Make This and Put it in Your Face

Of course you want to eat this Cream Cheese Stuffed French Toast Waffle. Why wouldn't you?
Of course you want to eat this Cream Cheese Stuffed French Toast Waffle. Why wouldn’t you?

Look everyone! I’m a food blogger!

Well, not really, but what am I anyway? I’m a lazy person in the throes of an existential blogging crisis of some kind, wherein I immediately convince myself not to write whatever I’m thinking of writing. It’s a jolly good time, I tell you.

So what should one do in this case? One should make this Cream Cheese Stuffed French Toast Waffle and put it promptly in her face. And then one should tell you, dear reader, how to do the same thing because, in the words of Jean-Ralphio, “that shiz is straight up del-oy-cious.”

Also, one of my faves (Eden Kennedy) isn’t a food blogger either, but she managed to whip up this post/recipe thing so, you know, permission granted.

Okee dokey. So, a fab friend of mine was coming over for breakfast & I wanted to make something awesome. Naturally, french toast came to mind because it’s great. If you don’t like french toast, you should really see the doctor, because the awesome part of your tongue is broken. For shame.

My second thought was that I should make said french toast in the waffle maker for two reasons: a) I’m lazy, and it sounded easier and b) waffles have a distinct advantage over other breakfast foods, because they have neatly arranged nooks in which to store pools of butter and syrup. I bet the other breakfast foods feel a little self conscious when they think about it. (It’s okay, foods. We all have our own strengths and weaknesses.) (Except for this recipe which is all strengths, and may be my brightest moment ever.)

So, we’ve got french toast with magical waffle nooks. Sounds pretty good. But as I was perusing the internets for other little ideas, I came across a stuffed french toast recipe. And that’s when things got interesting. Because…um…well, if it’s not obvious—again—go see Ms. Doctor Lady, because you have lots of problems.

Enough Talking—Get to the Making

Step 1: Mix up the French Toast Stuff

Almost any recipe will work here. Just a couple eggs and a milk-like product of your choice…I throw in some cinnamon and vanilla because I fancy myself exotic. The only requirement is that you don’t use crusty, thick bread. Just use plain ol’ wheat or white sandwich bread slices. I think if you use anything thicker/harder you won’t be able to jam it into the waffle maker. And that would be disappointing.

Step 2: Cream Cheese Goo

Now take some cream cheese and powdered sugar and stick it in a bowl. Then mash those things together. I suppose you could use a mixer, but an enthusiastic arm with fork will do just fine. (My friend did this part, so maybe it’s INSANELY difficult, but I just didn’t notice. You all will have to let me know if that’s the case.) I don’t really have any measurements here because, let’s face it, if you can screw up cream cheese and powdered sugar you shouldn’t be in the kitchen. Like, ever. Just mix and taste and go with what feels good in your blessed heart.

Step 3: Slam the Sammie in the Waffle Maker

Spray/oil/butter your waffle maker. Just a little. Dip 1 piece of your plain Jane bread in your french toast egg/milk mix, and put it in the waffle maker. Then put a dollop of cream cheese on it. Next, dip another piece of bread and place it on top of the whole shenanigans. My waffle maker can fit four stuffed french toasts at a time because it’s the boss. Fill yours up with the desired/allowed amounts of french toast sammies, then slam that thing shut.

Step 4: Wait. Do Not Put Mouth on Waffle Maker

I tried using the auto timer thing on the waffle maker, but that didn’t totally pan out. So I just checked on it and yanked those bad boys out when they looked good and done. The cream cheese gooed out a little bit, but don’t worry about that. In a few short minutes you’ll be like, “Even if the cream cheese had sprayed on my face and burned me pretty bad, this would still be worth it.”

Step 5: Nom.

Slather it with butter and real maple syrup then try to maintain some decorum. Good luck with that part. If you have friend that will bring you tasty strawberries and a pretty tangerine, that might help you keep your business together because it feels like you should be fancy with such beautiful fruits on your plate.

That’s it! Go give it a whirl, friendsies.

Make This and Put it in Your Face

Wait, Why Is This In My Mouth?

Apple with a Tape Measure - Dieting

Okay, so, at this very moment I am eating a “dessert,” and also trying to get the taste of said “dessert” out of my mouth. I am doing this because a) I’m on a low-carb/no-sugar/stop-eating-crap-like-it’s-good-for-you diet and b) crappy dessert is better than no dessert. Possibly. Possibly not. I’ll let you know.

Everyone is dieting right now because “bikini season” is coming (why is this a thing?!) and because our society has weird values. I’m not dieting with any desire for jamming my body into 3 ounces of fabric. Rather, I am dieting because I had a kid, came out of it 15 pounds heavier, then added 5 pounds of chocolate, wine and cheese to that and now 2 years later it’s probably a good idea to trim back my eating habits.

It’s not like I take care of my body and eat right, but my gut is full of unjust fat dictators that take over anyway. It’s like I eat whatever I want, whenever I want, I don’t exercise, and then I gain weight. Big surprise. You really can’t be upset about that. (Well, actually, I am a little upset about it, but I have lofty goals for my laziness and wine consumption.)

I started exercising, and I’m still doing that (much to my own dismay), but it’s time for the big guns. I need to actually limit the amount of food that goes in my face. Just a little. And perhaps try things other than chocolate, alcohol and bread products. Perhaps.

