Chocolate Monday: Godiva G Collection

A few years ago while I was living in Florida, Godiva launched their G collection. I saw the picture in the catalog and was entranced. I knew I had to have the beautiful looking chocolates. It didn’t matter that the closest Godiva retailer was 45 minutes away or that 15 chocolates cost a whopping $48, I was on a mission. The only problem was that the nearest Godiva was actually a kiosk that had a limited selection of  their regular line of chocolate. Turns out the closest Godiva store actually selling the special chocolates was at the Mall at Millenia, over 90 minutes away.

But, like I said, I was on a mission, so my husband (then my fiancee) and I set off. Since we were already going so far out of our way, we decided to swing by Universal Studios for a few hours, catch a movie and then walk around the giant mall. Minutes after entering the door, we realized Godiva was probably the only shop we’d be able to afford anything in. We were right, but that was fine with me. While I had fun walking around, my only goal was to get a G collection, and I did.

I don’t remember much about the specific flavors. I mean it was 5 years ago. I remember that I liked most of them though. About three years ago, I once again saw an ad for the G collection. This time it promised two new flavors, so I once again had to try. I had moved and was only 5 minutes from a boutique, but yet again, it was not one of the stores scheduled to get the collection. This time I resorted to mail order. I waited with great anticipation for my delicious treats. The second time around, I was a bit disappointed. I think I had built it up a bit too much in my head.

Now, just a little while ago, I saw the ad again. This time though, it was on sale for almost half price and since I’m a member of the Godiva frequent buyer club, shipping was free. I couldn’t resist.

The collection hadn’t changed since the last time I’d bought one. And like anything, there were hits and misses for me. I guess I’ll break it up into my bottom 5, the middle 5 and top 5. Let’s start at the bottom.

My least favorites in this collection are the wild Bolivian dark chocolate, rootbeer, Vermont maple walnut, Bananas Foster and Mexican hot chocolate. This is in part because I’m not a huge fan of some of the flavors. The dark Bolivian piece is basically a dark chocolate ganache, and I just don’t care much for dark chocolate unless it is paired with a really tart filling. This one was creamy and not as bitter or harsh as most dark chocolate pieces, but still a bit too bitter for me. The Mexican piece was very festive to look at and not as spicy as I feared. It left just a little burn after I finished it, but it was a bit too bitter for me. In all fairness to the rootbeer piece, I don’t like rootbeer. The vanilla and white chocolate do help to mellow the rootbeer flavor, but just not enough for me. The same is true for the banana piece. I love bananas, but do not like anything with artificial banana flavor, so this one just isn’t for me. Finally, the maple piece was just too overwhelming to me. The maple was drippy, hard to eat in bites and just too overpowering.

My middle tier includes the caramel macchiato, praline crunch, pb & j, Tasmanian honey and Tahiatian vanilla. I didn’t expect to like the macchiato piece. I am not a fan of coffee at all. I don’t like the smell and abhor the taste. However, this piece, which had a really neat copper, metalic sparkly airbrush look, it tasted far more of caramel than of coffee, which made it tolerable to me. The praline crunch tasted like the majority of Godiva’s regular pieces. It was definitely crunchy, but not exactly in a good way. It tasted a little wierd in my mouth. The pb & jwas surprisingly good. I’m not a fan of the actual sandwich, so I didn’t expec to like this one. However, the peanut butter is quite creamy. It mixed well with the strawberry jam inside. I may hate the real thing, but with a fine chocolate shell, I find it tasty. As with most honey pieces, this one just wasn’t tangy or sweet enough for me. I really like the honeycomb pattern on top, but honey is just not sweet enough to be paired with dark chocolate. I think in milk chocolate, I would have enjoyed this one much more. Finally, the vanilla piece was ok. It had a distinctive taste that reminded me a bit more of coconut than of vanilla. It was creamy, but not overly vanilla flavored, which threw me a little.

My favorites from this collection include the passion orange, tart raspberry, salted caramel, apple pie and lemon drop pieces. The passion piece is probably the pretties (and the biggest) piece. It is shaped like a large heart with lovely shades of orange all over it. It has a very vanilla taste. I love the little flecks of vanilla bean inside it and the white chocolate is a great pairing. There is only a hint of orange, but it has a nice custardy texture. Raspberry is always one of my favorite flavors. I admit I felt a bit cheated with this piece because Godiva’s raspberry cordial is one of the most amazing candies I’ve ever put in my mind. I think I expected a bit much. But, to do justice to this piece, it is quite good. It’s nice and tart. This is the flavor I don’t mind being paired with dark chocolate. It makes it even better. The caramel wasn’t really anything fancy, but that’s ok, I like caramel. It was a bit of a runny caramel with a slightly smokey flavor, but I enjoyed it. The apple pie does taste like apple pie filling. The white chocolate shell is a bit overpowering, but I think it’s the best choice for the apple filling.

