Dear Kid,

We are having a catastrophe. Of catastrophic proportions. Worse, far worse, than anything that has hit the globe in your lifetime.

We are headed for a chocolate crisis. More specifically, we are headed for a lack of chocolate crisis. Of epic proportions.

Apparently, we’re already in a chocolate deficit. Which means we ate 70,000 metric tons more chocolate than the world produced last year. I am reasonably sure that I (personally) contributed to the crisis. And apparently chocolate makers have watched me in their crystal ball because they are predicting a 20 million metric ton deficit by 2030.

Mathematically speaking, I’m confused. We’re in a honking long streak of chocolate deficit years, so at some point one would think we’d a) run out of reserves and b) get tired of stale chocolate. It’s not like the Central Bank where they just make money out of thin air and paper. You actually have to have chocolate to eat chocolate.

One reason for the deficit is the frosty pod fungus (clearly a made up disease named by fantasy genre writers). Another is that growing cocoa is hard and insufficiently profitable compared to other crops like corn. And the biggest “problem” is that we’re eating more chocolate. (As Grandma points out, chocolate is a vegetable, so it’s good for you.)

As you doubtless know, falling supply plus increase demand means chocolate prices are going to skyrocket (they’re already up considerably).

Being the kind of mom I am, I have taken the liberty of coming up with some solutions to this impending disaster.

1. Stop Eating Chocolate. Yeah, right. Next!

2. Get Everyone Else to Stop Eating Chocolate. Only slightly more likely.

3. Remortgage the House to provide funding for my chocolate habit.

Love ya’ kid, but I’ve got to run to the bank now.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

“Mom,” I hear you say, “You wrote a delicious sounding blog about Bananas Foster yesterday. Whence came the name for this dessert?”

You are so polite when I get to make up your part of the conversation in my head.

Since I almost never turn down a request that I’ve made up, I turned to My Friend The Internet for some history on Bananas Foster.

It turns out that bananas weren’t as ubiquitous (go look it up) in the 1950s as they are today, and in those days New Orleans was one of (if not the) major ports through which bananas entered the US of A. Own Brennan, owner of the Amazing Brennan’s Restaurant which you can hear people all over the Food Network “ooh” and “ahh” about, decided to promote this exotic fruit.

Coincidentally, at about the same time Holiday Magazine (which I have never heard of but MFTI has) asked Owen for a new and inspiring recipe to include in an article they were writing about the Restaurant.

So Owen turned to his Chef (although I’m not sure if they capitalized Chef in those days the way we seem to now) Paul Blange for a banana inspired dessert. If then were now, Paul probably would have created something with bacon in the shape of a banana. But then was then, so Paul created Bananas Foster.

The original recipe from Brennan’s is remarkably close to Alton’s but without the allspice and nutmeg (freshly grated or not) and with cinnamon (I am so smart!) and served over vanilla ice cream. It is often made tableside so you can watch the flambé part flambé. Extra points if your tablecloth catches on fire.

Bananas Foster was named for Richard Foster who was a FOO (Friend of Owen’s). Richard was chairman of the New Orleans Crime Commission and “a local civic and business leader.” I’m guessing it never hurts to name a dessert after your local chairman of the Crime Commission.

These days, Brennan’s is still serving Banana’s Foster and they flambé (such a great word) 35,000 pounds of bananas each year (which is 5,000 more than crashed in Allentown, PA for those of you keeping track of such things).

Thanks for asking such a good question.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Sometimes blog inspiration arrives in a burst. Sometimes it arrives by carrier pigeon. Sometimes it doesn’t really arrive at all. And sometimes it arrives in the form of the word “magnanimous.”

Last night, when Pi and Tal got home, they (and by “they” I mean Pi) bellowed upstairs. “Hi, Mom!!! Tal and I were thinking that if you were feeling magnanimous, you might want to make us dessert.” “What kind of dessert?” “Whatever you feel like making.” “Be down in a minute.”

Tal asked, “What is this word ‘mag, maj, mananim’?”

Whereupon we set out to teach her the word “magnanimous” to much giggling. It’s a fun word to teach to someone who does not speak English as a first language. To her credit, she learned it really quickly.

Since I was feeling rather magnanimous, I decided to make bananas foster. My way, not the way it’s supposed to be made.

Here are both recipes for your edification.

