Jen Barton's Blog - Posts Tagged "chocolate"
How a Face Full of Chocolate Changed the World (At Least for a Little While)
It started in the parking lot outside of Subway. Emma, my daughter, was eleven or twelve then; old enough to be feeling her independence, but not so grown that I'd become a complete embarrassment. Ahhh, the good old days...
We were on our way home from karate practice (I think) and had stopped to grab something easy for dinner. She'd gotten a little brownie to go with her usual ham and cheese (lettuce and mayo only) and was unwrapping it as I started the car.
I looked over and shook my head. In under five minutes she'd managed to get chocolate all over her face. "You need to get it together," I laughed. "You're getting too old to be wearing your dessert."
"Maybe," she said, completely unconcerned, "but what if chocolate was purple?" She smiled and took another big bite, the gooey brown chocolate sticking to her teeth. "Then think how fabulous I'd look."
"What?" I asked.
She held the half-eaten brownie up and raised her eyebrows. "Chocolate. What if it was purple? It'd be cool. And then this brownie wouldn't look like smashed poo."
Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.
She was right though, it did look bad. Honestly, nothing about it had been super appetizing even before she'd gotten a hold of it. Of course, being chocolate, it still went down pretty easy. In the unfortunate brownie's defense it had been smushed in plastic wrap, placed in a display case for who knows how long, then mangled by a hungry eleven year old. It's possible it may not have been the world's best example of a brownie.
She wiped her face (you have to love the extra stash of napkins in the glovebox) and we laughed the rest of the way home, thinking of all the delightful ways things would change if chocolate were a brilliant shade of bright purple instead of the dull brown of the recently devoured pasty, brownie-mess.
The whole thing was so silly, so light and freeing, that for days my mind was full of crazy images; fish with curly blonde hair, fields of wind-blown candy canes, crooning lizards. It made me feel like when Emma had been a toddler, before mean girls and cliques, before boys and dances, before iPods and apps. When the world was still ripe for exploration and anything was possible. When having rainbows for lunch actually seemed like an option.
I began to wonder how things would change, not only in the color of food, but in the world, if chocolate were purple. I let my imagination go and asked What If?
In a very short period of time, as if possessed by one of my own silly monsters, I wrote If Chocolate Were Purple. Over the years the text has been tweaked and edited, of course, and I've had the good fortune to see my words brought to life by a wonderful illustrator, but the heart of the matter has stayed the same, and one that every parent can understand—even if the whole world turned upside down, even if roller skates grew on trees and chocolate were purple, I'd still love you.
Writing is always a journey to someplace other, whether the destination is a fantasy world with pointy-eared elves and glittering fairies, or a perspective that exists only in your mind. It's sanctioned escapism, and I am grateful to have it. When it works, when the author has done their job, a bit of magic happens and the reader comes along for the ride. Working on this book was a glorious bit of nostalgia for me, of revisiting a time when pirate ships made of blankets stretched over couches and chairs almost everyday, where swords and dragons were always with us, and hospitals were called Princess Castles.
Thanks, Emma, for all of your delightfully messy faces, for your wild, independent spirit, and just for asking the question. You are my heart.
We were on our way home from karate practice (I think) and had stopped to grab something easy for dinner. She'd gotten a little brownie to go with her usual ham and cheese (lettuce and mayo only) and was unwrapping it as I started the car.
I looked over and shook my head. In under five minutes she'd managed to get chocolate all over her face. "You need to get it together," I laughed. "You're getting too old to be wearing your dessert."
"Maybe," she said, completely unconcerned, "but what if chocolate was purple?" She smiled and took another big bite, the gooey brown chocolate sticking to her teeth. "Then think how fabulous I'd look."
"What?" I asked.
She held the half-eaten brownie up and raised her eyebrows. "Chocolate. What if it was purple? It'd be cool. And then this brownie wouldn't look like smashed poo."
Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.
She was right though, it did look bad. Honestly, nothing about it had been super appetizing even before she'd gotten a hold of it. Of course, being chocolate, it still went down pretty easy. In the unfortunate brownie's defense it had been smushed in plastic wrap, placed in a display case for who knows how long, then mangled by a hungry eleven year old. It's possible it may not have been the world's best example of a brownie.
She wiped her face (you have to love the extra stash of napkins in the glovebox) and we laughed the rest of the way home, thinking of all the delightful ways things would change if chocolate were a brilliant shade of bright purple instead of the dull brown of the recently devoured pasty, brownie-mess.
