.
I was sick last week (still am as a matter of fact.) It's nice to stay in bed and have everyone fend for themselves. But I was sick just before Shabbat. Every week I clean and shop and bake and cook for Shabbat. And while I do it willingly, some times I cannot help but grumble under my breath that I wish there was not so much work involved and that someone else will think to share the load. Well, here was my wish come true. I was sick and it was Thursday night and nothing was done. Did I feel good about it? As if. It was way worse than usual. I dragged myself out of bed and cooked and baked as usual because, let's face it, had I left it up to hubby (as he suggested), we would have had some undercooked onions and mushrooms with some defrosted bagels at the kitchen table (which would not have been cleared of mail, used napkins and dirty glasses.) I did make my girls clean the house (at least what had to be clean to avoid the health department quarantining us) and I did manage to get hubby to shop for some basics without too much resistance. Yet having to cook and bake while not anywhere near healthy gave me a new perspective on things.
At least I had something simple and easy to make for dessert:
Favorite Apple Cake
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 Tbs vanilla extract
3 Tbs water
1 1/2 cup self rising flour
Pinch of salt
4 medium apples, cored, peeled, quartered, thinly sliced. (originally, you're supposed to use Granny Smith apples, but any kind will do)
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
In mixer, mix together eggs and sugar for one minute.
Add oil, vanilla and water. Mix for another minute.
Add flour and salt and mix very well. The mixture should be airy and light yellow in color. Don't be afraid to mix a little longer if needed.
Divide equally between two 8-inch square, greased pans.
Toss apples slices with cinnamon and brown sugar. Spread over batter (see notes).
Bake at 350F for 50-60 minutes until done. Do not let it get too brown. The cakes should be light colored.
Note: When you mix the apples and sugar, there might be some liquid at the bottom of the bowl. Do not let it get on the batter. Use your fingers instead of a spoon, if necessary, to transfer the apples unto the batter. Also, very important: (learned through trial and error) put more apples at the edges of the pans and very little at the center. The center tends to take forever to bake and having too much juice on it (as the apples bake) makes it take even longer, while the edges burn.
I know I always try to connect the recipe to the parasha somehow, no matter how feebly, but I am still not too well and this is really what I made for Shabbat. I had too many apples lying around and going bad and I was in no condition to go out and try to get more supplies (or to think too hard about a more complicated dessert).
So how about this? You find a connection between the cake and the parasha and I will be grateful. Do not scoff. It is way harder for me to be nice than for you to find associations, believe me.
OMG!! I just realized that this is the third week in a row I am posting desserts. For someone who doesn't really like sweets, that must be some kind of a record. I promise to try for a proper dish next time. Maybe something with actual nutritional value....
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Really bad parenting
Everybody knows that every generation has to make its own mistakes. No matter how hard and long you preach to the young, they will at best nod politely and do whatever they want. Then they fall on their faces in exactly the way you predicted and you have to bite your tongue to avoid saying the worst 4 words you can possibly say to the young "I told you so."
So this is the way of the world and after generations upon generations of human existence, it might be time to simply accept it and move on. However, when people do not learn from their own mistakes, one feels like slapping them upside the head and screeching "Moron!!!" And when the person making the mistake is old enough to know better, you want to tear your hair out from frustration. Which is sort of how I felt while reading the last parasha of Beresheet.
Ya'akov was smart enough to get a birthright that wasn't his by law. He was smart enough to get out of Lavan's house with everything he wanted to take and he was smart enough to sweet talk Esav into a friendly reunion. He was, however, totally dumb when it came to playing favorites. So, OK, we know that. His kids knew that. His wives knew that. Everyone knew it. Except Ya'akov himself, it seems.
Like, what? He really learned nothing from the "Yosef is favorite, Yosef disappears for years and believed dead" debacle? Did he think that, now that it turned out Yosef wasn't dead after all, he can just go back to playing favorites? What sort of an idiot continues to show his feelings like that after what happened? First he calls Yosef over and declares that Yosef's kids will be like his own kids from now on. This can work if handled properly. Hubby's Grandpa had no sons and when his daughter gave birth to his first male grandchild, he publicly and (semi)-officially adopted him as his own. The other grandchildren were born into that reality and accepted it as fact. Mind you, Hubby was a pain in the backside as a kid and a holy terror to his cousins, not to mention spoiled beyond belief. But Grandpa was an exceptionally wise man and he pampered all his grandchildren equally. Hubby's position only came into play in his personal relationship with his grandfather and in some inheritance issues. And Hubby is apparently the absolute favorite among his cousins. You have to see it to believe it. I know, and you know, that he is a sweetheart of a guy, but you should have seen the reception he got when we came to Israel. You'd have thought he was a movie star, the way they flocked to his side. No one ever thought of selling him to the Yishmaelites until I came along.
