Dear Kid,

Just for the record, I was right.

Someday, this will cease to surprise people. Since we have not yet reached that day, I will continue to remind people.

I was right.

 When one talks about alcohol proof one is technically talking about the amount of ethanol (and by “ethanol” we [and by “we” I mean the scientific community] mean alcohol) in a beverage. In the US of A (yes, it’s different in different countries), alcohol proof is twice the percentage of alcohol by volume.

In other words, 100 proof whiskey contains 50% alcohol.

As we all agreed one cannot say “50% proof” unless one is talking about geometry. Which we most certainly were not.

So why the term “proof”? I’m glad you asked.

Turns out that in England back the 16^th century, adult beverages were taxed at different rates depending on their alcohol content levels. More alky equals more taxy. Since the tax man (yes, they were all men back then) didn’t have advanced labs to carry around with them, they devised the gunpowder test.

Basically, they soaked a pellet of gunpowder in the liquid being tested. If it could still burn post-soak, it was considered above proof and therefore taxed at a higher rate. Hard to see how that would improve the taste of the alcohol.

In case you randomly find yourself on Jeopardy!, you should be aware that 57.15% alcohol was the level of proof because under that amount, soaked gunpowder wouldn’t burn. So BackInTheDayintheUK, 57.15% was 100 proof.

By the 18^th century, there were more complicated tests that don’t interest me very much and didn’t really change the system.

Here in the US, the idea of calculating 57.15% (or even thinking about calculating 57.15%) gave people migraines, so when the proof system was established (1848 in case you were wondering) we skipped all the complex specific gravity stuff and went with 50% alcohol equals 100 proof.

These days, people don’t care about proof very much (unless you’re a college student in which case saying you’re drinking something 60 proof is much cooler than saying you’re drinking something 30% alcohol).

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Yesterday was Bake Cookies Day. So I did. (I’m so obedient.)

Since we have a gluten-free guest, I searched for a gluten-free recipe. This is easier than it sounds because the internet is loaded with gluten-free options. Finding one that sounds good and isn’t made from obscure ingredients is harder than it sounds.

But I did it. And our gluten-free guest declared them fantastic! 

Since I’m sure you want to know what I ended up baking, here you go!

Flourless Chocolate Almond Cookies

Makes a whole lot. By which I mean about 3 dozen. Give or take depending on how much raw dough you eat.

• 1 ½ cups almonds, ground up really fine (I should have ground them up even more than I did)
• 3 cups powdered sugar (allow extra time to clean up the mess)
• 1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons Dutch processed cocoa powder
• 1/2 teaspoon sea salt (I didn’t)
• 1 cup mini semi-sweet chocolate chips (I used a cup and a half. And don’t forget the extra for noshing)
• 4 egg whites
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
2. In a medium bowl, combine the chopped almonds, powdered sugar, cocoa, salt, and mini chocolate chips. Stir to combine. Set aside. Don’t worry about the amount you spilled—you can clean it up later.
3. In the bowl of a stand mixer, use the whisk attachment to beat egg whites until they are white and foamy, but are not stiff peaks. It takes a little longer than you’d think. Fold in the vanilla extract.
4. Add the dry ingredients to the egg whites and gently stir with a spatula until combined. The batter will be thick, like brownie batter.
5. Use a 2 tablespoon sized cookie scoop* to form cookie dough balls. Place the dough balls about two-inches apart on prepared baking sheet. Depending on 16 or 17 variables, these cookies spread a fair amount.
6. Bake cookies for 12-13 minutes, until the cookies are puffed, shiny, and cracked. Remove cookies from oven and allow cookies to cool on the baking sheet for 3-5 minutes. Use a spatula to remove cookies from the baking sheet and place on a wire cooling rack to cool completely. Try to save some for the guests.

*This is one of my favorite baking tools.

Enjoy!

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Happy Bake Cookies Day!

Yes, it is the cookie baking time of year and someone decided to celebrate by creating a Day for The Baking of Cookies.

I read somewhere that there is no Eat Cookies Day and the author couldn’t figure out why there was a Bake Cookies Day and not an Eat Cookies Day. I immediately thought “Duh” and “Implied” and “What do you mean there are cookies left over for another day?”

Since we have a gluten-free guest arriving today, I thought it would be good to make gluten-free cookies. So I consulted My Friend the Internet for some ideas about gluten-free cookies.

The conversation went something like this.

