Page Two Hundred-Seventeen.
Here's an easy trick to really memorable Belgian Waffles: add just a touch of almond extract and/or a touch of vanilla extract to your batter. It'll be heavenly. Also, feel free to add either of them to your whipped cream too.
Showing posts with label Belgian Waffles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Belgian Waffles. Show all posts
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Quito. Chapter 3. That's Not All
Page Two Hundred-Sixteen.
"What's cold-fusion mean?", arfed Quito after flying around the house and knocking down 2 Lichtenstein painting, 1 Picasso and 1 Tiffany lamp.
"Cold-fusion mean atomic power which can be created at room temperature. Normally for atomic power to occur, the temperature in the place where it's created has to get to thousands of degrees. But cold-fusion saves a lot of energy 'cause it doesn't have to get so hot", replied Zachary in between sneezes because apparently he either had allergies or a cold. He was, of course, a nuclear physicist so he knew all about that sort of complicated stuff.
Quito realized that he'd been gone from little William and Thomas for a long time and figured they'd be awake, roaming around and probably watching their favorite TV show, Dark Shadows, by now. Quito knew that Parents had probably already given them a nice breakfast of Belgian Waffles with local Ohio maple syrup freshly whipped cream and sliced ruby-red strawberries atop. And he was just as curious as you can imagine about how he became a cold-fusion puppy. He figured it was okay if he stayed at the neighbors for just a little while longer to learn more about his new "condition". Also, he needed to practice walking and lifting things normally again which the 3 brothers assured him he'd be able to do. They'd told him that the reason he broke the toilet was because he simply didn't know his own new strength. But with concentrating on a gentle touch, he wouldn't break things anymore. They also told him that getting wet eliminates all his cold-fusion special powers.
"So what started this whole thing, anyhow?" barked Quito as he and the gentlemen walked into the recently redecorated breakfast room with it's jade green wooden furniture, soft mint green walls, early-American style hammered copper lighting fixture and bright purple paintings on the walls. The eastern wall of windows were on fire like The Towering Inferno with the morning sun. The ray's warmth felt good on Quito's snout. Everybody sat down and the dog began trying to solve the Rubik's Cube which was sitting on the table.
"Well, here's the scoop", said Judd with the sort of voice that made you think he was proud of himself for saying something that somebody else actually wanted to hear. Meanwhile, Nathanael poured everybody tall glasses of freshly squeezed orange-grapefruit juice and served it over ice with sprigs of mint leaves. "That fireball from the sky was from the sun. We all know that the sun is a giant ball of gas which is on fire.Well, more often than you realize, some of that gas breaks away and travels quickly through space, still on fire. As it travels it attracts space dust, little rocks and stuff and gradually becomes a solid chunk. That's what landed next to you yesterday. When it scorched the little spot in your backyard, it made it and anything standing on it radioactive.That radioactivity is what made you super-powered.
"There's some other things also", interjected Nathanael.
"Wait!" said Zack and Judd almost in unison and almost in raised voices. "Should he know now?" asked one of them to the others.
"He's going to find out anyhow. He may as well hear it from us, right up front." Replied Nathanael. Then the men started arguing about whether or not to tell him something. They started calling each other all sorts of names. Dimwit, nimrod, dinkus-brain, stinky-butt, doofus and poopy-pants were just a few that Quito was able to make out. He also heard some actual constructive discussion between the brothers. After a few minutes, Zack and Judd shrugged their shoulders in a "guess you're right" sort of way. "Okay tell em", said somebody.
By this point, Quito was really curious, as you can assume, about what they were with-holding. As much as he had enjoyed flying all over the house he was also wondering what they were arguing about. (Just so you know, Quito was a very responsible, diligent, conscientious, good humored, likable and curious puppy. He cared about his projects and tried to do them as best as he could. He didn't pretend to know more than he did just to impress people. He knew that everybody had their own side to every story and that's it's important to listen to everybody's version of what happened and get all the facts before making any conclusions. He enjoyed helping others. And there were many other things that made people enjoy being around him. Basically, he was just a great dog. But he was really wondering what else was going on.)
"Well, here it is", said Nathanael as he was taking Ghostbusters off the Victrola because it was finished and then putting on Britney Spears' new record . "If you concentrate and think real hard about anybody who's ever lived, real of fiction, like on TV, in books or in movies you can make them come to life for 2 minutes and help you out of any jam you may be in. Also, you have ESP. You can now know what anybody is thinking for 5 minutes after listening to any Henry Mancini music." All 3 men looked at Quito, unsure of what he was thinking (because they didn't have ESP). For his part, Quito wasn't even sure what Quito was thinking. Except one thing he was definitely thinking was "who's Henry Mancini?"
