Just Because: Happy Holy Saturday, 2021

Happy Holy Saturday!

This Easter is going to be so much better than it was last year, isn't it?  On Easter 2020, my husband and I got all dressed up and watched Mass on TV in our family room—just the two of us—live-streamed from the Basilica of the Sacred Heart at the University of Notre Dame.  Our little local parish church here in semi-rural VA is not nearly as spectacular as that glorious basilica...but we are just over the moon about how much more special this holiest of holidays is going to be in 2021.  We are over the moon that we are going to be in the actual presence of Our Lord at Mass in our church, that we will receive Him in the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, that we will be gathered together with our fellow parishioners, after spending so much of the past year starved of these experiences that we used to assume would always be available to us and will certainly never take for granted again!  Hallelujah!!

My husband and I are planning to go to the Easter Vigil Mass, and then on Sunday at noon we will have more than 20 loved ones at our house for an Easter brunch (I already mentioned these plans on the blog, I know!). By the way, I was asked in the comment section of that post for a couple of recipes, so here they are.  (You’re welcome! ;))

I always thought Christmas was my holiday wheelhouse...but what I am beginning to realize is that although it tends to come with a good bit less hoopla and much lower expectations of awesomeness than Christmas (just simple Easter baskets instead of major gifts, and not nearly as many decorative elements about the house), Easter might be my favorite holiday of all.  The fact that Christ rose triumphantly from the dead on Easter, and through His Crucifixion and Resurrection redeemed all of mankind is obviously the main reason; but I also love everything about Easter and the Easter season: the warmth of spring and flowers blooming; Easter egg hunts and Easter baskets; bow ties on little boys and bonnets on little girls; and bunnies, bunnies everywhere.  Oh yes, and CHOCOLATE!   Easter makes me 100% happy.  It is the most stress-free, joyful celebration of the year, IMHO.

We gave our kids/grandkids their family Easter baskets early, and the 3-and-a-1/2-year-old identical twin boys, the sons of our fourth oldest (who have a triplet sister and a younger sister), were utterly fascinated with the cheap wind-up dinosaurs we hid in plastic eggs. Like I said: there are lower expectations of awesomeness on Easter, and it costs next to nothing to give gifts that make the little ones happy.

I decorate the house for Easter, but as I said, not nearly as much as I do at Christmas. 

Just looking at that collage makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.  What's not to love about Easter?  It's just the best, in every way.  God bless us every one.  This Easter and always.

(P.S. At Christmas, I'll probably be telling you all about how I love that holiday the most!  Fickle, fickle.)

(Linking up with Rosie et. al., here.)

Easter Preparations

One of my favorite things in the whole wide world is hosting a holiday or special occasion party for as many members of my family as possible, given their various other commitments and individual circumstances.  On Easter, we are tickled that we are going to have a pretty big crew--three of our five sons, their wives, and the baker's dozen children they have between them--joining us for brunch after Easter Sunday Mass, along with one son's in-laws and another's very good family friend.  So we will have 11 adults and 13 little ones gathered together under our roof on the most important and joyful Sunday of the year.

Hallelujah!  Am I right?  Mom/Grammy/ReeRee is living her best life these days.

Along with hosting on the actual day itself, I absolutely love all the planning and ahead-of-time preparation that such an event entails.  That means that I am already looking through my favorite brunch recipes and figuring out the menu for our Easter celebration.  Even though it's still almost two weeks away.  And I don't have OCD.  I don't.  (I don't think I do, anyway.)  I just really, really like playing hostess and I don't like to leave too many tasks for the last minute because I find that too stress-inducing.

I have already made two batches of scones (using my daughter-in-law Ginger's amazingly buttery and delicious chocolate chip scone recipe, with substitutions).  They freeze beautifully, so I will just have to get them out to defrost the night before.  I made one batch of cinnamon chip with a cinnamon glaze, which I've made a number of times before.  But the second batch was an experiment that I hope will be a hit: Oreo scones.

These got a vanilla glaze and were garnished
with finely crushed Oreos.

Oreos are never a mistake, as far as I am concerned.  But we shall see!

Ginger is also bringing her family-famous homemade cinnamon rolls (dripping in cream cheese frosting), so that should take care of the sweet portion of the meal.  For the savory, I think I've decided on a sausage, egg, and cheese casserole that was my mother-in-law's go-to brunch dish, and also an onion, bacon, and mushroom strata.  I found the strata recipe in a magazine and ripped the page out; after I made it the first time, I noted in the margin that it was "awesome," and "like the best quiche ever!"  So I think that's a good choice.  I'm also going to make Ginger's cheesy hash brown casserole and lots and lots of bacon and sausage.  We'll have coffee--of course!--and a mimosa bar, because that's always fun.   (I'd make a pretty bowl of punch--but if you read this post, you understand why I'm not planning to serve punch at family parties for a while!). 

So I've got my menu figured out (at least for now; there's still plenty of time to change my mind...).  And my baby's Easter "basket" box of goodies has been shipped out to Oklahoma.  I know that's just what a 28-year-old married man needs: chocolate bunnies and jelly beans from his mommy.  Every year now I say to myself, "Making Easter baskets for my boys has to end!  They're all grown up and they don't need me to do this anymore!  And their kids don't need me to, either.  The Easter Bunny is taking very good care of them without me!"  And then this sort of thing happens...

These are ALMOST ready...

So how are your Easter preparations going so far?  (Or are you rightly in Lenten mode, focusing on prayer and sacrifice, as you should be--as I should be?  Mea culpa!)

[She signs off sheepishly.]

Happy New Year!

Hi, remember me?  I used to have this blog thang that I liked to do every day.  But I've been taking the idea of "being on vacation" very seriously this Christmas season, and my laptop and I hardly know one another anymore.  I have so much to catch up on with all of my blogging friends--because I have not only not been blogging myself, but I've hardly spent any time reading all of my favorite blogs, either.  It's just been too insanely (and wonderfully) busy and fun and full of family time lately, so I thought it best to put this old blog of mine on the back burner (mostly, anyway--with just a few check-ins so you know I'm still alive) for a bit.

We spent four days after Christmas in Upstate NY (in the town where my husband and I grew up, fell in love, and got married), visiting with various and sundry members of both of our families.  Then we drove to CT for a few days, because our baby, who is a junior out at Notre Dame, had plans to meet up at the home of one of his Army ROTC buddies for a big Notre Dame New Year's extravaganza, and this buddy happens to live less than an hour from one of my husband's younger brothers.  Although this brother is away on a trip (he is an airline pilot, like my guy), we've gotten in a nice visit with our sister-in-law and one of our nieces, and our boy got dropped off yesterday for the party with his college friends.  It's been a win-win situation all around.

