So, we were reading Mainly Ewes blog recently, and Kelly had posted a recipe for Pork Butt with Chipotles and Dr. Pepper. Now, I don't eat meat, but I have to admit that it did look kind of good - in a carnivorous sort of way. Anyway, after that, the goatmother found a recipe for Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Pudding Cake on the Better Homes and Gardens site that you actually cook in a Crock Pot. ( I think Kelly must've gotten her hungry. Not that she really needs anyone to get her hungry. She seems to do well enough on her own.) Anyway, if it has anything to do with Peanuts it just has to be good, now doesn't it? So, the goatmother tried it and said it turned out rather well. I am a little miffed that she didn't even offer me a taste, but I guess I'll post the recipe here in case you want to try it for yourself and perhaps send me a bite.
Triple Chocolate Peanut Butter Pudding Cake
Makes 8 servings (unless you are an Alpine or a large Nubian, in which case it would be 1.)
Prep: 20 minutes ( Do not stop and sample the Peanuts or it will take longer.)
Cool: 30 minutes (If you can wait that long.)
Slow Cook: 2 to 2 hours 30 minutes on high.
Ingredients:
Non stick cooking spray
1 C. All-purpose flour
1/3 C. Sugar
2 Tbsp. Unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/2 tsp. Baking powder
1/2 C. Chocolate milk or regular milk (Or, hay! What about goat milk?)
2 Tbsp. Vegetable oil
2 tsp. Vanilla
1/2 C. Peanut butter flavored pieces (Why, oh why, wasn't I offered any?)
1/2 C. Semisweet chocolate pieces
1/2 C. Chopped Peanuts (Oh, yeah!!!! No skimping, please!!!!!)
3/4 C. Sugar
2 Tbsp. Unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/2 C. Boiling water
Vanilla ice cream (optional - but good - and not fattening at all. Nope.)
Chocolate bar pieces (optional - but even better than good and most assuredly NOT fattening.)
Directions:
1. Lightly coat the inside of a 3 1/2 or 4 qt. slow cooker with cooking spray; set aside.
2. In a medium bowl, stir together flour, 1/3 C. sugar, 2 Tbsp. cocoa powder, and baking powder. Add chocolate milk, oil, and vanilla; stir just until moistened. Stir in Peanut butter pieces, chocolate pieces, and Peanuts. Spread batter evenly in the prepared cooker.
3. In another medium bowl, combine 3/4 C. sugar and 2 Tbsp. cocoa powder. Gradually stir in boiling water. Carefully pour cocoa mixture over batter in cooker.
4. Cover and cook on high heat setting for 2 to 2 1/2 hours or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. (See? Now you've got time to clean up after the goats - or maybe even clean the barn.)
5. Remove liner from cooker, if possible, or turn off cooker. (I sure hope you washed your hands after cleaning the barn.) Let stand, uncovered, for 30 to 40 minutes to cool slightly. (See? More time. Go give the goats a few of those left over Peanuts.) To serve, spoon pudding cake into dessert dishes. If desired, top with ice cream and chocolate bar pieces. (What do you mean 'if desired'? Of course it is desired. Better they should put 'if one can manage restraint'. Oy.)
Nutrition facts:
Servings Per Recipe: 8 servings (or see top of recipe), Calories: 372 (Yeah, right. With all those chocolate pieces and that extra scoop of vanilla ice cream? Who are they trying to kid?), Total Fat: (g) 15 (You wish.), Saturated Fat: (g)6, Monounsaturated Fat: (g)7, Polyunsaturated Fat: (g) 3, Cholesterol: (mg) 3, Sodium: (mg) 125, Carbohydrate: (g) 52, Total Sugar: (g) 3, Protein: (g) 5, Calcium: (DV%) 7, Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet (but who has one of those?).
*Note: Because the goatfather is diabetic and because the goatmother is fat, she used 1/2 and 1/2 measurements of Splenda and sugar wherever sugar was called for. It still turned out well and nobody felt as guilty about it - except the goatmother SHOULD have, since she neglected to offer me any.
"There is no delight in owning anything unshared." - Seneca, Roman Philosopher (not a Native-American or the former Seahawk.) Take that, put it in your pudding and eat it, goatmother!
Life goes on amidst change. Finding the laughter one day at a time...
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
The Bunny In The Barn
Right-O! Marigold Holmes here! It has been a looooong time since we've had any kind of a mystery around here. Unless you count why Boo stays so fat. But anyway, on to the tale. Or is it tail?