Continued next week... Chapter 4. How do you know?
"What's cold-fusion mean?", arfed Quito after flying around the house and knocking down 2 Lichtenstein painting, 1 Picasso and 1 Tiffany lamp.
"Cold-fusion mean atomic power which can be created at room temperature. Normally for atomic power to occur, the temperature in the place where it's created has to get to thousands of degrees. But cold-fusion saves a lot of energy 'cause it doesn't have to get so hot", replied Zachary in between sneezes because apparently he either had allergies or a cold. He was, of course, a nuclear physicist so he knew all about that sort of complicated stuff.
Quito realized that he'd been gone from little William and Thomas for a long time and figured they'd be awake, roaming around and probably watching their favorite TV show, Dark Shadows, by now. Quito knew that Parents had probably already given them a nice breakfast of Belgian Waffles with local Ohio maple syrup freshly whipped cream and sliced ruby-red strawberries atop. And he was just as curious as you can imagine about how he became a cold-fusion puppy. He figured it was okay if he stayed at the neighbors for just a little while longer to learn more about his new "condition". Also, he needed to practice walking and lifting things normally again which the 3 brothers assured him he'd be able to do. They'd told him that the reason he broke the toilet was because he simply didn't know his own new strength. But with concentrating on a gentle touch, he wouldn't break things anymore. They also told him that getting wet eliminates all his cold-fusion special powers.
"So what started this whole thing, anyhow?" barked Quito as he and the gentlemen walked into the recently redecorated breakfast room with it's jade green wooden furniture, soft mint green walls, early-American style hammered copper lighting fixture and bright purple paintings on the walls. The eastern wall of windows were on fire like The Towering Inferno with the morning sun. The ray's warmth felt good on Quito's snout. Everybody sat down and the dog began trying to solve the Rubik's Cube which was sitting on the table.
"Well, here's the scoop", said Judd with the sort of voice that made you think he was proud of himself for saying something that somebody else actually wanted to hear. Meanwhile, Nathanael poured everybody tall glasses of freshly squeezed orange-grapefruit juice and served it over ice with sprigs of mint leaves. "That fireball from the sky was from the sun. We all know that the sun is a giant ball of gas which is on fire.Well, more often than you realize, some of that gas breaks away and travels quickly through space, still on fire. As it travels it attracts space dust, little rocks and stuff and gradually becomes a solid chunk. That's what landed next to you yesterday. When it scorched the little spot in your backyard, it made it and anything standing on it radioactive.That radioactivity is what made you super-powered.
"There's some other things also", interjected Nathanael.
"Wait!" said Zack and Judd almost in unison and almost in raised voices. "Should he know now?" asked one of them to the others.
"He's going to find out anyhow. He may as well hear it from us, right up front." Replied Nathanael. Then the men started arguing about whether or not to tell him something. They started calling each other all sorts of names. Dimwit, nimrod, dinkus-brain, stinky-butt, doofus and poopy-pants were just a few that Quito was able to make out. He also heard some actual constructive discussion between the brothers. After a few minutes, Zack and Judd shrugged their shoulders in a "guess you're right" sort of way. "Okay tell em", said somebody.
By this point, Quito was really curious, as you can assume, about what they were with-holding. As much as he had enjoyed flying all over the house he was also wondering what they were arguing about. (Just so you know, Quito was a very responsible, diligent, conscientious, good humored, likable and curious puppy. He cared about his projects and tried to do them as best as he could. He didn't pretend to know more than he did just to impress people. He knew that everybody had their own side to every story and that's it's important to listen to everybody's version of what happened and get all the facts before making any conclusions. He enjoyed helping others. And there were many other things that made people enjoy being around him. Basically, he was just a great dog. But he was really wondering what else was going on.)
"Well, here it is", said Nathanael as he was taking Ghostbusters off the Victrola because it was finished and then putting on Britney Spears' new record . "If you concentrate and think real hard about anybody who's ever lived, real of fiction, like on TV, in books or in movies you can make them come to life for 2 minutes and help you out of any jam you may be in. Also, you have ESP. You can now know what anybody is thinking for 5 minutes after listening to any Henry Mancini music." All 3 men looked at Quito, unsure of what he was thinking (because they didn't have ESP). For his part, Quito wasn't even sure what Quito was thinking. Except one thing he was definitely thinking was "who's Henry Mancini?"
