A Kid at Heart

Chocolate chip cookies will always have a special place in my heart. Not because they are the quintessential cookie, or because they are every kids favorite, but because of the memories that they have brought me.


My earliest memory of these cookies was when I was about seven. Me and my best friend had walked home from the bus stop and upon arriving, our babysitter Rhonda told us that our activity for the rest of the afternoon was going to be baking cookies. Thrilled, we grabbed wooden spoons, measuring cups, bowls and set about creating our chocolate masterpiece. I don't remember where the recipe came from, or how it all got mixed together, but what I do remember is how many went into the oven. If my memory serves me right, it was somewhere around 12, maybe even 11. Once the dough got all mixed together, Rhonda told us that we were in charge of scooping the batter, using two spoons, onto the cookie sheet and getting them ready for the oven. She, on the other hand, had to watch The Young and the Restless, but at first commercial break, she would be back to ensure that everything was going according to plan. You'd better believe that by the time she rounded the corner to settle into her soap opera seat, our fingers were into that dough faster than you could say The Young and the Restless. True to her word, she launched into the kitchen to assess our progress, and found 4 cookies on the sheet. Delighted by what she saw, she left again.


We quickly realized after she failed to appear during the second commercial break, that we had an entire bowl of cookie dough to ourselves and no one supervising. Without any hesitation, we shoved our spoons into the bowl and didn't stop. We would occasionally hear a sound coming from the TV room, which would propel us to drop a few more cookies onto the sheet, but when nothing became of the noise, we continued to inhale, stiffling giggles between bites. Suffice to say, when Rhonda appeared on the baking scene at the end of her show, she was shocked by the empty bowl, 12, maybe 11 cookies and two girls looking at her with very convincing, innocent eyes. I don't remember what she did with us, but I can only imagine that it didn't end well.

As you can see from an earlier post, not much has changed, only my age and the location of the cookie dough. This time though, I don't need to hide it. I still giggle at the thought, which is quickly followed by "oh shit, what are you doing..?" but in the long run, I don't care. Life is too short to deprive yourself of all that is good in this world, and cookie dough, raw or otherwise is part of that good.

Ms. Elaine's Chocolate Chip Cookies

Although Elaine claims to have received the recipe from someone else, they will always have her name in the title. These cookies are great to keep around, either as dough or baked. They freeze well and will keep for a long time in an airtight container.

2/3 cups Shortening

2/3 cups Butter of Margarine

1 cup Brown Sugar

1 cup White Sugar

2 tsp. Vanilla Extract

2 Eggs

2 1/2 cup Flour

1 tsp Baking Soda

1 tsp Salt

1 cup Large Flake Oatmeal

1 cup Chocolate Chips, or more to taste

Cream your shortening, butter and sugars together until it is well blended and creamy looking.

Around 5 minutes. Add the eggs and vanilla, and beat until incorporated. Do not over blend.

In a separate bowl, combine your flour, baking soda and salt. Add to cream mixture all at one and beat until combined. Add your oats and chocolate chips and mix until incorporated.

Note: This is a pretty fool proof recipe. It's not fussy or temperamental. Add everything (in the order listed above) and enjoy.

If you are unlike me and want to bake them, set the over at 350 F and back for 12-15 minutes.

U.E.S. F!@$#$% My Life

I started reading my last blog entry and was horrified to realize that the number of obvious, glaring mistakes was beyond atrocious. In fact, with that number of mistakes, someone should have shouted at me "hey you, where did you learn to spell? Were you even shown how to construct a sentence?" The sad answer to these questions are a) I was never taught to spell (at least in the traditional sense) and b) what's sentence construction? There's a way to build a sentence? Go figure.

I lived in Calgary from the age of 0 to 9, and for the 4 years that I went to school there, I was an experiment. Instead of one, grade one class, we had 3, with an open concept classroom, and 3 different teachers. Above the giant classroom, there were one way mirrors for the university students to "observe" us. Our teachers had to wear a microphone while teaching us our ABC's and we would routinely have to sit in the halls with these so-called observers and speak/read into a microphone. The worst part was, they would play back our recordings and make us listen to them. The idea (be that from the teachers or the powers that be) was that we didn't need to learn how to spell or how to structure a sentence. Verbs and nouns, adverbs and pronouns had no place in the four (or maybe 12?) walls of our classroom. No sir, English was something that was to be taught through osmosis. Yup, you heard me, osmosis. I'm surprised they didn't make us sleep on our text books at night for enhanced learning and extra credit points. I was always a sucker for that little gold star...

Anyways, to further add to the whole experiment, we were provided with seriously dangerous recess activities that would never pass in today's kid-friendly world. For example, the flying fox was two pieces of wood, held together by a long cable, and we would ride the cable from one end to the other, by placing our tiny feet into a triangle type thing that hung from the cable. If we were really daring, we'd have our friends push us so we'd go faster. Oh the joys of being a kid in 1989.

