Scavenger Hunt: The Christmas Lights Edition

As you drive around your neighborhood admiring the Christmas lights, try to find:

• A house with just 3 sad blinking lights.
• A house that looks like the Griswolds.
• Two neighbors on the same block who are locked in a death match for the title "King of the Christmas Decorations"
• A Christmas light display that makes you feel uncomfortable and/or sad
• Decorations that were hung by a heavily intoxicated/annoyed husband
• A display that makes you say "where do they store those decorations all year?"
• An electric bill that represents the GNP of a small European nation
• A house with just one strand of lights lining the roof, like sane people used to do in the 80s

Pie n' Burger; Or, This Is The Pie They Serve In Heaven

Would you take a look at this pie? I mean, seriously, pie this beautiful should not be legal, but apparently it is, and you can buy it by the slice at Pie n' Burger in Pasadena, California.



If you like pie (and who doesn't?) and you are within driving range of Pasadena, then you must visit Pie n' Burger.  And if you love pie, then just get on a plane and come here tomorrow.

If you are going to visit Pie n' Burger, I recommend two strategies:

1. Arrive around 8:45 p.m. and order a slice of boysenberry pie with ice cream. You will be tempted by the other selections - which are admittedly all excellent - but if you know what is good for you, you will order the boysenberry pie.

2. Go for lunch or dinner but at a weird hour (like 2:30 for lunch, or 4:47 for dinner). Sit at the counter with your date, friend, etc. Order ONE patty melt and ONE order of fries - this is all you need. Do not finish the fries because you have to save room for dessert. Then, order a slice of boysenberry pie with ice cream (see #1, above). When the waitress asks, "Just one slice for the two of you?" give her your best look of horror/shock/confusion/disbelief. Then, calmly explain, "No, we would each like a slice of pie; two slices of boysenberry pie. Please." This is important. If you try to share a slice of boysenberry pie, someone is bound to get "accidentally" stabbed with a fork.

 

The Santa Stump

I know I have been blogging like a broken record about the Santa Ana wind storm (aka Windocalypse) that hit my neighborhood last week.  And I'm going to try to stop blogging about all the fallen trees.  But I just had to share this photo:

Someone put a Santa hat on a stump.  How awesome is that?  Talk about making the best of a bad situation.

Now I want to buy some cheap Santa hats and put them in random places to make people smile.  Do you think it's a federal offense to put a Santa hat on a mailbox? 

Christmas Pumpkins

Q: Do I have to throw out my pumpkins, now that it's December?  They are just so orange, and they scream "Harvest!  Pilgrims!  Cornucopia!"  Pumpkins just do not fit in with the December holiday spirit, right? 

A: DO NOT THROW OUT YOUR PUMPKINS.  You should never throw out a pumpkin until it has rotted and smells like death.  It's very easy to update your pumpkins for Christmas.  Behold, the Christmas Pumpkin!

Baking + Disaster = Bake-aster

I am officially cursed: I am incapable of baking a pretty cake for my husband's birthday.  

Last year, I tried baking him a German chocolate cake.  (It's his favorite).  What I created tasted like a German chocolate cake, but it did not look like a German chocolate cake.  When I was frosting the "cake," it collapsed on itself and turned into a pile of crumbs.  Tasty crumbs, but not something you would ever think to call a "cake."

This year, I vetoed the German chocolate cake and opted for a simple chocolate cake with a chocolate ganache frosting.  And like its predecessor, the "cake" was absolutely delicious - moist with a chocolately flavor that was rich but not too rich.  But visually?

It was a bake-aster. 

Let's take a look at the cake from another angle so you can appeciate just how tragic it is.

The cake layers would not come out of their pans.  I carefully ran a knife around the cakes' edges.  Then, I cautiously inverted the cakes and ... nothing.  I ran a knife around the cakes' edges again, this time more aggressively.  Again, I inverted the cakes and ... nothing. 

I left the pans upside down, assuming the cakes would eventually succumb to gravity.  Impatient, I thwacked the pans like Animal playing the drums. Finally, after about twenty minutes of hanging upside down, one of the cakes fell from its pan.  The other two bitches refused to budged. 