Ya'akov, on the other hand, is not satisfied with messing up a new generation of his ancestors, extending the hurt feelings and resentment into the grand-children's generation. Playing one set of grandkids against all their older cousins. Oh, no. When this guy messes up, he messes up big. He tells Yosef, in front of his sons, that the younger will be much more important than the older. Do siblings need to hear that? Oy.
Then, just to seal the resentment for generations to come, observe his death-bed scene: Each of the sons gets a short "blessing". Not one of those is free of some acidic remark. Even Binyamin, who was supposedly a favorite also. But for Yosef. Ahhhh. Ben Porat Yosef. Five verses. All filled with praise, sympathy and real blessings. I want to remind you, this was not a private session. Each of the brothers heard what Pop was saying about all of the others. Poor Yosef must have been looking for a hole to crawl into before his brothers will throw him into one themselves.
Luckily, Yosef is now a big deal and not so easy to get rid of. So his brothers make nice and beg him to not take revenge on them. Were they really scared that Ya'akov dying means he is no longer protecting them from Yosef? Seriously? The same Ya'akov who clearly showed his contempt for, dissatisfaction with and disillusion of them? And what does Yosef think about the whole thing? He is no longer the brat he used to be. He is a father himself and knows that you shouldn't show favoritism (he's the one who tried to get Ya'akov to acknowledge Menashe's first-born status.) What does he do when they come to him hat-in-hand, with such a pathetic story ("Daddy, who loved you and couldn't stand any of us, said you should be nice to us." As if.)? He cries. He does not want to continue the feud. He knows it was wrong to favor one child over the others. He wants his brothers to be his brothers, not his competitors for Dad's love. He will be as good to them as he can, letting the past go, leaving it behind in the cave of Machpelah, with the father who has wronged them all. This is probably Yosef's greatest moment as a human being.
Did I learn from it? Of course not. I've already said that we only learn from our own mistakes, if we learn at all. I try real hard not to show favoritism. It's not so difficult as both my girls are wonderful. But apparently I am not very successful. Just yesterday I was told by one of them that she feels that I have a way better relationship with her sister than I have with her. I try to make allowances for her young age and the fact that her nature is approximately 180 degrees from my own. I wish there was a way to show you how much I love you, sweetie, how amazing and wonderful you are. How talented. And smart. And kind and lovely. How proud I am of your achievements, which are completely different from your sister's achievements. I wish I could be a better mother. I wish you made these cookies so I can give you the credit. But, alas, it was your chocoholic sister who came up with this decadent concoction. I still love you very, very much and I promise to try harder.
These cookies are very dangerous. Luckily, even the most chocoholics among us cannot possibly eat more than one or two at a time since these are way too rich for human consumption. You have been warned!!
Eat at your own risk cookies
Makes 2 dozen
On the other hand: Does anyone have children (any gender, any number, any combination, any ages) who are not convinced that their parents favor their sibling/s over them, and who can, at the drop of a hat, provide endless proof to support this belief?
So this is the way of the world and after generations upon generations of human existence, it might be time to simply accept it and move on. However, when people do not learn from their own mistakes, one feels like slapping them upside the head and screeching "Moron!!!" And when the person making the mistake is old enough to know better, you want to tear your hair out from frustration. Which is sort of how I felt while reading the last parasha of Beresheet.
Ya'akov was smart enough to get a birthright that wasn't his by law. He was smart enough to get out of Lavan's house with everything he wanted to take and he was smart enough to sweet talk Esav into a friendly reunion. He was, however, totally dumb when it came to playing favorites. So, OK, we know that. His kids knew that. His wives knew that. Everyone knew it. Except Ya'akov himself, it seems.
Like, what? He really learned nothing from the "Yosef is favorite, Yosef disappears for years and believed dead" debacle? Did he think that, now that it turned out Yosef wasn't dead after all, he can just go back to playing favorites? What sort of an idiot continues to show his feelings like that after what happened? First he calls Yosef over and declares that Yosef's kids will be like his own kids from now on. This can work if handled properly. Hubby's Grandpa had no sons and when his daughter gave birth to his first male grandchild, he publicly and (semi)-officially adopted him as his own. The other grandchildren were born into that reality and accepted it as fact. Mind you, Hubby was a pain in the backside as a kid and a holy terror to his cousins, not to mention spoiled beyond belief. But Grandpa was an exceptionally wise man and he pampered all his grandchildren equally. Hubby's position only came into play in his personal relationship with his grandfather and in some inheritance issues. And Hubby is apparently the absolute favorite among his cousins. You have to see it to believe it. I know, and you know, that he is a sweetheart of a guy, but you should have seen the reception he got when we came to Israel. You'd have thought he was a movie star, the way they flocked to his side. No one ever thought of selling him to the Yishmaelites until I came along.