I tell you all this for one reason: If you happen to be reading something I wrote (and I say thank you for that) and there is a glaring mistake, one that makes your eyes hurt and your brain cringe, please let me know. I know there aren't a whole lot of you who read what I write, but for my future well being and for all those who might read what I have to say, please inform me of my spelling and sentence structure faults. All I ask is that you be kind about it. Have pity on the girl who was an educational experiment.

Good I'm glad we got that out of the way! Onto other news, I was able to extract the cookie recipe from Ms. Elaine, which means that the goods, in all their shining glory, will be coming to a blog near you. I dare you, no wait, I double dog dare you, to try and stop after one spoonful of cookie dough. For those of you who can, you're a better person than I am.

Salads and Bail Outs

Well Julia, you came through once again. Why I ever doubted you, I will never know, but tonight, you came off looking like a rock star. I shouldn't be surprised, really, but given my rather pessimistic nature, I was. These types of surprises are always helped when you have someone sitting in the chair across from you, complimenting the food on every second bite.

I am staying with the most delightful people in Oshawa. My boyfriend, I'm sure, finds it very odd that for my first vacation in 9 months, I come to Ontario to hang out with people my parents age. The reasons why I'm here are too great to list, and I know that even if I did, you would never understand, but suffice to say, coming to the 'Shwa regenerates my soul and calms my ever racing mind. To show my affection and gratitude, I decided that dinner was on me and what a coincidence, I just bought a new cookbook.

My quest to find the perfect recipe started last night, as I slid my fingers over the fresh pages, and inhaled the lingering smell of ink. I finally decided on a Nicoise Salad, because it seemed like the one recipe that had the least amount of butter and cream in it - which is to say, none. I went to the store this morning, loaded up on the necessary ingredients and slowly, over the course of the day, put the components of my salad together. I over shot the amount of dried mustard to put in the dressing and had to compensate with a little honey (shhhhh, don't tell Julia! In the recipe she claimed that adding sugar or the like was heresy!) but I followed everything else perfectly. The results were delightful, and it was the perfect way to end the evening. Except for dessert. Dessert was divine.

Elaine made cookie dough that I consumed straight from the bowl, which left me having the need to stretch and take a walk. I had run out of room to put the never ending amount of dough which I kept baling into my mouth. After a 45 minute walk, I finally stopped feeling like the Pilsbury dough boy.

I have to tell you that even though I had a great day, made an awesome meal and consumed more cookie dough than should be legally allowed, I'm not feeling 100% tonight. I'm feeling closer to 15%. I was informed by email tonight that the friend I had really wanted to see, wouldn't have the time . He might be able to make an hour or so, somewhere, but there were just too many other things going on. "Life is crazy right now". Honestly??? A friend that you have known since your second year of university tells you she's coming in July, and you agree to get together, make plans, meet the new woman, only to blow her off. Fantastic. No wait, I've got something better then that: I get blown off, followed by a consolation prize of "maybe an hour of so". You know what I wanted to tell him "Fuck you." But I didn't. I kept my mouth shut and wrote the typical Julie response "Let me know when you find time". I don't know whether to be mad at him for being an asshole, or at myself for letting him off the hook. I'm too damn forgiving and it pisses me off.

On this note, I'm going to bed. Julie out!

Butter is only the Beginning

I couldn't help myself - truly. I just had to buy myself another cookbook. You see, I've been reading this memoir, that has been turned into a movie, and its based on the cookbook I bought today. I always knew the cookbook would be worth the purchase, but I wasn't totally sold on the memoir. I bought it at the Calgary Airport because I needed a new book to read, and it looked decent. I really didn't think that the book would deliver (on any level) and much to my surprise, I can't put the freakin thing down. It's like an addiction. But I am running out of pages to read. This thought scares me! Whatever will I do once it is completed?

I started the memoir on my way to Chicago (the book I was trying to read while mr. somebody was talking to me) and it super witty, funny, and very relatable (even though I'm not from Texas and I don't currently live in New York). Formalities aside, the book is about a woman who hates her secretarial life, and decides to cook every recipe out of Julia Childs book "Mastering the Art of French Cooking - Volume One". I just purchased the 40th Anniversary addition at Chapters, not more than 15 minutes ago, and the book is rather large. And, although I do consider myself a gourmand (to a certain degree...maybe...I make my own pasta dough: does that count?) the idea of eating calves brains and other forms of sweet breads has about the same appeal as poking my eyes out with a spoon. Thus, I won't be pulling a Julie Powell.

(As an aside, I was reading about eggs done in the oven, and upon further inspection of the cooking gear and ingredients here in Oshawa, I realized that I could piece together what Julie Powell refers to as the greatest hang over food. EVER. I agree. 100%. HOT. DAMN. That in itself was enough to propel me out of my pool chair, into a car and off to Chapters.)