Meanwhile, the ganache had turned into a block of inedible mess.  I had put the ganache in the fridge to cool off - the recipe said I could! - but then forgot about it.  By the time Nathan rescued the ganache from the fridge, it had turned into a solid mass of chocolate.  We set the ganache on the table, pretending it might soften and turn back into frosting.  [Insert hysterical laughter here].  It did not. 

Fortunately, I had purchased an emergency container of Betty Crocker frosting at the grocery store. 

Unfortunately, two of my three layers were still welded to the cake pans.  What the eff?  I had meticulously buttered the pans, laid down a layer of wax paper on their bottoms, and buttered the wax layer.  I have made many cakes with these very pans, and all of those cake layers were happy to spring from the pans at the slightest of urgings.

But the chocolate layers?  Not going anywhere.  So, I cut out a big wedge of cake, slapped it on top of the one layer that I had manage to coax from the pan, and constructed a dessert that looks like something Frank Gehry would bake.

Although an eyesore, the chocolate cake and store-bought frosting were delicious, and the birthday boy was very happy.  I survived the bake-aster, with my sense of humor intact.

But next year, I'm baking Nathan a birthday pie.

Happy Holidays, Natural Disaster Style

Last week, the Santa Ana winds tore through Pasadena and kicked the crap out of my neighborhood.  It was a natural disaster in a major city, but the media treated it like a bad traffic jam.  They did not even try to give the storm a cool name, like Windocalypse or Stormy.  

You know why the media basically ignored Windocalpyse?  Because it hit suddenly and with unexpected intensity - so the media did not get a chance to go into pre-storm panic mode and predict The Coming of the End of Days.  And, fortunately, no one died - so the media did not get to speculate about the death toll.  Who wants to report on power outages and fallen trees?  BORING.

But Windocalypse was a natural disaster, and it caused a lot of damage.  Thousands lost power for days.  In Pasadena, more than 400 trees fell, landing on houses, fences and cars.  The streets were literally dammed with trees, as if hoards of devil beavers had attacked Pasadena during the night.  

The City of Pasadena has done a five star job cleaning up the mess.  My only complaint is that I have forfeited my right to complain about the City (and come on, who doesn't like to complain about the government?)  

While I was taking a walk in my neighborhood this weekend, I saw this holiday sign:

Let's just zoom in on the sign:

My neighbors lost their white picket fence during the storm, and now they are wishing everyone "Happy Holidays."  Or are there?

I cannot decipher the intended tone for this message.  Do the owners mean "happy holidays" as in "let's hang the stockings, drink some egg nog and count our blessings - we're so lucky we just lost this old fence"?  Or, do they mean "happy holidays" as in "we maxed out our credit cards on Black Friday, Grandma Edith started drinking again during the storm, we forgot to renew our homeowner's policy last month, so Santa can take our picket fence and shove it up his you-know-what"?

My Inner Cynic tells me it's the latter.  But, in the spirit of the season, I've decided it must be the former.  Maybe Santa will bring them a new picket fence for Christmas.

Secret Santa: Gift Ideas

It's that time of year again!  It's time to trim the tree, drink lots of hot chocolate and listen to Christmas carols until your husband begs for mercy. 

But Christmas is not all mistletoe and Kris Kringle.  A season as wonderful as Christmas needs at least one or two crappy traditions.  That's why the Universe invented the Secret Santa gift exchange.

I realize that, in principle, Secret Santa can be fun.  But Secret Santa is only as good as the lowest denominator.  And there is always a lowest common denominator.  If the participants are told to spend about $20 on their Secret Santa gift, someone who will spend $3 on mothballs and a crushed candy cane.  And I don't mean to sound like Ebeneezer Scrooge, but I always buy an awesome present that goes way over the $20 limit and end up with the mothballs. 

My brothers and sisters, it is time to fight back!  If you have ever received a crappy gift from your Secret Santa, it is time for Santa's revenge.  This year, don't waste your time agonizing over the perfect Secret Santa gift.  Instead, use one of my ideas:

• A framed photograph of yourself.  Don't spend too much on the frame.  The photo is the star of this gift.
• Diet pills. 
• A package of ground beef.  (Bonus points if the recipient is a vegan).

Seriously, there's no need to buy a video game system for the ungrateful secretary who works down the hall.  Because you know who your Secret Santa is?  That's right, it's your boss.  And you know what he's going to give you this year?  Some post-it notes and pens that he stole from the supply closet.