Well, yesterday evening, the goatmother came out to do her usual nightly chores. Call it the P.M. maid service, if you will. She clomped through the barn in her trusty clod-hopper muck boots, grabbed the shovel and bucket on her way through, and proceeded to our side to clean up. Now this whole process is never quiet and calm. That's just the way it is. For one, the goatmother usually feels the need to sing. Believe me. I don't know why. I tried asking for ear muffs once, but it didn't seem to go over. Anyway, then the goatmother proceeds to bump around the barn singing at the top of her lungs, banging the bucket, and loudly unsnapping hooks off the hay racks. (These are necessary because without them, Ella pulls all the hay out onto the floor. What a wastey-goat. Oy.) Then, of course, Peanut always manages to find it necessary to bounce about trying to butt Watson into the walls. He is kind of the 'Tigger' of the goat world - all bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy. And 'butty'. Don't forget 'butty'.
But back to the tale. With all this hullabaloo, you can imagine everyone's total surprise when the goatmother, heading back toward the Inner Sanctum, glanced over in the boys' side of the barn and saw this:
'So what's the mystery, Marigold? It's just a rabbit.'
Ah, but this was not just any rabbit, for you see, the goatmother owns at least one natural history type book that states there are no rabbits on the Olympic Peninsula - only Snowshoe hares. Does this look like a hare to you? I didn't think so. As a matter of fact, the goatmother and goatfather have never, in the time they have lived here, EVER seen a rabbit of any kind. Well, it looks to me like someone needs to reassess their facts.
So the little rabbit just sat there looking at everyone and munching hay. The goatmother ran (Can you believe this? She ran.) to the house to get the camera. Amazingly the bunny stayed there. The goatmother would have gotten a picture of the whole bunny, but we were all so excited about the fact that the goatmother actually ran, that we simply could not contain ourselves. Peanut started dancing about on two legs due to sheer amazement that the goatmother actually could run. Anyway, with all the commotion, the bunny ran behind the stump and then literally disappeared. Poof. We tried to figure out where he had gone, but he just vanished. Very strange that.
So herein lies the mystery. Where did the bunny come from? Where did the bunny go? Are there more bunnies? I mean, with bunnies, if there's one, there's usually like a hundred. Are we to be overrun as we lie in innocent slumber? Why was the bunny unafraid? Has he lain for months under the barn listening to the routine comings and goings of the goatmother overhead, and simply assumed she was just another noisy old goat?
In the end, it occurred to me that possibly the mystery is really no mystery at all. After all, this Sunday is Easter. Doesn't the Easter bunny bring Peanuts to all good little goats on Easter? Perhaps he is just a tad early. After all, doesn't he have a lot of places to visit? An early start is always advisable. Hmmm ...
What ho!, Dear Watson! I believe I am onto something here. "How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?" - Sherlock Holmes.
Here comes Peter Cotton Tail, Hoppin' down the bunny trail, Hippity-Hoppity Peanuts on their way!"
Well, yesterday evening, the goatmother came out to do her usual nightly chores. Call it the P.M. maid service, if you will. She clomped through the barn in her trusty clod-hopper muck boots, grabbed the shovel and bucket on her way through, and proceeded to our side to clean up. Now this whole process is never quiet and calm. That's just the way it is. For one, the goatmother usually feels the need to sing. Believe me. I don't know why. I tried asking for ear muffs once, but it didn't seem to go over. Anyway, then the goatmother proceeds to bump around the barn singing at the top of her lungs, banging the bucket, and loudly unsnapping hooks off the hay racks. (These are necessary because without them, Ella pulls all the hay out onto the floor. What a wastey-goat. Oy.) Then, of course, Peanut always manages to find it necessary to bounce about trying to butt Watson into the walls. He is kind of the 'Tigger' of the goat world - all bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy. And 'butty'. Don't forget 'butty'.
But back to the tale. With all this hullabaloo, you can imagine everyone's total surprise when the goatmother, heading back toward the Inner Sanctum, glanced over in the boys' side of the barn and saw this:
'So what's the mystery, Marigold? It's just a rabbit.'
Ah, but this was not just any rabbit, for you see, the goatmother owns at least one natural history type book that states there are no rabbits on the Olympic Peninsula - only Snowshoe hares. Does this look like a hare to you? I didn't think so. As a matter of fact, the goatmother and goatfather have never, in the time they have lived here, EVER seen a rabbit of any kind. Well, it looks to me like someone needs to reassess their facts.