Ya'akov, on the other hand, is not satisfied with messing up a new generation of his ancestors, extending the hurt feelings and resentment into the grand-children's generation. Playing one set of grandkids against all their older cousins. Oh, no. When this guy messes up, he messes up big. He tells Yosef, in front of his sons, that the younger will be much more important than the older. Do siblings need to hear that? Oy.
Then, just to seal the resentment for generations to come, observe his death-bed scene: Each of the sons gets a short "blessing". Not one of those is free of some acidic remark. Even Binyamin, who was supposedly a favorite also. But for Yosef. Ahhhh. Ben Porat Yosef. Five verses. All filled with praise, sympathy and real blessings. I want to remind you, this was not a private session. Each of the brothers heard what Pop was saying about all of the others. Poor Yosef must have been looking for a hole to crawl into before his brothers will throw him into one themselves.
Luckily, Yosef is now a big deal and not so easy to get rid of. So his brothers make nice and beg him to not take revenge on them. Were they really scared that Ya'akov dying means he is no longer protecting them from Yosef? Seriously? The same Ya'akov who clearly showed his contempt for, dissatisfaction with and disillusion of them? And what does Yosef think about the whole thing? He is no longer the brat he used to be. He is a father himself and knows that you shouldn't show favoritism (he's the one who tried to get Ya'akov to acknowledge Menashe's first-born status.) What does he do when they come to him hat-in-hand, with such a pathetic story ("Daddy, who loved you and couldn't stand any of us, said you should be nice to us." As if.)? He cries. He does not want to continue the feud. He knows it was wrong to favor one child over the others. He wants his brothers to be his brothers, not his competitors for Dad's love. He will be as good to them as he can, letting the past go, leaving it behind in the cave of Machpelah, with the father who has wronged them all. This is probably Yosef's greatest moment as a human being.
Did I learn from it? Of course not. I've already said that we only learn from our own mistakes, if we learn at all. I try real hard not to show favoritism. It's not so difficult as both my girls are wonderful. But apparently I am not very successful. Just yesterday I was told by one of them that she feels that I have a way better relationship with her sister than I have with her. I try to make allowances for her young age and the fact that her nature is approximately 180 degrees from my own. I wish there was a way to show you how much I love you, sweetie, how amazing and wonderful you are. How talented. And smart. And kind and lovely. How proud I am of your achievements, which are completely different from your sister's achievements. I wish I could be a better mother. I wish you made these cookies so I can give you the credit. But, alas, it was your chocoholic sister who came up with this decadent concoction. I still love you very, very much and I promise to try harder.
These cookies are very dangerous. Luckily, even the most chocoholics among us cannot possibly eat more than one or two at a time since these are way too rich for human consumption. You have been warned!!
Eat at your own risk cookies
- 2 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
- 1/4 teaspoon of salt
- 2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter
- 1 1/4 cup packed dark brown sugar
- 1/4 cup granulated sugar
- 1 large egg plus 1 egg yolk
- 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 1 tablespoon plain greek yogurt
- 3/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
- 1/2 cup milk chocolate chips
- 1/2 cup dark chocolate chips
- 1 small jar of Nutella, chilled in refrigerator (about 8 Tbs)
- Coarse sea salt for sprinkling
- Whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt in a bowl and set aside. Melt butter in a saucepan over medium heat. The butter will begin to foam. Make sure you whisk consistently during this process. After a couple of minutes, the butter will begin to brown on the bottom of the saucepan; continue to whisk and remove from heat as soon as the butter begins to brown and give off a nutty aroma. Immediately transfer the butter to a bowl to prevent burning. Set aside to cool for a few minutes.
- With an electric mixer, mix the butter and sugars until thoroughly blended. Beat in the egg, yolk, vanilla, and yogurt until combined. Add the dry ingredients slowly and beat on low-speed just until combined. Gently fold in all of the chocolate chips.
- Chill your dough for 2 hours in the refrigerator.This step is important. Do not skip it.