My favorite piece, hands down though, is the lemon drop. It also has a white chocolate shell, but it is so thin, it’s hardly important. What is, is the taste. It reminds me a bit of the key lime truffle Godiva makes, except it isn’t tempered with dark chocolate. It is tart like an actual lemon drop. While still a truffle-like consistancy is fairly solid, so it tastes like a giant tart ball of creamy lemon happiness. Discounted, the collection is worth it just for these last five pieces.

Honestly, if the collection wasn’t on sale, I wouldn’t have bought it again. Many of the pieces are quite tasty, but similar tastes can be found in several of their regular truffles at a fraction of the cost. For those who like fancy chocolates and haven’t tried it yet, I do suggest it, but like I said, only if you get it on sale.

Chocolate Monday: With a twist

Ok, so I’m taking a little break from chocolate. Not that I don’t still love it, but in the spirit of fall and Halloween, I want to mention a seasonal favorite of mine: caramel apples.

Now I have been a fan of this delicious mixing of fruit and candy since the first time one was put into my hand in early childhood. I have fond memories of my mom buying caramel apple kids, which were basically large circles of pressed caramel and sticks. She would also buy several apples and we’d come home, lay out the caramel disks, wrap our apples up, stab ‘em with sticks and indulge.

I didn’t have to have my caramel apples on sticks either. Once, after going to a church alternaween celebration (basically kids games in our churh parking lot where we still got to dress up in non-scary costumes and win our candy along with religious tracks about the evils of Halloween) and winning a ton of caramels, I got my mom to cut apple slices for me and alternated between taking a bite of caramel and a bite of apple. Not quite as joyous as the one on a stick, but it worked in a pinch.

In my teen years I sort of  forgot about my childhood treat. They weren’t around anywhere and I never went out of my way to combine them. I’m actually not sure I had one between the ages of 14-22. It wasn’t until an ex took me to a pumpking patch (something I’d never actually seen during my childhood in Southern California). It was there I rediscovered caramel apples.

My yearly trip to the patch meant not only a great pumpkin to carve and a slider slushy (bees optional), but also at least one piece of caramel heaven.

This year I not only got my regular apple at my usual patch, but had one brought to me by a student from another local patch. Then, since I got so many apples to make cobblers and cakes with, I also grabbed a tub of caramel dip made by Concord Foods.

One thing I’ve never understood about people who make caramel apples is why they would use red delicious or other mealy apples underneath the actual caramel. It ruins the whole taste. All good caramel apples should be made from tart apples. And yet, it always amazes me when I bite into an apple and it’s, well, not even a bit sweet.

So this time, my first apple was pretty good. I was a bit worried when I looked at the bottom of the apple and saw it was red. Red apples often spell trouble in the taste world. However, it did have a hint of sweetness to it that saved it. While not the best apple I’ve ever had, it was pretty tasty. I was, a little disappointed with the amount of caramel that stuck on the plastic wrap, but I fixed that by basically eating the caramel off of it.

The second apple was definitely a tarter apple. The problem with this one is that almost half the caramel came off in the wrapper, which was basically like a cupcake wrapper. Who wraps caramel in paper? That just isn’t going to work. Once again, I found myself gnawing through paper to try to get all of the caramel off. It didn’t work.

The biggest disappointment to me though, was the cut up apple and dip. The dip was great. Good caramel flavor. Nice and creamy. The problem was the apple. Despite being labelled a golden delicious, it had no hint of tartness to it. It didn’t ruin it exactly, but it definitely put a damper on my caramel apple experience. I’m hoping that at least a few of the other apples I have in my bags will be a bit sweeter. If not, I might have to make a trip to the store.

The best part about the dip is that my caramel apple experience gets to continue for at least another week or so. Plus, there’s always next year.

Toddling on my last nerve

I’ve never been a fan of corporal punishment, but my two year old is making me rethink my entire belief system. Now I’m not trying to start some sort of debate about the pros and cons of spanking. I am not writing to praise or villify any parent. I’m only speaking from my perspective, and all I can say is that my patience is wearing thin.