The whole thing was so silly, so light and freeing, that for days my mind was full of crazy images; fish with curly blonde hair, fields of wind-blown candy canes, crooning lizards. It made me feel like when Emma had been a toddler, before mean girls and cliques, before boys and dances, before iPods and apps. When the world was still ripe for exploration and anything was possible. When having rainbows for lunch actually seemed like an option.
I began to wonder how things would change, not only in the color of food, but in the world, if chocolate were purple. I let my imagination go and asked What If?
In a very short period of time, as if possessed by one of my own silly monsters, I wrote If Chocolate Were Purple. Over the years the text has been tweaked and edited, of course, and I've had the good fortune to see my words brought to life by a wonderful illustrator, but the heart of the matter has stayed the same, and one that every parent can understand—even if the whole world turned upside down, even if roller skates grew on trees and chocolate were purple, I'd still love you.
Writing is always a journey to someplace other, whether the destination is a fantasy world with pointy-eared elves and glittering fairies, or a perspective that exists only in your mind. It's sanctioned escapism, and I am grateful to have it. When it works, when the author has done their job, a bit of magic happens and the reader comes along for the ride. Working on this book was a glorious bit of nostalgia for me, of revisiting a time when pirate ships made of blankets stretched over couches and chairs almost everyday, where swords and dragons were always with us, and hospitals were called Princess Castles.
Thanks, Emma, for all of your delightfully messy faces, for your wild, independent spirit, and just for asking the question. You are my heart.
September is for Book Festivals
As September winds down I just wanted to make a quick note and say thank you to everyone who participated in the Sonoma County Book Festival as well as the Orange County Children's Book Festival.
Both were huge successes and I was so grateful to be able to attend and meet so many talented authors (Giselle Stancic, Susan Koch and Jason Monroe I'm looking at you). :)
But beyond that I think I will never tire of the look on a new reader's face as they saunter by my booth and slowly discover something that intrigues them, something that lights their imagination and makes them eager to READ. These are the moments I will take from this festival season.
And, of course, there is the undeniable joy I get whenever someone new, usually a child of 4 or 5, opens a piece of chocolate and realizes that in my world, chocolate really is PURPLE. The look of wonder is priceless and I am so grateful for it.
It is these images that will sustain me, I hope, through the long days ahead in front of the computer...someone just broke the news that Fiona Thorn and the Secret of the Ringing Trees isn't going to write itself. ;)
Both were huge successes and I was so grateful to be able to attend and meet so many talented authors (Giselle Stancic, Susan Koch and Jason Monroe I'm looking at you). :)
But beyond that I think I will never tire of the look on a new reader's face as they saunter by my booth and slowly discover something that intrigues them, something that lights their imagination and makes them eager to READ. These are the moments I will take from this festival season.
And, of course, there is the undeniable joy I get whenever someone new, usually a child of 4 or 5, opens a piece of chocolate and realizes that in my world, chocolate really is PURPLE. The look of wonder is priceless and I am so grateful for it.
It is these images that will sustain me, I hope, through the long days ahead in front of the computer...someone just broke the news that Fiona Thorn and the Secret of the Ringing Trees isn't going to write itself. ;)
#SpreadTheSilly for EASTER!
Hi all! Spring has officially arrived (I know it doesn't feel like it on the East Coast, but it's on the way), and with it a bright new season full of smiles and silliness. And, of course, Read Across America!
Find a little one you love (or just a little one at heart) and celebrate by unwrapping some purple chocolate and discovering a great new book. It shouldn't surprise you that I have a few suggestions!
For those, plus updates on my latest school visits, great EASTER gift ideas, and what's coming next, check out my Spring newsletter at the link below.
http://us7.campaign-archive1.com/?u=2...
Happy Spring and remember—#SpreadTheSilly!
If Chocolate Were Purple
Fiona Thorn and the Carapacem Spell
Find a little one you love (or just a little one at heart) and celebrate by unwrapping some purple chocolate and discovering a great new book. It shouldn't surprise you that I have a few suggestions!
For those, plus updates on my latest school visits, great EASTER gift ideas, and what's coming next, check out my Spring newsletter at the link below.
http://us7.campaign-archive1.com/?u=2...
Happy Spring and remember—#SpreadTheSilly!
If Chocolate Were Purple
Fiona Thorn and the Carapacem Spell
Quinoa: Back Away From My Cookies—Saving a National Treasure, One Bite at a Time
Last week I got an email from my brother sharing a new recipe. Most of my family likes to cook (except one brother who prefers frozen things in boxes, hates Foodie culture completely, and has vowed to start a new product line called Plain Ass, as in "Andy, what kind of pizza do you want?" "Plain ass pizza, with some plain ass soda to wash it down.") so with us scattered around the country raising families of our own, sharing recipes is a fun way to stay connected. Normally I would've appreciated it very much. But one look at this one and my day was ruined.