- Preheat the oven to 350F. Once dough is chilled measure about 1 1/2 tablespoons of dough and roll into a ball. Flatten the dough ball very thinly into the palm of your hand. Place 1 teaspoon of chilled nutella in the middle and fold dough around it; gently roll into a ball — it doesn’t have to be perfectly rolled! Make sure that the nutella is not seeping out of the dough. Add more dough if necessary. Place dough balls on cookie sheet, 2 inches apart and flatten with your hand VERY gently. (Really only the tops need to be flattened a bit!)
- Bake the cookies 9-11 minutes or until the edges of the cookies begin to turn golden brown. They will look a bit underdone in the middle, but will continue to cook once out of the oven. Cool the cookies on the sheets at least 2 minutes. Sprinkle with a little sea salt. Remove the cooled cookies from the baking sheets after a few minutes and transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Repeat with remaining dough.
Makes 2 dozen
On the other hand: Does anyone have children (any gender, any number, any combination, any ages) who are not convinced that their parents favor their sibling/s over them, and who can, at the drop of a hat, provide endless proof to support this belief?
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Oh, puh-lease
Really? "Few and bad were my years"? Really? First of all, I don't know what more can a person ask for. A life of adventure, romance, wealth and progeny. True, no TV or iPhone. But other than that, Ya'akov was as blessed as can be expected and then some.
Let's look at the things that made his life "bad":
1. He had to run away from home to save himself from Esav. A. And whose fault was that? B. How would he have met the love of his life otherwise?
2. Rachel died in childbirth. This, might I remind you, was a common occurrence in those days. It's tragic, yes, but people have faced greater tragedies and did not grow so bitter.
3. His sons were a bunch of wild hooligans. Whose fault is that? Had he been a better father, he would have had a better control over them.
4. Yosef was believed to have died. OK, that is horrible. Agreed. But at the time of Ya'akov saying his life was short and bad, he had just been reunited with his son. Shouldn't he be giddy with joy?
How about the "short" part of the complaint? Isn't life measured in quality more than quantity? And anyway, when he gave that answer, he was not dead yet. In fact, he lived for 17 years more after that. True, his father and grandfather lived longer. But who in their right mind would want their lives? Not having a child until super old age and then being asked to kill him? Being offered as a sacrifice by your own dad? Ya'akov had an joyful, easy life in comparison. What's to complain about?
The truth is, I can relate. Not only was he Jewish (i.e. master complainer,) but he had spent his life moaning and groaning, never noticing the blessings in his life and instead concentrating on the obstacles. I am exactly like that. I've been fighting my nature for years now, trying to acknowledge my many blessings and ignore the aggravations. Some days I even manage to be happy for a moment or two. But mostly I complain. And, really, there is always something to complain about since life is never perfect. And, as everyone knows, I was promised a perfect life. Wish I could take it back and get a refund.
Anyway, Sunday we visited my friend Debbie's house. We had a cooking competition. Guess who won? Guess who complained before, during and after the competition? Debbie's daughter, Tzipora, called me "a sore winner." That's Ya'akov, right there. He got the birth right, the blessing, the beautiful wife, the 12 sons, the riches and he still isn't happy.
Happiness comes from within, obviously. Yitzchak was calm and happy with his life. Yosef left behind slavery and jail and acknowledged his excellent position. Moshe was humble and uncomplaining (well, most of the time.) Ya'akov had every reason to consider himself blessed. But there must have been something inside him (like there is inside me,) that prevented him from being happy. That made him always find the bad stuff, the annoying things, the misery in every situation. Sometimes I feel for the poor guy. Then I get annoyed with his whining. Because, after all, I, too, am the type to find fault in everything.
Here's the dish that won the competition. It was a collaboration of my cooking prowess, my oldest daughter's knack for combining things that do not seem as if they can be combined but turn out even better than expected, and my youngest daughter's flare for building and organizing unique arrangements.
I can't give you exact amounts. We were in a cooking frenzy and made things up as we went along:
Finding-the-good-in-everything fruit and yogurt parfaits
Mix together in a baking pan: 1 bag of frozen chopped rhubarb, 1 bag of frozen strawberries (chop them a bit), 1 can of drained peaches (chopped), sugar, and flour (I don't know how much. You've made things like that before, haven't you? The sugar is to taste, the flour is to thicken things up a bit.)
In a small bowl mix together flour, brown sugar, a handful of finely chopped walnuts and cinnamon. Rub in cold butter until it looks like wet sand. Again, no idea about amounts. You need enough to loosely cover the fruit in the pan and it should taste good. Play around with it.
Spread the flour/butter mixture evenly over the fruit in the baking pan and bake at 375F until the topping is a bit browned (I'm guessing here, the oven temperature kept changing as people added things and took other dishes away and I just judged the readiness of the dish by the color of the topping. 30 minutes?)
