Vegan Chocolate Chubbies by Sarabeth Levine (Hello. . . Here's Chocoloate, There's The Locusts, Here's The Veggies, That's My New Treadmill)

We've been tap dancing around the subject. Last week hubby asked, "Did you have a new post you wanted me to read?" He knew by the look I shot him that the answer was "no". Then I added, "Unless you happened to have missed the Maggie good-bye." We both knew the answer to this. The subject was dropped and not a word mentioned since.  

 I probably need some one-on-one time in a chair. But I have a stubborn side to me. All the stages of grief seemed to have run through me--all at once. I am still quite tearful--but not as frequently. I've been through loss before--I know the "time heals" mantra by heart. I sleep with Maggie's leash and collar next to the bed. I have a new helper in the house: a treadmill. Finally. It has been a life saver these past few weeks. I absolutely love it. I cannot begin to tell you the healing properties of just jumping on and "going" without having to shlep my gear to the gym (plus deal with the "gym heads". I'm getting too old for that nonesense.) Or of having to face the "car dodge" I have to play when running outdoors. I've also been heavy into my vegetable garden lately. My tomato seedlings, so far, seem to be really hanging in there--despite the plague of locusts we've had (the likes of which can only be compared to a scene from a Hitchcock film), and the intolerable early summer heat. Really dislike living in St. Louis right now. Really dislike it. (There's a little photo gallery at the end of this fairly long post in case you're interested.)

 The dynamic in our home has shifted and there is a new order, a new silence. Her brother and sister, well, they've changed, too. She was the leader. I called a Pyr rescue group a few days after, thinking the best thing to do would be to bring in another Pyr as soon as possible--so her Pyr sister would not feel as alone. Pyrs like other Pyrs. But my heart was not in it. I just didn't see the "one" on their website. I will know when the "one" appears. Or, perhaps I won't and we will be a family much smaller and much quieter.

What you all didn't know was that the last four days prior to our losing Maggie, we had a guest in the house. And this guest came abruptly and in dire need of some help: one of my best friends (we've known each other almost thirty years). The phone message button was blinking (because I generally keep my ringer off. I hate the phone). It sits adjacent to my kitchen sink, so I am constantly running past it. I noticed the blinking light, pressed play and heard her: Kelly, it's me. . . I need you, pick up the phone. Well, by the tone, I knew something horrible had happened. Thus ensued the "incident" and her spending the next four days with me, my dying dog and my husband (still recovering from eye surgery). I love my friend with all my heart. Long story short, her addiction had returned--with a vengeance. Her family had had enough, as is so often the case with family: they get burned out. . . so the person afflicted really does have very few choices after a certain point and thus, reaches out to someone for whom the bad behavior has not jaded quite as much. My friend knows I abhor alcohol. It is, to me, the devil of society. A demon. This demon had struck my friend and her family. Only this time, I was given charge of "next steps" with blessings from her hubby and as such, I went to work, not coddling her and saying, "There, there. . . all will be fine", but instead, I was quite angry and adamant she seek help, adding that she would not spend a single night extra in my home unless she agreed to get into a facility--and not just a three day psych ward, I'm talkng a full blown, all-addiciton-all-the-time sort of place. Which she did. And let me tell you--getting her there was no cakewalk. Our healthcare system is broken. I became her advocate. I must have made over twenty calls in one afternoon. I was spent. She would cry. I was like, Look, it didn't take you a single day to get to this point and it's not going to take a single day to get you OUT! After much back and forth, finally, we had found her a place. She's been in since. That Monday when she left to check herself in, that was our last day with Maggie (I think Maggie hung on for mommy--she saw the toll all this had taken on me), that was also the last time I spoke to my friend. I hope to hear from her again. But if it's in six months or whatever--I'm okay with that. She has a long road ahead of her. Life can be such a bitter pill sometimes.  

I appreciated the kind notes from my friends who read this blog. You all know who you are. The heartfelt emotion you shared with me truly lifted my spirit. It all helps. I encompass a very small space in the big world of blogging. I am quite happy with this small space. I am lucky to have met so many wonderful people right here.   

My dear husband has eaten two weeks of dinners that have nearly been exactly the same thing: a sandwich and some sort of potato: fried maybe, baked maybe or maybe put in a salad. I threw in a can of corn a couple of times. I can get away with this for a pretty long stretch--he loves sammiches. And potatoes. Thank god. It was about all I've been able to muster.

