Moxie

Magda's S'mores Cookies

When you start working on a recipe for something that seems completely obvious (like s'mores cookies) that there isn't already a super-common recipe for (like s'mores cookies), you need to wonder why. The first try on this recipe told me exactly why: The marshmallow in the cookies makes them fall apart if you don't let them cool for a long time (like 10 full minutes) on the cookie sheet before you try to move them. So that's my big caveat on this recipe. It's super-easy, super-delicious, and good for kids to help with. But if you don't let the cookies cool all the way, you'll end up with a crumbled mess.

I also tested these using a silpat on my cookie sheet. If you don't have one (and I recommend buying one, as they're not that expensive and make baking anything so much easier), grease the foxtrot out of your cookie sheet or put down parchment paper and grease *that*. I still make no promises without a silpat.

Now for the goods:

4 or 5 graham cracker rectangles

1/2 cup canola oil

2 large eggs

3/4 cup dark brown sugar, packed

3/4 cup white sugar

1 teaspoon real vanilla extract

2 cups unbleached flour

3/4 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 12-ounce bag semisweet chocolate chips

2 cups miniature marshmallows

 

Crush the graham crackers, in a blender or with your hands (or get your kids to do it) in a ziploc bag. Measure out 1/2 cup and set the rest aside.

In a big bowl, mix together the oil, eggs, sugars, and vanilla extract. Stir until completely blended. Put on top the flour, 1/2 cup graham cracker crumbs, baking soda, and salt. Mix those together as well as you can, then stir in to the wet stuff underneath. When it's completely blended, stir in the chocolate chips and marshmallows. Cover with plastic wrap and put in the fridge for 15 minutes to overnight.

When you're ready to bake off the cookies, heat the over to 375 degrees F. Put the remaining graham cracker crumbs on a plate next to the cookie sheet. Scoop a spoonful of cookie dough and drop it onto the crumbs. Roll in the crumbs to coat the dough, then put on the cookie sheet. These cookies will spread, so don't put them too close to each other.

Bake for 6 1/2 or 7 minutes, then let cool on the sheet for ten minutes.

I have no idea how long these will keep, as my kids eat them faster than I can bake them.

 

(c) MagdaMedia 2010

 

Since everyone's writing one

You're coming to New York City! We're excited that you'll be here. New Yorkers love visitors.

You should feel free to wear whatever you want to wear and do whatever you want to do, but just in case you want to act like a New Yorker while you're here, I've made a list of tips:

1. Don't wear capri pants with sneakers and socks. Nothing will tip us all off that you're not a New Yorker faster than colorful capri pants with white socks and sneakers. We're not so big on capri pants in general here, but if we wear them they're probably tight and black, and we wear them with flip-flops, gladiator sandals*, low-top Converse, or heels. We're also not really into shorts, but they're not the big flag that capris are.

Three looks this summer that almost every New Yorker rocks:

• Skinny jeans (on any and all body types, honey) with a flowy tank top and flip-flops or gladiator sandals or flats.
• A-line skirt with fitted tank or t-shirt on top, and flats, sandals, flip-flops, or low-tops.
• Jersey-knit v-neck empire-waist dress, with a camisole underneath or not. Flip-flops, flats, or heeled sandals as footwear, but no one will notice because they'll be looking at your cleavage.

2. Get breakfast at a bodega. The classic NYC breakfast is 2 eggs, cheese, and bacon on a roll: bacon-egg-and-cheese-on-a-roll. Get this with a cup of coffee, in the blue "We are happy to serve you" cup if you want hot coffee, or iced coffee. There are two sizes: small and large. You can get milk, skim milk, or half-and-half in your coffee, and sugar, nutrisweet, or splenda. No whip. Nothing fancy. This coffee is not a luxiurious escape--it's something to wash the cheese and bacon out of your arteries so you don't die before lunch.

3. Ask for directions. New Yorkers ask each other for directions all the time, for realz. Think about how big this city is--if you're out of your neighborhood, you probably don't know exactly where you're going, so just ask. Sometimes all you need to know is "which way is uptown?" Sometimes you're in the subway and have to figure out how to get from one boro to another. The only thing to know is that you should probably ask two, or maybe even three, different people for directions because New Yorkers can be totally full of shit and want to look smart by giving directions but not really know.

3a. Walk on the side of the sidewalk. Not directly in the middle, three abreast. The reason we're always rushing is that we need to get somewhere: a job interview, to pick our kids up from school, to meet someone for lunch. We love having you here, but we will cut you if you block our way for no reason in the middle of the sidewalk.

4. Take the subway. Everyone does. As long as you're not on the subway system at 3 am, you'll be ok. If you go too far, get off, turn around and go back.

