*I Cook Barefooted!* ~ Sopapilla Cheesecake

Barefoot Love!

Sopapilla, literally means, 'bread soaked in oil'.

 

Gluttony Meet Heart.

Heart Meet Gluttony.

Enjoy it while it lasts!

I know it's not good for you.

But, that's just not the point here!

*looks over shoulder for any cardiologists in the room* 

Sometimes... and I do mean, SOME times, a little gluttony is good for the soul.

Everything in moderation, I always say...

 except Brussels sprouts and Lima beans, 

but that's just me.

My son introduced us to this sweet and creamy confection a while back.
I love it when my kids LOVE to cook!

When we showed up with this Heavenly dish at a gathering of friends,

grown men wept in anticipation (not really).

Well, they did set the beer aside, 

if only long enough to grab a big spoon with which to shovel it in!

Look, I don't have all the answers!

Sometimes we eat bad things, because we're just built that way.

But what's a ball game without a hot dog and nachos?

Where's the fun if you can't drink a beer at a BBQ?

And, why the hell CAN'T we indulge in a little sugary treat once in a while?

My advice: 

Eat it! Because it tastes SO good.

Walk a little further...
to your mailbox, parking spot or to the second floor
 ...every chance you get.

And for cripes sake people, 

Take your vitamins like your mother told you.

Life is short.

Eat cheesecake!

It's all good.

☮

Sopapilla Cheesecake

 

16 oz. cream cheese

2 cans crescent rolls

1 cup white sugar

1 tsp. vanilla extract

½ cup butter, melted

½ cup cinnamon sugar

Line bottom of a 9x13 baking dish with one can of crescent rolls.

Mix together cream cheese, white sugar and vanilla extract.

Spread over top of the crescent rolls.

Unroll the other can of crescents and place on top of cream cheese mixture.

Pour melted butter over top and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar mix.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

*Cut into pieces and drizzle with honey, if you like.*

***

 You want reviews?
    How 'bout, 
~ Oh, My God! ~ ヅ

(In the voice of Chandler Bing on 'Friends')

How 'bout You?
Have a recipe you want to share on 
*I Cook Barefooted!*?
Show some Barefoot Love and...

Send it here:  scarlettcolleen@yahoo.com 
Want to include a photo? Fun!

What's on your table?

“Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions.

All life is an experiment.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson


 *Barefoot Love*Airbrush By, Colleen 
2012

*I Cook Barefooted!* ~ Key Lime Pie

Barefoot Love!

We moved a lot when I was little.


"Our battered suitcases
were piled on the sidewalk again;
we had longer ways to go.
But no matter,
the road is life."
~ Jack Kerouac

California 
introduced us to
Giant Redwoods, the West Coast,

and Disneyland.

I was an infant;

Breast was the meal du jour!

Alaska 
introduced us to 
a very… long… car ride,

and bean sandwiches.

We were poor. 

We had love and beans.

Florida 
introduced us to
the East Coast...

 The Florida Keys ~ That's me there; the little smiling face in the two piece!

the Sun, the Sand, and the Wind in our hair...

and it began my love affair
with my Be-lov-ed

Key Lime Pie!


"Adventure is a path.
Real adventure ~ self-determined, self-motivated,
often risky...
forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world.
The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it.
Your body will collide with the earth
and you will bear witness.
In this way you will be compelled
to grapple with the limitless kindness
and bottomless cruelty of humankind...
and perhaps realize that you yourself
are capable of both.
This will change you.
Nothing will ever again 
be black-and-white."
~ Mark Jenkins

In 1972,

my mom clipped a recipe from the Tampa Times.

She selected true key limes,

as the ingredient list suggested,

on a drive down to the Florida Keys.

Key limes are yellow, when ripe,

and smaller than the limes

found in these parts.

They’re tart and bitter and delicious!

The following November

we introduced 
Our Kentucky Family 
to a

Thanksgiving mouth explosion!

We've been hooked since!

There are few culinary pleasures that actually

tug on my heartstrings.

I do love me a Krispy Kreme glazed doughnut!

And, I am a sucker for a bowl of warm pasta and bread.

But it is that last Thursday in November,

every year since I was four,

that my mouth, literally, becomes a pie hole.

 “Really, it’s green?”

Yes, it is my friends!