I don’t really remember being physically punished as a child. I can count the number of times either of my parents raised a hand to me on one hand, with fingers to spare. If I got spanked more than the once I remember, well, I don’t remember it. My parents were always bigger on punishments like standing in the corner, grounding and the dreaded “talking to”–which, with my dad could last an hour or more. Granted, most of these punishments were when I got a bit older, but they are the ones I remember.

My husband, on the other hand, got spanked. And often from what I can tell. I think there may have even been a belt involved. I haven’t asked many questions. He knows I’m a pretty strong believer in not hitting kids, and he hasn’t really pushed the issue. He remembers his spankings, very well.

To spank or not to spank, isn’t really the issue here. My issue is with an amazingly willful two and a half year old. He can be the sweetest child on the planet. He loves cuddling up with me under a blanket and reading or watching Sesame Street. He wraps his arms around me for big hugs and tells me he loves me. He has no problems giving me (or most people he knows well) kisses. He laughs, he jokes, he’s great…like 80% of the time.

Then, there’s the other 20%, like tonight. We had a great day. I picked him up from the sitter and he was so excited to see me he wrapped those tiny arms around me and just hugged. We talked and sang all the way home. At the grocery store he helped me carry the basket and stayed right with me, no problems. We snuggled and watched Thomas the Train. We ate a great dinner. We even made it to Lowe’s to get paint for his new room.

All was well until it was time for bed. Usually he puts up no fight. When his timer goes off he heads back and we get teeth brushed, jammies on and stories read. Sure, he may lay in his bed and talk to himself for an hour, but he’s fine with it. Tonight he ran from us. We had to pry his Play-Doh out of his hand and I had to pick him up and carry him literally kicking and screaming to his room.

When I tried to change his diaper on his bed (I’m four months pregnant and getting up while I’m not really showing, I’m starting to feel pregnant and getting up and down off the floor is not so fun), he threw a real whopper of a temper tantrum. I tried explaining that I was hurting and couldn’t change him on the floor. It only seemed to raise his ire. He screamed and yelled. He told me, “you will not change me here.” My husband had to hold him down and even then I barely managed to get another diaper on him. It was awful.

My husband finally squirted a little water on him in an attempt to break the tantrum, which kind of worked. He forgot about his diaper issues and was, instead, balling because he got wet. Then he clung to me and sobbed for a few minutes. We spoke soothingly to him, rubbed his back and he calmed down. He even let me put him right back on the dreaded bed to get his jammies on. He brushed his teeth with no fuss. He was even excited about stories with my husband.

I have no idea what happened, but for about five minutes, a demon inhabited my home.

This is true at least once a day. Usually I’m lucky and my husband is home to help with it. Sometimes he throws a fit like that in Khol’s (after he’s been grabbed and carried because he decided it’d be fun to run away down and hide in the aisles). He’s taken to saying things like “I’m tired of this” and “You don’t talk to me like that” in very loud and harsh tones. Just like all two year olds, he’s also fond of the the word “no.”

Maybe I’m just taking this all too hard because I am pregnant and exhausted 90% of the time. I see other kids his age and their behavior seems equally attrocious at times, so I know it’s not just my kid. I just worry that this lovely phase is going to outlast my fairly cool level headedness. I’m getting a tad bit hormonal and I’m not sure how that’s going to manifest itself. Last pregnancy I just had obnoxious students to take it out on. This time around I have those and a toddler who thinks he’s a teenager.

Sigh…someone tell me this will pass.

Chocolate Monday: Godiva Berry Boats

I have a weakness for fruit. When you add chocolate to that fruit, well, I’m in heaven. One of my favorite treats from Godiva is a chocolate “boat” filled with fruit. The idea is simple. Make a little cup of chocolate–theirs comes in dark, milk or white chocolate. Then, while it’s still firming up, they stick in a variety of fruits. They have boats with just raspberries or just blueberries, but I prefer the one with the mix of raspberries, blueberries and blackberries. Then they drizzle chocolate all over the top of it.

My favorite way to eat the treat is raspberries last. They’ve always been one of my favorite fruits. Now, I love them when they are dried and covered in chocolate, they are even better when completely fresh and surrounded by chocolate. Even when I’m trying to be unbiased, I have to say, these little goodies are AMAZING.

The boats are a nice departure from Godiva’s truffles, caramels and filled treats. Although Godiva’s centers always taste good, there is something extraordinary about the freshness of real fruit.

I give these a 10/10. They are a bit pricey, at $4.50 each, but totally worth it. Yummy!

Chocolate Monday: Rock Bottom’s hot fudge cake

I really, really should be grading right now. I don’t have time for this post at all, and yet, I’m feeling a tad bit guilty about not posting in over a week. I’m also feeling bad for not sticking to my pseudo-promise of actually doing a Chocolate Monday post once a week.

