SCRABULICIOUS!

I used to believe that I was the only one in the family who could possibly derive extreme pleasure by spending countless consecutive hours playing with food.

Not so I've learned!

This is where I introduce Aaron Horwitz. Aaron is the crazy, mad genius son of my partner, Ed. Aaron usually spends time in front of a computer where he bangs out brilliant stories before he takes position behind the camera and coaxes them to life.

Recently he expanded his particular brand of creative genius into his kitchen...his refrigerator actually. A commercial for Pom Tea was born and submitted as an entry into their international video commercial contest! Did it surprise me to learn that the Pom People (PPs) placed their delightfully clever commercial as a top ten finalist out of HUNDREDS of commercial submissions? NOPE!






I've watched this video at least a dozen times! I especially love the clapping carrots. Appreciative veggies are always the best (and hard to find)!

Help Aaron win this contest!

Voting is now open at www.POMVIDEO.com. You can view all ten finalists and submit your vote for whichever video you feel is the best. Of course, as readers of Acme Instant Food you are overflowing with refined taste and an appreciation of talent, which compels you to place your vote for Scrabulicious! You can only vote once...once that is, from each computer. So, if you feel the need to watch again from home, your office, your boyfriend's apartment, your mistress' hotel room, the public library, etc, feel free to vote from each location.

Also, if you like the commercial you can watch a few of Aaron's short films on Youtube. His user name is TeamLionHeart and here is his page. Be sure not to miss "Wheelchair" as well as his "Axe" and "NBA" commercials.

Finally, you may have noticed that my web page has been trying on some new duds. I think we've just about arrived at our new look. Let me know if you experience any problems (and if you do, what browser are you using). Thanks!

TELL-TALE OATMEAL CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIES (with "one of those" Kevin stories)

I do my best, my very best, to not keep baked goods and other sweet treats around the house too often. The issue is not that I'm a maniacal health nut, but rather that I have little will power to resist incessant snacking on this type of goodie. I can exercise great restraint in a grocery store, or bakery, or chocolatier, but once the sugar laden item is in my home I am destined to eat it all.

The following post depicts the mental battle I wage against irresistible noshes. It was inspired by one of my favorite authors, Edgar Allan Poe. If you are a fan of the dreadfully literate Mr.Poe, you will recognize its inspiration, "The Tell-Tale Heart (complete story text here)." If you are not familiar with this brilliant short story, or not a fan of the author, you may wish to quickly close your browser window and surf over to a more benevolent food blog before things start to get weird.

The Tell-Tale Treats

True!--weak--very, very dreadfully weak have I been in the past when faced with internal restraint of sweetly tempting baked goods. But what flaw of character will you recognize in this tale and say that I am mad? I thought my actions through with acute inner vision and did not act in haste. Does a madman act with such calculation? My favor of all things both savory and sweet should have held me to respect for such goods. But it was my heightened love of sweets that caused me to stealthfully act out confectionery homicide!

Madness often accompanies such painfully elevated desires. The trays of freshly baked oatmeal cookies lay on the cool granite counter, exuding steam and warmth and settling into their lightly crisped perfection. Could a madman have baked such wonderful cookies?--no--could the Quaker man himself muster pride such as I over oatmeal cookies? If mad, could I have crafted so lovingly a recipe--pinch of cinnamon--zested orange--coconut? A nearly perfect specimen of wholesome oatmeal cookie!

But the the genesis of my fatal flaw lied not in the creation of these sugary peckings. No--my mortal weakness lay in the inability to resist more than a solitary man's serving of such treats. I was saddled with a close kinship to over-abundance. I could not resist returning, slowly returning, to the kitchen every few moments to spy the cookies and absorb the wafting aromas of sweetness and spice.

But the genesis of my fatal flaw lied not in the creation of these sugary peckings.

I stayed my distance in the doorway--a distance impossible to overcome by reach alone. But a distance not impossible to overcome in sneaky steps--without thought or effort. And oh--so closer on each successive visit to the kitchen! I tasted and it did not disappoint. Two was better. The third but an uncontrolled reflex! But realizing my weakness I stayed away--at least--I tried with great strength to stay away. But stay away I could not! I returned--slowly and riddled with ever-growing mental anguish and budding pools of overactive saliva. Cursed cookies!

Thoughts raced across my mind with the speed of hungry demons and I begin to glimpse the horrors of the consequences of my actions. Multiple samplings of the devilish cookies damned me to enslaved hours and hours of torture in the confines of our gym! Ghostly images of heavy weight stacks and motorized treadmills perched high in my mind like a midnight raven who had traveled from a distant shore--refusing to cease his gaze clear through my soul! The scent of putrid sweat and overly-mentholated muscle balm burned a phantom stench into my quivering nostrils! Swimming consternation and nausea washed over me. I struggled to regain soundness--my thoughts trained on just how to banish such fate! But how to dispel the grip of this cursed flavor? I knew the trays of temptation must not be allowed to remain!