5. Eat from street vendors. We all do. I'm not such a fan of hot dog carts, but I adore the halal chicken stands (white-sauce-no-hot-sauce) and pretzels and gourmet Cal-Mex and dosas and dessert carts and Delicioso Coco Helado.

6. Talk like us:

• Houston Street is pronounced HOWston, not like the city in Texas.
• When you're standing behind someone, waiting, you're "on line," not "in line."
• A convenience store is a deli or a bodega. (Unless it's 7-Eleven on 23rd Street, in which case it's 7-Eleven.)
• It's the subway. The metro is in Washington, DC or in Paris.

7. Know the difference between friend and foe, public vs. private. All New Yorkers develop the Don't Fuck With Me Face that we wear around the city. If you stop on the sidewalk in front of us, or stand at the bottom of the subway stairs, or obstruct our progress in our daily lives, we will kill you with a glance. But it's all just a protective forcefield for when we're out in public, and we're actually kind and caring people. Ask us for directions or our opinions about the best whatever, and we'll map out six ways for you to go and tell you where to get the best deal, and we'll probably figure out that we know someone in common, too. We're helpful. Just don't expect casual friendliness, because that we don't do.


And now some things you really shouldn't do:

1. Please please don't go buy knockoff handbags on Canal Street. The knockoff bags fund mafia actvities including sweatshops (located in the buildings right above where you buy the bags--terrified immigrants who are forced to work 16 hours a day with no bathroom breaks, so have constant UTIs or urine running down their legs, and develop lung diseases from inhaling fumes all day) and human trafficking. Every bag you buy on Canal Street puts someone else's child into sex slavery.

Instead, buy an awesome laptop sleeve from Hello Rewind, an organization that employs former sex slaves in NYC. And if you want a purse, buy one from one of the super-cute boutiques in Nolita, or order one from a WAHM from Etsy.com. Or just use the same bag you brought with you!

2. Don't take a horsedrawn carriage ride in Central Park. It's really not cool that the horses stand out there in all kinds of extreme weather (we've had 20 days over 90 degrees here so far this summer) and are forced to walk in and amongst traffic. Not to mention that the rides are vastly overpriced.

Instead, take a ride in a pedicab. Environmentally awesome, fun, and the pedicab drivers can tell you all kinds of dirt on the city while they're pedaling you around.

3. Don't go to the Statue of Liberty. The line to get on the ferry is long, the ferry is bumpy, and the line to climb is horrendous, and then you're so close you can't really even see the statue well. And it's overpriced.

Instead, take the Staten Island commuter ferry. It's free, and you'll be on the ferry with a mix of tourists and commuters, and you get an awesome view of lower Manhattan as you leave. If you have kids with you, hop a bus in Staten Island to the Staten Island Children's Museum (about 10 minutes' ride from the ferry terminal). If not, walk through the terminal and get on the next ferry back to Manhattan. Use the time and money you saved by taking the SI Ferry instead of going to the Statue of Liberty to go see the Empire State Building (which really is worth it).

4. Don't eat at a chain restaurant. There are 5,000 really stellar meals to be had here, at all different price points. Don't waste a meal slot on someplace you could go to at home.

Instead, look at Yelp.com or ask the people on the subway with you where the best burger/pizza/falafel/Belgian waffle/etc. is and pick one of those places.

Have a great time while you're here. We are happy to serve you.

* I loathe gladiator sandals, and wish they'd just die a quiet death, but they're still in style here, so if you have them already, bring them to NYC with you.

We must, indeed, all suck together, or assuredly we shall all suck separately

It's been a long time since I really, really thought about breastfeeding.

I breastfed both of my kids, for longer than the US norm is, and I'm glad that I could. It was one (well, two) of the most simultaneously fulfilling and irritating experiences I can imagine.

But I don't think about it much anymore, because my kids are long past that stage. I'm too worried about getting into Kindergarten and balancing work trips with my custody schedule for the kids and mindfucking the emotional fallout for my kids of my getting divorced and researching karate classes and helping them navigate elementary school friendships.

The only time how I fed my babies comes up in my life (when I'm not answering a question on Ask Moxie about it) anymore is when I'm sitting around talking and drinking with other moms. At some point the conversation will turn to how *big* the kids are now and how we can't believe it. And then we'll tell baby stories. Sometimes they include stories of how we fed our kids, especially if the story is horrifying, like answering the door with the flaps of a nursing bra down, or having a mother-in-law mix up a whole days' worth of pricey formula and leave it out of the fridge to go bad, not knowing. But it's just part of The Lore of Motherhood, and we commiserate and roll our eyes at each other, the way our mothers still do with their friends.

So it shocks me again, the way it did when I was pregnant and complete strangers would ask me if I planned to nurse, that people are still so tied up in knots about nursing a baby. It is a completely normal function of the female body, and no one should bat an eye at a woman doing it. But, at the same time, sometimes it doesn't work out for a gazillion reasons that are not my business and in those cases thank God, THANK GOD for formula.

