I’ve read that the average American makes about 200 food choices each day – that computes to facing a food choice every 7.2 minutes in 24 hours. I’ve been limiting my flour and sugar intake these past few weeks without much luck after about 9 p.m. It’s difficult enough to stay on the straight, narrow and healthy when one has to make a right food choice about every 7 minutes, but then add a ridiculously simple, single-serve, warm, moist and chocolaty cake that can be mixed and baked in less than five minutes, and any resolve melts into a puddle of cake batter.
5-minute Chocolate Mug Cake No Butter, Milk or Eggs Serves 1
Flour (I used cake flour, but all-purpose works too)
vinegar (white or apple cider)
4 ½ T.
Grease the inside of a large, microwave safe mug. Mix the dry ingredients together in a small bowl (you can mix this cake inside the mug, but it’s too messy for me). Make 1 small and 1 large depression in the dry ingredients. Pour vinegar in the small depression and vanilla and oil in the large depression. Pour water over the top and mix until fully combined. Pour batter in mug and microwave on high for 90 seconds. Check doneness with a toothpick. Curl up on the couch and indulge!
Married life can be challenging – but dating life can be just as tricky.
I recognize this evening as a non-starter before I even order my Sauvignon Blanc. I realize before my ass has warmed the bar stool. There’s no chemistry – no spice. I’m more interested in the cute, tattooed bartender (alas, wedding ring) than the man beside me. Before my first sip of wine, my date has managed to “casually touch” my thigh and arm a half-dozen times during conversation. I don’t need my body language decoder ring – I get it; you’re interested, now back off. Our tactile evening continues with me receiving a demo of his co-worker’s hugging techniques followed by an unsolicited and awkward one-handed back rub. He has unquestionably grabbed or stroked me at least three dozen times. Body language hint – if your date is slowly sliding away to regain her personal space, stop with the hands! Ten minutes into the conversation, he declares that he wants to “claim” me as his own and our next date should be in my neighborhood. Next date?! I’m squirming through this one – and I’m beginning to believe you’re stalker material as well. Okay…polite conversation, polite conversation; I can do this; just finish my wine and leave – fast. I’m out the door in 40 minutes flat – but he insists on walking me to my car. Please don’t try to hug, kiss, or molest me at my vehicle. Not surprisingly, I receive his text on the drive home: “Good night Sweetheart.” Sweetheart?! Disturbing.
Reaching the safety of home, I’m amazed I don’t bee-line for the kitchen and bake up a batch of David Lebovitz’s chocolate chip cookies. This type of dating debacle deserves an edible pacifier – a dozen warm, gooey cookies or even a chocolate cake with thick chocolate frosting – devoured in one sitting. I content myself with a 6” turkey sub from Subway. Probably the smarter choice, since the holidays have made their mark on my bathroom scale.
Stepping on the bathroom scale this morning, I was incredulous of the 3-digits that materialized in the window. I’m 6.5 lbs. heavier than anticipated, 9 lbs. more than two weeks ago. This cookie, tart and chocolate cake tasting is overtaking my inadequate exercise regimen, to my detriment.