Bananas Foster (version Mom and version Alton Brown)

Before I continue, let me point out that I think Alton Brown is the Chief Chef, the cherry on the sundae, the Most Amazing Food Person In Our Time. So obviously his version is Right. My version is just what gets made in our house.

Let me also point out that Minions Love Bananas. And doesn’t that just make my little heart happy?

Alton: Melt 2 tablespoons unsalted butter in a 10-inch heavy skillet over low heat.

Mom: Find non-stick pan. Move the drying pots off the stove so there is room to work. Turn up the heat to Reasonably High and melt a bunch of vegan butter (what with Pi not doing cow at the moment). Encourage the vegan butter to get on with melting. Put a tortilla in the pan to brown on both sides. Decide you’re not going to wait for any of this browning nonsense and settle for warming it up. Remove warm, buttery tortilla to a plate. Add more butter stuff to melt.

Alton: Add 1/4 cup dark brown sugar, 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice, and 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg and stir until sugar dissolves.

Mom: Add about-that-much brown sugar and stir. After reading Alton’s recipe (we’re good friends, so I can call him by his first name) decide cinnamon, allspice, and nutmeg might be a good addition next time. Laugh mightily at the idea of grinding fresh nutmeg.

Alton: Add 1 tablespoon banana liqueur and bring sauce to simmer. Add 2 under ripe bananas, sliced in half lengthwise and cook for 1 minute on each side, carefully spooning sauce over bananas as they are cooking.

Mom: Trip over the puppy trying to get the bananas. Giggle as puppy looks expectantly at the bananas. Giggle harder as puppy stares hard enough at the bananas to get them to jump out of their skins voluntarily. Peel and slice bananas into rounds (“coins” as Dad calls them). Share 2 pieces with a grateful dog. Put the bananas in the pan and stir. Laugh at the notion of being careful while doing this.

Alton: Remove bananas from pan to a serving dish. Bring sauce to a simmer and carefully add 1/4 cup dark rum. If the sauce is very hot, the alcohol will flame on its own. If not, using stick flame, carefully ignite and continue cooking until flame dies out, approximately 1 to 2 minutes. If sauce is too thin, cook for 1 to 2 minutes until it is syrupy in consistency. Add 1/2 teaspoon finely grated orange zest and stir to combine. Immediately spoon the sauce over bananas and serve. Serve with waffles, crepes, or ice cream.

Mom: Spoon most of the banana/brown sugar yumminess over half the tortilla. Fold tortilla over and spoon the rest on top. Cut in half if you are serving to two people (which you would only do if you don’t have enough ingredients to make two whole servings. Which reminds me, we need to get more tortillas, bananas, and brown sugar.).

NOTE: If you are me, do not even consider the whole “light on fire” thing since it would doubtless turn into a “light the entire kitchen on fire” thing. And while we do have a fire extinguisher (never used, I’m glad to point out), I don’t think foam is a good addition to this particular dessert.

Serve to incredibly happy teenagers.

Hope you have a sweet day, kiddo.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Did you hear about my phone?

I’m sure you heard part of the story, but here is the un-abbreviated version.

Friday evening, I hightailed it out of work. And by “hightailed it” I mean left on time and made a pit stop in the ladies room.

Friday night we (and by “we” I mean the Sycamore Aviators) played football in Hamilton which is not next door. Since dad was away, I had to zip home, walk and feed the puppy, explain to him that I was leaving, explain again that I would be home later, change into football appropriate clothes, and leave.

That was where I made my second mistake.

It had been soooo warm in the office and on the drive home that I decided (without consulting weather.com) that a little shirt, my inherited lacrosse jacket, a scarf, and gloves would be perfect for the evening. Unfortunately, I had not factored in the 90 mile an hour winds which made for a much chillier evening than I’d expected.

As I was driving up to Hamilton (using Option B directions as I-75 was backed up to Florida), I glanced over at my purse (which was riding quite comfortably on the front passenger seat. One little brain cell perked up and said, “Your Phone Isn’t There.” Then it promptly died, having lived a full and useful life. But its message somehow traveled to a couple of other brain cells, and I reached over to prove them wrong. Then I groped through my purse to prove them wrong. Then I dialed dad using the car interface to prove them wrong. The car coughed and tried to explain that my phone was nowhere in the vicinity and perhaps I should try again when I located it.

