So Spouse and I have decided to make it our goal to zero out the pantry, refrigerator and freezer before we move, in the interest of having to move the smallest quantity of items possible from the apartment to the house. Actually, we have been working on this since we moved, but now - it's crunch time. And I am getting WAAAAY too much satisfaction out of figuring out recipes that utilize the maximum number of food items in our current possession.
While whipping up a batch of sun-dried tomato alfredo pasta with chicken (six items!) for Spouse to nosh on while I'm at Junior League, I came across a can of chocolate frosting in the fridge. Chocolate frosting is sort of a novelty in our house; we're a homemade buttercream family. However, while simultaneously preparing green buttercream for St. Patrick's Day cupcakes and grounding the 12 year-old for failing to turn in a major project and, essentially, lying to us about it (long story - I'll spare you), I got distracted and over-added milk. Despite valiant attempts to regain control over my wayward frosting (add more butter, add more powdered sugar, repeat), I never got the consistency right. So Spouse departed for the nearest retail outpost (Walgreen's), because we were running late for a party as it was, and a trip to an actual grocery store wasn't going to cut it. Spouse returned with what they had, which was chocolate frosting in a can.
I made the best of it.
(Yes, those are Lucky Charms treats in the front - like Rice Krispie treats, but with yellow moons, orange stars, green clovers . . . .)
Anyway. There was just a wee bit of chocolate frosting left in the can, and I decided that I would have a teaspoon or two - for the sake of Operation Kitchen Clean-Out, of course. After indulging in two spoonfuls of what may be the most white trash dessert "EVER," I realized that there were still two spoonfuls left - two spoonfuls that I didn't want (okay, full disclosure, I totally WANTED them but did not NEED them). Putting the can back in the fridge was not an option, because I had been eating directly out of the can, and homie doesn't play "grow your own mouth bacteria," so the remaining contents had to be consumed right then and there.
Fortunately, my youngest child loves chocolate - and had not yet had dessert.
"Hey, PJ. Want to eat chocolate frosting out of a can?"
The Big Kid's head snapped up. Not because he was left out of the offer. Homie doesn't do dessert - and, if he did, it wouldn't be chocolate.
"Mom . . ."
I waited for the rebuke. Yes, I am feeding your darling younger brother shortening-based fudge icing in a can. Because I am the worst -
". . . you are the best mom ever."
Okay, that's sarcasm, right?
"And, before you ask, I'm not being sarcastic. I'm serious. That is quite possibly the coolest thing you have ever done."
Reaaaaaaaaally? Even cooler than buying you the box of candy in the forefront of this picture, which you proclaimed "the best geek Valentine's gift of all time"?
Wow, I'm firing on all cylinders.
We'll see how cool they think I am when I run out of chocolate frosting and start pushing salmon.