The Apple Dumpling

The Apple Dumpling
(England)


There WAS ONCE UPON A TIME an old woman who wanted an apple dumpling for supper. She had plenty of flour and plenty of butter, plenty of sugar and plenty of spice for a dozen dumplings, but there was one thing she did not have; and that was apples.

She had plums, a tree full of them, the roundest and reddest that you can imagine; but, though you can make butter from cream and raisins of grapes, you cannot make an apple dumpling with plums, and there is no use trying.

The more the old woman thought of the dumpling the more she wanted it, and at last she dressed herself in her finest clothes and started out to seek a basket of apples.

Before she left home, however, she filled a basket with plums from her plum-tree and covering it over with a white cloth, hung it on her arm, for she said to herself: "There may be those in the world who have apples, and need plums."

She had not gone very far when she came to a poultry yard filled with fine hens and geese and guineas. Ca-ca, quawk, quawk, poterack! What a noise they made; and in the midst of them stood a young woman who was feeding them with yellow corn. She nodded pleasantly to the old woman, and the old woman nodded to her, and soon the two were talking as if they had known each other always.

The young woman told the old woman about her fowls and the old woman told the young woman about the apple dumpling and the basket of plums for which she hoped to get apples.

"Dear me," said the young woman when she heard this, "there is nothing my husband likes better than plum jelly with goose, but unless you will take a bag of feathers for your plums he must do without, for that is the best I can offer you."

"One pleased is better than two disappointed," said the old woman. And she emptied the plums into the young woman's apron and putting the bag of feathers into her basket trudged on as merrily as before; for she said to herself: "If I am no nearer the dumpling than when I left home, I am at least no farther from it; and that feathers are lighter to carry than plums nobody can deny."

Trudge, trudge, up hill and down she went, and presently she came to a garden of sweet flowers: lilies, lilacs, violets, roses --oh, never was there a lovelier garden.

The old woman stopped at the gate to admire the flowers; and as she looked she heard a man and a woman quarreling.

"Cotton," said the woman.
"Straw," said the man.
"'Tis not--"
"'Tis!" they cried, and so it went between them, till they spied the old woman at the gate.

"Here is one who will settle the matter," said the woman then; and she called to the old woman: "Good mother, answer me this: If you were making a cushion for your grandfather's chair would you not stuff it with cotton?"

"No," said the old woman.

"I told you so," cried the man. "Straw is the thing, and ye need to go farther than the barn for it;" but the old woman shook her hand.

"I would not stuff the cushion with straw, either," said she, and it would have been hard to tell which one was the more cast down by her answer, the man or the woman. But the old woman made haste to take the bag of feathers out of her basket, and give it to them.

"A feather cushion is fit for a king," she said, "and as for me, an apple for a dumpling, or a bouquet from your garden will serve me as well as what I give."

The man and the woman had no apples, but they were glad to exchange a bouquet from their garden of the loveliest flowers; lilies, lilacs, roses--oh! never was there a sweeter bouquet.

"A good bargain, and not all of it in the basket," said the old woman, for she was pleased to have stopped the quarrel, and when she had wished the two good fortune and a long life, she went upon her way.

Now her way was the king's highway, and as she walked there she met a young lord who was dressed in his finest clothes, for he was going to see his lady love. He would have been as handsome a young man as ever the sun shone on had it not been that his forehead was wrinkled into a terrible frown, and the corners of his mouth drawn down as if he had not a friend left in the whole world.

"A fair day and a good road," said the old woman, stopping to drop him a curtsey.

"Fair or foul, good or bad, 'tis all the same to me," said he, "when the court jeweler has forgotten to send the ring he promised, and I must go to my lady with empty hands."

"So you shall have a gift for your lady," said the old woman, "though I may never have an apple dumpling." And she took the bouquet from her basket and gave it to the young lord which pleased him so much that the frown smoothed away from his forehead, and his mouth spread itself in a smile, and he was as handsome a young man as ever the sun shone on.

"Fair exchange is no robbery," said he, and he unfastened a golden chain from round his neck and gave it to the old woman, and went away holding his bouquet with great care.