So the little rabbit just sat there looking at everyone and munching hay. The goatmother ran (Can you believe this? She ran.) to the house to get the camera. Amazingly the bunny stayed there. The goatmother would have gotten a picture of the whole bunny, but we were all so excited about the fact that the goatmother actually ran, that we simply could not contain ourselves. Peanut started dancing about on two legs due to sheer amazement that the goatmother actually could run. Anyway, with all the commotion, the bunny ran behind the stump and then literally disappeared. Poof. We tried to figure out where he had gone, but he just vanished. Very strange that.
So herein lies the mystery. Where did the bunny come from? Where did the bunny go? Are there more bunnies? I mean, with bunnies, if there's one, there's usually like a hundred. Are we to be overrun as we lie in innocent slumber? Why was the bunny unafraid? Has he lain for months under the barn listening to the routine comings and goings of the goatmother overhead, and simply assumed she was just another noisy old goat?
In the end, it occurred to me that possibly the mystery is really no mystery at all. After all, this Sunday is Easter. Doesn't the Easter bunny bring Peanuts to all good little goats on Easter? Perhaps he is just a tad early. After all, doesn't he have a lot of places to visit? An early start is always advisable. Hmmm ...
What ho!, Dear Watson! I believe I am onto something here. "How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?" - Sherlock Holmes.
Here comes Peter Cotton Tail, Hoppin' down the bunny trail, Hippity-Hoppity Peanuts on their way!"
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Upheaval
You are not going to believe this, but this morning the sun was out. In light of the light (Ha! I kill me!), the goatmother decided it was a good time to get the strawberries all set for summer. This is a good thing, mind you, because I happen to like strawberries. Not as much as Peanuts, but still .... Anyway, I was all for it. Besides, I didn't have to do any of the work, so what's not to like?
So the goatmother started out trimming away dead plant stuff from last year. You see, she has the garden surrounded by cement blocks, and the strawberries are planted in each of the holes in the blocks. With the size of the garden, there are over 100 strawberry plants. Now the soil tends to settle in the blocks and each year the goatmother has to add more soil. Well, it took her until lunchtime to get all the dead stuff trimmed away, and by then it was cloudy again. Oh, well, we knew it couldn't last, didn't we? After all, according to the comments on my last post, we were only borrowing the sun from New Zealand and Norway anyway. I mean I feel privileged to have gotten to see it at all.
But I digress. (That sure seems to have become a habit with me. Okay. Don't say anything. I'm a goat who can recognize her faults - what few there are.) Anyway, by the time the goatmother finished lunch, it had started to rain. Again. Or is it still? I don't know, but dummy that she is, the goatmother decided she just HAD to get those strawberries finished today. Out she went into the downpour to finish putting soil (only I think by now it was mud) into the strawberry holes.
I was watching from the barn, INSIDE the barn, and everything seemed to be going along pretty well. Then all of a sudden I saw the goatmother stop dead in her tracks, jump back and say, "What the ........???!"
Well, you see, it was like this. The soil had gone down quite a bit and the strawberries had rather long necks on them. So the goatmother would hold up the plant and stuff soil around the edges and underneath. At one point she stuffed the back, the sides, and the front. When she finished with the front, the green plant started looking as though it were about to heave up its lunch. (Do plants eat lunch?) The more the goatmother stuffed, the more the green thing heaved back. Turns out there was a rather large, green frog under there who took great umbrage at being buried before his time. Since he was exactly the same color as the emerging strawberry plant, the goatmother was having visions of 'The Little Shop of Horrors'. (She's kind of near-sighted too.) The more she stuffed, the more that poor frog tried to get out.
Eventually the frog prevailed, but I can tell you he came away with a story to tell his grandchildren. I guess it was an honest mistake, but on the other hand, perhaps the goatmother ought to be more careful. Oh, well, obviously she doesn't have enough sense to come in out of the rain anyway.
"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about getting out there and dancing in the rain." - author unknown.
So the goatmother started out trimming away dead plant stuff from last year. You see, she has the garden surrounded by cement blocks, and the strawberries are planted in each of the holes in the blocks. With the size of the garden, there are over 100 strawberry plants. Now the soil tends to settle in the blocks and each year the goatmother has to add more soil. Well, it took her until lunchtime to get all the dead stuff trimmed away, and by then it was cloudy again. Oh, well, we knew it couldn't last, didn't we? After all, according to the comments on my last post, we were only borrowing the sun from New Zealand and Norway anyway. I mean I feel privileged to have gotten to see it at all.
But I digress. (That sure seems to have become a habit with me. Okay. Don't say anything. I'm a goat who can recognize her faults - what few there are.) Anyway, by the time the goatmother finished lunch, it had started to rain. Again. Or is it still? I don't know, but dummy that she is, the goatmother decided she just HAD to get those strawberries finished today. Out she went into the downpour to finish putting soil (only I think by now it was mud) into the strawberry holes.
