I have a weakness that I believe few have as severely as I do, and that is an addiction to homemade chocolate chip cookies. The smallest attempt at coercion will work on me especially if chocolate chip cookies are needed by anyone. "Anyone" can be the guy in China who's had a bad day and, because my attuned-ness is so strong, I would feel, through long-distantceESP, that he has a need. Unfortunately, "the need" never sends a mailing address.
This afternoon, I used "the need" for this Nestle ambrosia as a tool for stopping a fight. One of the three volatile elements had to be removed from a possible nuclear explosion, so I took Uranium (Reed) upstairs and had him help me make C.C.C.s. By the way, it is Friday and on Friday's rules are meant to be broken (the rule that every woman fights throughout the week: Thou shalt not eat anything yummy, chocolaty, or of a fattening nature...until the day lipo suction is free or covered by everyone's insurance").
I rarely let the volatile elements into the baking/cooking area but I thought this might be a good tutorial. Everyone needs to know the basics like how to boil water, how to turn on the burning-food-recovery-fan, or how to make C.C.C.s. Reed pulled up a chair so he was almost as tall as me standing by the big bowl. We successfully put in the first 3 ingredients and mixed (I love Kitchen Aides). Then I brought out the eggs and vanilla. I don't think Reed knows this, but it's the vanilla that brings the hungry sailors to their death when the Sirens start singing. It's not the song really, the gals are all just holding a bottle of pure vanilla, blowing it the sailor's way as they sing over the opening. Thus, the thing that drives all to crave cookie dough is the smell of vanilla (well, it might also be the ozone smell from the mixer as it overheats, but I'd put my money on the vanilla).
These particular Sirens were drinking the vanilla just before their concert, and it looks like they are a little tipsy too, overdoing it for Ulysses I suppose. 35% alcohol can have quite an effect on singing female island dwellers.
I let Reed hold the teaspoon as I filled it with vanilla. As he poured it in the bowl I watched him inhale. I asked "do you like how the vanilla smells?" Reed answered with a dazed smile, "yeeesss." He set it down on the counter while we put the rest of the ingredients in. As I was putting the lid back on the flour container, Reed looked down at the now empty vanilla spoon and asked if he could smell it again. I laughed and said yes, but I guiltily felt like I was feeding a drug habit. He stood there for a minute or so taking more taking heady whiffs of the wonderful vanilla bean's extract.