The old woman was delighted.

"With this golden chain I might buy all the apples in the king's market, and then have something to spare," she said to herself, as she hurried away toward town as fast as her feet could carry her.

But she had gone no farther than the turn of the road when she came upon a mother and children, standing in a doorway, whose faces were as sorrowful as her own was happy.

"What is the matter?" she asked as soon as she reached them.

"Matter enough," answered the mother, "when the last crust of bread is eaten and not a farthing in the house to buy more."

"Well-a-day," cried the old woman when this was told her. "Never shall it be said of me that I eat apple dumpling for supper while my neighbors lack bread," and she put the golden chain into the mother's hands and hurried on without waiting for thanks.

She was not out of sight of the house, though, when the mother and children, every one of them laughing and talking merrily, overtook her.

"Little have we to give you," said the mother who was the happiest of all, "for that you have done for us, but here is a little dog, whose barking will keep loneliness from your house, and our thanks goes with it."

The old woman did not have the heart to tell them no, so into the basket went the little dog, and very snugly he lay there.

"A bag of feathers for a basket of plums; a bouquet of flowers for a bag of feathers; a golden chain for a bouquet of flowers; a dog for a golden chain; all the world is give and take, and who knows but that I may have my apple dumpling yet," said the old woman as she hurried on.

And sure enough she had not gone a half dozen yards when, right before her, she saw an apple tree as full of apples as her plum tree was full of plums. It grew in front of a house as much like her own as if the two were peas in the same pod; and on the porch of the house sat a little old man.

"A fine tree of apples," called the old woman as soon as she was in speaking distance of him.

"Aye, but apple trees and apples are poor company when a man is growing old," said the old man, "and I would give them all if I had even so much as a little dog to bark on my door-step."

"Bow-wow," called the dog in the old woman's basket, and in less time than it takes to read this story he was barking on the old man's door-step, and the old woman was on her way home with a basket of apples on her arm.

"If you try long enough and hard enough, you can always have an apple dumpling for supper," said the old woman, and she ate the dumpling to the very last crumb. And how she enjoyed it, too!




Apple Dumplings

RECIPE INGREDIENTS:
1/4 cup raisins
1/4 cup dried, sweetened cranberries
1/4 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
Premade pastry for an 8- or 9-inch 2 crust pie
4 small, cored baking apples
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup water

Directions:
1. Combine the raisins, cranberries, walnuts and spices in a bowl and set aside.

2. On a lightly floured cloth-covered surface, roll out the pastry into a 14-inch square, then cut it into 4 squares.

3. Place a cored apple on top of each square and fill the center with the raisin and cranberry mix.

4. Cover each apple with its pastry square by bringing the opposite corners up over the fruit and pinching them together. Then, seal together all of the pastry edges, moistening them with water if needed.

5. Place the dumplings in a glass baking dish.

6. In a saucepan, bring the brown sugar and water to a boil, and then pour it over the dumplings (a parent's job).

7. Bake in a preheated 425 degree oven, spooning the syrup over the dumplings a few times, until the crust is golden (about 40 minutes).

recipe found at FamilyFun

Here's a site with great step by step pics

The Crabfish Song...a storysong sing-along

Tom Chapin singing The Crabfish Song on a great PBS children's show (which we don't get in my area..argh!) called Lomax The Hound of Music.

Yes, it is a story because most songs are just musical stories.
Enjoy and sing-along on the chorus!!



for more songs visit Lomax The Hound of Music

Here's a very simple and delicious recipe.

Hot Crab Dip

INGREDIENTS
1 package (8 ounces) cream cheese, softened
1 cup mayonnaise (I prefer Miracle Whip)
2 teaspoons OLD BAY® Seasoning
1/2 teaspoon dry Mustard
1 pound lump crabmeat
1/4 cup shredded Cheddar cheese

Your favorite crackers or sliced french bread

DIRECTIONS
1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Mix cream cheese, mayonnaise, Old Bay and dry mustard in medium bowl until well blended. Add crabmeat; toss gently.