To be honest though, between work and my current pregnancy, chocolate is not high on my list. Yeah, I know, this sounds ridiculous. Afterall, my love affair with chocolate has been long standing. Right now I have half a shelf in my fridge full of chocolate from all sorts of great companies, and yet, I don’t really want to eat any of it. I’m really hoping this is just a temporary thing. I mean sure, for my waistline losing my addiction might be a good thing, but man, I don’t want this pregnancy to change my love for the creamy heavenly treat. That’s like changing me.

As usual though, I digress.

Despite letting my chocolate on my shelf gather rather than gobbling it up, last night I decided to try a little chocolate fix. Rock Bottom has a fall special of sorts. Like a lot of chain restaurants trying to stay afloat in this day an age, they are offering three course meals for lowered prices. They have a selection of about 6 appetizers, 6 entrees and 4 desserts. I decided on the spinach dip, chicken pot pie and the mini hot fudge cake.

Due to some horrible service, our meal took over 45 minutes to get to us. Thankfully it was really tasty, but after being in the place for close to an hour and a  half, my two year old was getting antsy, so I got my cake to go.

I didn’t get to eat it until an hour or so later, so my hot fudge wasn’t really hot. I thought about heating it up, but didn’t want to melt the whipped cream that came in my little container. So, I risked it and ate it cold.

Even cold, the fudge was good. The cake was moist and fudgy. It reminded me just a bit of these Little Nemo pudding cakes I used to buy when I first started teaching. The fudge was just sweet enough…not too rich. The whipped cream wasn’t quite as amazing as the stuff I get on my drinks at the Border’s cafe*, but it was the right finishing touch.

Since the meal had been so filling, I didn’t have much room left for dessert. I’m glad I did get it to go because it might have been wasted at the restaurant (or I might have had to share). However, it was so good that despite not feeling like my stomach could take anymore, I kind of wanted more. It was the perfect size for the meal though.

While I’m not a huge fan of chains, I do have to give Rock Bottom some major props. The chicken pot pie was flakey, creamy and full of veggies (including pea pods). I kept eating long after I should because it was so good and still had enough leftover for lunch. And the cake was fantastic, almost worth the rotten wait to get it. Next time I might try a different starter, but overall I call it a success.

Rock Bottom’s hot fudge cake gets a 9/10 from me. Tasty!

The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

So I realize I didn’t get an entry in for Chocolate Monday. Sorry about that, but despite having a fridge full of chocolate (it really does fill about half a shelf in my fridge), I just haven’t been in a very chocolatey mood lately. In fact, the last two weeks or so, I’ve just sort of been in a mood. And not a good one either.

I’ve had a headache on and offf again for awhile now. I’m trying not to take too many pills for them, and the only thing that really seems to work for any extended period of time is sleeping. At least when I wake up in the morning, it’s gone. Usually though, it comes back.

Today was no exception. Of course, it might have been brought on by some students who decided today was the day to cross lines.

First period started off ok. One computer program gave us a tad bit of trouble and my kids seemed to think that meant they didn’t have to do anything. I had to remind them the internet was still working, so they could do the first part of the assignment. When I began the short lecture I got the usual mix of interest and drooping eyelids. This doesn’t bother me so much. Twelve years have helped to accustom me to interest mixed with apathy.

It was when they had time to practice the lesson that I got annoyed. Most of them were done, so they started talking. I can handle a little talking if the work is done. It’s the subjects I was distrurbed by. Several of my freshmen girls decided my class was the best time to talk about their sexual prowess. The upperclassmen did not join in. In fact, a few of them made comments about how wrong they thought it was (not in an overly moral way, but in a “hey, that’s really slutty” way). I don’t know why it is, but as the years go by, it seems the kids care less and less what teachers know about their lives. They don’t seem to realize that I don’t want to know about their sex lives. Nor should I.

I tried to talk to them about the reputations they were making for themselves both with their peers and their teachers. One decided to be cute as she walked out and announce that she really doesn’t care what anyone else thinks about her. Now, I know this will sound fuddy duddy of me, but I never would have wanted my teachers to think I was a slut. I talked to my friends about personal things either on the phone or when we hung out. I didn’t do it in class where anyone could hear me.