Last night, my husband, my sister-in-law, and I rang in 2014 in grand style: by splitting a bottle of champagne and a plate full of homemade chocolate chip cookies*.  We also watched a Netflix movie that she'd been sent in the mail.  None of us knew much about "The Big Wedding," but it features Robert DeNiro, Diane Keaton, and Katherine Heigl, among other well-known stars, and we thought we'd give it a shot.  After all, one of our sons just got married in early December, another will be getting in less than two months, and one of our S-I-L's daughters just got engaged--so we are all currently afflicted with a severe case of wedding fever. 

I'm not really sure if "The Big Wedding" is rated PG-13 or R (something we should have checked on before we put it in the DVD player), but either way, it is exceedingly inappropriate and filled with pretty much irredeemable characters.  None of us liked it and I don't know why we even watched it to the end--I think we were waiting to see if there might be even one character who decided to clean up his act.  But no; even the male character who started out being a bit inspirational, because he'd made a vow of chastity at 15 and was still a virgin at 30 (waiting for "the one"), winds up succumbing to temptation and having meaningless, lust-driven sex with a woman he has just met.  Surprise, surprise.  And wait, here's another shocker: although there are Catholic characters in this movie and a confession scene with Robin Williams as the priest (playing the role just about the way you'd expect him to), all the beliefs and practices of the Faith are denigrated and skewered in true Hollywood fashion.

SO--the movie was a mistake.  But our little party was a ton of fun.  My S-I-L took a selfie of the three of us party animals shortly before the ball dropped, and at midnight she shot it out to all the family in a text that read, "We be 'cray'!"  (I love this sister-in-law; when she's involved, life is always a party.)

We were cray--you should have seen us!  I mean, look at the proof littering her kitchen counter the following morning.  We partied--oh yes we did!  :)

I hope your New Year's Eve celebration was as wild and cray as ours, and as cozy and fun.  And I wish you health and happiness and many blessings in 2014.

*Before I go, I have to share this recipe for happiness I learned from my S-I-L.  She makes chocolate chip cookie dough ahead of time, and then she rolls it into logs and puts it in the freezer.  That way, she can take it out and cut it, just the way you do with that Pillsbury ready-to-bake cookie dough, using as little or as much of it as she needs.  It's pure genius!  And you're welcome!

7 Quick Takes Friday: My First in Forever

How do I do this again?  It's been a while!  I guess I'll start with the meme and go from there.

--- 1 ---

I love it when my Internet life and my real life intersect.

Last night, I met one of my favorite young bloggers--Kate, from Something Ivory.  She and her hubby, who currently live in the deep South, were up North for a family wedding and were able to make time for a visit with my second oldest son and me.  If you haven't discovered Kate's beautiful blog yet (even though I've mentioned it to you several times on this here blog of mine), you should really head on over there.  It's absolutely terrific--uplifting, inspirational, interesting, and full of Grace Kelly-esque charm.

Kate happens to be the wife of son #2's dearest friend from his days at Notre Dame.  Even so, last night is the first time we gals ever met, and I found her to be as delightful a real person as she is a blogger!

Her smart-alecky husband (the Frick to my son's Frack) started out our enjoyable dinner at a small Chinese restaurant in downtown Portsmouth, NH with this challenge: "So...who's going to be the first one to blog about this?"

You know, Kate, I've been surrounded by a pack of highly competitive males for many years now, and winning is important around here.  I haven't seen a new blog post from you come across my feed yet this morning, so I can only surmise that I beat you to the punch. Winner!  (I know you have a busy weekend planned, with wedding festivities and all...but still: winner!)

--- 2 ---

I said, "Shut up."  And no one washed my mouth out with soap.

Okay, I told you my son's college friend was a bit of a scamp.  At one point during our meal last night, he made some teasing comment and I forgot for a moment that I wasn't dealing with one of my own scamps, and here's what I said: "Shut up!" But not in a mean way--not in a way that would have gotten me a mouthful of Ivory soap and a trip to my room for the night when I was a kid.  Not in a way that would have gotten my sons into similar trouble if they'd ever had the audacity to say that to either their parents or each other when they were growing up in our house.  I said it in a cute way (if there is such a thing); I said it in jest; I said it in a way that reads more like "You're funny and I like you"--or at least I hope that's how the poor guy took it.

I would never in a million years have said those words to my boys when they were young, but I occasionally say them now (especially to son #2, who is a big-time tease and gets a huge kick out of having me say it to him).  My boy assured his buddy that the fact that I'd said it to him means he's now made the cut.  It means he's like family.

Okay, I just read over what I've written so far for Take #2, and I'm a bit ashamed.

I'm a nice person.  Really, I am.  And if we ever meet and get to talking, I promise I will never tell you to shut up.

--- 3 ---

Teasing is my boys' love language.

If you don't have a sense of humor and you can't take a little good-natured teasing, you're not going to survive around here.  Teasing is the love language of my sons.  They all speak it and they all understand it. It's never meant to be hurtful (even the word "loser," when translated in context, can be meant as a term of endearment).  They have all grown up to be very kind and caring men, but they do love to crack wise.

My boys spent their teen years teasing each other regularly and laughing often.  I've heard that dry, sarcastic humor is a hallmark of the Northeast, where we've always lived; whether that's true or not, it was certainly true of this particular Northeastern household.  While my boys have always been extremely close--teammates, roommates, and the best of friends--they have ribbed each other tirelessly.

This gives me a good segue into Take #4.

--- 4 ---

My youngest son finally felt like "one of the guys" when my older sons began to tease him like they teased each other.

Our first four sons came along in a tight-knit pack.  There are exactly four years and three months between the arrival of son #1 and the birth of son #4.  Then five whole years went by before we were blessed with son #5, our baby.

One great thing about having a baby come into our testosterone-filled house at that point was that it brought out a sweetness, a nurturing quality, in our older boys that might not have happened otherwise.  They were unfailingly patient, protective, and kind in their dealings with their youngest brother.  And as part of this tendency to treat him differently than they treated each other, they didn't tease him for fear that he would take what they said the wrong way and his feelings would be hurt.

