"I'm #^@!#$% Cooking!!!" with Allison

Hello all, I hope you are all doing more splendidly than the thought of a thousand Elvis impersonators reenacting the Battle of Philippi.

A quick reminder June 13th I will be at Hyde Park Books in Boise to sign your copies of "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus!"

Luckily the Demon had the Recipe

A couple of weeks ago I might have mentioned that I'm a good cook but kind of (or extremely) dangerous in the kitchen. I also indicated that my friends have commented multiple times that I should have my own cooking show titled "I'm #^@!#$% Cooking!!!" with Allison.

Since that post went live I've had multiple requests for a culinary demonstration. As to not disappoint, today I am providing you with one of my favorite absolutely and completely unhealthy recipes.

So don your aprons, send any children or sensitive/annoying relatives or friends to another room, pour yourself a glass of wine and follow along!
 
Cookie Dough Brownie Bombs

(AKA: Screw it! I'm wearing sweatpants today!)

You will need:

1. Cookie Dough

2. A box of fudge brownie mix (important that you buy FUDGE brownie mix, otherwise it all just goes to Heck).

3. Chocolate Bark - Pick your poison. I personally favor mixing dark and white chocolate together, but I won't tell you how to run your life. You will be dipping your creations into its sweet melty goodness, so make sure you buy it proportionally to your cookie dough.

4.  A large cookie sheet with tin foil covering it. Make yourself a hat too while you're at it, after all you don't need aliens getting all up in your business.

The Process:

Step 1: Buy cookie dough (or be all Martha Stewart and make your own) preferably chocolate chip cookie dough. Make small balls of cookie dough and place them on the cookie sheet that you have pre-covered in foil. If you forgot the tin-foil, now would be the moment before you actually follow the rest of these instructions to take care of that. Place the dough balls in the freezer to set up for 45 minutes to an hour. Eat a spoonful of cookie dough, because after all that work you deserve it.

Step 2: While you're waiting for the freezer to do it's magic sing "Let it Go" and proceed to use the instructions on the box to make your fudge brownies. Make them on the moist side rather than the dry side. In other words your arteries be damned, add a dash of extra oil to them. 

Let them cool otherwise the next step will result in a lot of choice words, a brand new dance move and the need to go to the store again for aloe lotion.

Step 3: Once your brownies have cooled cut them into large squares. Use the palm of your hand to flatten the brownies down as much as you can. That's it, let out all your week's frustrations ("Come on Steve! All you had to do was file one report!?!?!"). 

Step 4: Then remove the dough balls from the freezer and wrap them inside your flattened brownies. It's ok if the brownies crack a little, you should be able to kind of smooth them out so that they cover the cookie dough balls. Once you have done this, set everything back in the freezer. Pour yourself a celebratory glass of wine.

Step 5: Eat any cookie dough balls that managed not to get covered in brownie. Top off your glass of wine and pretend to care about something someone said on Facebook for about 15 minutes.

Step 6: Melt your chocolate bark in whatever way you find preferable (if you have never melted chocolate bark before, please Google it as it is actually really easy to burn). Take your cookie-dough brownie balls out of the freezer and dip and coat them in the chocolate. 

Then swear profusely and remember that melted things are often hot, and grab some tongs with which to dip your creations. Refrain from eating them immediately as well, they are still hot and it will not be as pleasant as one would think. Place the coated balls back on the tray and pop the tray back in the freezer.

 
Step 7: Pour yourself another glass of wine and watch an episode of that one T.V. show that you hate to admit you like to watch on Netflix. After about 30 or 40 minutes everything should have set and they should be ready for eating! 

Enjoy!

Need more cooking tips? Come find me on Facebook, Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and Goodreads. 

The Dangers of Cooking

Hello everyone! I hope your weeks were more fantastic than the thought of a thousand and one kittens mewing the tune to the Eagles' "Hotel California."

A very quick announcement: You will notice that there is a link titled "Case (Un)Managed" above this post. That is for a new mini-blog that I have recently started to help explain what social workers and those who work for non-profits go through on a daily basis (though regular, non-crazy people will probably find it funny too). Enjoy! 

I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post!

So, I have something to admit; I love cooking. 

You Know That's Right

While I dislike most other activities that would qualify me as a domestic-diva, I can't resist the urge to wander into my kitchen, dig through the fridge and create something new. 

There is just something so stress relieving about all that chopping, boiling, beating... No, I've never been convicted for assault, why do you ask?

As much as I love cooking, cooking hasn't always loved me back. Our relationship is less of a love/hate relationship and more of a love/light-you-on-fire one.

Now don't get me wrong, I am a pretty spiffy cook. There isn't a soul on this planet who would contradict that. (This is might be due to the fact that I'm usually holding a kitchen knife when I ask people if they like my food.)

But I do have a... shall we say "energetic" presence when in the kitchen. That energy is occasionally expressed when I'm beating the side of a big pot with a wooden spoon while yelling, "Get back in there!" or when I'm furiously lecturing carrots on why they shouldn't attempt to roll off of my cutting board (they rarely listen, cheeky carrots).

Several of my friends, who have come over just to watch the fantastic spectacle that is me cooking, have mentioned that I really should just have my own show called, "I'm $#%@-ing Cooking, with Allison."

Now, the things that happen to me in the kitchen tend to border on the freak accident scale. I have turned baking brownies into a science project, cooking rice into a geyser and once even turned pancakes into a first rate fiasco. If you need proof check out "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus."

Probably one of the most memorable of these little adventures happened my first week living in Spokane.

I had just moved into a studio apartment, which means that I was suddenly living in the tallest postage stamp on the planet. My kitchen was what my friend Kari likes to call a "one-butt" kitchen.

It had no counter space. I often found myself chopping vegetables on top of my microwave which sat precariously on top of a garage-sale nightstand, mixing ingredients on my coffee table and occasionally using my blender on my writing desk.

It was a time of imagination, perseverance and finding out new and incredible ways to get cornbread batter out of a living-room rug.

One night I decided to make some stir fried rice noodles. Simple enough: You boil noodles, you drain noodles, you heat noodles while adding sauce and veggies. Boom, meal.

Except in this case it was boil noodles, drain noodles, forget which burner you just cooked noodles on, set your colander on that burner, melt plastic colander permanently to your stove. Boom, quandary.

I quickly figured out a way to get the noodles out of the colander (namely lift up the entire burner on my gas stove and dump the noodles out). Now I was stuck with two kitchen appliances that had simulated the formation of the band the Rolling Stones (still together after 53 years!).

I tried prying it off, but the colander just started breaking off in little chunks. I tried pulling it off with pliers and nearly gave myself a black eye. I tried reasoning with the colander to leave, but it didn't believe me when I told it that the burner didn't really love it.

Finally, and possibly out of flaming vengeance, I decided that if melting it had gotten it stuck on there, maybe melting would get it off. I fired up the burner.

My Life in GIF Form

I would like to point out that I was technically not wrong, the colander did come off the burner. The other half of the story is that the colander lit up like it had Satan's seal of approval creating a momentary fireball.

Flinging all of it into the sink was probably the most sound of mind thing I did that entire evening. What lessons did I learn?

1. Plastic and fire are foes, not friends.

2. Eating the noodles that almost caused you to light your apartment on fire is a bittersweet experience.

3. When it comes to kitchens, less is not more. More kitchen means less chances of lighting something on fire.

If you want to see what's cooking in the kitchen this week, come join me on Facebook, Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and Goodreads!

Also, don't forget if you happen to be in the Boise area on June 13, you should come join me at Hyde Park Books for a book signing for "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus!"