Behold, from the Dr. Oz Show: Quinoa Chocolate Chip Cookies.
A while ago I wrote a piece, Nanny McState Returns, for a blog no one cared about. It was a reaction to Mrs. Obama's crusade to lighten food in restaurants and healthify everything. I get it, I guess. But sometimes the best of intentions can go awry. Even presidential ones. Sometimes the day is long, the traffic is terrible and your favorite skirt gets caught on the gearshift, ripping into a useless wad of fabric that's now dangling from your partially-clad bum as you climb from the car to say hello to your daughter's kindergarten teacher. Sometimes it's comforting to know there's a Big Mac around the next corner, waiting to soothe your embarrassment with melting cheese on a salty beef-like product.
When I asked my brother why he'd subjected me to the horror of this recipe, he seemed confused. "I just thought it was a good way to add protein to a snack."
This, perhaps, was the root of our problem. In my world, chocolate chip cookies are not a snack. Carrot sticks and hummus is a snack. Yogurt and an apple is a snack. Cookies are dessert, meant to be savored and enjoyed, with no hint of nutritional value clouding their bliss.
I should probably note, before you get the wrong idea, that I'm a fan of health food. I own a juicer, my oven has baked a batch or two of kale chips, and every morning I enjoy stevia and soy creamer in my coffee. Once, embarrassingly, I even offered soy nuts as a snack to my three-year-old nephew who'd just gotten off a very long cross-country flight. (Spoiler alert: he did not think that sh*t was cute). And during dinner last night, when I asked my daughter how she liked her pasta, she responded in the weary voice of one who gave in years ago. "It's good. I just wish it had less broccoli and no arugula." So, to be clear, I'm no stranger to almond milk or the Gluten Free aisle at Whole Foods.
That said, I also think there's a place for fettuccini alfredo (with butter, cream, parmesan, and real noodles, full of gluten and eggs), french fries (done in duck fat and loaded with salt, please), honest to goodness ice cream (made with heavy cream, vanilla and eggs) and, of course, chocolate chip cookies.
I rely on the existence of those foods. I count on them as a soft (and delicious) place to fall.
Foods like that don't deserve just any place, either. They shouldn't be hidden in shame in the back corner of your closet (next to that unfortunate Metallica t-shirt you got for Christmas that year), but instead given a place of honor, next to the good bags and your expensive heels. Admittedly, you don't trot that stuff out everyday, but they're still important. Essential, even. As Spongebob noted years ago, eloquently speaking of his beloved Krabby Patty, "It's good for your souououl."
Testify, oh Square One.
And what could be better for your weary soul at the end of a hard day than a warm, gooey, lightly-crispy-on-the-outside-but-soft-on-the-inside chocolate chip cookie? I submit that nothing comes close.
Okay, maybe a smidge of vodka, but you get the idea.
Cookies, chocolate chip cookies most of all, are iconic. They're boo-boo kisses for grown-ups, they're that surprise smile in your lunch, they're band-aids for worn souls the world over.
Quinoa doesn't belong anywhere near such a masterpiece. Any child could tell you this. Its protein boost does nothing but suck the joy from the cookie. Is there such a wealth of joy in the world, such an embarrassment of happiness in our lives, that we can remove it, willy-nilly, from our cookies?
Uh, no.
If you still aren't convinced, close your eyes. Imagine your grandchildren have just come inside, breathless and teary-eyed from a game of Kick the Can gone wrong. You pause the finale of The Walking Dead, Season 26 (hey, a girl can dream) and reach behind you to the snacks on the counter. What do you see? A plate full of squishy protein-packed health wads, or a perfectly baked chocolate cookie dream—those dark dots of melty-ooey goodness peeking through a light brown crust, just waiting to fix those tear-stained faces and make it all better?
I know what I see. I will hold faith with smiles and silliness, with laughter and chocolate mustaches. I will spread love and joy…not protein. Quinoa be damned! I refuse to disappoint my future grandchildren.
Put spinach in my tuna salad, add brussels sprouts to my pasta. Trade whole milk for almond every day of the week. Hell, give me beet chips alongside my veggie burger, but for the love of all that's holy, I beg you, Brother, do not put quinoa in my cookies.
Quinoa Chocolate Chip Cookies: http://www.doctoroz.com/videos/quinoa...