At the end of my youngest son's freshman year of high school, when I was cleaning out his backpack and loose leaf binders to decide what I should keep and what I should toss, I found a hand-written sheet with a simple journal entry he'd written months earlier in his honors English class.  He'd been asked to answer this question: "When did you feel like you stopped being a child?  How did you know?"  Here, in his own writing, is the response.

This is so precious to me!  And there you have it: teasing, the language of love.

--- 5 ---

Life finds a way!

I feel like Ian Malcolm in "Jurassic Park" with that statement.  But truly, I was reminded of this the other day.

I have the very brownest of thumbs, but every summer I optimistically plant geraniums and/or impatiens in my big pots out in front of the house and try valiantly to keep them alive (with mixed results).  But we've been away from home more than ever this summer (often for weeks at a time), now that most of our chicks have flown far from the nest and we must travel all over the place to see them.  So I figured I'd have even worse luck than usual, and--please don't judge me!--I decided to plant fake flowers in the pots this year instead of real ones.  From the street, you can't even tell they're not the real deal, I swear.  And they need no attention, which is exactly the kind of plant life I like best.

Last week, I was weeding the pots (because even though the flowers in there are phony, the weeds that have taken up residence beside them are very real indeed, and they are flourishing!), and what do you think I saw?  Some real red geraniums poking up through my pink and white poseys posers.

I really don't know how this happened!  All I can figure is that when I pulled all the decaying dregs of last year's geraniums out of the pots, after they'd been stored in the garage all winter, some little vestige of life must have remained in the potting soil and by some miracle, took root and produced new flowers.  And geraniums aren't even perennials, are they?

Amazing!  Life found a way--with no help whatsoever from the worst gardener who ever lived.

--- 6 ---

I recently gave my house a mini face-lift.

We have lived in our home for almost 23 years.  When we bought it, it was nearly completed but had been sitting for several years in foreclosure, because the builder had gone bankrupt.  We were the first people to live in it, and although many things were finished (the bathroom floors and vanities, the kitchen counter tops and cabinets, the hardwood floors in the living room, dining room, front hall, and up the stairs), we were able to make some choices before we moved in. We had the whole upstairs carpeted, and at the last minute, the carpet guys asked if we wanted them to put a runner up the stairs as well. Sure, we thought; with four active boys (at the time), that might come in handy for softening falls and keeping the noise level down.

The carpet up the stairs served us well in its time; but I'd been noticing lately that it was getting very worn and stained, and I thought it might be time to rip it up and expose the lovely oak I knew was underneath.

It's frightening what you find when you rip up a carpet--a carpet that you've been vacuuming religiously for over 20 years.

Yes, that's a pile of sand and dirt.  And it's probably been there for years and years.  Holy shnikeys!  But this is what the stairs look like now.

--- 7 ---

I could probably use a mini face-lift, too, at my age; but I'll have to settle for simply eating healthier.

I've never been one to eat the daily recommended amount of fruits and vegetables (you know, the number of servings on the healthy eating food pyramid).  But my second oldest son has started "juicing," and it's gotten me motivated to do the same.  He has this great machine that takes whole chunks of fruits and veggies (with the skins, seeds, cores, and stems on them!) and grinds and squeezes them into juice in a matter of seconds. Some of the combinations my son comes up with (most of them) taste pretty nasty to me.  Let's just say I'm not yet a huge fan of kale.

But I concocted my own recipe for breakfast yesterday and it was absolutely delicious:

1 large carrot
1 whole lemon
1 whole Granny Smith apple
about 8-10 strawberries
3 big slices of watermelon

I could drink this juice every morning.  In fact, I just might do that.

But I'm not going to stop having my dark chocolate chaser (because with all those antioxidants, that's a health food, too).

Now head on over to Jen's for more.  I'm on my way now!

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Puttin' on the Brits

Oh my gosh, you guys...you GUYS!  I made the most delicious dessert yesterday (if I do say so myself).  I had a hankering for something sweet, a hankering that would not be denied.  When that happens, I often make shortbread, because you need so few ingredients (butter, sugar, flour, and salt).   I've made shortbread about a gazillion times, and I have several different recipes I use--all of them very similar, all of them very good.  But I wanted something a little different this time.  And I got thinking about these candies I bought on an impulse once, while waiting in line for an open register at TJ Maxx (whoever decided the check-out line was a good place to put irresistible gourmet chocolate goodies was a genius, I tell you). They were caramels covered in dark chocolate, then sprinkled with sea salt. Pretty much the best thing I'd ever tasted, no exaggeration.

I love sweet treats and salty treats just about equally.  You know how some people say they can resist cake, but not potato chips--or vice versa?  Well, I can resist neither.  (It's a problem.)

So...I decided to make shortbread, iced with dark chocolate and sprinkled with sea salt.

Then, because I have so much English blood flowing through my veins (my father's people are almost all from the British Isles--and in fact, a direct ancestor of Dad's fought with William the Conqueror and has an English castle named after him), I decided to enjoy my oh-so-British shortbread with a spot o' tea.  (And yes, I did break out some made-in-England transferware dishes and some lacy table linens--made by a great-great aunt and passed down to me from my mom at my wedding shower--so that my little snack would remind me of a true upper-crust British tea.)

Okay, I cannot tell a lie.  I had my shortbread with coffee, because I don't care who you are, you've got to admit that coffee beats tea by a country kilometer any day of the week.  Am I right?

I was contentedly sipping my coffee and nibbling on my shortbread--and as if a mug of hot java and a slice of uber-buttery-chocolatey-salty shortbread wasn't enough to make my day brilliant enough already,  I was also perusing my latest issue of Victoria magazine, which just so happens to be dedicated entirely to "Romantic England." (Could my day get any more British than it was?  It could.)  And to top it all off, on the cover of said issue of Victoria there was a picture of a castle that will look very familiar to anyone who's a fan of PBS's "Downton Abbey."  It's actually called Highclere Castle, currently the home of the 8th Earl and Countess of Carnarvon.  Julian Fellowes, the man responsible for the epic drama series that might be the best show ever,  is a longstanding friend of the Earl and Countess and a frequent visitor to the castle that was the inspiration for the show.  What "Downton"-ites will find interesting is that in 1895, the 5th Earl of Carnarvon married Lady Almira (the wealthy American heiress of Alfred de Rothschild), and this generous woman transformed Highclere Castle into a hospital for wounded soldiers during WWI.  Does any of this sound familiar? Is anyone reminded of Cora at all, or is it just me?