Plus, did you know that stomping around, dripping with sweat, frightening your neighbors with your grimaced face only burns 150 calories in 30 minutes? That’s a glass and a half of juice. It’s less than half an order of french fries. It’s a glass and a half of Pinot Noir (who’s the dummy that drank juice instead?). 150 calories in my day is like plankton in a whale’s mouth. It just flies right in there without so much as a blink of the eye. (And then I SHOOT IT OUT MY BLOWHOLE! Just kidding. I don’t have a blowhole. I just wanted to carry the analogy a little further. And say blowhole.)

At any rate, I’m on a diet. And holy mother, is some diet food gross. Well, actually, I think the gross part comes in when you try to recreate the experience of “bad” foods with sugar substitutes and other man-made demon poop.

Take, for example, “Stevia in the Raw” which I have paid money for and put in my mouth. It’s yucky. Super yucky. The capital of Yuckistan. I keep waiting to get used to it, but no. The box says that it has a delicious natural sweetness, but this, friends, is not true. It has an initial lack of sweetness, followed by a very aggressive sweet-like sensation that appears in your mouth after you’ve swallowed, and hangs around until it damn well feels like leaving. Well, isn’t that peculiar? And thoroughly unenjoyable.

Yesterday, I tried putting canned white kidney beans in my salad because one of the recipes said to and—ick. I also put in low-fat feta cheese, which just kind of tastes like ground up packing peanuts in watery milk. With salt. It was the grossest salad of all time.

But because I’m more tenacious than reasonable, I keep trying these recipes. I should just decide that a no-sugar, low-fat diet doesn’t involve sweets or elaborate salads with delicious cheeses, and be on my way. Stick to veggies in their God-given form. But I don’t. I think, “Maybe this is the recipe that changes my mind about this diet.” [Spoiler alert: it isn’t.]

Which brings me to now, eating a “mousse” of some kind made of low-fat ricotta cheese, Stevia, cocoa powder and decaffeinated coffee crystals. Oh, and vanilla.

It is unpleasant.

I just realized, though, that perhaps the diet people have a brilliant plan. If the idea is to get me off sweets, they’re totally Clockwork Oranging me. Like, every time I think of dessert now, I’ll think of this mealy, suspiciously sweet, mocha-flavored disaster and my lips will snap together like a clam making pearls for a wholesaler in the mafia. And it’s totally effing working.

Nice move, diet people. Nice move.

Wait, Why Is This In My Mouth?

Sad Waffles

Sad Waffle

There’s a very distinct time in life in which you are capable of being sad about waffles. That time ends at about age 11. After you turn 11, you realize that waffles absolutely do not rank among the things you should be sad about. I mean, by 11, you’re aware that there are boatloads of terrible things out there that deserve your sadness (getting grounded, bee stings, world hunger, Weeds, etc.) and that it’s an awful waste to let a golden Belgian delight bum you out.

But not before 11. No, before 11, you’re under the impression that anything that isn’t 100% ideal is worth being sad about. Like the kid that was sitting next to us at Kensington Café the other day. Why were his waffles so sad? Because he wanted pancakes. A horrid reality faced him. This batter, instead of being poured onto a griddle and cooked in a circle shape, was going to be poured into a waffle iron and cooked into a square shape with square depressions. Oh, the humanity. He slumped his little head into his hands and stared wistfully at the table. “But I wanted PANcakes…” *Frown*

“How about we put strawberries on them?” coaxed the amazing server.


I’ll draw on them with chocolate…” she bribed.

“Mmmwohhkay…” the boy mumbled out of his little trout mouth.

The kid somehow finagled a food that is essentially dessert for breakfast and he’s STILL forlorn because it’s not a pancake. Ah, the folly of youth.

But that’s what expectations and desire do to you. They turn the whole world into what you don’t want; what you didn’t have in mind. No longer is a chocolate- and strawberry-covered waffle a delicious sugary treat that no young fawn should hope to consume; it’s reduced to one thing: not-pancake.

Because it’s the beginning of a new year, and the time for sage advice and chin rubbing, I’ll ask you this: is your life full of sad waffles? Of not-pancakes? Or do you see the deliciousness of the world, regardless of what unforeseen shape it comes in?

I’ve got a few things on my to-do list for 2012, but one of them is to, as I’ve heard it said, “Look for the good, and embrace it.” Imma eat those waffles. Happily.

Sad Waffles

CAAAAAaaaaake. Cake. (cake.)

I’m going to make this cake, y’all.

Chocolate Orbit Cake
Hello, mister cake. I will put you in my face now. Photo by Stephanie @ Desserts for Breakfast.

This is Chocolate Orbit Cake with white chocolate Lady Grey crème anglaise, and it’s so good it’ll melt your face off. I found it last year over at Desserts for Breakfast, when I was searching for the perfect cake for my husband’s surprise birthday.  And look at that photo…isn’t it gorgeous? Stephanie at DfB took that photo. And made that dessert, and, I assume, shoots magic out of her fingers while she walks around partly suspended off the surface of the earth. That’s how good this cake—and everything on her blog—is.

So, whatever you’re doing, stop it. Go to Stephanie’s post, make a grocery list, go buy the stuff and make this cake. And then send Stephanie a pony in the mail to say thank you. You can send me a pony, too, since I gave you the idea.

CAAAAAaaaaake. Cake. (cake.)