Nanny McState Returns: http://thefoolschair.wordpress.com/?s...
The Wisdom of Spongebob
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmHhL...
Behold, from the Dr. Oz Show: Quinoa Chocolate Chip Cookies.
A while ago I wrote a piece, Nanny McState Returns, for a blog no one cared about. It was a reaction to Mrs. Obama's crusade to lighten food in restaurants and healthify everything. I get it, I guess. But sometimes the best of intentions can go awry. Even presidential ones. Sometimes the day is long, the traffic is terrible and your favorite skirt gets caught on the gearshift, ripping into a useless wad of fabric that's now dangling from your partially-clad bum as you climb from the car to say hello to your daughter's kindergarten teacher. Sometimes it's comforting to know there's a Big Mac around the next corner, waiting to soothe your embarrassment with melting cheese on a salty beef-like product.
When I asked my brother why he'd subjected me to the horror of this recipe, he seemed confused. "I just thought it was a good way to add protein to a snack."
This, perhaps, was the root of our problem. In my world, chocolate chip cookies are not a snack. Carrot sticks and hummus is a snack. Yogurt and an apple is a snack. Cookies are dessert, meant to be savored and enjoyed, with no hint of nutritional value clouding their bliss.
I should probably note, before you get the wrong idea, that I'm a fan of health food. I own a juicer, my oven has baked a batch or two of kale chips, and every morning I enjoy stevia and soy creamer in my coffee. Once, embarrassingly, I even offered soy nuts as a snack to my three-year-old nephew who'd just gotten off a very long cross-country flight. (Spoiler alert: he did not think that sh*t was cute). And during dinner last night, when I asked my daughter how she liked her pasta, she responded in the weary voice of one who gave in years ago. "It's good. I just wish it had less broccoli and no arugula." So, to be clear, I'm no stranger to almond milk or the Gluten Free aisle at Whole Foods.
That said, I also think there's a place for fettuccini alfredo (with butter, cream, parmesan, and real noodles, full of gluten and eggs), french fries (done in duck fat and loaded with salt, please), honest to goodness ice cream (made with heavy cream, vanilla and eggs) and, of course, chocolate chip cookies.
I rely on the existence of those foods. I count on them as a soft (and delicious) place to fall.
Foods like that don't deserve just any place, either. They shouldn't be hidden in shame in the back corner of your closet (next to that unfortunate Metallica t-shirt you got for Christmas that year), but instead given a place of honor, next to the good bags and your expensive heels. Admittedly, you don't trot that stuff out everyday, but they're still important. Essential, even. As Spongebob noted years ago, eloquently speaking of his beloved Krabby Patty, "It's good for your souououl."
Testify, oh Square One.
And what could be better for your weary soul at the end of a hard day than a warm, gooey, lightly-crispy-on-the-outside-but-soft-on-the-inside chocolate chip cookie? I submit that nothing comes close.
Okay, maybe a smidge of vodka, but you get the idea.
Cookies, chocolate chip cookies most of all, are iconic. They're boo-boo kisses for grown-ups, they're that surprise smile in your lunch, they're band-aids for worn souls the world over.
Quinoa doesn't belong anywhere near such a masterpiece. Any child could tell you this. Its protein boost does nothing but suck the joy from the cookie. Is there such a wealth of joy in the world, such an embarrassment of happiness in our lives, that we can remove it, willy-nilly, from our cookies?
Uh, no.
If you still aren't convinced, close your eyes. Imagine your grandchildren have just come inside, breathless and teary-eyed from a game of Kick the Can gone wrong. You pause the finale of The Walking Dead, Season 26 (hey, a girl can dream) and reach behind you to the snacks on the counter. What do you see? A plate full of squishy protein-packed health wads, or a perfectly baked chocolate cookie dream—those dark dots of melty-ooey goodness peeking through a light brown crust, just waiting to fix those tear-stained faces and make it all better?
I know what I see. I will hold faith with smiles and silliness, with laughter and chocolate mustaches. I will spread love and joy…not protein. Quinoa be damned! I refuse to disappoint my future grandchildren.
Put spinach in my tuna salad, add brussels sprouts to my pasta. Trade whole milk for almond every day of the week. Hell, give me beet chips alongside my veggie burger, but for the love of all that's holy, I beg you, Brother, do not put quinoa in my cookies.
Quinoa Chocolate Chip Cookies: http://www.doctoroz.com/videos/quinoa...
Nanny McState Returns: http://thefoolschair.wordpress.com/?s...
The Wisdom of Spongebob
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmHhL...
