Little Mocha Oreo Cheesecakes

I used my husband's birthday to make little individual cheesecakes.  He does like cheesecake, but I'm not sure how he feels about Oreos.  I can tell you the children love Oreos, but I don't necessarily. However, these little cheesecakes turned out quite delicious.

My in-laws gave us a package of Oreos some time back, and I stuck it in the back of the pantry because why.  Because I don't buy Oreos, and I don't know how to just hand out Oreos to a hungry kid?  Because Oreos are boring?  But if I use Oreos as an ingredient, nay, as a crust for a little mini cheesecake?  Now that's more enticing.

When I was buying my two blocks of cream cheese at market, I mentioned to the friendly girl who tells me about her new puppy that I was planning to make these little cheesecakes.  She immediately remembered her mom making such cheesecakes, but mocha flavor.  I took note.

I can't even link to the recipe I used because I combined several traditional recipes after googling "individual Oreo cheesecakes."  And no way was I going to crush up Oreos and bake them with butter first to make a crust - people, please, I have a toddler who was thrilled to drop whole Oreos in the bottom of the muffin papers, taking bites occasionally while saying in her serious, sweet voice, "We are not eating dem - we are just putting dem in dere."

I divided the cheesecake batter in half.  To one half, I added a hefty teaspoon of instant decaf espresso powder.  To the other half, I added crushed Oreos.  Then I layered each batter on top of the Oreos in the muffin cups. Bake them, chill them, done.

Now I have a whole bag of little candy canes that my children picked off the ground at the park one night in somebody's terribly misbegotten idea of a fun holiday activity for children.  My children know me well enough to know they were never going to eat more than a few, but what in heaven's name do I do with all these boring, plastic-wrapped stupid candy canes? 

An Unexpected Thanksgiving

I've been through colds with my children before, but never have I seen them sink so dramatically from robust health into pneumonia (Ben) and prolonged fever and coughing that stumps the doctors, even after labs and bloodwork (Genevieve). Phoebe continues to cough and cry.  I continue in health, thank God, because someone has to make tempting snacks and tea and new bribes for forcing liquids at all hours, piling up the little dishes and cups in the sink and washing washing washing laundry and dishes. And don't forget the myriad runs to various medical establishments (my husband had to go on a 2-day business trip in there, too) and food stores to coax the healthy color back into the sickies' faces again.

We realized the necessity of canceling all Thanksgiving plans with extended family on Wednesday afternoon.  Sitting with Genevieve in the hospital lab, I quickly sketched a menu that I thought could work to make Thanksgiving at home traditional and doable. I flew down to market, forgetting its holiday hours, and got there in time to see it shuttered.  I begged the meat stand to quickly sell me something, anything, and got a chicken just before he drove off.  There was just one produce stand with all its boxes packed, but Laura dug through her boxes in full sympathy and good cheer to find what I needed. 

For years, I have wished to cook an entire Thanksgiving feast with everything exactly to my taste, recipes researched, rejected, and chosen with care, ingredients gathered for weeks ahead, and linens fussed over and prepped.  And here I was, thrown into my own feast in less than 24 hours with lethargic children coughing in the other room. 

So I am thankful for things I was not expecting to be thankful for this season: for skilled doctors who use their diagnostic tools well, sympathetic nurses, supportive parents and family who jump in with childcare and errands, the relative health and incremental recovery of my children, an abundance of food from kind market sellers, and all the big things that underpin our lives that I can take for granted.

What are you thankful for this season?

Portraits of a 12-Year-Old

For God created her inmost being;

God knit her together in my womb.

I praise God because she is fearfully and wonderfully made;

God's works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

Her frame was not hidden from God

when God made her in the secret place,

when she was woven together in the depths of the earth.

God's eyes saw her unformed body;

All the days ordained for her were written in God's book

before one of them came to be.

Psalm 139:13-16 but I changed the voice/pronouns

And that's a Bonnie Butter marble cake from Betty Crocker's cookbook that she made entirely herself and tinted the yellow part pink.  It was delicious.

East of Eden

I took the kids down to Eden, NC to be spoiled by my aunts and uncle.  That and the craziness that is August accounts for the blog silence here.

My parents drove us down in their van that has a blessed TV/DVD with headphones, and altogether the kids were outnumbered by adults so that made for a good vacation.

 I asked Aunt Maggie to model the apron I made her (so charming with her gingham shirt).  Here she is standing next to a giant rosemary bush that is the envy of my Northern, newbie-gardening heart. Her gardens are full of whimsy and fun, just like her.

 Uncle John David grows fantastic melons, among other things. He let Ben drive the tractor. The kids also had access to any number of tablets and phones from the indulgent adults, and that plus the uncounted s'mores make a great vacation for them.

I got to go schnausing with my aunts and mom in the afternoons, while Dad reigned over the kids back at the farm (I have the best dad!).  Schnausing is a family word (I think) that means driving around looking for cute little shops, pretty towns, pretty scenery, snacky eats, and hijinks; in my extended family, this is done by the women on vacation.  It's the only time I shop for entertainment, without a list, and in the company of my mom and her giddy sisters, it is so fun. [Edit:  Aunt Maggie says the made-up word is spelled "snausing."]

 We also take walks, and sometimes burst into hymns.

Relatives, Permaculture, and Hot Dogs

We went to visit Uncle Ron and Aunt Elena on a little trip.  They spoiled us.  We sat up late on their cozy front porch, talking, and made delicious food together (apparently Phoebe was sitting up on the counter licking the cake batter bowl, but I was out on a bike ride and didn't see it).  We visited the SteelStacks together, a lively place with fascinating history.

One of the books I had along to read was Gaia's Garden, recommended by Amanda Soule. I like the idea of permaculture, and this second edition has a chapter on urban permaculture which is making me think and consider. I think I also understand why my dear friend was looking for stacks of newspapers when she started her garden (to mulch!  mulch everything!).

I have a lot to learn in gardening, so I was especially fascinated by Aunt Elena's gardens.  She mixed veggies and herbs in with her flowers.  She composts her scraps in one of the ways Gaia's Garden mentions:  just put the stuff in the ground and let it go.  Her soil sample tested beautifully last year.  And she has little broken bits of china here and there in the sweetest way. I adore the mix of order and whimsy in her garden:  not perfect and prissy, but definitely cared for, definitely abundant and happy.

On the drive home, we stopped at Yocco's Hot Dogs.  My hot dog quest continues! I wasn't seeking out a hot dog joint - we just needed somewhere fast to get food that hopefully wasn't a chain and hopefully before the toddler lost her mind.  My husband remembered that foodie friends had worshiped at the Yocco's shrine, so we wanted to check it out.  The hot dogs were fine - good, sure - but my attention was caught by their steamed buns. I had never heard of steamed buns before a commenter on my Patagonian hot dog post mentioned Chicago-style hot dogs, and I went googling off to do some research.

Yocco's clearly is an institution and has a loyal following.  I always love when people make a fuss about food - it immediately becomes a goal of mine to track down the food and taste it.

Fifteen Degrees Cooler at the River

The cold river water cools the air above it and sends that cool breeze along the floodplain.  And here, there are lots of tall trees to sink the area in green shade.  Refreshing and so welcome after a picnic with friends!

In the twilight, I could feel the hot concrete and macadam exhaling its heat as we drove back into the city.  But our skin was still cool from the river water.