Fudge So Good, it'll Send You to the Hospital

A few weeks ago, Petal called and asked if she could borrow some heavy whipping cream. She was making fudge and needed a whole pint of cream instead of just a half pint.

I revealed my deepest, darkest, cooking secret that not only did I NOT have heavy whipping cream....but that I had never purchased whipping cream in my life!

Yes, folks...it's true. Cool whip is all this pretender knows.

Gasp!

I did have quite a genius idea to help Petal in her time need. I have a glorious page in one of my recipe books called "Substitutions for Ingredients". I found the whipping cream substitutions--and gave her the answer to her problem. It involved a little milk and LOTS of butter.

The next day, Petal brought me over a plate of the most delicious fudge I have ever eaten in my life. The secret to her success? Symphony bars.

I ♥ Symphony Bars!

She told me it was so easy to make...but when she started telling me about just cooking it to soft ball stage--I started to hear "blah blah blah". It seemed way over my head.

A couple of weeks later, I started craving Petal's Symphony Fudge something fierce. It seemed kind of rude to call her and ask her to make me some.

So, I got a bee in my bonnet and decided that I should give making the fudge a try. Plus, I needed to bring a snickadee to my brother's birthday celebration...two birds with one stone you see?

As long as I'm confessing...here's another one of my dirty little cooking secrets. I have never made fudge or any other type of candy in my life.

As a matter of fact, I don't even own a candy thermometer. But, in spite of my skill lackage, I got out the ingredients (yes--whipping cream too!) and started the making of the fudge.

Do you know I had to call Petal 3 times in 5 minutes to ask her questions? The fourth time I called her, she took pity on me and ran over to help.

She tutored me in finding the soft ball stage in a cold cup of water. She broke up my Symphony bars into pieces so they could be added in. She stirred whilst I sprayed my pan with Pam.

When we poured it into the pan she told me it was the best looking fudge she had ever seen {she failed to mention it may also be lethal}.

I told her she was my cooking mentor. She told me that the next week we were going to make cream puffs of course this was before the onset of the curse of the GB.

Without further ado...here's the recipe.

Yumma!

Symphony Fudge Delight
{a.k.a Rescue 911 Fudge, a.k.a. Killer Fudge, a.k.a. Widowmaker Fudge, a.k.a. Lethal Weapon Fudge, a.k.a. Not Your Dr.'s Fudge}

4 c. sugar
1 pt. whipping cream
2 large Symphony toffee/almond bars (16 oz.)
2 sticks butter

Directions:

In large pot mix the sugar and cream. Stir well and bring to a boil.
While boiling add two sticks of softened butter. Do not touch the sides or bottom of pan while stirring in the butter.

Boil to the soft-ball stage (230 degrees).
Add Symphony bars and stir until melted (be sure to break up the Symphony bars into large pieces before adding them in).
Pour into a greased 9X13 pan and chill for 5-6 hours

**Disclaimer: Please consult your doctor before partaking of this fudge.

I ♥ Coldplay, Taylor Swift, and Jon Schmidt

One of my friends sent me the link to this
fabulous You Tube video!

I ♥ it much. Do you?

The Case of the GB Malfunction

For the past couple of weeks, I've reflected on what could've possibly set my gallbladder to its demise.

Clues:

It started the Tuesday after Women's Conference which by the way I haven't blogged about because I've been too busy focusing on my stinking GB!

It started the Tuesday after I started wearing Spanx which I haven't done since said GB was removed...stitches you know.

It started the Tuesday after I indulged {and indulged and indulged some more} in the most delectable home made fudge evah!
A fudgy sidenote: I made the most glorious "Symphony Fudge" recipe (which I received from my BFF, Petal). I decided to make said fudge to bring to my brother's birthday celebration on the Sunday after WC. It is soooo rich and there was soooo much food...that not much was eaten. I took it upon myself to not let that delicacy go to waste. "Waste not, want not," as they say. I'll post the recipe in due time.

Brilliant Deduction:

Tuesdays
+
Spanx
+
Fudgy Delight
+
WC Indulgences

a GB malfunction of ER proportions

{Of course, with that pesky GB out of the way...I can wear all the spanx I want, party at the WC all I want, and eat all the fudgy goodness my heart desires}

Meatball Sub Du Jour

The night I came home from the hospital, one of my neighbors brought over a deliciously creative meal. Meatball Subs.

Trust me on this. They were so fabulous my kids wanted seconds...even thirds.

It has been a little over a week since she brought these, and every day my kids ask, "Can we have meatball subs for dinner? Will you call Sister Cece and get the recipe?"

Being the lazy person I am, I never got around to calling her for the recipe.

But, I did glance through some of my favorite recipe books and found a nice variety of
meatballin' love {which I then combined them according to ingredients I had on hand}.

Tonight was the debut for Meatball Subs by Shenanigans.

The verdict?

Well, they would've liked seconds
{but I didn't make enough}.

