My No-Bake To-Die-For Dessert Secret

     Those of you who know me know that I'm a bit of a bakeaholic, but I'm aware that not everyone is as fond of baking as I am. With the holidays coming up, everyone probably has all kinds of family and company events to attend, and many of these events are probably pot-lucks. I have a way for people who hate baking to call dessert duty and impress the pants off of everyone at the party.
    I have been making this recipe for a few years, but I have been trying not to tell everyone how freakin' easy it is because I wanted to keep it for myself. Alas, I cannot keep up the charade any longer. There are a lot of these recipes on the internet, but the one I use is the easiest and best.  So here it is,  Three Ingredient No-Bake Oreo Truffles:

You need:
1 pack Oreos
1 8 oz package cream cheese (I prefer Philadelphia)
6 oz chocolate
(Optional) toppings

    You can use whatever kind of chocolate you enjoy. I am partial to Baker's semisweet squares, but anything that melts smoothly is fine. Dark and white chocolate also suit this recipe.

The prep:
1. Blend the Oreos and cream cheese together. The easiest way to do this is in a food processor. I have a Cuisinart 14-Cup Food Processor (Google Affiliate Ad) that I adore. A blender also works. In a bind, throw those suckers in a big, sturdy ziplock bag and bash them with a mallet. In the end, you want the mixture to be smooth.

2. Roll the Oreo mixture into 1-2 inch balls

3. Refrigerate for half an hour. The balls should be sturdy enough to withstand being rolled in your palms

4. Melt chocolate over low heat until smooth.

5. Roll Oreo balls to desired roundness, and roll in chocolate until coated. Remove the coated balls to a plate or baking sheet and refrigerate until hardened.

*Optional: Before refrigerating chocolate-coated balls, sprinkle with desired toppings. Decorative sprinkles and toasted almonds work well. You can also put aside a few Oreos and crumble the chocolate part to be sprinkled on top. If you're feeling fancy, melt another kind of chocolate and pipe designs onto your truffles. (A plastic bag with a small part of the corner cut off works just as well as a professional piping bag.)

That's it. These things are seriously delicious. Everyone will be asking you for the recipe! Bon appetit.

A Letter to my Almost-two-year-old Son

Dear Almost-two-year-old,
   
     Everyone warned me that the terrible twos would start around this age, and they have. Lord, have they. I don't think they should be called "terrible", though, because I understand.
     I understand that, when you wake up screaming bloody murder at 4:30 am after I managed to trick you into sleeping in your own bed for a few measly hours, and you are furious at being duped, it's because you like the Thomas the Tank Engine sheets and pillows and plushies and comforters that we bought you to try to cajole you into your own bed, you just don't like like them.
     And when you crawl into bed with dad and me, I understand that you try to push my head away from you with all your might while clinging to my body like a genetically enhanced leech because you need the warmth and comfort of my body, just without the meddlesome presence of my face.
    I get that, when you are crying and begging for something that you are already holding in your hand, it is because you need me to hide it behind my back for three seconds to fifteen minutes before presenting it to you in order to restore your sense of wonder.
     I understand that, when you are lying on the floor, kicking and screaming simply, "Again! Agaaaaain!" it is because you want to have or see something you have had or seen before in your lifetime, and you are too distraught to specify what exactly that might be.
     I get that the absence of trains is unacceptable.
     I know that sometimes you like to pull the dogs' tails for no reason because it just feels good be a straight-up jerk from time to time.
     More than anything, I understand that you are completely overwhelmed by the grown-up emotions you are sprouting.

   I think the terrible twos should be called the "question-why-you-wanted-to-be-a-parent-in-the-first-place twos." Trust me, I have, but I have an answer; I can see past the towering mountain of "TWO", to the slightly less-craggy peak of "three", all the way to the sloping foothills of "four", and beyond. And I know that you will come out on the other side a real, functioning little person, and I will feel privileged to have loved you all along; mind, body, and face.

Love,
Mommy



If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy my slightly-more-serious Letter to the Grown Up Version of My One Year Old Son