2. Spread in shallow 1 1/2-quart baking dish. Sprinkle with Cheddar cheese and additional Old Bay, if desired.

3. Bake 30 minutes or until hot and bubbly.

Serve with crackers or sliced French bread.

recipe found here

The Magic Pomegranate

Once there were three brothers who loved adventure. One day they decided to go on a journey, each one to a different country, and to meet again on a certain day ten years later. Each brother was to bring back with him an unusual gift.

The oldest brother decided to go to the East. When he arrived in a certain Eastern town, he was fascinated by what he saw there: magicians, dancing girls, jugglers, and acrobats were everywhere. As the brother was watching the entertainments, he saw one magician hold up a magic glass through which he could see to the distant corners of the kingdom.

“Ah!” thought the oldest brother, “I would like to have that glass, for that would certainly be an unusual object to share with my brothers.” He asked the magician, “Tell me, how much is that glass? I should like to buy it from you.” At first, the magician would not part with his magic glass, but after much pleading by the older brother, and some bargaining, they agreed upon a price and the magician sold the glass to the oldest brother.

The second brother traveled to a country in the West. Wherever he went, he kept his eyes open, and his mind as well. He was always on the lookout for the most unusual gift he could bring back to his brothers.

One day, he was attracted by the cries of an old carpet seller, who called out, “Carpets for sale! Beautiful! Wonderful! Carpets here!” The brother approached the carpet seller and began to examine his carpets, when suddenly he saw the carpet at the bottom of the pile begin to move. It seemed to be moving by itself! “What kind of carpet is this one?” he asked, pointing to the bottom one, which was quite visible by then.

The old merchant motioned for him to bend down and whispered in his ear, “This is a magic carpet. Buy it, and it will take you anywhere you want to go—and quickly too!” The second brother and the carpet seller finally settled upon a price, and the brother took the magic carpet with him, satisfied that he had a most unusual gift.

The youngest brother went South, and when he arrived in a certain country, he traveled far and wide to see what he could find to bring back to his brothers.

Now, this was a country noted for its many forests. One day the youngest brother was walking in a grove of trees when he noticed something strange—a tree that was of a different shape from the hundreds of other trees around it. It was covered with orange-red blossoms, and it was so beautiful!

As the younger brother came closer, he saw that there was only one red pomegranate on the tree.

“This is strange indeed,” thought the young man. “A pomegranate tree with only one pomegranate.” He approached the tree slowly, laughing to himself and thinking of the story he would tell his brothers about the pomegranate tree full of blossoms with only one fruit on it. As he reached for the pomegranate, it fell into his hand even he could pluck it from the branch. As soon as that happened, another pomegranate burst from one of the blossoms. When the brother saw this, he looked at the pomegranate in his hand and said to himself, “This must be a magic pomegranate. It was the only one on the tree, and yet as soon as it fell into my hands when I was about to reach for it, a new pomegranate appeared suddenly. But what kind of magic does it perform, I wonder?”

The youngest brother examined the pomegranate, marveling at its beauty. “The shape is so perfect,” he thought, “crowned with the crown of King Solomon.” He walked away from the tree looking at his mysterious new treasure. When he looked back to see the pomegranate tree once more, it was no longer there. It had disappeared. “Now I know this is a magic pomegranate, and so this is what I will bring to my brothers.”

Ten years passed, and when the three brothers met as they had planned, they embraced with delight. They eagerly showed each other the unusual objects they had brought back from their journeys.

The oldest brother said, “Let me look through my glass and see what I can see.” When he held up the glass, he saw, in a far-off kingdom, a young princess lying ill in bed, near death.

“Quickly, dear brothers, get on my magic carpet and we’ll fly there!” said the second brother. In what seemed like seconds, the three brothers arrived at the far-off kingdom.

In the royal palace of this kingdom, the King, whose daughter lay ill, was grief-stricken. He had sent for every doctor in the country to cure the princess; but they had all failed and there was no hope left for the princess. Finally, the King had sent a messenger throughout the country saying, “Whoever can save my daughter, the princess, will have her hand in marriage, and half the kingdom!”

As if in a dream, the youngest brother heard a voice whisper inside him, “The pomegranate!” The youngest brother approached the King and asked, “May I try to cure the princess?” The King agreed and led the young man to the princess’ chambers.