I taught the car a few new words (not all of which were four letters long) and finished driving up to the game. Once I’d parked (see how safe I was?), I dragged over my purse and went through it. Twice. If you will imagine the contents of my purse, you will realize this was No Easy Task to undertake even once.

Finally admitting that I’d left my phone at home, I decided to enjoy the game unencumbered by providing you with timely updates.

I did enjoy the game, especially the kick off that went through the uprights (did I mention the 453 mile an hour winds?), and the highly imaginative officiating which fortunately didn’t change the outcome of the game but did give several coaches and parents the opportunity to turn purple with indignation. (And by “purple with indignation” I mean I thought some of them were going to bust a spleen or some other vital organ as they ranted and raged at the official who made most of the creative mistakes.)

Decided to go home and get my phone before picking up Pi at the High School. And this is where it gets weird.

Neither Tal nor Booker knew where my phone was, so I decided to use the house phone to hear the ring and locate it. I call—and Pi answers.

Me: Pi?
Pi: Maybe
Me: What? (phone clicks as Dad tries to call in)
Me: Wait a minute
Pi: Ok.
I fumble with the phone, decide I can’t figure out how to talk to Dad, and go back to Pi.
Me: Wait, who am I talking to?
Pi: This is Rachel and I found your phone in the office building
Me (brilliantly): Wait, what?

The conversation goes on like this for another minute or two.

Finally, I realize that a lovely woman named Rachel (a confusing coincidence) found my phone and rescued it not knowing what Evil Forces might abscond with it. And then she was kind enough to try to find me! And to answer the phone when I called.

I’m pretty sure she called you (what with not having heard from you all weekend, I cannot be positive), she texted with Dad, she posted on Facebook—basically, she did everything except buy a billboard. (I wonder why she didn’t buy a billboard…)

Once I had this all figured out, we agreed to meet Saturday morning so she could give me my phone.

Yes, I said thank you (more than once). Yes, I am bringing her brownies. No, there are none left for me to mail to you. And YES, I believe in the kindness of strangers.

Pay it forward. Do something nice for a stranger today.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I had fudge for breakfast. This may not seem very important, I know. And it really isn’t. But here’s what happened.

The other night after dinner, Pi said, “I think we should make something yummy.”

Me: Don’t you have homework?
Puppy: I like yummy things
Pi: Just a little
Puppy: I can help! I can help!
Me: You’d best do your homework
Pi: Then can we make something yummy?
Puppy: I really, really love yummy things!
Me: Why don’t you finish your homework and then see what you think you’d like to make and come show me.
Pi: OK
Puppy: Ok! I will think of lots of yummy things. They all sound delicious! I think my head will explode.

About half an hour later, I was presented with a multi-post-it-noted cookbook. Pi took me through the options, with the Puppy explaining why each one was the Best Possible One.

Finally, we decided to make her #1 pick: Chocolate Peanut Butter Fudge (vegan variety).

Here is how you make Chocolate Peanut Butter Fudge (vegan variety):

Puppy: I love peanut butter
Me: I know you do
Puppy: Can I have some?
Me: We’ll see
Pi: But no chocolate for you
Puppy: Of course not. Puppies can’t have chocolate. I’ll just have two peanut butters please
Me: We’ll see

First you read the ingredients. When you realize you don’t have all the ingredients you turn your puppy eyes (“My puppy eyes?” “No, Pi’s puppy eyes” “Oh. I thought I was in the story” “You are in the story. Just not this part of the story.” “But later?” “Absolutely.”) you turn your puppy eyes on your daddy and implore him to make a trip to the super market.

Once you have Ingredients, measure 1 ¾ Cups of dairy-free chocolate chips into a cup. You will only need 1 ½ cup, but this way there are plenty for snacking on until you get to that part. Note: You can find dairy-free chocolate chips. It’s just not easy.

Have the child measure 1 cup of vegan margarine and 1 cup of creamy peanut butter into a saucepan. (“And I watch.” “Yes, you watch very carefully.”) Whisk the margarine and the peanut butter over low heat until smooth. (“Still watching!!”)

Meanwhile, line an 8” pan with foil. Amaze child with the trick of molding it over the bottom so it fits on the inside.

Meanwhile, have the child get out the mixer. In retrospect, I don’t think a mixer is necessary at all, but we were (more or less) following the recipe since it was the first time we’d made it.

