Friday, April 19, 2013

Outdoor Dining on Hold

Another spring stormstorm has put outdoor dining on a hold. Perhaps it is permanent and we are destined to live forever in a frozen state. A good day to stay inside and bake.
White Island Chocolate Cookies with Macadamia Nuts

Cook’s note: Sometimes the best recipes are the ones you will find on the wrappers of a food item. This yummy crunchy cookie recipe was found on the back of Nestle Premier White Morsels. I loved the addition of toasted coconut with Macadamia nuts. I actually followed this recipe. Imagine that!

Makes 2 dozen
Ingredients:
  • 1-2/3 cup flour
  • ¾ tsp. baking powder
  • ½ tsp. baking soda
  • ½ tsp. salt
  • 1 stick of butter plus ½ stick of margarine for a total ¾ cup (note if use all butter cookie gets too greasy when baked)
  • ¾ cup brown sugar
  • 1/3cup sugar
  • 1 tsp. vanilla
  • 1 large egg
  • 2 cups white chocolate morsels
  • 1cup-toasted coconut
  • ¾ cup chopped macadamia nuts or walnuts

Directions:
  • Combine flour, salt, baking soda and baking powder in a bowl and set aside
  • Beat butter, both sugars and vanilla till creamy
  • Beat in egg
  • Add in dry ingredients and mix well
  • Fold in nuts, coconut and chips
  • Chill in freezer 1 hour
  • Preheat oven 375
  • Roll dough into 2-inch balls and space 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheet
  • Bake 10-12 minutes cool on a wire rack
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I found some "light" poems I know kids will like as Young People's Poetry Week winds down.

Lost Poems
Anonymous
I wrote a bunch of poems,
stapled them together,
took them to a friend’s house.

But they somehow slipped
through the floorboards
and disappeared.

I never got those poems back.
I tried to rewrite them
But they weren’t the same.

One night two months later,
sleeping at my friend’s house,
we heard restless sounds,

strange little noises
that my friend insisted
were nothing but squirrels or mice.

But I pictured my lost poems
scurrying on little feet
between the floors.

Squished Squirrel Poem

Anonymous
I wanted to write about
a squished squirrel
I saw on the road
near my house last week.

You can’t write a poem
about a squished squirrel,
my teacher said to me.
I mean, you just can’t do it.

Pick a sunrise or an eagle
Or a dolphin, he suggested.
Pick something noble
to lift the human spirit.

I tried. I really did. But I kept
Coming back to that squirrel.
Did his wife send him out
To fetch some food or something?

There was blood and guts
but here’s what really got me:
he had pretty dark eyes
and they glistened still.

You can’t write a poem
about a squished squirrel,
my teacher insisted,

But I don’t think that’s true.



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