Things just got worse as the day progressed. My second period class, who are always squirrelly were in rare form today. They were loud, obnoxious and uncooperative. I realize grammar isn’t really exciting, but it was one of three activities and they couldn’t even kind of focus. They had comments for everything. They were trying to talk across the room. They were just rude and I got sick of it. So I stopped teaching. I assigned pages and told them to teach themselves the skills. The room was pretty dead silent after that, but it didn’t make me feel better. It made me more upset.

I had a confrontation with a kid who has missed 13 days of school and keeps asking to go to the nurse. I was told not to let her go unless she was puking, so I told her no when she asked. She pulled major attitude, stomped off to her desk and threw a hissy.

Then I was so stressed by the rotten behavior and parent emails I had to catch up on, that I forgot to do the one thing one of my best friends (who was out for a conference) asked me to do. I remembered after lunch, but luckily her kids figured it out. They picked up the slack for me.

I got stuck at school longer than needed trying to help another teacher with a computer issue.

By the time I was close to home, I was done. I just wanted to sink into my chair and watch hours of Veronica Mars. Since I knew that wouldn’t happen with a two year old, I did the next best thing: I decided to have a comfort dinner. I made a quick stop at the grocery store to pick up a bag of Lay’s salt and vinegar chips to complete the meal.

So tonight, after playing with my son in the basement for about an hour (which actually consisted of me laying on the futon while he rode his little train and watched Bee Movie), I headed to the kitchen to cook up some generic Steak ‘Ems. Now, I know the box has what looks like a Philly cheesesteak on the front, but that’s not how I roll. Long ago, in a galaxy far, far less nutritious than my current one, my mom made up a Steak ‘Ems sandwich. Well, I don’t know for sure she invented it, but I have yet to meet another living soul who eats this, so I’m giving her credit.

The sandwich is simple: one to two Steak ‘Ems (there are two layers per slice, so I separate mine), mozzarella cheese and pita bread. Cook the meat and microwave the pita for 30 seconds. Cut a small piece off the top of the pita so it can be opened up like a pocket. Stuff in first layer of Steak ‘Ems. Top with cheese. Then add second layer of meat and another of cheese. Top with ketchup (and continue to add ketchup as needed when it vanishes from the layer you are eating. Simple. Fattening. Disgusting sounding. But tasty!

Coupled with about 1/4 bag of Lays salt and vinegar chips and a side dish of spinach (with lots of butter and salt), it was the perfect terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day dinner. It was ready in under 5 minutes. It reminded me of simpler times and it tasted great. Especially when washed down with a Cherry Coke.

I have to admit, it did make my day just a hint better. It also made my headache go away. At least for a little while.

Chocolate Monday: Good Humor Chocolate Eclair bars

My son has this Little Golden book he got in a collection when he was first born. The collection, is full of “classic” stories. One of them is called The Good Humor Man. Now, I had a lot of Little Golden books as a child, but I don’t remember ever seeing this one. The copywrite date is 1964, so I guess it is classic, since it predates me.

The story itself is sort of a big ad for Good Humor ice cream. I say sort of because I find it hard to believe that even in the trippy 60’s, there was a flavor of ice cream called raspberry-strawberry-marshmallow mash. Or for that matter, I can’t believe butterscotch-apricot-coconut chip ever actually existed. The book does show how the Good Humor man and his ice cream products (no matter how gross they sound), bring everyone together. It’s cute and harmless, but I have to admit that it did make me a tad bit hungry.

Minutes after I read it to him the other day, I heard the familiar tinkle of our local ice cream man’s bell. I found myself scanning the room for my purse and  contemplating running out to the curb to buy myself a treat. But I knew there was a good chance the ice cream man wouldn’t have what I really wanted, so I let it pass right by.

Today, while doing my weekly grocery shopping though, I happened to glass across the aisle at just the right moment to see the treat I’d been craving: Good Humor Chocolate Eclair bars. Without a second of hesitation, I pulled the door open, grabbed a box and dropped it in my cart. I was on my way to chocolatey goodness.

As a kid I had two favorite ice cream truck treats, Bomb pops and Chocolate Eclairs. I know some kids really dug that freaky foot with the bubblegum toe. Others swore by the ice cream sandwich, but not me, I either wanted overally sugary sweet (my favorite part of the Bomb pop was the white lemonady center) or I wanted chocolatey goodness and unlike the rather boring sandwich, the eclair bar had a center of chocolate and tiny little chocolate cookie crunchies all over it. It was heaven.

Was is the operative word here. Today after lunch, I found myself still a might peckish, so I reached in and pulled out one of my shopping spoils. The first thing I noticed when I tore the package off is that the crispies looked a little sparser and not nearly as chocolatey as I remember. There were far more of the white crumbles than the brown ones. The ice cream itself looked a bit sickly pale, but I didn’t let that stop me.