I was watching from the barn, INSIDE the barn, and everything seemed to be going along pretty well. Then all of a sudden I saw the goatmother stop dead in her tracks, jump back and say, "What the ........???!"
Well, you see, it was like this. The soil had gone down quite a bit and the strawberries had rather long necks on them. So the goatmother would hold up the plant and stuff soil around the edges and underneath. At one point she stuffed the back, the sides, and the front. When she finished with the front, the green plant started looking as though it were about to heave up its lunch. (Do plants eat lunch?) The more the goatmother stuffed, the more the green thing heaved back. Turns out there was a rather large, green frog under there who took great umbrage at being buried before his time. Since he was exactly the same color as the emerging strawberry plant, the goatmother was having visions of 'The Little Shop of Horrors'. (She's kind of near-sighted too.) The more she stuffed, the more that poor frog tried to get out.
Eventually the frog prevailed, but I can tell you he came away with a story to tell his grandchildren. I guess it was an honest mistake, but on the other hand, perhaps the goatmother ought to be more careful. Oh, well, obviously she doesn't have enough sense to come in out of the rain anyway.
"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about getting out there and dancing in the rain." - author unknown.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Indecision
The sun came out today. It has been so long. I think it forgot how and hurt itself , because then it went back in. And then it came out again. Oy. If you were that big, wouldn't you think you could make up your mind? Will the sun shine, or will it be cloudy and rain? Unlike the sun, I prefer to think positively. We WILL have sunshine! I am an optimist if nothing else. How else could I make it through the day? " The optimist lives on the peninsula of infinite possibilities; the pessimist is stranded on the island of perpetual indecision. " - William Arthur Ward. I think William must have been from the Pacific Northwest.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Goat Years
You've probably all been wondering. You've probably been sitting there at the table having breakfast and suddenly said to yourself, 'What the hay has happened to Marigold?' Well, it's like this. I've been standing around waiting for the rain to end. However, the rain hasn't seen fit to give a flip. As a matter of fact, the pond has stayed so full this winter, the goatmother's plants, which used to be way up on the bank, are now officially part of the pond. Since the ducks consider the pond to be theirs, open season has been declared on goatmother plants. The goatmother has naturally found it necessary to have a word or two with the ducks, and the ducks, naturally, haven't bothered to listen. As a result, the goatmother's plants are now surrounded by anchored wire. Oh, well. You know what they say: 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
Anyway, with all this standing about, I've had a lot of time to think and I've come to a realization. I'm old. No, really. I am. I'm 6 years old. God Love A Cow! That's 42 in dog years! I can practically hear my joints creaking every time I get up on my stump. Why before long, I may not even be able to get up on my stump. Now that's depressing.
Come to think of it, why is nothing ever expressed in goat years? I mean we have all these sayings being bandied about like ,'You're how old? Holy Goat Berries! That's like dead in dog years.'; or how about that one where they say something like, 'Hello, Joe. Why, I haven't seen you in a coon's age!'; or, 'Yeah, old Edna's been around for donkey's years.' I mean, like how long is 'donkey's years'? I don't know, but their ears are pretty long.
At any rate, I hope it stops raining before I get too gray and my teeth fall out. I just hate soggy Peanuts. Still, I suppose there is always an up side to things. At least that way they're easier to gum.
"How old would you be, if you didn't know how old you was?" - Satchel Paige.
Peanut butter, anyone?
Anyway, with all this standing about, I've had a lot of time to think and I've come to a realization. I'm old. No, really. I am. I'm 6 years old. God Love A Cow! That's 42 in dog years! I can practically hear my joints creaking every time I get up on my stump. Why before long, I may not even be able to get up on my stump. Now that's depressing.
Come to think of it, why is nothing ever expressed in goat years? I mean we have all these sayings being bandied about like ,'You're how old? Holy Goat Berries! That's like dead in dog years.'; or how about that one where they say something like, 'Hello, Joe. Why, I haven't seen you in a coon's age!'; or, 'Yeah, old Edna's been around for donkey's years.' I mean, like how long is 'donkey's years'? I don't know, but their ears are pretty long.
At any rate, I hope it stops raining before I get too gray and my teeth fall out. I just hate soggy Peanuts. Still, I suppose there is always an up side to things. At least that way they're easier to gum.
"How old would you be, if you didn't know how old you was?" - Satchel Paige.
Peanut butter, anyone?
Friday, April 1, 2011
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