Measure 3 Cups of powdered sugar into the mixer bowl.

When the peanut butter and margarine are smooth (it doesn’t take very long), whisk in 1 teaspoon of vanilla. Make a note to add vanilla to the shopping list.

Pour the vanilla-peanut butter-margarine mixture over the powdered sugar. Hand mix until there is little risk of a powdered sugar cloud engulfing the entire kitchen. Then turn on the mixer to finish mixing. If you’re using the mixer. Otherwise, just stir. Press the yumminess into the pan.

Pi: This is really good
Puppy: Do I get to taste? Do I get to taste? What about me?
Me: Maybe later
Puppy: I like now better
Pi: Oops. Dropped a little piece
Puppy: I GOT IT! I GOT IT! YUM!!!

Melt 1 ½ Cups of dairy-free chocolate chips (see how nicely that worked out?) and ½ Cup of almond milk (or soy or rice) and whisk over low heat until it’s all melty and smooth. (“And I watch.”)

Remove from heat and mix into 1 ½ Cups of powdered sugar and 2 Tablespoons of cocoa powder. The original recipe says to use the mixer to do it. We decided a whisk would work just fine. (“And I watch.”) Decide the mixture needs to be whisked a bit more and hand the job over to the child. While she whisks, offer the measuring cup that had the peanut butter to the puppy. (“I knew it! I knew it! I love this!!!!! I am a good boy!!!”)

Pour the chocolate mixture on top of the peanut butter stuff. If you’re following the recipe, top with ½ Cup of chopped roasted peanuts. If you’re us, don’t.

Cover with foil and refrigerate overnight.

Wonder how you ever lived without this fudge.

Then wonder why on earth you just ate fudge for breakfast.

Decide to ponder once the sugar shock wears off.

Love, Mom

For more puppy conversations see

• Puppy Conversations and Food Observations
• Spring Puppy Conversations
• New Puppy Conversations
• Winter WonderPuppy | Baby It’s Cold Outside
• Puppy Conversations Translated for the College Kid
• Puppy Conversations and FIFA World Cup Soccer
• Puppy Conversations and the Joy of Quirkiness
• Puppy Conversations| In the Beginning
• Puppy Conversations | What’s In a Name?
• Puppy Conversations | Puppy Plans a Party
• Puppy Speaks Foreign Languages…Sort Of
• Summer Puppy Conversations | Speaking of Hope
• National Dog Day | Puppy Has His Say
• Puppy Conversations | Completely In Love with Tal
• The Puppy and The Cricket | Wildlife in the House
• October is National Adopt a Shelter Dog Month |Puppy Has an Announcement
• Puppy Tries to Talk His Way Out of a Bath

Dear Kid,

One of our favorite recipes from the new vegan cookie recipe book is Snowball Cookies. And by “favorite” I mean one of the two recipes we’ve made so far. (The fudge recipe is for tomorrow.)

These are fantastic. You are warned.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Put parchment paper on two cookie sheets. Parchment paper may be the best invention modern cooking ever came up with.

Beat ¾ Cup of vegan margarine until it’s fluffy. Margarine fluffy, not Gabriel fluffy. Although if you eat enough of these, you can be both.

Add 1 ½ Cups of flour, half cup of powdered sugar (try not to cough from the powdered sugar cloud that engulfs your kitchen), 2 teaspoons of vanilla, and mix thoroughly. Add 1 Cup of dairy free chocolate chips. Eat a few chips to be sure they are good. Eat a few more to confirm your suspicions that they are quite delicious.

Scoop the dough onto the parchment paper-ed cookie sheets. I used my handy-dandy-ice-cream-scoop-like-cookie-dough-measurer which worked perfectly. You want them to look like little hills of yumminess. Be prepared to fight off people who think eating them pre-baking is a fine idea.

Bake for about 12 minutes. They’ll be a little golden around the edges but you will think they need to bake more. They don’t. They are shortbread-y, so they’ll look uncooked when they are perfect.

Remove from oven and immediately sift powdered sugar over the cookies. Do not make the mistake of forgetting to read the recipe the second time you make them and powdering them before you bake because it really doesn’t work out all that well. Let the cookies cool (again, be prepared to fight off the hordes) and sprinkle with powdered sugar again.

Serve.

Do not worry about how to package leftovers. Because there won’t be leftovers.

Love, Mom