Yep, I'm back again with another recipe. I can't help it, not really. Cooking has always had a relaxing effect on me, and it's enjoyable creating dishes my entire family can eat and enjoy--especially pizza. And, since the Superbowl IS next weekend, I wanted at least one finger-food that would be lower on the carb/calorie index.
     Sure, there are numerous gluten-free pizza crust alternatives, but many taste like cardboard and it scares me to think about what the ingredients in those products might be. Below is a flatbread pizza crust recipe made with simple ingredients. A bit of caution though, in reference to topping choices, I've only used veggies that normally pair well with spinach.

Spinach Flatbread Pizza Crust
Makes 6 bite-sized servings

5 cups baby spinach, packed
1 ½ cup hazelnut meal
¼ cup pecorino-romano cheese
½ cup triple cheddar cheese
1 tsp. McCormick Just a Pinch Garlic and Herbs™
½ tsp. salt
1 tsp. Italian seasoning
1 egg, slightly beaten
½ cup sun-dried tomatoes 


Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine all the ingredients in a food processor (you might have to work in batches) and process until everything is well-combined and resembles dough. It'll be slightly sticky, and the tomatoes may look unprocessed.

Place a piece parchment paper on a pizza pan (yep, you'll need it) and form the dough into a 9" to 10" rectangle, 1/4" thick.

Bake 20-30 minutes, or until the edges of the crust begins to turn brown. Remove and let rest for 10-15 minutes. 

Top with your favorite toppings (I used artichoke hearts, seeded Roma tomatoes, and caramelized onions) and cheese, and bake for ten minutes of until cheese is melted.

Let cool slightly. Cut into six squares and serve. 

     I knew it was a matter of time before it again had me. For almost a month I'd been good...so very good. But with every passing day I felt my resistance waning. Shoppers in my local grocery store have been almost run down like coins in a Mario Brother's video game in my haste to avoid my nemesis's presence. 
     Resistance was futile. In a moment of weakness I turned to my Achilles Heel--chocolate. Seriously though, I am trying to limit my intake of sweets. But when my younger boy yells "Let's get ready to rumble!" during church services and then later announces to anyone who'll listen that I still "get zits even though I'm real old," well, I need something stronger than taking my normal stroll through the woods.
     Yesterday on a whim (and acting on the urge to create something sinful) I took a cake classic and turned it into a cookie--Inside Out German Chocolate Cake Cookies. I cut a few calories and cholesterol by subbing applesauce for oil or margarine. Because I use caramel ice cream topping, these cookies need to be refrigerated.


Inside Out German Chocolate Cake Sandwich Cookies
Makes approximately 12-14 cookies

Cookie:

1-18 ounce pkg. devil's food cake mix
1/2 cup applesauce
2 eggs, well beaten

Directions for cookies:

Preheat oven to 350°.

In a large bowl, combine the cake mix, applesauce and eggs until well blended. Using a tablespoon, scoop the dough and roll into  balls. Place 2 in. apart on ungreased baking sheets. Do not flatten.

Bake for 8-11 minutes or until set. Cool for 5 minutes before removing to wire racks.

Filling 

1 cup shredded coconut, toasted
1 cup pecan halves
1/4 cup caramel ice cream topping
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1/2 tsp. salt

Place all the ingredients in a food processor and pulse until everything is well-combined. Using a tablespoon, scoop out the filling, form into a ball, slightly flatten and place onto the flat side of half the cookies. Cover the filling with the other half of the cookies. Store in the refrigerator. 
    