Yes, it is.

☮

Key Lime Pie

For Pie:

1 can Sweetened Condensed Milk

4 Egg yolks (Save the whites for Meringue!)

¼ cup Lime juice,
(Key limes preferably, but bottled lime juice will suffice!)

3 to 4 drops of Green food coloring
*Presentation folks. It's all in the presentation.*

1 Graham cracker crust

For Meringue:

4 Egg whites

1 tsp. Cream of tartar

3 Tbsp. Sugar

Beat egg yolks until light yellow.

Add sweetened condensed milk and lime juice.

Mix in drops of green, and Voila!

Pour into graham crust.

Beat all ingredients for the meringue in mixer

until stiff and peaks form.

~If you’re looking to combine dessert with your workout:

Whisk in a glass bowl and count after me…

One, Two, Ten-thousand! ~

Pile immediately on top of pie in pretty dips and waves.

Bake at 350 degrees until tips of meringue are lightly browned.

You want reviews?

    How 'bout, 

"Green is my new favorite color!"  ヅ

     

How 'bout You?
Have a recipe you want to share on 
*I Cook Barefooted!*?
Show some Barefoot Love and...
Send it here:  scarlettcolleen@yahoo.com 
Want to include a photo? Fun!

What's on your table?


 

“Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions.

All life is an experiment.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 *Barefoot Love*Airbrush By, Colleen 
2012

*I Cook Barefooted!* ~ Chicken Pot Pie Love

Barefoot Love!

I am no cook. 

I beg, borrow and steal any recipe 

that sounds like it might taste yummy, 

and just maybe will satisfy my picky eaters. 

For the record:

They don't like mushrooms. Big no-no.

 They don't like peppers, onions or asparagus.

They don't like pretty much anything that used to swim in the ocean, 
hate chicken five days a week

and despise the smell of salmon patties.

Reality strikes:

I DON'T COUNT GREEN BEANS.

Pick through it, talk to it, take it for a walk.

Whatever helps gets you past it.

 (What this means is, eat it or don't, but it is what's for dinner.)

 No worries, they won't starve. There's always bread.

 They like bread.

And, they're beginning to not mind the rest... so much.

Wednesdays are generally when I start

thinking about what to add to my grocery list

for the following week. 

By the time grocery day comes around

(this is any day I can get my butt in gear and actually make it to the store)

I am usually scrambling to remember that recipe I thought might

shake things up around here. Something my family 

just... might... thank me for.

So ~ Wednesdays are my new *I cook barefooted!* days here on 

Scarlett's Tattoo!

Read. Steal. Cook away!

And if you're in the mood for sharing, please do! 

(You can email me directly with a recipe

you'd like to share, if you like: scarlettcolleen@yahoo.com.

Don't forget to Name it something fun and Mark it with a 'B'! 
For Barefoot, of course!)
 ~And Thank you My Sweet, for *Barefoot Love!*~

So, here’s a funny story. 

Though true, to the best of my recollection, and apparently impaired judgment, I rarely humor such poor parenting at the supper table.

That is best served warm and with dessert!

My kids laugh out loud still today about 
“The night Mom lost it!”

Yes, my day had been less than stellar. I admit.

It was one night out of seven, I am sure, that we were all five of us actually sitting down together to eat at the kitchen table. Not in our coveted positions on the couch, the chairs and the floor in front of the television, but actually sitting our butts in chairs and giving thanks for what we were about to stuff into our waiting mouths.

In my worst nightmares, and ironically, also in my wildest dreams, I was in charge of feeding our spawn our beautiful family. As I stood in front of the fridge, door kicked open wide, kids whining and milling about my personal space, as if any minute their stomachs might turn inside out and flop onto the kitchen floor quivering...

I saw a nice bottle of white wine hiding waaaayyy back on the top shelf

 (obviously placed there for just such an occasion).

A smile lit my face.

Supper?

I’ll give you supper.

Let’s all have a moment of silence, please,

while Mom indulges in some of that *Me* time

 she’s always going on about.

My husband, and sometimes better half, arrived just then to see me leaning into the kitchen counter, glass in hand, a stray child at my feet, 

 glaring smiling warmly at him, as he made his big entrance.

"So, it's one of those days, is it", he grinned.