And speaking of "Downton Abbey," it has a way of making husbands/fiances/boyfriends who would normally never in a million years choose to watch a show even remotely like it become hopelessly addicted. My husband started watching it with me, and he got really hooked.  But he kept saying, "If someone asked me what I like about it, I'd have to say, 'I really have no idea.'"  My husband's brother got into it with his wife as well, and she told me that they would sit down to watch an episode or two on Netflix, and as each one ended they would say "Just one more!"--until suddenly, it was 3:00 in the morning!

My husband and I have watched the first three seasons on Netflix already; but we recently started them over again (in order to get prepared for the coming fourth season), and our second oldest son watched a few episodes with us.  His observations went something like this: "I'm sort of bored when I'm watching it.  This show has everything I hate: English accents, old-fashioned clothes, people talking all the time, with no car chases or explosions to break up the monotony...but every time an episode ends, I want to see what happens next!  I'm not even sure why I want to keep watching it, but I do."

So there you have it: "Downton Abbey" is a show for chicks; but men like it, too, even if they don't know why.

Now here's that shortbread recipe, so you've got something to nosh on while you're watching "Downton Abbey."  If you haven't gotten hooked on it yet, there's still time to catch up before the new season begins!

Sweet 'n Salty Shortbread

Beat til creamy: 1 cup softened butter, 3/4 cup confectioner's sugar

Add and mix in: 2 cups flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt

Press mixture into buttered 9" square pan.  Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 20 minutes.  Poke holes in top with toothpick.  Bake at 300 degrees until golden brown at edges.  (The recipe says it takes 40 minutes, but my oven tends to cook things more quickly and it only took 30 minutes.)

Melt together in microwave-safe bowl: about 1 and 1/2 cups of dark chocolate chips and 2 tablespoons of butter (I'm spit-balling here, because I didn't really measure), and spread this over the top of the shortbread. While the chocolate topping is still all melty (before it has a chance to cool and harden), sprinkle with sea salt.

You're welcome!

Cheers, then.  Tarra, cheerio, and all that good stuff.  Have a jolly-good week!

Thoughts on a Sunday

It's day 7 of 7 Posts in 7 Days, and I'm just barely going to make it, folks.

It's been a busy, busy day: first 9 a.m. Mass, followed by a big brunch of eggs, bacon, and homemade to-die-for coffee cake, followed by a couple of hours hanging out with my main man and the Geek Squad at Best Buy (trading in the top-of-the-line Macbook Air he got me for my birthday for a PC laptop which doesn't intimidate me quite so much--and is smaller and lighter than my old one, and has a Windows 8 touch screen, so it's sort of like a Mac in ways), followed by a couple of hours in the kitchen preparing chicken piccata and mashed potatoes for the best birthday present buyer ever and our baby boy, the newly minted paratrooper who just got home from Airborne school yesterday.  Phew! That was quite the run-on sentence.  SoooOOO...

Instead of trying to come up with some scintillating (hah!) or original (not likely!) post, I thought I'd send you over to the blog of author Nancy Carabio Belanger (who wrote the well-loved and successful YA Catholic novels Olivia and the Little Way and Olivia's Gift).

Nancy posted a perfect meditation today on the importance of attending (and staying through until the end of) Sunday Mass, where the "greatest event in humankind" is recreated on the altar, and she expresses herself on the subject better than I ever could.  I was truly inspired by her words today, and I think you will be, too.  (Just click here to read.)

I hope you've had a happy and holy Sunday, and have a great week!  (We'll see if I can continue this daily blogging thing without any breaks, now that I'm finished with Jen Fulwiler's epic blogging challenge...)

Five Favorites, Volume 5

I'm joining Jen again today, for day 3 of the 7 Posts in 7 Days challenge--and while I'm at it, Hallie Grace, too, for the Five Favorites link-up.

Favorite #1

This guy!  He treats me like a queen, always has my back, makes me laugh every day, is the best father five sons could ever ask for...and best of all, he still makes my heart go pitter-pat, after almost 33 years of marriage (preceded by almost 8 years of dating, starting at the tender age of 15).  He is not a cowboy, technically, but he's definitely cowboy-esque. When my college friends met him freshman year, they asked me if he was from out West. And that was decades before he started wearing his signature cowboy hats! No, he was not from out West.  He didn't grow up on a cattle ranch.  He was a small town boy from Upstate NY, but he had a slow-talking drawl and a John Wayne way about him, and that can-do, all-male quality that made a gal feel she would always be safe when he was around. That guy was and is a man of character, a man whose faith runs deep, and I consider myself one lucky lady to have lassoed such a winner.

Favorite #2

This pencil drawing, rendered by my husband for an art class in college.  He was working on it when he visited me at Holy Cross our senior year, during one of his breaks from Notre Dame (HC and ND were never on the same schedule).  A hard-working metallurgical engineer, he finally had some room in his schedule for a few less strenuous electives that year, and he thought a drawing class would be an easy A.  It helped that he did have natural talent.  People usually assume that our sons, who are all rather gifted artistically, got their talent from me.  But I think perhaps it was from their dad.  My husband had done this drawing as a little boy, copying it from an art book about drawing portraits; but that original masterpiece had gotten misplaced.  He decided to try his hand at it again, and he tells me he still thinks the one he did years before was much better.  Hard to believe, because I think this one is excellent.

The photo of my husband in #1 was taken at a reunion of all his childhood buddies that we attended over the weekend, and it showed up on Facebook yesterday.  When he saw it, he made me laugh when he said, "Back when I drew that old, grizzly cowboy, I didn't know I was drawing myself!"  (I suppose there are some similarities...)

Favorite #3

Saint Padre Pio.  He's my special patron saint for 2013, chosen randomly for me by the Saints Name Generator (remember that?). It seems that ever since the two of us were thrown together, definite signs that I need to remember to pray to this powerful saint keep appearing in our mailbox.  I can't count the number of Padre Pio-themed mailings we've been sent.  Just the other day we received this special gift:

Message received, dear saint! I must pray Rosaries, Rosaries, and more Rosaries, and while I'm at it, I should remember to pray to you, my special patron, for intercession as well. On the back of the medal on the Rosary ring, there is a small piece of relic cloth that was touched to one of Padre Pio's belongings in the reliquaries at the Shrine of St. Padre Pio, in the Church of St. John the Baptist in NYC.   I will cherish this Rosary ring, and I'll be sure to bring it with me when I go on my long walks.  (I love taking walks, because I get to exercise my body and soul, all at the same time.)

