When: March 16, 2010. 11:32am - 12:37pm. (65 minutes).
How: I never really know, but you get a recipe out of it so who cares.
I stop by le family office to visit with my grandparents before I leave for the Queen City. I choose my time of arrival with great care. Too early and I will be put to work looking up stock market numbers or performing some sort of fundamental analysis that I will never understand. Too late and I will be forced, err... strongly encouraged, to accompany the group to lunch. I mean, I love me some free barbecue, but not today. I had an agenda. This agenda did not involve pork.
I start eating a peanut butter sandwich before I walk into the building so I can dodge any lunch tricks. You learn to play the game early in this family. I keep the napkin and plastic bag in sight at all times as a reminder that I did, in fact, have lunch. Stephanie is eating. Whew. Family concern number one is abolished. Next up, I refuse all offerings of water and other beverages. Liquid makes people liquid. If I were to make a trip to the restroom at any point during this visit, it would be assumed that I am sick. Kind of tired of the poor Stephanie mentality, I decline and have a successful bathroom free office visit. I knock out family concern number two with a swift jab. Look at me go!
Napkin in hand. Plastic bag on lap. I sit facing my grandmother. Preparing myself for the inevitable conversation topics, I wait for her to make the first move. Ah, yes! It seems we will, yet again, carry on the exact same conversation we had two days ago. Perfection.
The conversation opens.
My hair: (3 minutes). It never fails. If it is straight, it should be curly. If it is curly, it should be brushed. If it is brushed, I should pull it back or put a clip in it. Today it is pulled back so she works with what she's got. "Your hair has gotten really dark. You been puttin' color on it?" Nope, no color. Just life. "I think you been puttin' color in it and you're not tellin' nobody." Yes, because my hair color is definitely something worth lying about. I consider her advice on getting a few "light streaks on the top" and wait for the next topic.
Her hair. (4 minutes).
My health: (8 minutes). I am happy at school. I hit my head, but it doesn't hurt now. Yes, I can eat just about anything I want. My face is red because I was in the sun. I feel fine, don't worry. I pass out when I am stressed so I will work on managing my stress so I don't do it again. Since it is that simple. Yea, about that.
Her health. (6 minutes).
My personal life: (7 minutes). No, there are no new boys. Yes, he is a nice boy. No, we are not together. Yes, I know you like him a lot. I like him too. I'll keep you updated. Yes, yes. I will. If anything changes you'll be the first to know. What? Oh, she showed you pictures on Facebook, did she? Well that was awfully nice of her. Remind me to show you some pictures of her the next time we have the chance.
More of my personal life. Bonnie's personal life. (9 minutes).
My birthday: (2 minutes). It is coming up, I know! So close. I know, I am getting old. No, no. You are not old. Eighty is young! Oh, hush. You are in better shape than I am. Yes, I am probably going to dinner or something that night. I don't know what I want. I have nothing in mind. Cash will suffice just fine, but you really don't have to do that. Really, you don't have to do that. Really? I mean, are you sure? Ok, if you insist.
Awkward silence.
The silence has met the two minute mark. Uh oh, I feel it coming. The go-to conversation topic. We've established that I have horrible hair, my health is dwindling and my personal life is not meeting her expectations, so what now? Please, no. Please, no. Her mouth opens. My heart races. Yep, here it is. "So I got some good Crock-pot candy waitin' for me in The Deep Freeze when I get home."
Yes, "The Deep Freeze." She loves it. She cherishes it. She visits it daily. That thing is more spoiled than anyone in our lineage. I honestly don't think I've ever had a legitimate conversation with my grandmother without it being mentioned. Today's interaction was no different.
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Since the remaining 26 minutes of our chat was dedicated to this monstrous object, I may as well give you a little background.
My grandmother has a very close relationship with her deep freezer. Yes, hers. That's right. She has her very own, as does my grandfather. They are married. They share a house, a company and an obsession for their youngest grandchild (hear, hear), but that is where they draw the line. The two frigid chests (no pun intended) share a room. For well over twenty years now, these massive igloos have been the only decor this room has seen.... ever. Strange? Perhaps, but what can I say? We like our food. Their motto is why eat it now when you can freeze it, thaw it out and eat it eight months down the road? Sounds good to me.