Me: I’d like some recipes for gluten-free cookies.
MFtI: No, you wouldn’t.
Me: What? I’m pretty sure I would.
MFtI: You eat regular cookies. You’ll be much happier with those.
Me: We have a gluten-free guest coming. I like to make sure I don’t poison my guests.
MFtI: You’ll regret this.
Me: Show the recipes.
MFtI: Fine. I’m just sayin’. You won’t be happy.
Me (looking at the recipes): Well of course I won’t be happy. These call for all sorts of weird and expensive ingredients.
MFtI: I warned you.
Me: How about some recipes that don’t call for gluten-free flour or coconut sugar?
MFtI: You’re asking a lot this early in the morning.
Me: Show the recipes!
MFtI: Yeah, yeah. What do you think about these?
Me: I’m not sure recipes that talk about how to bake without an aftertaste is an improvement…
MFtI: You should really go old school.
Me: What do you mean?
MFtI: Cookies that never called for flour in the first place.
Me: Like meringues?
MFtI: Exactly. Now can I go back to sleep?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

There’s no use crying over spilled milk. One, because you can’t un-spill it and Two, because it’s milk.

There’s no use crying over spilled coffee either, but One, it’s COFFEE and Two, it stains.

When you spill it on the rug. Which you would never do.

I mean which I would never do. Ever.

Not only is the coffee busy staining your rug, it is busy not waking you up. Which means cranky person attempting to clean up spilled coffee.

Not that this would ever happen. Ever.

In other news, did I tell you we’re thinking about putting chocolate brown carpeting in the family room?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Rather unexpectedly, I found myself in the middle of a discussion about meat. (For clarity’s sake, by “in the middle of” I mean I was listening to.)

Turns out some people take meat very seriously. Especially in some of its less-well-known forms.

The conversation was rolling around on some very shaky skates.

For example, did you know there’s such a thing as trail bologna? ‘Tis true. There was a long discussion (during which I was absolutely silent) about trail bologna and what made trail bologna, well, trail bologna. I (of course) looked this up when I got home and found that none of my friends were correct about the origin of the name. Pay attention:

Trail Bologna is called Trail Bologna because it’s made by Troyer’s Genuine Trail Bologna in the tiny hamlet of Trail in Ohio’s Amish country. (It’s an all-beef ring bologna.)

The conversation then slid sideways, spun the wheel, and landed the topic “meat sweats.” The first time I’d ever heard of the meat sweats was in a Progressive Insurance commercial (you know the one where Flo and all her relatives are sitting around chatting?). I thought it was a made up term. It’s not, although it should be.

“Meat sweats” is the mysterious condition whereby, after ingesting a generous helping of meat, you begin to sweat like a fat man in a cake shop. First identified by competitive eaters, for whom the malady is an occupational hazard, the meat sweats are thought to be caused by the combination of adrenaline and protein.

Speaking of things you don’t know about, have you heard of pudgy pies? Of course not because I am a terrible mother and never told you about them. This is because I had never heard of them until this weird food conversation.

Pudgy pies are not pies. They are grilled sandwiches one makes over a campfire in a special little contraption that is sort of but not exactly unlike a waffle iron.

After almost climbing out of the Pit of Doom in which the conversation found itself, the unthinkable happened and we plunged backward into a discussion of loaves of meat. Like ham loaf. There was a detour while we tried to determine exactly where on an animal one might find the “loaf.” The group decided that not even Jeb the Cowhand would know about that particular part of the anatomy.

With that, the conversation gave up and ordered dessert.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Once upon a time, Mrs. Joe Neanderthal decided to throw a Fancy Dinner Party. While she cooked a large Rump of Mammoth, she sent Joe down to the corner to buy a couple of bottles of a nice wine.

Unfortunately, Joe couldn’t count up to “a couple” and returned home with only one bottle. Mrs. J. N. immediately sent him out for more. Joe immediately decided that getting ready for a Fancy Dinner Party was not his idea of Fun and he spent the rest of the day at the pub, drinking beer with the guys. When he finally staggered home, Mrs. Joe clonked him on the head with the wine bottle to express her concern for his misspent afternoon.

After that, the history of wine bottles is a little murky owing to the bodily risks of preparing for a party involving alcohol.

Eventually (and by “eventually” I mean a really, really long time ago), glass was invented (primarily so that people could throw stones, but also to make bottles). At first glass bottles were très brittle, but then people discovered that they could make thicker bottles by super-heating the glass.

Glass bottles were blown round (because that was easiest) and were blown to exactly one lungful of the glassblower’s air. Which meant every bottle was its own size. (In England, it was illegal to sell wine by the bottle because of the inconsistencies in size. Wine had to be sold by the barrel, after which it could be decanted into bottles. It wasn’t until 1860 that the law was changed.)

Not only weren’t bottles standard, they were round. (NOTE: Round bottles roll. Generally off the table.) Since most wine makers preferred to keep their wine inside its container rather than having it decorate the floor, round bottles were not used for wine. So longer (non-standard) bottles were invented and people started aging wines.

In 1979, the US of A set the standard size for a glass wine bottle at 750 ml. It seems like it would have been longer ago than that. But it wasn’t.

Love, Mom