Favorite #4

Making desserts.  (Followed closely by eating desserts.)  Last night, I was Jones-ing for "a little something," as my husband calls sweet treats, so I decided to whip up a chocolate concoction with some ingredients we had on hand.  We've been out of town a lot lately, so I had to work with what we had available.  I threw an 8 oz. package of cream cheese, along with 1/2 of another already-opened package, into a bowl.  Then I poured a ton of semi-sweet chocolate chips in there (I didn't measure, but it may have been just slightly less than  a ton--about 1 and 1/2 cups, or perhaps 2).  I put the bowl in the microwave and heated it at 50% until the chips were melted, and then I stirred the mixture vigorously with a spoon until it was nice and creamy.  Not knowing if it would be sweet enough, I threw in some sugar (1/2 cup?), about a teaspoon of  vanilla, and then I beat in an egg.  I put this chocolatey goo into a pre-made shortbread pie crust, baked it at 300 for an hour, and IT. WAS. AWESOME!  I'm wishing now that I'd measured all the ingredients so I could duplicate it one day down the road.

The only bad thing about this delectable chocolate pie I made (or chocolate cheesecake--I really don't know what to call it) is that it looked an awful lot like the one Minny made for her nemesis in the movie "The Help."

When I mentioned the resemblance, after my husband had eaten about 1/4 of my pie, I kind of ruined it for him.

(Hey, that leads me to another favorite: The Help.  In book or movie form--both are excellent.) 

Favorite #5

Camp Patton.   Adorable blond cherubs.  Real family life, with all its wonderful chaos and noise.  A young wife and mother whose razor-sharp wit and ability to turn a phrase are unparalleled in the blogosphere (and a husband who provides some wicked amusing one-liners from time to time as well).  Camp Patton is Comedy Central for all of us blog-readers, and we miss it when we click on it in the morning and there isn't a new post up yet.  (No pressure, Grace!)  So head on over to the Camp now and see what's on Grace's mind today.  And while you're at it, you'll find other Favorites lists to peruse.  Tell them I sent ya.

Theme Thursday: Black and White

Nothing tells the story of how much my life has changed since our nest emptied out two years ago (when our youngest son went off to college) than this itty-bitty jar of peanut butter I picked up at the store yesterday.

There it is, in black and white: the story of our downsizing.

For the past thirty-ish years, I've been buying family-sized tubs of p.b., and yet it seemed like we were always running out.  When the boys were little and we'd visit their grandparents, I'd open the cabinet at lunchtime and spy the miniature jar of Jiff and mutter under my breath, "You've got to be kidding!  That's about enough for one meal!  Who buys peanut butter in such small quantities?"  (By the way, Mom and Dad, I get it now.)

Thanks be to God, none of my sons had a peanut allergy, because there were stretches when they lived on peanut butter (well, peanut butter and dare I admit it?--Kraft mac & cheese with hot dogs) during their childhood days.  It was one of the staples of their diet, and in all the years they lived in this house, I never once had to throw out a half-full jar because it had gone past the expiration date.

Well, a few days ago I was going through my pantry, trying to figure out what supplies I'm going to need for this weekend--because my baby is coming home from his six-week internship in Paris!  Yippee!  That boy eats nothing but p.b. & j. on a bagel for breakfast, every morning, without fail; so while I was making sure I had everything he would need, I happened to notice that it was long past the "best if used by" date on the still-half-full vat of peanut butter I'd bought for the troops over Christmas (or maybe last summer?  I really can't remember).  I simply couldn't believe I had to do it...but I threw it out.

Yesterday when I brought home that pathetically small, practically baby-sized jar, it was a sad reminder that there really aren't that many mouths to feed around here most of the time anymore.  My husband and I like peanut butter; but we don't eat it often enough to justify buying it in the enormous containers we needed to have on hand when we were feeding our growing lads back in the day.

Who would have thought that buying a small jar of peanut butter would make me feel so OLD?

(I ended up sounding pretty Eeyore-esque there, but don't feel sorry for me.  If my son doesn't use up that little jar during the three or four days he's home before he leaves for Army Airborne school, I'm going to whip up some peanut butter cookies--and probably eat them all, too--following an awesome three-ingredient recipe I got from my daughter-in-law: 1 c. peanut butter, 1 c. white sugar, 1 egg; bake for 8 min. at 350.  Mmmm-mmmm!!)

Okay now, for more B & W imagery, click on over to Clan Donaldson.

Pretzel Bread for Lent

I thought I'd try my hand at making homemade soft pretzels to take the place of bread or rolls for our meals during Lent.  You might have heard that the pretzel was originally created by Catholic monks in the 7th century and there is Christian symbolism baked into its design.  For example, the dough was shaped to mimic arms crossed in prayer.  (For further details on the history of the pretzel, you can click on this link.)

Last year, my daughter-in-law made soft pretzels for Lent, and I knew she'd posted a recipe for them on her blog.  Just as I was about to search her archives, I switched gears and decided that I would try to make pretzel rolls or pretzel bread instead.  When I've accompanied my pilot husband on several of his working trips to Europe, I was served warm pretzel rolls with my dinner up in business class (la-di-da, I know), and I don't believe I've ever had any carbohydrate so good-tasting in my whole life (and I've eaten more than my fair share of carbs, believe you me).  So last week, with this great idea of trying to recreate the rolls my husband's airline serves in mind, I went on-line, typed in "pretzel bread recipes," and found this one:  http://allrecipes.com/recipe/pretzel-bread

The process of creating this delightful pretzel bread is a little bit labor-intensive; but if you like to bake as much as I do, and you like a bit of a challenge now and again, I highly recommend that you try it.  Even though I was pretty sure my PB wasn't going to turn out right at all (the dough didn't rise nearly as much as I thought it would), I had success with this recipe on my very first try.

TA-DA!

My loaves didn't come out perfectly round and pretty; but they more than made up for it by tasting better than any homemade bread I'd ever attempted to make before.  Pretzel bread is so unbelievably good!  It truly tastes like a soft pretzel--salty and chewy on the outside, dense on the inside--and if you add butter, it's simply nirvana.

Bon appetit!