Two glasses of wine, on an empty stomach,

in case you’re wondering how long it takes 

to prepare a meal fit for this family.

Two.

By the time our Thanks were given to God, the Universe and All that is good in the world, those chicken pot pies met their fate,

as ALL good Chicken Pot Pies do.

Here’s the funny part.

One glass of wine warms my belly.

Two glasses of wine…

 catapults me straight to Crazy Town.

 Somewhere between Grace and Pot Pie Love, I practically broke into song, singing the praises of my home cooked meal.

Apparently, I also made plans

 (ahem! … in the form of a kick-ass business model)

to cook ‘em up, wrap ‘em tight and sell them by the side of the road!

Oh, yeah... and there was something about 

how I hovered over my plate whispering to my fork, but…

I don’t believe that one bit. ヅ

***

 ☮

Chicken Pot Pie Love!

1 Tbsp. oil

4-6 chicken breasts, skinned

Frozen veggies, your choice

(I use broccoli, mushrooms; sometimes peas and carrots)

Chicken gravy, homemade with chicken stock or canned

Shredded Cheddar Cheese

Refrigerated prepared pie shells for top and bottom crust

Heat oil in skillet.

Cook chicken till no longer pink.

If using mushrooms, add them now with a little butter and cook 5min.

*I season the chicken  and mushroom mixture
with a little minced garlic or garlic salt, 
and my favorite, 'McCormick's Italian Herb Seasoning Grinder!' *

Place bottom crust in pie tin. Toss in frozen veggies, unthawed, filling entire bottom crust. Top with cooked chicken mixture from skillet.

Pour a wee bit of gravy over top.

Spread approximately ½ cup cheddar cheese over top.

Place top crust over pie.

Bake at 375 degrees, for about 45 minutes, give or take.

Pies are done when top crust is lightly browned.

Serve with gravy on the side.
 

*4 to 6 chicken breasts will make two pies...
unless you want more veggies than chicken,
and in that case, more.*

*One pie will serve 4 hungry adults* 
Unless you're a giant or a hungry elf, and then, you will need two pies.
*Little known fact: We like a boiled egg, on the side, with our pot pies.*
   

You want reviews?

    How 'bout, 
~ a little Dickens! ~ ヅ

*'Please, sir, I want some more.'

The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupified astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the boys with fear.

'What!' said the master at length, in a faint voice.

'Please, sir,' replied Oliver, 'I want some more.'

The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle; pinioned him in his arm; and shrieked aloud for the beadle.

The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,

'Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! 

Oliver Twist has asked for more!'

There was a general start. 
Horror was depicted on every countenance.*

~ Charles Dickens ~
'Oliver Twist'

How 'bout You?
Have a recipe you want to share on 
*I Cook Barefooted!*?
Show some Barefoot Love and...

Send it here:  scarlettcolleen@yahoo.com 
Want to include a photo? Fun!

What's on your table?

“Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions.

All life is an experiment.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 *Barefoot Love*Airbrush By, Colleen 
2012

*Life is in the journey!* ~ Choosing Peace

♥

Life's Inspirational Valiant Endeavors

~ Choosing Peace ~

I have yet to meet another human being who *doesn’t* live with worry, a modicum of regret or feel the steady downward pull of stress in their daily lives. If I could sit down to a cup of tea or even a warm doughnut, and discuss *The Journey* with the Dalai Lama himself, I would be most appreciative and humbled. I am amazed by his culture’s resilient spirit and their chosen path to peace and tranquility.

I, however, spent much of my twenties and thirties practicing the shadowy art of denial. My suffering eased, eventually, thanks to my younger brother’s keen intuition and love for me, when he suggested way-back-when, that whatever it was that I had been doing was apparently not working out so well, and that I might do myself and those around me a giant favor ~ and just do something about it already. Only, I didn’t quite understand what he was talking about at the time, because I was standing on the edge of that river, Denial, soaking wet, a deafening noise in my brain and furious with no one in particular.

Counseling seemed the answer in my early teens. The right someone (someone other than those closest to me, and whom I considered the source of my pain) listened to me for the first time in my young life. I see now it was on that therapeutic couch, literally speaking, that I first began to believe in the existence of my own voice.