I set to work with such skill, such craftiness, that surely Ed would never be the wiser! How could he? No trace of crumb, or softly yielding chocolate chunk would betray the cleverness that I'd employ in their disposal--no! He would be returning soon and the guarantee of my sane and swimsuit-ready existence depended upon the deed. I crept toward the pantry, skillfully, slowly and deliberately without a solitary glimpse of the demonic aluminum racks of oatmeal cookies. The wide, heavy door swung open easily as I knew it would, granting me access to the deep, dark, inner pantry depths within. The cold and stale air greeted my hands and fingers as I pried open the concealed, second inner door. So carefully I moved that not a creek or squeek was heard from the hinges! No light reached the far inner reaches--where only dead black shadows dared to circulate. Leaning far inward and balanced so to avoid losing balance, my hands at last reached the back. Ample room! Growing glee and relief replaced the plagues of my mind as I determined the cold, cavernous dark depths to be an adequate tomb.

I withdrew quickly. Certain returning pangs of unsatiated hunger threatened to overcome me if I did not act certainly and immediately. The box of shiny Reynold's Wrap Foil came to rest in my hand with the comfort of a dagger in the midst of attack against villanous invaders. Generous lengths of foil unwound quickly--so quickly! Minuscule drops of blood oozed as my thumb brushed the toothed razors of the box's edge. "Be damned!" I screamed as my calculated stalking exploded into maddening, murderous intent! Deftly, row after row of perfectly formed cookie was swept in a solitary deliberate stroke into the awaiting cupped foil coffin. I bound it again in surplus lengths of foil, dispensed from the box in needless generosity. My pulse abated as I stepped back to view my handiwork. No cookie remained. No crumb escaped my rag. All that remained was a dissipating aroma that now skirted the possibility of merely memory. It was done!

I returned to the open pantry and heaved the foil bound treats into the darkness. Carefully, with cunning cleverness never before matched, canned corn, chipotle peppers, and boxed oat bran I stacked in front of the offending cookies. Even Ed's watchful eye couldn't have spied the disturbance of the pantry contents. Such cleverness! A damp rag wiped the tiniest bloom of crimson blood from my thumb and the inner and outer pantry doors closed quietly. Do you still find me mad?

The garage door rumbled open and welcomed the 7 pm hour. Ed was returning home. Surely any pangs of guilt or bloated excess had vanished--my countenance clear and bright! No trace of my mission remained--no spot or chaos survived! I greeted him with assured confidence as he entered. I smiled, for nothing would deceive the air of confidence and surety that had settled over my being. What could, what had I to fear? My concealment was perfect, unmarred.

I noticed a pause in his step outside the kitchen door. A pause so brief I doubted its recognition. I grew pale and weakened. Surely this was just a trick of the imagination? No acknowledgement of freshly-baked oatmeal cookies could he experience! None, as such precision I had employed in their demise! But why a pause? I urged him inside, past the kitchen. "Have wine!" I implored. "Some Amontillado would surely do you well this evening!" Heavily and purposely against the utensil drawer I threw my body, dragging corkscrews and foil cutters loudly in distraction. He knew! He could not see, nor smell, nor taste, but he knew! How? He fingered the mail on the dining room table and I sensed his internal mocking of my growing terror! I considered perhaps the chance to flee but no distance between myself and the pantry would extinguish the radiating horror! I could stand the agony no longer! I would surely scream out with hellish fervor surpassing the witnessing of another Legally Blond movie sequel!

"Torturous demon!" I exclaimed, "cease your feigning and mockery! Withdraw your judgement! I admit the deed!--throw open the pantry doors! Here! Here! You will find the surceased cooling of these Quaker man's treats!"

Tell-Tale Oatmeal Chocolate Chunk Cookies
or as Ed called them, "omg...these are the best cookies I've ever tasted :-P"

1 cup salted butter, softened
1 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
2 large eggs
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
very finely grated zest of one orange (Microplane works great!)
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 1/4 cups oats
2/3 cup shredded sweetened coconut
2 cups good quality semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped (I like Ghiradelli)
1 cup toasted almonds, coarsely chopped


Preheat oven to 375 F.

Cream butter and both sugars with an electric mixer until very fluffy. Add vanilla, cinnamon, orange zest, and eggs and mix until well incorporated. Mix flour together with baking soda in separate bowl , then add to mixture and stir just until blended. Stir in oats, coconut, chocolate, and almonds.

Drop dough onto lightly greased cookie sheets in generous amounts. I use about two tablespoons per cookie. Larger amounts (up to 1/4 cup for very large cookies) can be made, but allow amble room for spreading as these cookies are on the thin and lacy side. Pat cookies down to roughly 1/2 inch thickness. Bake until golden brown, roughly 15-18 minutes. Cool only slightly before removing from cookie sheets.

BUT HOW DOES IT TASTE ON THE BARBECUE?

How many times have you left a comment on someone's blog that read something like this:

"OMG--that _____ looks so amazingly delicious that I want to lick my monitor!"

Admit it, you know you have. I admit to the occasional verbal decay into trite and uninspired comments. If you've actually followed through with this threat you most likely tasted nothing but polymers and dust from the screen. At best you got a little static electricity action on your tongue. Tingle, tingle! I wonder if this computer tastes any better?




This reminds me that I still need to see "King Corn."

We will return after these messages!





In the meantime you can play with my Etch-A-Sketch.

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