My First "7 Quick Takes Friday": Birthday Boys, Brownies, and Books

--- 1 --

Today is the birthday of my youngest son.  He's turning 20, and my oldest is 29, so for the next nine months all five of my boys will be in their 20's.  Together.  Yikes, how did we ever get here?  Certainly, there was a time when my baby never thought he'd catch up to the older brothers he idolized and finally be one of the "big guys."  My first four sons came along in a pack, with only four years and three months separating #1 and #4, and then there was a five year break before the birthday boy joined the ranks.  For so long, the gap seemed huge and unbridgeable.  But it has closed right up over the past few years, and I am beyond thrilled to be able to say that my youngest son and his older brothers are truly the best of friends.

Just thinking of my baby, with his sharp sense of humor (his jokes and impressions often quietly delivered, so that you'll miss them if you aren't within earshot), his drive for excellence in all endeavors, his deep and abiding faith, his tender heart, and his fierce and absolute love for and loyalty to family, makes a lump form in my throat.  I adore this boy--or I suppose now I should say "this man."  He makes his mother proud every single day of his life.  So here's a wish that he'll have a Happy, Happy Birthday with his friends out at Notre Dame.  (And that he won't hold the gift we gave him--a ticket to see the Irish get trounced by Alabama in the BCS championship game--against his dear old mom and dad!)

The birthday boy.  I love his face!

--- 2 ---

And after all that talk about brothers who are best friends in #1, I feel I have to tell you that I am the luckiest mother in the world.  I have had the privilege of raising five sons--five good, strong, moral Catholic men who will be brave warriors in the fight against the forces of evil in the world...five soldiers for Christ.  God blessed me in a special way when he sent me a houseful of boys--and not in the way people meant went they found out about my testosterone-filled household and cried out in pity, "Oh, God bless you!"  (I certainly heard that enough over the years.)   I love those boys.  My sons are not only sweet, and "momma's boys" in the best possible sense of the term, but they're fun to be around, too, and very, very funny.

Mom's boys,  at the wedding of my firstborn in 2009.

--- 3 ---

Okay, now after all that talk about boys in #1 and #2, I must add that there has been no greater joy for this mother of five sons than to become a grandmother to a couple of darling girls--my identical twin granddaughters, who are 19 months old now and with whom I am currently staying.  Papa and I (or "Pop" as they call him) are spending about a week out in Colorado with our oldest son and his wife and our two little buddies, and it is just Heaven on earth, I tell you.  I like to talk about these little girls--a lot!--as you already know if you read my blog on any kind of regular basis.  And I can't recommend twins enough for first-time grandparents.  My husband and I each get to hold a bundle of cuteness at the same time, without having to wait our turn--something we both admit would be difficult for us if we were trying to share one granddaughter!  And while we're on the subject of cuteness: Is there anything in the world cuter than a toddler fresh from the bath, wearing fleecy footed pajamas?  I submit that there is not.

--- 4 ---

I have just read the most amazing book called The Loser Letters, by Mary Eberstadt, a book that my daughter-in-law had checked out of the library and read before I got here, and one that I had planned to read as soon as I could get my hands on a copy.  Wow, what a powerful book!  If you are familiar with The Screwtape Letters, you will be reminded of it when you read this winner of a book.  P.J. O'Rourke writes on the back cover, "As a Christian humorist, Mary Eberstadt is the rightful heir and assignee of C.S. Lewis, and her heroine...is the legitimate child (or perhaps grandchild) of 'the patient' in The Screwtape Letters."  In Lewis's classic tale, a senior devil named Screwtape writes a series of letters giving advice to his novice nephew, Wormwood, on how to win the soul of a man to whom he has been assigned, a man referred to as  "the patient."  By the end of the book, the reader has been shown that even good people, people who call themselves Christians, must be on guard against the devil's constant efforts to separate them from God.  In Eberstadt's destined-to-become-a-classic tale, a modern young woman named A.F. (A Former) Christian writes a series of open letters to the "spokesmen of the New Atheism," advising them on how they should change the way they market their product to the masses, in order to win more souls away from "Loser" (God) and over to the side of the "Brights" (Atheists).  In the course of trying to exhibit how unenlightened the "Dulls" (Christians) are and telling the history of her own conversion from Christian to Atheist, A.F. Christian ultimately gives the most compelling arguments for the existence of God and the necessity of religious belief.  Like Lewis, Eberstadt is a superb satirist with a true literary gift and a razor-sharp wit, and she brilliantly accomplishes the task of unmasking the evils of a God-less culture.  This is a fast read, and I can't recommend it highly enough.

--- 5 ---

I felt like baking something for dessert last night (after all, my third grandchild--who will make his/her appearance in less than two months--has a sweet tooth that needs satisfying, and Grammy is only too happy to spoil him/her in utero), so I went on the Food Network website and found the greatest recipe for homemade brownies EVER (and I've tried a lot of different homemade brownie recipes in my day, mind you).  I wanted to give you a link to the recipe here, but for some reason it's not working; however, if you go to the "Recipes" section of the website and type in a search for "Cocoa Brownies by Alton Brown," you'll find it.  Just make sure to add about 6 oz. of chocolate chips to the batter--because adding chocolate chips to anything can only improve it.  (You know that, don't you?)

--- 6 ---

I have been struggling with different things lately, the specifics of which I am much too private to go into here.  I've been feeling in need of the kind of help that can only come from above.  With thoughts of Lewis' patient and Eberstadt's A.F. Christian in my mind, and knowing that life here on earth can be difficult and only makes sense if I remember that the whole purpose of it is to find a way back to God and everlasting life with Him in Heaven, here is a quote from one of my favorite saints, St. Therese of Lisieux: "The world's thy ship and not thy home."  Indeed, the journey can take you over rough seas, but the destination is worth the trip!

St. Therese, the "Little Flower."

--- 7 ---

Last but not least: This is my first "7 Quick Takes Friday" post.  I've read some other bloggers' Quick Takes (a Friday activity that was created by Jen Fulwiler at her blog, "Conversion Diary"), and they are very interesting and entertaining.  I'm afraid, though, that mine haven't been "quick" enough (not to mention interesting and entertaining enough).  If I do this again, I'll try to make all 7 of my takes a little less wordy!

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Sunday Morning Coffee Cake, "Finger Lakes"-Style

Two days ago, I received my copy of Finger Lakes Feast in the mail.  It is a beautiful, hard-bound cookbook co-authored by Kate Harvey, the young wife of one of my sons' college friends (and my new blogging buddy).  Kate wrote the book with her dad, and her photographer brother provided all the pictures for it.