When the young man saw the princess, he approached quietly and sat by her side. Then he took the pomegranate from his pocket, cut it open with gentle care, carefully cut each kernel from its place, and then fed the juicy red kernels to the princess. In a few moments, the princess felt stronger, and the color returned to her cheeks. Soon, she sat up in her bed, fully restored to health.

The King was overjoyed. He hugged his daughter and, turning to the three young men, he announced, “The man who saved my daughter will many her.”

The three brothers began to quarrel, each one claiming to be the one who should marry the princess.

The oldest brother said, “If it were not for my magic glass, we would never have known the princess was ill in the first place. So, since I discovered this first, I deserve to marry the princess.”

“But, brothers, It was because of my magic carpet that we could arrive so quickly,” argued the second brother. “Otherwise, the princess would have died. I deserve to marry the princess.”

Then the youngest brother said, “It was my magic pomegranate that actually healed the princess. I deserve to marry her.”

Since the three brothers could not decide which one should marry the princess, the King tried to decide. He looked at the three clever young men, but he could not decide who deserved to many his daughter.

The King finally turned to the princess and asked, “Who do you think deserves to marry you, my daughter?”

The princess answered simply, “I will ask each of them a question.” She turned to the oldest brother and asked, “Has your magic glass changed in any way since you arrived in this Kingdom?”

“No,” replied the oldest brother. “My glass is the same as always, and I can look through it and see to every corner of this kingdom.”

The princess then asked the second brother, “Has your magic carpet changed in any way since you arrived in this kingdom?” And the second brother answered, “No, my carpet is the same, and I can fly anywhere on it, as always.”

Turning to the youngest brother, the princess asked, “Has your magic pomegranate changed in any way since you arrived in this Kingdom?” And the youngest brother answered, “Yes, princess, my pomegranate is no longer whole, for I gave you a portion of it”

The princess turned to the three young men and said, “I will marry the youngest brother because he performed the greatest good deed—because he gave up something of his own.

The brothers and the King all understood the wisdom of the Princess. A lavish wedding was arranged for the prin-cess and the youngest brother.

And the King appointed the princess and all three brothers to become his royal advisers.

“The Magic Pomegranate.” Schram, Peninnah. Jewish Stories One Generation Tells Another. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, Inc., ©1987. p. 180-181.

Pomegranate Ginger Muffins

Prep Time: 10 minutes
Cook Time: 16 minutes

Ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
About 2/3 cup sugar
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup minced crystallized ginger
1 teaspoon grated lemon peel
1-1/4 cups pomegranate seeds
1 cup milk
1 large egg
About 1/4 cup (1/8 pound) butter or margarine, melted and cooled

Preparation:
In a bowl, mix flour, 2/3 cup sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir in crystallized ginger, lemon peel, and pomegranate seeds. Make a well in the center.

In a measuring cup, blend milk, egg, and 1/4 cup butter. Pour liquid all at once into well. Stir just until batter is moistened; it will be lumpy.

Spoon batter into 12 (2-1/2-inch-wide) or 24 (1-3/4-inch-wide) buttered muffin cups, filling each almost to the rim. Sprinkle with 1 to 2 teaspoons sugar.

Bake in a 425-degree F oven until lightly browned, about 16 minutes for large muffins, 13 minutes for small. Remove muffins from pan at once. Serve hot or set on a rack and serve warm or cool.

Bananas!!!.....Young Peoples Poetry Week

We're forty performing bananas,
in bright yellow slippery skins,
our features are rather appealing,
though we've neither shoulders nor chins,
we cha-cha, fandango, and tango,
we kick and we skip and we hop,
while half of us belt out a ballad,
the rest of us spin like a top.

We're forty performing bananas,
we mambo, we samba, we waltz,
we dangle and swing from the ceiling,
then turn very slick somersaults,
people drive here in bunches to see us,
our splits earn us worldly renown,
we're forty performing bananas,
come see us when you are in town.

by Jack Prelutsky

Banananananana...