Then Life happened. I grew up. I found my voice, but didn’t have a clue how to use it. Like a child with a new toy, I thought it was mine to covet. And rather than feel the uncomfortable process of self-actualization and accept peace into my life, I buried my head deep in the sand, eyes open for effect, and indulged my fears through self-preservation. Food, and the quest for love became my drugs of choice. I married my high school sweetheart. We had a baby, then two, then three. I, and my husband, lived relatively uncomplicated lives (outside of the pain still brewing inside of me, in the form of anger and resentment) on an artist’s meager but gloriously consistent salary, with a dog, two cats, a house full of kids, car payments, and a mortgage.

It was no Shangri-La, but looking back now, it was ~ Everything I always knew I wanted.

*Big Sigh*

Remembering the taste of sand 
between my teeth, makes me want to eat cake.

Here. Now. I am forty-three! My three children are immersed in those pivotal stages in their young lives, where I first entertained low self-esteem and self-deprecating behavior and attitudes ~ 13, 15 and 18 years old. And There, but for the grace of God, go they! It seems, one of my more modest life goals, has always been to try to live in a place of peace ~ without the aid of cake. Somewhere in my mid-thirties, (Yep, it only took me thirty-something years to access that part of my brain, folks.) I felt, for the first time, the irony of Life itself.

No longer drowning in the day to day monotony and the illusion of Life itself, and feeling reasonably confident that my voice would be heard by those closest to me, I lay my heart out on the table and took a leap of faith that no one would stomp on it.

And that is when I woke up. 

"A long time on a crooked road."

~ Joe, "Joe Versus the Volcano"

I awoke to the realization, that “Life is pain. You’ve got to scrape the joy out of it.” I was no novice, no stranger to pain. No one is. “Aye, there’s the rub!” (There, my friends, is the irony in Life. It is with little shame, that I just quoted Rod Kimble and William Shakespeare in practically the same breath!) 

Life IS in the journey! It’s a slow walk, naked, barefooted, and as if that weren’t enough of a lesson for us, bearing the weight in the struggle of those we love and those we despise as well, through ten-thousand miles of our own fear-driven conscience and consciousness. Hallelujah! Pass the gravy!

We are on one great, life-altering expedition into the unknown the moment our little hands and feet, and cheek, meet our mother’s breast, our father’s arms; and if we’re lucky, a warm blanket and a healthy sense of adventure.

Peace lies within, like a flower eager to open itself to the sun.  It has always been there inside of you. It flows through the life blood in each and every cell in our bodies, before we are even aware of the world outside of us. Its purpose ~ to teach us something profound, something we cannot live and thrive without. To teach us how to love ~ ourselves, and others.

It is my wish that, *Life is in the journey!* will serve all those who visit, as a most important and profound reminder, through Laughter, Tears of Awe and Joy, and through Peace... that there is comfort to be found in this journey we share.

We have only to choose to live our lives, "...awake and in constant, total amazement!"

~ 

 

Alexander Tsiaras’, “Conception to Birth” is, perhaps, one of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring stories we, as humans, have to tell. A mathematician by trade, Tsiaras shares his expertise and his talent for minute detail, with humility, in a lecture given ~ Here. 

~ Life is in the journey! ~

 

Peace My Friends!

“The best way out is always through.”

~ Robert Frost

☮It is not my wish to debate in this forum,
when *Life* begins.

It is my intention to celebrate *Life* in all stages and all forms,

here in this place among friends, and with a healthy dose of humility.

~ Thank you!

 Love!

"Just Keep Swimming."

2012 is kicking the crap outta me.

My only saving grace?

It is day 10.

There are only 355 more to go, before I can start all over again.

Well, 345, if you believe the end of days are upon us.

(Really? Must I also add this mass delusion to my long list of worries?)

“The only thing I can’t stand is discomfort.” 

~ Gloria Steinem

I have plans.

I have lists of plans.

I have lists of lists of plans.

I have no time for giving up or giving in. 

(Even IF all life as we know it will cease to exist... someday.

Of course it will, my friends. Someday. But NOT Today.)

This is the ultimate irony that is Life, after all.

TODAY I do, however, have pajamas at noon.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, let’s go.”

STAGE DIRECTION:

They do not move.

~ Last Lines of Waiting For Godot ~

Well, it’s not quite noon yet, but if yesterday was any indication of how my Today is going to go, I am almost certain that I will still be wearing my pajamas at noon. Though, I do still have hope. I do have that.