I haven't had time to really go through it yet, but it looks like a wonderful book.  It's so much more than just a cookbook full of recipes; it also has entertaining anecdotes and interesting information about the Finger Lakes region in Upstate NY, and it is sprinkled throughout with beautiful full-color photos--not just of the savory dishes included, but of the breathtaking part of the country for which it is named.  The book is a true feast for the eyes (as well as the palate).  It's so pretty that I'm afraid to have it out on the counter while I'm cooking.  I tend to be a pretty messy cook (I wouldn't dream of working in the kitchen without an apron!), and I really don't want this book to get splattered upon and stained.  So I think I'm going to photocopy the recipes before I set out to make them, and that way I can keep my copy of Finger Lakes Feast in pristine condition.

Yesterday I tried out a recipe on page 34 called "Sunday Morning Coffee Cake," after reading the irresistible description of a cake that was "light" and filled with "ribbons of sweetness."

Stop right there, I thought.  No need to go on.  You had me at "ribbons of sweetness."

The recipe for "Sunday Morning Coffee Cake" is simple and uses ingredients I always have on hand--and I have a feeling it's one I'm going to make a lot (as cinnamon coffee cake is a must-have item for our Sunday morning egg-and-bacon brunches).  It is supposed to serve 8; so since there are only 3 of us in the house right now (my baby just got back from college for his Christmas break, so the nest is no longer empty!), I decided to freeze it for next Sunday, when I'm going to have a full house.  Because I have a feeling that cake was going to serve just 3 today, with nothing left over.  It looked so scrumptious when I took it out of the oven that I fear we would have just cut it into thirds and inhaled it.

If you're interested in winning a free signed copy of Finger Lakes Feast, go as quickly as you can to this post on Kate Harvey's "Something Ivory" blog.  There's still time left to enter the contest by leaving a comment.  Kate will be announcing the lucky winner tomorrow.

Bon appetit!

Mimi's "Lemon Chicken"

My husband and I returned yesterday from our trip to Upstate NY to visit with my parents. On Friday, my father underwent surgery on his foot, which I wrote about in Friday's post. He did end up having another toe on his right foot amputated, but he is recovering well and due to be released from the hospital today, or possibly tomorrow.  His spirits are high, considering.  (He didn't get all teary-eyed when he got the news that he only had three toes left on his right foot; he laughed--which struck me as an interesting reaction, but that's my dad.  That's Bigfoot for ya.)

One of the hardest things lately as far as my dad is concerned is that he has little-to-no appetite.  He is very picky about what he will eat, and even if you prepare something that appeals to his discriminating palate, he eats like a bird.  This 6'3", big-boned man, who wears size 13 shoes and XXXL hats (the guy who always loomed large, like a giant, throughout my childhood), now eats less than I do.  A lot less.  And we need to get him eating again and put some meat on those bones of his!

My mother ("Mimi" to her grandkids) is always trying to tempt Bigfoot with new recipes, and when she found this chicken recipe I'm about to share with you, she hit the jackpot.  He loved it so much that she ended up making it all the time--and that's how it got the nickname "Mimi's Lemon Chicken."  There is not a speck of lemon juice or lemon zest, or even lemon pepper, in this recipe; it's just that my mom makes it so often that it's like Deborah Barrone's lemon chicken.  You know, from the TV show "Everybody Loves Raymond"...Remember, Deborah's Italian mother-in-law is the great cook, and Deb isn't...but Deb's got this lemon chicken deal that she makes all the time, and Ray pretends to love it...?

If you don't get the reference, you may not have been as hooked on "Everybody Loves Raymond" as I was at one time.  (It got so bad, with all the re-runs constantly showing on different channels, that one year I decided to give it up for Lent!)  Apparently, my parents were a bit hooked on it, too.

Anyhoo--(yes, this is supposed to be a recipe post, not a novel)--here's Mom/Mimi's recipe for "Lemon Chicken."

I have no strict measurements for this recipe.  It's an "as needed" or "to taste" sort of thing. You'll need:

4 chicken breasts, either thin-cut or pounded so that they're thin
canola oil--about 1/4-1/2 cup
butter--about 2-4 Tbsp. (optional, but recommended!)
potato chips--about 1/2 of a regular-sized bag--crushed
a handful of crushed pretzels (optional)
red pepper flakes--to taste
an egg or two
a couple of splashes of soy sauce

Pre-heat oven to 350.

Crush up the potato chips and pretzels in a bowl.  Add some red pepper flakes, to taste--if you like your foods hot and spicy, add a lot; otherwise, go lightly.  (Note: We didn't have pretzels the first night I decided to try this recipe out, so I skipped those and it worked fine without them.*  I just used more chips.  Also, I used kettle-cooked chips, but I'm sure any kind of potato chip would suffice.)

Beat up the egg with some soy sauce.

Heat up the oil and butter in a large frying pan.  (Note: My mom uses just canola oil, to be healthier.  I need to add butter for taste, because butter makes my husband happy.)

Now dip each breast first in the egg mixture and then in the chip mixture, until coated.  Fry them on one side until browned, then place them in a baking dish--fried side up.  Drizzle the remainder of the oil/butter from the pan into the baking dish.

Bake for 1/2 hour at 350, and this is what you get:

YUMMY!  I tried this recipe about two weeks ago, and I've made it four or five times since then...so it's becoming my "lemon chicken," too!

*My version remains a potato-chips-only affair.  This chicken is so good without the pretzels that my hubby and I decided we don't need them!

Raspberry Oat Bars

Yesterday I got the urge to bake my husband "a little something" (his term for a yummy dessert item of some sort).  We were out of chocolate chips, so Toll House cookies--my old standby--were out of the question.  I had the makings for homemade brownies, but without chocolate chips added, brownies are hardly worth eating--don't you agree?  We did have a couple of cans of red raspberry pie filling (or "raspberry goo," as we like to call it) on hand, though; my husband loves it so much that he could eat it right out of the can.  I got thinking about these delicious rhubarb granola bars that my daughter-in-law made while I was out in Colorado with her recently, and I thought maybe I could do something similar with raspberry filling instead of rhubarb.  So I went on-line and found a recipe for raspberry oat bars on Allrecipes.com.  (I've decided that one of the best uses of the Internet is finding recipes!  You can find a recipe for just about any dish under the sun.)  This particular recipe called for 10 oz. of raspberry preserves, which we did have on hand, too.  But I substituted that ingredient for 21 oz. of raspberry pie filling, so I think I can now consider this my very own recipe and post it here on "String of Pearls."

Raspberry Oat Bars


Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Grease a 9 X 13" pan.