So, here's my haphazard recipe of Meatball Love.

Meatball Subs

Meatballs:
1.5 lb hamburger (I'd add in another lb for seconds)
1/2 medium onion (diced)
2 eggs
1/2 c milk
1 sleeve of saltines (crushed)--most of the recipes called for bread crumbs or oatmeal--but I lacked the first and didn't want to open a #10 can for the latter.
1 tsp pepper

Mix together and form into balls. Brown in a skillet; place in a 9x13 casserole dish.

Sauce: Make your favorite spaghetti sauce...or if you want something super easy and non-Martha try this:

Make the Schillings Spaghetti Sauce mix according to packet--I omitted the oil.
Throw in 1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
1 tsp liquid smoke
Simmer

Pour sauce onto meatballs. Cover with tinfoil. Cook for 1 hour on 350 degrees.

Serve meatballs on any kind of sub roll you like. I used Ciabatta rolls I found at Harmons. Be sure to top it with a big slice of cheese..we love provolone or mozzarella.

Yumma.

P.S. With the quick approach of summer, I anticipate I'll be bringing out my old, trusty crockpot to avoid heating up my kitchen. I think this meal would be super easy to do in the crock. I'll keep you posted.

The Sunday Funnies

Today, during sacrament meeting, I noticed Savvy's doodlings in her notebook included a new chorus to the popular "Love at Home" hymn.

She had written,

"Love at Home, dogs eat bones."
"Love at Home, Garden Gnomes!"

Apparently, my entire family got in on the action, whilst I was completely oblivious--at least until I noticed her notebook was being thrown from one end of the bench to the other.

Jay added, "Love at Home, I love my phone."

Our ever present money man, El Jefe, submitted, "Love at Home. Banks will Loan."

And Auzy, with a big finish like no other brother, said, "Love at Home. Mom will moan,
at her old gallstones."

{There is beauty all around, when there's love at home...or at Ward
Conference while a member of the
stake presidency gives a talk."}

P.S. Apologies to the family sitting behind us...you know who you are.
P.S.S. If you wanna hear an even funnier rendition of Love at Home..watch this youtube video...

The Sunday Funnies (ER Edition)

On Friday night, after I dropped my kids off at swim team, I drove myself to the ER with pain in my stomach.

I figured it would be a quick check to make sure nothing was going to kill me and I'd be home before my kids realized it.

Upon further investigation, the doctors discovered I had stones. Gallstones to be exact. This necessitated the removal of my gallbladder.

El Jefe called the kids to let them know that mom was going to be having a little surgery. I told him to tell them gently so they wouldn't be nervous.

Now, for the past couple of days I had been complaining to my kids that my stomach hurt. So, it wasn't necessarily news to them that I would likely need a trip to the hospital.

But, still--we didn't want to shock them with a "Mom's going into surgery to have her gall bladder taken out--no big."

So, with the kids on speaker phone, El Jefe tried to cushion it by saying, "You know how your mom's tummy has been hurting?"

"Yes," they answered.

El Jefe continued, "Well, mom decided to come down to the hospital and have it checked out."

"YES," they said, a little more excitedly.

"And they did an ultrasound...and the doctor's found out that..."

"MOM'S PREGNANT!?!?" Jay and Savvy yelled!

"NO! You knuckleheads! She has to have surgery to get her gallbladder taken out," he answered.

"Ohhhh," they sighed, dejectedly.

They were not in the least bit worried, mind you--but discouraged that their mama wasn't in the hospital having a baby.

Sheesh!

The Sunday Funnies

On Wednesday, I had my kids slaving away in honor of my WC guests....Pammi and Jo.

Jay was too busy for such things. Because she wasn't home for more than 10 minutes, she didn't have to lift a finger all day.

So, Savvy and Auzy were the ultimate Cinderellas -- and I, their wicked stepmother.

Somehow they tricked me into letting them work together. They were pretty good helpers at first. But, after repeating over and over that I needed clean house and quickly...it started to get a little old for them...errr...everyone.

After a while, whatever task I gave them--ended up in a wrestling match. I would referee, tell them to get cleaning, and run to do another chore.

At one point, I heard Savvy gasping for air. I ran to see what the issue was.

Auzy had her pinned to the stone, cold tile floor--with his elbow in her neck.

{Picture an all-star wrestling move.}

"Auzy! What in the world are you doing? Let her go!" I said.

"Hey. She never gave me an "I message" to let her know she didn't like it," he replied, still having his elbow pressed to her throat.

"An 'I message'?" I asked.

"Ya. Mrs. K (school counselor), talked to us about bullying today. She told us that if we are being bullied we should use an "I message" to let the bully know we don't like what they are doing," he answered.

"Let me get this straight. As the bully of your sister, you feel entitled to receive an "I message" before you will stop hurting her?" I asked.

"Yup," he answered.

"Okay. I will hurt you if you don't get off of her NOW!" I replied.