I thought I'd win the spelling bee
And get right to the top,
But I started to spell "banana",
And I didn't know when to stop.

by William Cole

both poems from Laughing Out Loud Poems to Tickle Your Funnybone



BANANA SMOOTHIE

Ingredients:
1 small frozen banana, cut into chunks
1/2 cup plain low-fat yogurt
1/4 cup orange juice

Put all ingredients into the blender and blend until smooth.
The smoothies will be fairly thick.
Add more liquid if you want them thinner.
Makes 2 servings.
Make up your own variations using other fruits and juices.


Banana Muffins

Ingredients:
1/2 cup of butter
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1 teaspoon of vanilla
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 cup sour cream
3 large bananas, mashed

Directions:
1. Cream together butter and sugar.
2. When creamy, add the eggs, sour cream, mashed bananas, and vanilla.
3. Mix all dry ingredients and add to mixture.
3. Bake at 350 degrees in cup-cake pans for approximately 15 minutes or until lightly golden.

The Silver Fish...a poem for Young Peoples Poetry Week

Young Peoples Poetry Week is the third week in April which is either the 12th through the 18th or the 19th through the 25th.
I've decided to make it two weeks 'cause I'm confused!


The Silver Fish

While fishing in the blue lagoon
I caught a lovely silver fish,

And he spoke to me,
"My boy," quoth he,
"Please set me free and I'll grant your wish...
A kingdom of wisdom? A palace of gold?
Or all the goodies your fancies can hold?"

So I said, "OK," and I threw him free,
And he swam away and he laughed at me
Whispering my foolish wish
Into a silent sea.

Today I caught that fish again,
That lovely silver prince of fishes,
And once again he offered me—
If I would only set him free—
Any one of a number of wonderful wishes...
He was delicious!

Shel Silverstein



Fish in a Bowl

Ingredients:
1 package (3 oz) of blue gelatin (berry blue)
3/4 cup boiling water
1/2 cup cold water
ice cubes
1 package gummy fish

Optional:
you can use small jelly beans or fruit cocktail or other sliced fruit (strawberries) for rocks at the bottom of your fish tank/bowl

Directions:
Dissolve gelatin in boiling water completely.
Combine cold water and ice cubes to make 1 1/4 cups ice and water.
Add to gelatin, stirring until slightly thickened.
Remove any unmelted ice.
If mixture is still thin, refrigerate until slightly thickened.

If using fruit or jelly beans place on the bottom of clear bowl.
Pour thickened gelatin over fruit/jelly beans.
Suspend gummy fish in gelatin.

Refrigerate until set, about 1 to 2 hours.
Garnish with additional gummy fish, if desired.

Herbert Glerbert.....a poem for National Poetry Month

Yes, April is National Poetry Month so go forth and recite!!!

Herbert Glerbert by Jack Prelutsky

Herbert Glerbert, rather round,
swallowed sherbert by the pound,
fifty pounds of lemon sherbert
went inside of Herbert Glerbert.

With that glob inside his lap
Herbert Glerbert took a nap,
and as he slept, the boy dissolved,
and from the mess a thing evolved—

a thing that is a ghastly green,
a thing the world had never seen,
a puddle thing, a gooey pile
of something strange that does not smile.

Now if you’re wise, and if you’re sly,
you’ll swiftly pass this creature by,
it is no longer Herbert Glerbert.
Whatever it is, do not disturb it.



Sherbert the Frog

RECIPE INGREDIENTS:
Lime sherbet
Green decorators' gel
Junior Mints
Green gummy ring candy

1. Set a scoop of lime sherbet on a small green paper plate (trim the plate to resemble a lily pad first, if you like).

2. Cut one green gummy ring candy into quarters and place the four pieces under the sherbet scoop for feet.

3. Use a Junior Mint candy and half a gummy ring for each eye. Place on top of "frog" body.

4. Finally, add a green decorators' gel mouth and nostrils.

Recipe found at FamilyFun.com

The Legend of La Befana

The Legend of La Befana

A Christmas tale from Italian Folklore retold by La

La Befana was an old woman who lived in a small village in Italy. She was known throughout the village for her wonderful baking and the cleanliness of her kitchen. She was often seen sweeping the area in front of her home. And many had heard her say that she was so busy baking and cleaning that she rarely had time to do anything else.

