RIP Michele Ferrero, Creator of Nutella

by Mom Meets Blog

Michele Ferrero, Italian entrepreneur, chocolate manufacturer and creator of Nutella, the chocolate hazelnut spread beloved the world over, passed away quietly at the age of 89 on Valentine’s Day. Many a scrumptious recipe has been developed (not to mention a blog post written) and a diet hastily broken by this delightfully sinful concoction. Some of my favorite ways of indulging in Nutella are spreading it on a rice cake topped with raspberries, or swirling it on pancakes, sliced strawberries or English muffins. Of course, spooning it straight out of the jar works too. And although I’ve never baked with Nutella, this Nutella Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe from Sally’s Baking Addiction might get me to put down the spoon and get out the baking sheet.

Rest in peace Mr. Ferrero; regardless of how I get my Nutella fix, my spoon salutes you.

Looking for more Nutella recipes? Check out Nutella: The 30 Best Recipes. Do you have a favorite recipe involving Nutella? Let me know in the comments!

25Jun2012

Anatomy of a Playdate

by Mom Meets Blog

I came home today to find my son’s cousins had come over to play for the afternoon. With my son suitably entertained for the time being and my husband on kid patrol, I comfortably settled in at my desk with a cup of hazelnut coffee and a croissant slathered in Nutella (what else?) and topped with apricot preserves, door tightly shut (should I lock it?), hoping to get some work done. My husband is supposed to be keeping the kids from killing each other watching the kids but I can hear that they are just about to begin a sword battle and I know that no good can come of this. When it’s two 11 year olds against a 7 year old (or is it the other way around?) there’s bound to be bloodshed, or tears at least.

“Ow, that hurts!” I hear one of them cry out, I can’t tell which one. I don’t hear my husband. I hear the playing continue. I hear a little body slamming, some running, jumping, banging, yelping and more sword clanging. Still no husband. I wonder if he’s fallen asleep on the couch. I refuse to get up and check to see what’s going on. I refuse to let my coffee get cold, and I’ve only eaten half my croissant.

I sit and listen, trying to discern whose voice is whose. I hear some yelling, but can’t really make out what they’re saying. . . Uh oh. Now it’s quiet. Too quiet. I start to push back my chair. . .

Now they’re laughing. Laughing is good, right? Unless they’ve found something inappropriate on the internet (is that why they were so quiet?) and are now cackling hysterically over something that’s really funny or that they don’t understand – or both.

Good. The sword clanging has resumed. “I’m not kidding! Stop! Stop it!!” one of them bellows. Still no reaction from my husband. For goodness’ sake, what is he doing????

I am not getting up. I can hear feet scurrying. I hear rapid clicking sounds. I wonder if my husband’s still in the house.

I take a sip of my coffee – still warm. And then the crying begins.

It’s the 7 year old. From what I gather about the melee occurring outside my door, he got pelted between the eyes with a Nerf gun bullet and didn’t like it. When I came home I noticed at least five Nerf guns out and enough ammo to take out a small (Lego) village, with the younger one sporting multiple weapons, dispatching foam balls and bullets at the hapless two older kids. Turnabout is fair play, little man.

“All right guys, that’s it!” I hear my husband parenting (finally!) He tells one of the kids to put down the shield (?) and for everybody to sit down and watch TV.

It’s quiet again.

I polish off my croissant. The doorbell rings – it’s the boys’ dad come to pick them up. I can hear them all talking and saying goodbye. I don’t move. I finish this post. And my coffee.

Photos courtesy of Google Images and Mom Meets Blog

9May2012

Fifty Shades of Nutella

by Mom Meets Blog

I’m standing at the kitchen counter about to start dinner. I open the cabinet to round up the ingredients for this evening’s meal and I see it, that seemingly innocent white-lidded jar, beckoning my attention. I look away and continue gathering my supplies, but its call is too great to ignore. I remove the Nutella from the cabinet and slowly twist off its lid. I open the drawer below and grab a spoon. I put the jar on the counter and hold it in place with one hand as I dip the spoon into the jar with the other, its contents yielding against the touch of the stainless steel. I raise the spoon to my lips, closing my eyes and inhaling its familiar, delicate fragrance. As it finds its way into my mouth, this intoxicating concoction slides off the spoon and onto my tongue, enveloping it like a silky blanket, the hint of hazelnut providing the perfect counterpoint to the smooth, velvety chocolate. I open my eyes and, staring into the cabinet, inspiration strikes – dare I reach for the peanut butter? My taste buds shiver at the thought. No, I decide as my inner goddess pouts, that’s too much for now. “Perhaps another time”, I can almost hear the peanut butter grinning salaciously. I plunge the spoon into the jar again and again, greedily devouring the Nutella like a . . .

A small voice shakes me out of my reverie. “Is dinner almost ready?” my son calls out from the living room. I look down sheepishly at the jar in my hand and realize I’ve just consumed 600 calories worth of Nutella and we haven’t even had dinner yet. I put the jar down and knot my fingers on the counter, chastising myself over my loss of control. As I bite my lower lip, my subconscious smirks at me over her half-moon specs and clucks “A moment on the lips, no matter how sweet, a lifetime on the hips.”

I roll my eyes at her and angrily throw the spoon into the sink. I shove the jar back in the cabinet, vowing to never lose control like that again (at least until the next time I open the cabinet). Oh Nutella, you are a cruel master. . .