     Every evening after my father’s death (when I was sixteen) and until the year I married and left home, I’d saddled up my palomino mare Dewdrop and take a ride through the woods on my mother’s property. I loved the sight of the birds huddled together in the trees, feathers puffed out on their chests, preparation for a soft place to lay their heads for the night.
     Occasionally a raccoon would cross my path, pausing long enough to give me a long, scornful look as if scolding me for visiting its home with no invitation, arriving so late in the evening, and worse than the latter two, my not offering to share the peanut butter sandwich it could smell in my saddle-bag.
     Lost in my thoughts I’d let my mare wind her way through the sapling pecan trees and across the dried creek bed. There were never any worries—Dewdrop knew the way well. The sound of the rhythmic, muted thud of her hooves on the leaf-carpeted trail was therapy for my troubled heart. 
     My mount and I would eventually emerge from the dense woods and come to rest on a high hill. From my lookout, I could see my childhood home in the pasture below. The lights in the kitchen always twinkled like a set of mischievous eyes, and always, just for a minute, the world was right. Then I’d remember, Daddy’s dead, and I’d be left with the wisdom he’d imparted on me, and an aching hole in my soul that nothing could fill.
      My father always implored me to treat people with respect, and to dream big. “You can do anything, as long as you put your mind to it.” I always remembered the last bit as I sat on my horse, shivering not from the night chill, but anticipation about making Daddy proud.
I could say that my life was perfect afterwards, but that occurs only in some movies.  In the passing years I experienced financial and personal loss, but bounced back with “…you can do anything…” as my mantra. And I had a plan.
     My professional goal was simple. I’d always had a very active imagination, and I wanted to be an author, and perhaps later an editor. Different stints in magazines, newspapers, and anthologies gave me experience and exposure I needed. But having a book published, seeing my name emblazoned on the front cover still eluded me. I wanted it so badly. I’d race through the media aisle at Target, not looking right or left for fear of seeing that yet another Facebook friend had a book gracing the shelves.
“I’ll be a couch for my children. It’s obvious being an author isn’t in my future,” I complained to a writer friend on one occasion.
      “That’s crap. You have that kid’s story don’t you? Get off your bum and send it off to a publisher. You can do anything, just as long as you put your mind to it.” That was the boost I needed.
I submitted my book everywhere I could think of that’d take children’s books. I was overjoyed when a small publishing house, headed by Marie McGaha took a leap of faith and accepted my manuscript. I learned more than I could ever imagine about the publishing process, and I enjoyed every minute of it.           A couple of years later, she asked me to be an editor, and I readily accepted.
Marie has been a patient, wise mentor, and I’ve gained so much knowledge. My dreams were exceeded today when she named me as her editor-in-chief.
       Yes, dreams can come true, just as long as you “put your mind to it.”

     For me, blustery afternoons make me crave home and my mother's kitchen. On days like that, she'd have a pot of soup simmering on the stove and a loaf of bread baking in the oven.      
​Every bite of that delicious meal enveloped me in a shroud of my mother's love, and for a while, worries of the day seemed smaller.
     Below is a version of one of  Mama's soups. The organic coconut sugar can be substituted for the brown sugar.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

     What is your favorite comfort food?

     Thank you all for participating in my giveaway for the "Parent Survival Pack" and for visiting my site. Maintaining a sense of humor while parenting is essential, and I enjoyed reading all your comments.
     Rafflecopter has done it's job, and the winner is MJ. Congratulations!
     I do plan on hosting other giveaways in the future, so please drop by again. 
     

I could say that years ago I was the model child. Fingernails were always neatly clipped, displayed no traces of booger-mining expeditions and sported the perfect half-moon cuticles. Dressed every Sunday in frilly colorful dresses (the kind little girls love to twirl in), I stayed close to my mother, afraid that I’d muss my hair or the perfectly starched creases in my clothes.

And you could chose to believe it…but it’s not true. My Sunday activities included shimming up and down the trees outside the church faster than the boys in my Sunday school class. Hair adorned with twigs and leaves, I chased the losers into the dark recesses beneath the church building, and with only Daddy-Long-Legs to bear witness, smothered the hapless boys with sloppy girl kisses. I wore scabs on my knees like badges of honor, and much to Mama’s dismay, they were willingly shown to anyone and everyone.

My mother had wished for a young lady, a copy of Audra Barkley—instead she was raising a young wildcat with antics that’d leave even Ellie Mae Clampett in awe. “Leave her alone. My gal’s got spirit,” Daddy always told my mother. “She’s a tomboy, the girl-next-door, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” He’d always finish the conversation by kissing her on the cheek, and encouraging her to find the humor in my antics. And he needed to remember his own philosophy when he walked into my second grade classroom after a choir performance and saw me sitting at my desk in a very uncomfortable situation. Not one to pass up a dare, I’d wedged the hook end of a wire coat hanger (for my choir robe) into my mouth and gotten it stuck.
“She looked like a gigged frog,” I heard Daddy telling Mama later, after the incident was over. “No harm done—Debbie learned her lesson. Just gotta laugh about it now.

When I became a parent, I found it important to implement my father’s philosophy. It was either that or become the poster girl for Choco-holics Anonymous, based on my children’s antics. My boys have painted themselves green, indulged strangers in the grocery store about the contents of my medicine cabinet, and once tried to board a plane to Cancun…without me. And no one that I know of has been bitten by a pig, with the exception of my older son.
  
In recognition of the parenting journey and finding the laugher within it (and to expose my skeletons before the kids do) I have penned my first humor book, The Toilet's Overflowing and the Dog is Wearing My Underwear​.
 
​Celebrating the release of the book, I am giving away a "parent survival pack"  to one participant that includes:
          Three XL chocolate bars (Hershey's Milk Chocolate;  Cookies & Creme; Symphony)
           One XL coffee cup 
          Two 6-cup pkgs. flavored coffee
          A signed copy of The Toilet's Overflowing and the Dog is Wearing My Underwear.