But then there was a craving that struck. A familiar craving. For chocolate. And not just because I HAD to bake for guests. (We had some family visit us last weekend. I was fine with this, as I explained to them: it was a good distraction, a needed distraction. And as such, provided Dr. Thyme and I with chocolate cake for dessert for an additional three nights. A bonus.) 

Borders had sent me a forty percent off coupon. Plus, I had earned five dollars in Borders bucks. Whoa. Now, come on, Kelly--it doesn't get much better than this, does it? I had passed one offer already--which is completely unlike me. This was a second offer--of the same value. When I passed on the first, I was still a raw nerve. Then about eight days later, the second offer came. I grabbed my purse and keys and left Dr. Thyme in charge for the afternoon. (On top of grieving, I had several days of agoraphobia--not wanting to leave the house. Ever.) But he was home. The dogs would be fine. . . for just a few minutes. And I came home with a new cookbook: Sarabeth's Bakery: From My Hands to Yours, by Sarabeth Levine. And I sat down to read the entire cookbook in one afternoon. It was a perfect salve. Beautiful cookbook. Came hermetcially sealed in plastic--so it had to be good. And it was. And thus, chocolate returns. 

By the way, as you glimpse at the recipe--which you will find on Sarabeth's amazon page for her cookbook, note the vegan changes I had to make--but following the rest of her instructions pretty much to the "T". I used unsalted vegetable margerine sticks, then used Ener-G egg replacer for the equivalent of the three eggs called for. But, I added about two tablespoons more water to the egg replacer. Don't ask me why, I just felt it was needed. I did NOT use 62% cacao as she specifies, but instead used 70% because the 62% has milk product in it. I also did NOT add 12 more ounces of chocolate chips, only another 6 ounces--there is such a thing as overkill in my chocolate world--believe it or not! So I only added a cup and a half more of chocolate chips, and then added only 1 cup of chopped pecans--if I'd added more Dr. Thyme would have not touched them. And I can report with great pleasure--these were really, really good. A chocolate fix if ever there was one. They are even better the next day. And also note--Sarabeth's cookies baked up to this nice, perfectly domed cookie. A vegan version won't. So don't despair. And you will find some of the "oil separation" and cookie spread taking place. Don't panic. Simply remove the cookies from the oven, allow to cool for about ten minutes, then use a  two-inch biscuit cutter to slice off the icky, runny ends and find your perfectly good, albeit, flat--but chewy and gooey chocolate cookie awaiting you.

And, here, as promised--a few photos of recent. First, the cookie baking process.

I'm old fashioned when it comes to my chocolate. But, rest assured, there was plenty of Ghiradelli chocolate used in this cookie, too.

Unsalted vegetable margerine cut into small pieces.

I usually melt my margerine and chocolate in the microwave at twenty second intervals--the lazy baker's method. But since I had no desire to fail miserably at baking on this particular day, I pretty much stuck to the directions. Here is the "double boiler" method of melting chocolate. The pan has about an inch of water, over low heat, and the heat proof bowl placed inside with the chocolate and margerine to allow slow melting and tempering.

Sarabeth says to use an ice cream scoop. I did. I filled my scoop only half way--the cookies would have been the size of small peaches otherwise. They will spread!

As if things weren't bad enough: meet our lovely thirteen year cicadas. Emerged from hibernation and descended upon our state like nothing I've ever seen in my life. Loud, scary, and LARGE! And they fly, leap, charge and land on anything--mostly in trees, but also on wide brimmed hats!

My tomato seedlings all grown up!

Beneficial insects: the ladybug. Never kill a ladybug in your garden!

Harvesting lettuce. I just covered most of my veggie patch with a layer of cedar mulch. Why? I am NOT a lover of "weeding". Take absolutely no pleasure in it whatsoever. Nor bugs. The cedar scent will ward off many pests. Some folks would disagree with me on this matter. But I pay them no mind. You can see here I gingerly mulched around my lettuce bed and as I harvested the leaves, you can see it re-emerging for another harvest. Growing lettuce is one of my most rewarding veggie experiences.

Ah. Sanity saver. Fan sold separately.