I took a bite and was relieved to still find the chocolate center I’d loved as a kid. The only problem was that every part of it just tasted a little, well, flat. The crunchies weren’t very crunchy. The chocolate wasn’t as rich as I remembered. It was perfectly acceptable, but not the holy grail of ice cream bars I remembered from my childhood.

As I found myself biting nearer and nearer the stick, I started to wonder if my disappointment was due to a change in the recipe or from faulty memories. After all, getting something from the ice cream truck was always a treat, which was in turn, always shared with friends. It was summer and freedom. It was staying up late. It was cartwheels in the front lawn and swimming in the pool. It was also heaven.

I’m not sure the actual taste of the ice cream has lots its luster, nearly so much as the memory of it has. No doubt it was always mast produced cheap ice cream on a stick, just made better by all that came with it. It makes me a little sad. Especially since I have 5 more bars in the fridge. Now, I’m not saying I won’t eat the rest of them. It’s just that each one will taste slightly bitter in comparison with my 10 year-old tongue.

Overall, I’d say a 5/10. Sigh….

Chocolate Monday: Fannie May

I was first introduced to Fannie May when, well, I’m pretty sure it was when I was born. My mother might have melted their Mint Meltaways and mixed them in with my bottles. For those not familiar with the company, it is based in Illinois and if you grew up in Northern Indiana, Fannie May was nearly as popular as Hershey’s. Well, at least in my house.

One year, not long after I’d broken up with somone, I stopped by their store just outside the mall and bought a two pound box of heart shaped chocolates. Since it was the day after Valentine’s Day, I got it for half price, which made it just a tad bit sweeter.

I was very sad to find out they were going out of business back in 2004. I got to the store just in time to see all the notes of regret from former customers. I thought I’d hit the jackpot when I found my favorite of their candies, Trinidads in a Walgreen’s. I bought about two dozen and froze them. I ate them slowly and methodically.

Luckily the company was back in business just a little while later. At first it seemed the recipes weren’t quite the same, so I shied away from them. Last year they opened a shop back up in my local mall, so I stopped in for a taste. The recipes seemed to be back to normal, which made me happy.

So for this post, I thought I’d grab a few and try them out again. Even though they are covered in a pastel coconuty coating, they are filled with a fudgy, chocolatey center. It’s a bit of a heavier chocolate than I usually like. It is, however, very creamy and quite tasty. The light coating helps offset the rich chocolate, which I think is what makes it so tasty to me. I’ll admit that I can only eat one or two at a times tops because they are so rich, but that’s no doubt better for my waistline.

The second candy I tried was something new for me, but probably Fannie May’s most famous candy: The Pixie. From the description, Pixies are basically Turtles. It seems most candy companies make them, even though they all call them something different. Heck, even I make them around Christmas time. Every catalog I’ve ever seen from Fannie May seems to focus on the Pixie though, so I thought I should try it out.

The pecans are small and chopped up instead of the full pecans I’m used to. It takes a little bit of the crunch away, but does seem to allow more of the chocolate taste to come through. The problem for me with the Pixie is that the caramel is not as rich and buttery as I’d like. It’s very stringy caramel, which is nice, since these types of candies are often very hard to eat due to their rock hard caramel. To be honest, I find these cornerstones of their product line to be ok. Nothing fancy or great, but tasty enough. I’ve definitely had better. Heck, I think mine are better (and cheaper for me to make).

The last treat I tried doesn’t actually contain chocolate, so I feel a bit false mentioning it, but I have a huge soft spot for toffee. Fannie May makes two kinds of hard toffee–one coated in chocolate and one coated in the coconut pastel coating the Trinidad comes in. Since I like the coating on the Trinidad so much, I opted for that coating rather than my usual chocolate finish.

Now, this toffee is full of nuts, which is not something I’m used to. Once again, I’m used to my husband’s homemade toffee which is the one dish I can always bully him in to making and I happen to think is amazing. Honestly, I think I like toffee better without the nuts inside. It allows my to get a much bigger butter taste, which I do love in toffee. This toffee is very chewy. I expect toffee to get stuck in my teeth, but this seems to get stuck in a more uncomfortable way. I can’t quite explain it, but it feels a bit like the toffee is melting into the tops of my teeth.

All in all, the toffee is decent. Not my favorite, but much like the Pixie, still tasty. And the Trinidad’s are good enough that they make the trip to Fannie May worth it. The company actually makes a Trinidad cheesecake which I was very tempted to buy. I think I may have to pick one up at a later date and write another post about it.