I am now making lists (in my head) of the most mundane variety, such as:

#1 Crawl out of bed. Drag self to kitchen. Pour self a stiff drink to greet the day. Put something, anything other than those three week old cookies you’re staring at, into pie hole.

#2 Prepare thyself for No Writing Today (without the aid of that most beloved four letter word).

#3 And Remember: YOU are the Master of Your Universe. Begin.

“Nothing is so much to be feared as fear.” 

~ Henry David Thoreau

Sometimes, I just wish I wasn’t. Oh, acting as the master of my universe *sounds* great and all. But, if I am the master of all that I see, think and do, then who the hell am I supposed to blame when it all goes to shit when life gets hard?

I guess there is no mystery, as to why I am still sitting here at this keyboard, contemplating this swill, in my pajamas at this hour. This is what it must feel like to give up. Who are you kidding, Miss, you have been here before. You are no novice in the art of denial. You did spend the better part of your thirties trying to wipe that slate clean, after all. And you can wipe that smirk off your brow. You know you’re right.

As I sit here, I realize, shamefully, that I am simply looking for someone else to make the big decisions, the little tiny and seemingly insignificant decisions, and everything in between. I want someone, anyone, to run my life for me.  That’s funny. Not sounding quite so freeing now that I see my dimwitted plan in writing.

“If you want to win anything

–        a race, your self, your life –

you have to go a little berserk.”

~ George Sheehan

See, here’s the thing about lists. They do serve a function outside of providing a, somewhat, true account of both my accomplishments and my failures. By the time I got to #3 this morning, it hit me. Like that three week old cookie stuck to the bottom of my gullet. What I must do is, Just DO IT! Get Off My Buts.

Years ago I read a book. *small grin* It was a simple Guide To Living Your Dreams. I have thumbed through it many times over the last twenty-something years, folding down corners, breathing in the smell of its yellowing pages, searching for the important messages inside that seem to be speaking just to me. I have laughed. I have cried. I have thought to myself, “Right. Now begin.”

“DO IT! Let’s Get Off Our Buts” by Peter McWilliams is my go-to place for that all important, albeit in-my-face ironic, reminder that I AM THE MASTER OF MY UNIVERSE.   

So, I ask myself Here, Now, Today, why is this so hard? And the only answer I can come up with is the age old answer: If Life was meant to be easy, Michelangelo would have painted the floor instead of the ceiling.

I can only hope that my choice of brush, color and composition are complementary of one another, creating one magnificent canvas! I just need to remind my sometimes tired, needy self to get up off my back and Buts every once in a while, stretch my legs, my mind, and my voice, and then begin again.

                           "Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming."

                            "Just keep swim-ming, swim-ming, swim-ing."

                                           

When Life gets hard, as it inevitably will, you can start by getting dressed. That's always a very good place to start. Take a deep breath. In. Out. And when you feel alone, simply look in the mirror. There in front of you, peering into your eyes, is You. 

One-Of-A-Kind, Amazing, YOU! 

There is no other human being in this universe, or any other, who knows you better than you know yourself. Not your mother. Not your father. Not your brother, sister or best friend. Just You. Learn to Love Who You Are. No small feat, I know. But, accomplish this and you can accomplish anything. 

Now go make your list! 

Be generous with your dreams, your goals and your strikethroughs!

Begin.

“Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for he (or she) who has the vision to recognize it as such.”

~ Henry Miller

Oh, Boy!

I once heard my son, our first born, emit a deep throaty noise (maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh) as he posed for a Father’s Day photo shoot – wielding his dad’s chainsaw, his dad’s blow torch, his dad’s chair, his dad’s truck and even his dad’s Beloved Ibanez, and live to tell about it.

This is his Dad's chainsaw.

This is his Dad's blowtorch.

This is his Dad's chair.

This is his Dad's truck. (Yes, licking it)

This is his Dad's Beloved Ibanez...

... Up Close and Personal.

 

 

THIS is his DAD.

 

 

 

A chuckle,

A growl,

A sigh,

A “sweeeeeet!”

I’ve seen and heard it all.

This Thanksgiving I, a boy’s mother, witnessed the joy of ownership…

...in a giggle.

Oh, Boy!