But here's the thing: Once you're done nursing or formula feeding, it's not in your life every day anymore. How it worked or didn't for you is history. It probably still has some emotional resonance, but it's not consuming you like it did. Which means that the people for whom nursing or not nursing is important and vital and heartbreaking are the very people who have the least time, energy, and bandwidth to advocate for themselves. So those of us with kids old enough to make their own sandwiches are the ones who really need to be taking up this fight.

The fight I'm talking about is normalizing feeding babies. By the breast or by the bottle. Creating a society in which the culture supports women feeding their babies in any location babies are allowed to be, without shame or fear of reproach. Where women are not asked to justify their feeding methods or told to cover themselves up. Where we're honest about breastmilk being the best food for babies, and where we don't use duplicitous methods to sell formula. Where women get accurate information about breastfeeding and formula feeding and are allowed to make the choice (if they have one) that's best for their families and then supported, no matter what that decision is. Where we as a culture talk routinely about breastfeeding issues without shaming women, those who breastfeed and those who don't. Where we actually have legislation that allows women to spend enough time to establish breastfeeding and then guarantees that they can pump in the workplace to maintain breastfeeding for as long as they want to.

What if we all became lactivists, advocating for more legal protections and support structures for breastfeeding? And what if, at the same time, we became advocates for mothers who feed formula? What if we all started showing a little more cleavage, because breasts are multi-purpose?

I have a dream in which a woman nursing her baby and a woman feeding her baby formula and a woman who just likes to show off her knockers in low-cut tops can all sit in the same booth at the same restaurant and compliment each others' shoes while they eat. And the old-school, Flo-like server will walk up and ask them how everything is and tell them how cute the babies are with no subtext. And the old guys at the next booth won't even pay attention to any of it. That is my dream.

Won't you help me make it a reality? If we all join together, we can make things better for every mother of a babe in arms.

1. When you see a mother with a baby, say, "Wow--your baby looks so healthy and happy! You must be doing a great job!"

2. If you're a breastfeeding mom, and you have a choice about where to feed, sit down next to a mom feeding a baby from a bottle, and start a conversation about something not related to feeding.

3. Don't hide your breasts when you feed your kid, whether you're nursing or using a bottle. Be as discreet as you personally want to be, but don't cover up just because someone told you you should.

4. If you're out in public and you see a woman feeding a baby, give her a smile. And a piece of chocolate, if you have one.

5. Defend and protect. If you see a feeding mom being harassed in any way, step in the way you would if you saw big kids picking on little kids at the playground.

6. Talk about feeding babies with your kids, so they grow up knowing that babies need to be fed and that you fed your children and they'll feed their own kids. The circle of life.

If those of us who have more emotional bandwidth to think about the long-term effects on us of how society treated us while we fed our kids can be very specific in fighting back, this insane fuck-you to moms who feed their babies will finally end.

Then all we'll have is the fight for legislation protecting nursing, allowing for decent maternity leave, and protecting pumping time in the workplace.

No particular place to go

I am on the third day of a whole three days with my boys. The whole holiday weekend, with no plans. No work to do (aside from housework), nowhere to be (except for church on Sunday morning).

It's been really nice. I basically let them set the agenda, so we've watched our favorite movie (The Fantastic Mr. Fox) another couple of times, and had yet another time-sucking mishap on the subway on the way down to church, and have made some curtains and brownies, and talked about kombucha and checked on the (frankly terrifying) progress of the kombucha I'm making.

But. I feel kind of trapped here, with no outside space that isn't the public park. And once again I wish I had a car.

I could have rented one, I suppose, to get out of the city overnight or even for the day. But we're going to visit my brother and sister at the end of the week, and I'm renting a car for that, so twice in once week is financially excessive. (Especially since I'm still paying off the lifesaving catheter procedure for Alex the cat.)

I hear people say all the time "I'm so glad I don't have a car," but I'll never be there. I think being raised in the Midwest, where we just hopped in the car and went wherever we wanted, has spoiled me for living anyplace I'm beholden to public transportation.

I know I'm supposed to like the work trips I take that don't require renting a car, but secretly I adore having a car, even for a day or two or three and being able to control when and how I go, and where I park, and the detours I can take and what I bring with me.

And now I'm signing off, so we can pay the Cars driving game on the Wii.

Most dramatic post ever

This is, far and away, my favorite season of The Bachelorette ever. And I figured out why.

#1: Highest number of freaky guys.

#2: The Bachelorette herself is a tougher cookie than most of them have been.