Overall, I’d give Fannie May a 7.5/10. Trinidads get an increased 9.5/10.

More breastfeeding snobbery

Every now and again I like to check my blog stats. I’ll admit it gets me excited when I see the line graph which tracks the number of hits I get per day rising rather than falling. I glance at which posts seem to be getting the most attention and who is referring people to my site. I also get a kick out of looking at what search terms bring people to my site. Sometimes they are very logical, others, just comical.

Since I haven’t had a post in awhile, I thought I’d check my stats today. There were two new sites people clicked mine from and on a whim I went to check them out (once I got to linked by a NY Times blogger). The first was an automatically generated link because I too had written about Freakonomics.

The second though, was someone who had posted a link to one of my entries on her forum. When I saw that the heading read “Anti-breastfeeding propaganda,” I knew whatever followed was going to be unpleasant. When I first started reading, I had hope. Here’s what I saw:

“Let me just say that I don’t care what other moms do. I really don’t. I personally think breastmilk is the better option for babies, but I understand if a woman has health reasons or something and can’t. No big deal.”

This seemed enlightened and maybe someone who was going to approach the debate from a cool-headed place. But then I read on:

“What is a big deal is all of this nonsense I keep reading from anti-breastfeeding people. I will not condone the behaviors of a pro-BF mother to badger or guilt a non, but I think this snotty ‘I’m not going to breastfeed my baby, so there’ attitude is so immature. The lies don’t help, either:”

The writer went on to post a link to my blog entry. If you haven’t read it or just don’t feel like going to it, it’s about a law NY was trying to pass to ban the inclusion of formula from bags given to new moms in city hospitals. Now, the writer’s post seems to imply that not only do I have a “to hell with all breastfeeding” attitude, but that my post is also a lie.

Now, as a journalism major (and teacher), I know what good and fair balanced articles are. I make no claims that my blog is news. It was clearly an op/ed piece. However, it’s a pretty balanced op/ed piece. I give an honest summary of the news article. I explain, with a cost analysis, why new moms who either can’t or don’t want to might appreciate the formula. I never once condemn those who breastfeed. I even acknowledge that it is healthy and prefered, but not everyone can or wants to do it. I basically preach tolerance. I won’t paint myself as a saint. I make my point that I think the law is unfair quite clear. But I never lie and I certainly don’t imply anyone shouldn’t breastfeed just to be a snot and show those damn breastfeeders whatfore!

Now, after the link to my article, the “non-judgemental” writer follows up with this:

“I really wish these defensive women who choose not to BF would own up to it instead of attacking those of us who can with these lies.”

Now, this is the woman who claims to each his own, and yet she does what every other breastfeeding advocate I’ve encountered does: assumes with snobbery that everyone is capable of breastfeeding and that those of us who don’t, are simply lazy liars.

I cannot speak for everyone who doesn’t breastfeed, but I can (and do) speak for myself. I could not breastfeed. It wasn’t a latching problem. He latched great. It wasn’t an exhaustion problem. It wasn’t a laziness problem. It was a “my body didn’t produce enough milk” problem. My breast tissue did not grow an ounce while pregnant. I consulted doctors, nurses and lactation specialists. I went on medication. I pumped (for 30 minutes every 2 hours and got less than 1/4 ounce from both breasts combined). I fed for 45 minutes, stopped for an hour and then relatched on a screaming hungry baby for another 45. After each feeding I weighed my son, he gained at most an ounce. Even the specialists were convinced I couldn’t produce milk. So there, I’m “owning” up to it: my body failed.

But see, breastfeeding advocates don’t want to hear that. They want to ignore all of recorded history when people had wet nurses (not just because they were wealthy) and we had sky high infant mortality rates (in part due to malnourishment). They want to ignore the fact that not all women’s bodies work. They want to call us hateful, lazy and negligent for sharing our stories and helping others who also can’t feel supported rather than guilty. They want to call us liars because it’s easier than admitting we might have a valid point.

The writer  closes with this gem:

“I’m just not a fan of handing out inaccurate information while being bitter and angry at everyone who doesn’t agree.”

I think someone should gift her a dictionary and tell her to look up irony. She gives no proof that anything I’ve written is inaccurate (both because she can’t and probably because she didn’t bother trying) and angrily calls anyone who disagrees with her point a liar and bitter.

This is exactly what new moms who can’t breastfeed are up against. It’s no wonder my son almost ended up in the hospital for dehydration and malnourishment. I was so convinced I had to be doing something wrong because that’s what everyone told me. It’s people like her who create the bitterness she rails against.