This said, I want to host more dinner parties. The kind where the food is full of delious butter and wine, where there will be a food coma at the end of the night and where people ask for another invitation (for them and their friends.) If the hangover eggs are just the beginning, I'm in for some amazing food. Maybe I should start going to the gym again, what, with all this butter I'm about to consume. But baby, butter is only the beginning.

Chicago to Toronto!

I have made it to Ontario with a few minor blisters and a bit of a headache, but all things considered, in one piece. The first leg of my trip was fantastic. The concert on Thursday was everything (and more) that I had hoped it would be, and from there, it just got better. I met some interesting people and heard some rather obscure things along the way, but those are the tales that make traveling so much fun. To date, “I have trust issues” is by far my favorite, but I will have to tell you about that at another time. Let’s just say the man I sat next to on the plane ride to Chicago, imparted this sentiment on me within the first 55.5 seconds of me meeting him. (Ok, I know that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but if you take away the time that I slept, the time he was distracted by the TV, and me trying to read my book, it boils down to about 55.5 seconds. Looking back, it’s comical, but at the time, I wanted to window to open up and swallow him.)


Yesterday afternoon, Fawn, Jason and I took the train into Chicago and wandered down to China Town. We got moderately lost (twice), but thanks to a handy public service woman in blue, we were able to steer into China Town, unscathed. Along our journey we stopped at Joy Yee’s Noodle house, found a 1926 bridge, and got a view of the downtown, that I’m not sure we would have experienced otherwise. By the time we’d wandered (and smelt) our way through China Town, all three of us had blisters on our feet and the idea of sitting down and not moving became very enticing. We hopped the red line to the Lake stop, and quickly found a Borders to park ourselves at.

The suggestion of hitting up a piano bar had been casually tossed around, but by the time we found ourselves at Borders, all appeal had been lost. We opted to take the next train back to Hindsdale, but much to our luck, we had missed the last train out of Union Station, and ended up people watching at McDonalds for two hours, while eating fries and sipping Coca-Cola. We finally caught the 8:40pm train west. Jason commented on his limp as we made our way back to the house. I laughed at him, which later came back to bite me in the ass, because I was awoken this morning by a pain coming from between my big and second toes. Upon further inspection, I too, was the proud owner of a nice-sized blister.

My morning started bright and early with a trip to the airport, a grande Starbucks, and a boarder crossing. As I write this, I’m a sitting in a candle lit room drinking a vodka tonic. Oh how I love vacation. Steak and vegetable packets are on the menu tonight for dinner, along with a nice bottle of Red. Six whole days of this means that Julie is one happy happy person.

A Few from Last Night

To say that Elton John and Billy rocked the stage at Wriggle field last night would be such an understatement. As people got more comfortable (an more drunk) they sang louder and danced harder. It was an incredibly awesome experience.

Vacation on the Horizon

Maybe it's time to post again. Not because I feel like I've got a lot to say, but rather because I feel inspired today. If I had to thank anyone for that, it would be my favorite food blog Orangette. Her way of writing inspires me to write. And maybe I have more to say that I actually give myself credit for.

The official count down to Chicago has started. Well actually, it started about 3 months ago, but that's besides the point. What started as a "Hey, would you like to meet me in Chicago for a concert" has now turned into 10 days of blissful summer vacation. I fly to Chicago on Thursday, stay the weekend and then fly onward to Toronto on Sunday. Every summer since I was about 15, I have spent a least a week in the Toronto area. Some of that time was summer vacation, some of that time was work, but regardless of the reason, I was in Ontario - in the summer. I know a lot of people have head issues with Ontario, specifically Toronto, but for me, it respresents so many memories that I cannot begin to describe the warm place that Ontario has in my heart.

For a long time now, I've had this feeling that I need to get away, remove myself from my job, Calgary and my life here. Not on a perminant basis, but rather for a break. Take some much needed (and deserved) ME time to reset myself. Besides long weekends, I haven't taken vacation since October, and this is starting to show. Everywhere. My general frame of mind is grumpy, and in the big picture, I have just run out of medicine. Vacation means no agenda, which means that I can do whatever my heart desires. Which is exactly what I'm going to do.

Here's the agenda:

Thursday: Fly to Chicago and go to Billy Joel - Elton John Concert

Friday - Sunday: Spend quality time with my best friend from University

Sunday - Sunday: See family and friends, sit by a pool, continue to sit by a pool and move as little as possible (except when necessary).

I know that when I return, my relationships will improve, my mental and physical health will improve and I will be able to give 100% to all that I do and encounter. Until I leave, the countdown will continue and I will continue to act my way into a feeling. Sometimes that's the only thing you can do - fake it till you make it.

Updates coming from Chi city and Tdot. Stay tuned for pictures and posts. Thank you all for putting up with my grumpiness. I promise it will be gone by the 26th.