Mix plain (non fat is fine) Greek yogurt with sugar until it's sweet enough to please you.
Layer yogurt in serving glasses (you want dishes that are see-through), add a hefty spoonful of the fruit bake, top with more yogurt and sprinkle with some cinnamon sugar (or maybe just cinnamon, I was not around for that part.)
And then, try not to complain about the fact that I am giving out a recipe with almost no measurements, and concentrate on how good this is. Wish I could do the same, but I am too much Ya'akov's descendant to get by without complaining.
Still, it's the effort that counts. I hope.
Let's look at the things that made his life "bad":
1. He had to run away from home to save himself from Esav. A. And whose fault was that? B. How would he have met the love of his life otherwise?
2. Rachel died in childbirth. This, might I remind you, was a common occurrence in those days. It's tragic, yes, but people have faced greater tragedies and did not grow so bitter.
3. His sons were a bunch of wild hooligans. Whose fault is that? Had he been a better father, he would have had a better control over them.
4. Yosef was believed to have died. OK, that is horrible. Agreed. But at the time of Ya'akov saying his life was short and bad, he had just been reunited with his son. Shouldn't he be giddy with joy?
How about the "short" part of the complaint? Isn't life measured in quality more than quantity? And anyway, when he gave that answer, he was not dead yet. In fact, he lived for 17 years more after that. True, his father and grandfather lived longer. But who in their right mind would want their lives? Not having a child until super old age and then being asked to kill him? Being offered as a sacrifice by your own dad? Ya'akov had an joyful, easy life in comparison. What's to complain about?
The truth is, I can relate. Not only was he Jewish (i.e. master complainer,) but he had spent his life moaning and groaning, never noticing the blessings in his life and instead concentrating on the obstacles. I am exactly like that. I've been fighting my nature for years now, trying to acknowledge my many blessings and ignore the aggravations. Some days I even manage to be happy for a moment or two. But mostly I complain. And, really, there is always something to complain about since life is never perfect. And, as everyone knows, I was promised a perfect life. Wish I could take it back and get a refund.
Anyway, Sunday we visited my friend Debbie's house. We had a cooking competition. Guess who won? Guess who complained before, during and after the competition? Debbie's daughter, Tzipora, called me "a sore winner." That's Ya'akov, right there. He got the birth right, the blessing, the beautiful wife, the 12 sons, the riches and he still isn't happy.
Happiness comes from within, obviously. Yitzchak was calm and happy with his life. Yosef left behind slavery and jail and acknowledged his excellent position. Moshe was humble and uncomplaining (well, most of the time.) Ya'akov had every reason to consider himself blessed. But there must have been something inside him (like there is inside me,) that prevented him from being happy. That made him always find the bad stuff, the annoying things, the misery in every situation. Sometimes I feel for the poor guy. Then I get annoyed with his whining. Because, after all, I, too, am the type to find fault in everything.
Here's the dish that won the competition. It was a collaboration of my cooking prowess, my oldest daughter's knack for combining things that do not seem as if they can be combined but turn out even better than expected, and my youngest daughter's flare for building and organizing unique arrangements.
I can't give you exact amounts. We were in a cooking frenzy and made things up as we went along:
Finding-the-good-in-everything fruit and yogurt parfaits
Mix together in a baking pan: 1 bag of frozen chopped rhubarb, 1 bag of frozen strawberries (chop them a bit), 1 can of drained peaches (chopped), sugar, and flour (I don't know how much. You've made things like that before, haven't you? The sugar is to taste, the flour is to thicken things up a bit.)
In a small bowl mix together flour, brown sugar, a handful of finely chopped walnuts and cinnamon. Rub in cold butter until it looks like wet sand. Again, no idea about amounts. You need enough to loosely cover the fruit in the pan and it should taste good. Play around with it.
Spread the flour/butter mixture evenly over the fruit in the baking pan and bake at 375F until the topping is a bit browned (I'm guessing here, the oven temperature kept changing as people added things and took other dishes away and I just judged the readiness of the dish by the color of the topping. 30 minutes?)
Mix plain (non fat is fine) Greek yogurt with sugar until it's sweet enough to please you.
Layer yogurt in serving glasses (you want dishes that are see-through), add a hefty spoonful of the fruit bake, top with more yogurt and sprinkle with some cinnamon sugar (or maybe just cinnamon, I was not around for that part.)
And then, try not to complain about the fact that I am giving out a recipe with almost no measurements, and concentrate on how good this is. Wish I could do the same, but I am too much Ya'akov's descendant to get by without complaining.
Still, it's the effort that counts. I hope.
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