Holiday Goodies

I’m a California Jew. If one were to compare ethnicity in terms of packaging, we’d be ‘plain wrap’. Both my folks were Jewish, but Mom was an Atheist and Dad, well,  he grew up in the little town of Chloride Arizona and  Grandpa Harry was the Sheriff.  Once, when I was a kid, I brought a stray cat into the house. Dad hated cats. The center of his face turned purple with rage. “You git that ornery varmint outta here!”  Get the picture?

Then I met my salt of the earth, “Philly bro” husband who promised his father on his deathbed that he’d have his kids bar/bat mitzvah’d, what the fuck was I gonnna do?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm truly an American. I mean, I have never eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread, I have never eaten at Taco Bell, and despite its nearly iconic status in American cuisine, I cannot abide green bean casserole. You know the one – green beans with cream of mushroom soup, topped with crispy fried onions.

Growing up, I never knew what a casserole was; my mom (and grandmother) never made them. After hearing about green bean casserole from friends at school, I felt like I was missing out – I told my mom, "It has fried onions on top! It's like green beans with Funyuns!" The next day she bought the ingredients for green bean casserole; I couldn't have been happier.

Unfortunately, she made the green bean casserole in front of my grandmother, Nan. I still remember her look of shock when my mom opened the can of fried onions. "Onions in a can? Who ever heard of such a thing? And who puts soup on string beans?" she said, "Bah, that's American food." I reminded her, "Nan, we are American." "Yeah," she replied, "but we cook Italian."

Despite Nan's protests, I got my green bean casserole. I was giddy with anticipation. Unfortunately, with the first bite, my giddiness ended. Green bean casserole was nothing more than mushy green beans topped with salty soup and greasy onions.

Got leftover Halloween candy? Make cookies.

If you think Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are good straight out of the wrapper, then wait until you taste them baked into these big, bumpy, nutty, chocolate chunk cookies.

Here's what you need to do:

1. Print this recipe.
2. Ransack your kids' Halloween bags for 6 Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
3. If you don't have kids, then go the supermarket and buy a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. It's not as much fun as #2 but at least you might catch them on sale.
4. Bake the cookies, turning on the oven light to watch them swell.
5. Eat a still warm, melty cookie and wash it down with a glass of cold milk while you reminisce about Halloweens past.
6. Sigh in satisfaction. There are still 23 cookies left to eat.

My house has been exploding with cookies lately. It’s not a bad thing and I’m certainly not complaining. I love this time of year when baking takes priority over dinner. “Here kids, have a few cookies and a glass of milk, we’ll call it good for a meal.” Just kidding…sort of.

Anyway, dark chocolate and peppermint is a combination that can’t be denied. I love putting it together during the holidays, mostly just to torture myself. I can barely say no to this melding of flavors and it kills me having it around. But this combo is refreshing in a sweet kind of way. You know what I mean.

However, in all truth, I love these cookies. They have hunks of melty chocolate inside, with crunchy sugar on the outside. They are insanely good and I hope you try them. They do not disappoint.

What did we do before Hershey’s came out with all these totally cute looking kisses? Not every flavor is my favorite, but I do really like the candy cane rendition. And they are so pretty.