Cream together:
3/4 c. softened butter
1 c. packed brown sugar

Mix together dry ingredients:
1 and 1/2 c. rolled oats
1 and 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking powder

Stir dry mixture into creamed mixture.

Press half of the crust mixture into bottom of prepared pan.  Spread the 21 oz. can of raspberry pie filling over the crust.

Crumble the remaining crust mixture over the raspberry layer.

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes in the preheated oven, or until light brown.  Cool completely before cutting into bars.

The part about waiting for it to cool is important; I got impatient to taste this deliciousness and tried to lift out a square too soon.  I ended up with a hot, shapeless, goopy pile of raspberry goo and oats on my plate.  It was yummy to the extreme, however--even though it looked like a mess. (And it would have been even better with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top!)  But later on when it was no longer boiling-lava-hot, I cut a normal piece and this is how it looked:

I'm sure this recipe would be great with rhubarb filling, too--or any flavor of pie filling, for that matter.

Bon appetit! 

Recipe for "Cakeys"

After getting so serious yesterday, and throwing my hat into the political ring where it doesn't belong, I decided I'd better return to my roots today.  When I got this little blog up an running a year or so ago, my goal was to make "String of Pearls" a happy place to go: a place where a reader could find a cute anecdote about my boys in their childhood days, admire an adorable piece of vintage artwork, choke up over a beautiful prayer to Our Blessed Mother, or hear me brag shamelessly about my heroic husband and my gifted granddaughters.  Those are the sorts of topics that I think about when I'm in my happy place--not politics.

When I'm in my happy place, there's definitely coffee involved.  (If I made myself a soothing bubble bath and had lighted candles all along the edge of the tub, the way they always do in movies, I would not be sipping a glass of white wine.  I would be sipping a cup of coffee.)   A funny T.V. show is often involved as well.  (Recently I've been watching re-runs and taped episodes of "Parks and Recreation," and I find myself almost ROTFL-ing.  If you haven't seen that show, check it out!)  A really good book is always welcome, too, of course.  (I'm looking for a good one to read right now.  Any suggestions?)  And I don't know about you, but in this land of no worries, there's usually something sweet to go along with that glorious cup of joe.  A happy place wouldn't be very happy at all without desserts.

So in the spirit of spreading happiness, I thought I'd share a REALLY SIMPLE cookie recipe with you.  These cookies are made with a cake mix, so in this family we've dubbed them "cakeys."

You need only three ingredients:
~one boxed cake mix (yellow or chocolate, your choice)
~1/2 cup of vegetable oil
~2 eggs
Optional, but I strongly, eagerly--vehemently--recommend this addition: chocolate chips, white chocolate chips, or crushed M&M's, either alone or in any combination (here I've used a mixture of chocolate and white chips)*

Mix up the ingredients.  Form the dough into little balls and bake on an ungreased cookie sheet at 350 degrees for about 8 minutes.  And voila!  Cakeys!

You have just made the moistest, yummiest cookies.  (Just make sure you let them cool a bit before you try to transfer them from the baking sheet, because they're very soft when they first come out of the oven.)  It will seem like you slaved in the kitchen over them, but they really are--excuse the pun--a piece of cake to make.  You could powder your face with flour if you want people to think these cookies were a chore for you, like the mom in that old commercial who was making Rice Krispie treats and wanted her family to be impressed with her efforts.  But you really don't have to.  Everyone will love them and they won't care how easy it was to make them.

Enjoy!

*I've never tried peanut butter chips, but I bet they would be great in chocolate cakeys.  Please don't ever add nuts or raisins, though; or if you do, then please don't bring your cakeys into this household and expect anyone to touch them!

Decadently Cheesy Mac & Cheese

I've got a great recipe for homemade mac & cheese that I thought I'd share with you. It's Lent, and we Catholics can't eat meat on Fridays; so if you're Catholic (or a vegetarian, or you just really like cheese) and you're looking for a great meatless main dish, this would do the trick. Just add a green salad and you've got yourself a satisfying meal.

I started with a basic recipe from The Joy of Cooking, but put my own spin on it. I thought it was too dry--not nearly cheesy enough!--so I quadrupled the cheese sauce. Then I added some extra butter and other good things. It's definitely not a diet food...but I promise you, it's to die for. If you have a big group to feed--especially a big group of hungry growing boys--it's almost sure to be a hit. I used to make this for my youngest son's high school lacrosse team potluck dinners, and those boys always attacked the casserole dish the minute it was set down on the table.

First step: you'll need 4 c. of cooked elbow macaroni (a 16 oz. box). Drain it and while it's still hot, add about 1/2 stick of butter to coat the noodles. Then throw in 1/2-3/4 c. shredded parmesan cheese. Set aside.

Make the cheese sauce: in a big saucepan (or perhaps a soup pot), melt 8 Tbsp. butter over medium heat, then add 8 Tbsp. of flour. Stir constantly while this mixture begins to bubble, cooking for about 2 minutes (make sure not to let it get brown). Pour in 4 c. of hot milk and continue stirring until the sauce thickens (about another 2 minutes). Remove from heat and throw in about 4 c. of shredded cheese. (You can use cheddar alone, but I use a mixture of cheddar and Monterrey Jack. You can really use any kind you like.) Add some salt and pepper if you wish (I usually do). Stir until you've got a big old pot of creamy, cheesy deliciousness.

Mix up the macaroni and the cheese sauce: put the buttery parmesan macaroni and the decadent cheese sauce together in a big bowl, and mix with a big spoon until all the noodles are well coated; then scoop the mixture out and spread it into a 9 x 13" glass baking dish.

Top it off: first, with a not-too-thick layer of shredded cheese (that's right--more cheese!). In a bowl, mix 1/2 stick of melted butter and one "sleeve" of crushed Ritz crackers; now sprinkle the cracker crumbs over the top of the shredded cheese.

Okay, it's time to cook your decadently cheesy masterpiece. Bake at 350 degrees for about 30-40 minutes, until you can see the cheese sauce bubbling all over the place and there's just a hint of brown crustiness at the edges of the dish.

Optional: add crisp, crumbled bacon or chunks of ham (unless of course you're Catholic and it's a Friday during Lent). Or lobster! Doesn't that sound divine? Someday I'd like to try adding lobster.

To me, this dish actually tastes even better the second time around--as leftovers, heated up in the microwave.

Enjoy, but don't get on a scale for a couple of days afterward.

Bon appetit!