If only everyone could just live and let live and NOT make people feel guilty for their parental choices.

***Side note: This is the other link on the page which she associates my post with. Just more proof that this woman either didn’t bother to read my post or is just a moron. Read the link, it is appalling and even though I am not a fan of the breastfeeding advocates who bully, I totally understand why this would appal them. To associate my blog in anyway with this tripe is share malice or ignorance. I’m not sure which I’d prefer.

Taco Tuesday

I don’t know what it is about homemade tacos, but I can eat the hell out of them. Now, I have no illusions that my tacos are in anyway authentic. I also do not even kind of argue that there is anything spectacular about my recipe. Heck, it’s really just ground beef, seasoning (from a jar) and fixins, but it doesn’t matter. I can polish off four or five of those babies and still find myself pausing to consider arm wrestling my husband for the last shell.

Growing up we didn’t have a lot of “ethnic” food. Despite that fact that I lived in California for a good chunk of my childhood, we were meat and potatoes people. My mother made meatloaf at least once a week. When we went out to dinner, it was either to Bob’s Big Boy, this amazing whole in the wall pizza place, or, if it was Sunday after church, Sizzler. The closest we came to adventurous eating was when mom would grab the Old El Paso mix and cook up a batch of tacos. Not that I complained. She could mix meat, a packet of seasoning and water like nobody’s business. Heck, I learned my skill from her.

Taco night was so much fun because not only could I stuff my face, but I got to decide what I wanted to put on my taco. I didn’t have to eat what my parents liked. My mom had everything separated out and I got to pick and choose. There were no icky sauces to scrape off or ketchup masquerading as a topping. I could identify every ingredient and they were all fresh. Plus, I could get really messy and not get yelled at because my mom and step-dad had taco juice dripping down their hands too.

Sometimes Mom wouldn’t feel like cooking and we’d hit up Del Taco* or El Polo Loco, but these were as close to authentic Mexican as we got. Once a classmate’s mother (Corey Cisneros) made homemade salsa for a class party and I couldn’t believe how good it was. I was 10 or 11 and never had it before. I didn’t quite know what to do since it didn’t come from a jar, but man did I love it. But I digress. Even at Del Taco and El Polo Loco, I ate at most two tacos. I mean they were fattening and tasty, but just not quite as good as what my mom made. Which I know makes no logic sense, but what can I say?

As I got older my horizons expanded a bit. Even though moving in with my dad and step-mom did not broaden my culinary horizons (whenever we’d go out my dad would order a cheeseburger with extra cheese, fries and a glass of milk), I did find myself eating Taco Bell about once a week since it was the only place open after the theater closed on weekends. And while I loved it, two tacos was my limit.

Once I got to college, I met people who ate outside the realm of American fare and I started going to places that not only had crazy things like tostadas and chile rellenos on the menu, but also had employees who not only spoke Spanish fluently, but sometime had trouble understanding me, so I felt I was getting a somewhat authentic flair…well, for the Midwest.

Even though I loved the new flavors and dishes, I found myself gravitating toward a few dishes: taco salad, taquitos and tacos. Coincidence? I think not. Still, even though I love our local place’s tacos, even at my hungriest I can barely eat three (and then I feel all bloaty and sick for doing it). But give me a cookie sheet of 12 taco shells at home and I’m enviously eyeballing the whole lot wondering how quickly I can eat them before my husband gets them all.

When I was dieting a few years back, one of my biggest food griefs was that I had to cut back on my tacos. I would still make them, but I’d limit myself to three, and in order to get that third one, I’d cut out the cheese. Every time I made them, I’d stare longinly as my husband finished off his fifth and sometimes six taco, and heave a big sigh when I realized he’d be the only eating the leftovers for lunch as a homemade version of taco salad.

Tonight was taco night and since I’m not on a diet, I scarfed down four. We introduced my son to them and although we cut them up into a version of taco salad, he still managed to gobble down two of them. There were two shells still in the kitchen and I thought long and hard about them. I won’t lie, I really wanted them. And even though I’m not on a diet, I am trying not to make myself sick with over eating, so I gave in and let my husband have them (for a total of 6). I was jealous.

I don’t know what it is about homemade tacos, but I kind of want to make them again tomorrow!

*Del Taco is a West Coast chain. Sort of a much, much better Taco Bell. I used to dream about their burritos. Then, when we went to Vegas last year I got to have it again. I wanted to bathe in the deliciousness that was Del Taco. I probably would have eaten there every day if my husband had let me.