Over the years, these deep freezers have seen many a cake, pecan and tenderloin. Typically my grandmother's chest is piled high with desserts she made on a whim for some unplanned family reunion, frozen pizzas from their monthly venture to Stouffer's and delectable concoctions she whipped up from ingredients lying around the kitchen. Enter: the infamous Vegetable Cake. A pink vegetable cake. Delicious, you ask? I wouldn't know. My cousin and I cut enormous pieces and disposed of them promptly to avoid hurt feelings and damaged taste buds. Note to self, don't tell Mamaw you're having a potluck engagement party.
In case you were wondering, my grandfather's freezer is much more manly. We conservatives like to keep things traditional. Lady junk stays in the lady trunk. All the meat and nuts are kept in - what else? The man chest. Hey, hey. Minds clean, please. These are my grandparents I'm talking about. Geez.
-
Since the remaining 26 minutes of our chat was dedicated to this monstrous object, I may as well give you a little background.
My grandmother has a very close relationship with her deep freezer. Yes, hers. That's right. She has her very own, as does my grandfather. They are married. They share a house, a company and an obsession for their youngest grandchild (hear, hear), but that is where they draw the line. The two frigid chests (no pun intended) share a room. For well over twenty years now, these massive igloos have been the only decor this room has seen.... ever. Strange? Perhaps, but what can I say? We like our food. Their motto is why eat it now when you can freeze it, thaw it out and eat it eight months down the road? Sounds good to me.
Over the years, these deep freezers have seen many a cake, pecan and tenderloin. Typically my grandmother's chest is piled high with desserts she made on a whim for some unplanned family reunion, frozen pizzas from their monthly venture to Stouffer's and delectable concoctions she whipped up from ingredients lying around the kitchen. Enter: the infamous Vegetable Cake. A pink vegetable cake. Delicious, you ask? I wouldn't know. My cousin and I cut enormous pieces and disposed of them promptly to avoid hurt feelings and damaged taste buds. Note to self, don't tell Mamaw you're having a potluck engagement party.
In case you were wondering, my grandfather's freezer is much more manly. We conservatives like to keep things traditional. Lady junk stays in the lady trunk. All the meat and nuts are kept in - what else? The man chest. Hey, hey. Minds clean, please. These are my grandparents I'm talking about. Geez.
-
She continues on about her Crock-pot candy. She had to transfer some of the delicious frozen Stouffer cuisine to the manly meat box just to make room for all her treats! This candy has to be the best thing she has ever tasted. I ask her the ingredients just to keep the conversation going and out of nowhere she whips out the recipe. Lucky for me it was printed out on cardstock. She hands me the piece of paper and apparently my genuine fanaticism for all things recipes is radiating from my sunburnt face. She insists that I keep it. I try to spurn her offering, but am denied. "Don't worry," she says, "I have copies." I think I was more impressed with her copy machine capabilities than her ability to ignore the fact that I may or may not have just laughed at her expense. By the way, I am not as horrible as you think. Promise.
As it turns out these wonderful Crock-pot clusters are legit. Although she was avid in believing that her Sunday School teacher originated this recipe, it turns out Google said otherwise. Maybe I am sharing this out of the kindness of my heart. Maybe I am sharing this because Anne needs to eat up instead stressing out and becoming nocturnal. Maybe I am sharing this so you will get distracted and not realize that I completely forgot the point of why I started this story. Believe what you may. Doesn't matter to me.
Plug in your pots and get to cookin'.
Ingredients:
- 2 pounds almond bark, broken into pieces
- 2 cups (12 ounces) semisweet chocolate chips
- 4 ounces German's Sweet Chocolate
- 24 ounces dry roasted peanuts
Preparation:
In Crock-pot, combine the white candy coating or almond bark, German's Sweet Chocolate, and semisweet chocolate chips. Cover and cook on HIGH for 1 hour; reduce to LOW. Cover and cook 1 hour longer, or until candy is melted, stirring every 12 to 15 minutes. Stir in roasted peanuts, mixing well. Drop peanut clusters by teaspoonfuls onto waxed paper; let stand until set. Store candy at room temperature (or as we have learned, the freezer). Makes about 3 to 4 dozen chocolate peanut clusters... or as I like to call them MAGIC.
Anne has a hot bod. You're welcome. Now, go to bed.