#1: Kasey and his tattoo have to be the number one strangest things ever to happen on the whole Bachelor/ette franchise. And then Justin (how could he not know he'd be outed like Wes was?). And Frank, who is just too earnest. It's a delightful mix of weirdnesses.

Also, who else thought Justin's girlfriend Jessica looked like the sober, sweeter version of Amy Winehouse?

#2: I love how Ali just gets rid of them when they reveal their bad sides. No crying about how they could hurt her like that. No taking it upon herself. Just the realization that Some People Are Weird and moving on. She's got more guts than I thought she would. I thought she'd be a Trista-style hurt lamb type, but she's turning out to be kind of a bad-ass.

Thoughts?

Shocked

I'm not feeling so good today, and it's not just the sinus cold. I spent a lot of time on Twitter over the weekend following eyewitness feeds of what was going on in Toronto at the G20/G8 protests. First I was horrified at the disgusting things some of the extreme protesters were doing. But then, as Saturday night went on and Sunday wore away, it was the way the police were treating peaceful protesters and random bystanders that was most disturbing.

We know, every time there's a G20/G8 meeting that there are going to be rioting/vandalizing protesters. I feel so much sadness for the cities that are forced to host these meetings, because the lunatics show up just to destroy things and get an adrenaline rush out of yelling at people.

But then, even once they were shut down, the police just lost perspective, or maybe the people telling the police what to do lost perspective, and started detaining and arresting people just for being in their own neighborhoods.

We've seen it before, I know. But what really scares me most of all about the human rights abuses in Toronto this past weekend is that it's Canada.

At one point, the awesome Ann Douglas (author of the "The Mother of All" series) who tweets at @anndouglas tweeted "Remember how smug we all felt when Bush was in power in the US - how we said that could never happen in Canada? Yeah." and I realized that was exactly why it was freaking me out so much.

To me, it felt like our whole country was falling apart when George W Bush was President. (I know it feels that way for other Americans now that Barack Obama is President.) And especially having lived in NYC during 9/11, it just feels like we're always a short jump away from chaos. And like we really never know what's going to happen, because we're not an essentially civilized people. We're too polarized and angry and extreme.

But Canada seemed different. The Canadians I know are witty and intelligent and driven and self-deprecating and productive. And the whole country just seems more measured and civilized than the US is. Less prone to go off half-cocked about something that should really be people's private business, or start fights with other countries, or just stick their noses where they don't belong in general.

Canada was also this safe place we could go if the shit really hit the fan here in the US, because it was safe and reasonable there.

So on Saturday and yesterday when downtown Toronto was anything BUT safe and reasonable, for random Canadian citizens and visitors who were doing things like walking their dogs or meeting friends to go out and have a drink, everything fell apart. For the people who were detained and arrested and stripped of their rights, for sure, but also for everyone else, in Canada and in the US and in other countries.

Because if even Canada can descend into Lord of the Flies in a hot second, what hope is there for any of us?

I am (still) a horrible person

because I just cannot shake the monkey on my back that is the entire Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise. They mess with people's lives (people who volunteer to be messed with, yes, but still) and yet I cannot turn away from the trainwreck.

OK. I just made a momentous decision: I am only going to let myself watch this show if I'm knitting at the time, so I can at least come out of it with something other than compromised moral principles.

Now. If you watched the first ep of Ali's season of The Bachelorette this Monday, you may have noticed the same thing I did: Many many of the men seemed to have Mom Issues. Dead moms, sick moms, moms who taught them manners, moms who were abandoned or mistreated by their dads.

I wonder why that is, or if it was just the particular selection of men who were featured on Monday. Will it come into play later? That Kasey guy is clearly a little off (and I thought that even before seeing the promo for next week)--he reminds me of the freaky intensity Jake had on Gillian's season.

I like the professional wrestler, personally. But my money's on Chris from Cape Cod.

I don't know why, but I feel like I'd probably like Pamela Anderson in real life.

That's my only thought so far on this season's Dancing With the Stars.

I am way, way, way too interested in Fug Madness 2010 at Go Fug Yourself. I filled out my bracket and have been voting and following along, and attempting to engage my apathetic coworkers in commentary about the matchups. It's good that the championship matchup (Amber Rose vs. Rihanna) is today, so I can let it go until next year.

The tyranny of the blank page

I've got nothing. Just trying to figure things out. Feeling slightly better about things, although I attribute much of that to my decision NOT to watch Earth 2100 last night. From what I hear, it made you want to stick your head in the oven by the first commercial break.

I'm trying to keep things light and peppy for the time being: Bachelorette, Real Housewives of NJ, Deadliest Catch, and lots of Food TV. The always-delicious Tyler Florence. I love those Neelys--they seem to actually like each other. And I'm starting to get into Paula Deen, too, since she was also a single mom of two boys who came back from personal failure to build a happy life and found love at a later age. Ya gotta have goals...