Continued next week... Chapter 4. How do you know?
Friday, April 5, 2013
A Thirteenth Birthday Meal
Page Fifty-Eight.
Tomorrow is the 13th birthday of one of the boys whom I currently nanny. For his birthday meal, Zok has asked me to make him homemade chicken noodle soup and homemade pretzels with a rosemary cheese dipping sauce. Is this a joke? What 13 year old boy asks for things like that? Boys who I nanny, that's who. Their grandmother has accused me one thousand times of spoiling them. I always tell her that spoiling them is my job, but this is ridiculous.
Right now, I have the soup cooking on my stove. Real, homemade chicken noodle soup is a two day affair, so I'll simply bring the finished product with me. It'll be easier that way. (Eventually, I'll put my recipe for the soup in this blog, but for now, all you need to know is: it is very time consuming and expensive.)
But, anyhow, what ever happened to 13 year old boys wanting really great Chicken Tetrazini or fresh, homemade lasagne or even homemade pizza? (All these are things I make great, by the way.) At least the little one, Fauntleroy, who'll be 9 this summer, is consistent. Every year he wants Belgian Waffles and Baked Alaska for his birthday. Lord help me when the middle one, Billy-Bob-Joe, turns 11 in a month. He's the pickiest. He's the way I was when I was a kid, virtually impossible. Interestingly, I successfully introduced him, of all people, to caviar. Nobody else will touch the stuff but he loves it.
I've been with these boys for almost two and a half years now and feeding them has gotten easier and more difficult, simultaneously. I've introduced much new food and homemade versions of old food. It's gotten easier because of the occasional success I have with introducing new dishes. It's more difficult because as I bring in new things, they no longer want the old, easier versions of those things. For example, Lord help me if I were to open a can of chicken noodle soup and present it to Zok for his birthday meal. No! no! no! Only homemade will do.(With homemade pretzels with rosemary cheese dipping sauce. How dysfunctional is that?) Maybe I'm just complaining and being lazy, but I promise you he never had homemade chicken soup in his life until I showed up.
The fact is, on the rare occasions when I make grilled cheese sandwiches with Tots and salad, they're thrilled. And Mom has told me a few times that I can relax a little with the food. But, I can't. It's not in my nature. Of course, I'm spoiling them. But, that's okay.
Tomorrow is the 13th birthday of one of the boys whom I currently nanny. For his birthday meal, Zok has asked me to make him homemade chicken noodle soup and homemade pretzels with a rosemary cheese dipping sauce. Is this a joke? What 13 year old boy asks for things like that? Boys who I nanny, that's who. Their grandmother has accused me one thousand times of spoiling them. I always tell her that spoiling them is my job, but this is ridiculous.
Right now, I have the soup cooking on my stove. Real, homemade chicken noodle soup is a two day affair, so I'll simply bring the finished product with me. It'll be easier that way. (Eventually, I'll put my recipe for the soup in this blog, but for now, all you need to know is: it is very time consuming and expensive.)
But, anyhow, what ever happened to 13 year old boys wanting really great Chicken Tetrazini or fresh, homemade lasagne or even homemade pizza? (All these are things I make great, by the way.) At least the little one, Fauntleroy, who'll be 9 this summer, is consistent. Every year he wants Belgian Waffles and Baked Alaska for his birthday. Lord help me when the middle one, Billy-Bob-Joe, turns 11 in a month. He's the pickiest. He's the way I was when I was a kid, virtually impossible. Interestingly, I successfully introduced him, of all people, to caviar. Nobody else will touch the stuff but he loves it.
I've been with these boys for almost two and a half years now and feeding them has gotten easier and more difficult, simultaneously. I've introduced much new food and homemade versions of old food. It's gotten easier because of the occasional success I have with introducing new dishes. It's more difficult because as I bring in new things, they no longer want the old, easier versions of those things. For example, Lord help me if I were to open a can of chicken noodle soup and present it to Zok for his birthday meal. No! no! no! Only homemade will do.(With homemade pretzels with rosemary cheese dipping sauce. How dysfunctional is that?) Maybe I'm just complaining and being lazy, but I promise you he never had homemade chicken soup in his life until I showed up.
The fact is, on the rare occasions when I make grilled cheese sandwiches with Tots and salad, they're thrilled. And Mom has told me a few times that I can relax a little with the food. But, I can't. It's not in my nature. Of course, I'm spoiling them. But, that's okay.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)