One winter day, while La Befana was sweeping in front of her home, three travelers stopped to ask her for a drink of water. They told La Befana that they were astrologers (they were often called the three wise men) who were following a star to the birth place of the Christ child. She kindly gave them water and then invited them to dinner.

After dinner the astrologers prepared to continue their journey and asked her if she would like to come with them to see the Christ child. La Befana shook her head saying that she could not possibly take the time needed for such a journey. She was secretly itching to get back to her cleaning and cooking. She stood at her door and watched them leave.

La Befana went back to her sweeping. But hours later she began to feel that she had made a mistake. Maybe she should have gone with the 3 astrologers to see the Christ child. La Befana decided to follow them.

She quickly grabbed a basket and filled it with baked goods of all kinds. She then put on her shawl and with her basket and broom hurried off into the night practically running to catch up with the wise men.

La Befana traveled through the night but never caught up with the wise men. It is said that she ran and ran until she and her broom were lifted up into the air!

Ever since that night, La Befana is believed to fly through the night or run over the roofs in Italy on Epiphany eve. She stops at the home of every child, leaving them treats in their stockings if they are good and a lump of coal if they are bad.

She hopes that one of the children she visits will be the christ child.

Copyright LLL, Storyteller/Storysinger

Story originally posted at TheStoriesLaTells.blogspot.com

The name Befana is said to be a mispronunciation of the Italian word epifania which stands for epiphany. La Befana still visits the children of Italy on the eve of January 6, Epiphany. She fills their stockings with candy or a lump of coal. It is also believed that she sweeps the floor before she leaves. Many households leave her a small glass of wine and a small plate of goodies.




Biscotti - twice-baked (biscottare means to bake twice) biscuits
Biscotti are a traditional italian sweet that La Befana might have baked.

The following is a very simple biscotti recipe that "cheats" just a little.

Ingredients:
1 box dry cake mix (your choice of flavor)
1 cup all purpose flour
2 large eggs
1 stick melted butter
2 teaspoons vanilla (or your preferred flavor)

Optional:
¾ cup chopped nuts, dried fruit or chocolate pieces

Preheat the oven to 350F degrees.
Pour your cake mix and flour into the bowl of a stand mixer.
Add the eggs, butter and vanilla.
Mix on medium speed for 2 to 3 minutes. Mix in nuts or chocolate if desired.

This dough will be very stiff but will not stick to the bowl when properly mixed. The consistency will be like children’s play dough.

Divide dough into two halves.
Roll each half into a log, and place on a lined 11” x 15” x 1” baking pan.
Gently press the top of the cookie log into a rectangle, about 3 inches wide.
Repeat with the second half of the dough.

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes.
Remove cookie pan from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes.

Do not turn the oven off.

Remove cookies from baking pan and cut into 1 inch piece logs.
You will be cutting this on the width.

Place cookies on their cut side on the lined baking pan.
Place pan back into the oven and bake for 10 minutes.
Remove cookies to cooling rack to cool completely.
Store cooled cookies in an airtight container.

Biscotti are delicious dipped in hot chocolate or coffee.
Bon Appetit!!

Pssssssst!! Here are a few biscotti variations:

yellow cake mix - chopped red and green dried cherries - almond extract.

butter pecan cake mix - sliced pecans - maple extract.

golden cake mix - sliced dried apricots - toasted slivered almonds - almond extract.

vanilla cake mix - sliced dried cranberries - almond extract.

spice cake mix - walnuts - grated orange zest

spice cake mix - sliced crystalized ginger pieces.

chocolate cake mix - chocolate piece or chips, freeze first so they retain their shape during baking.

lemon cake mix - toasted slivered almonds.

german chocolate cake mix - chopped hazelnuts - semisweet chocolate - 1/2 Tsp. ground cinnamon.

devil's food cake mix - white chocolate chips - chopped dried sweetened cherries - almond extract.

The Sparrows Holiday

Mr. and Mrs. House Sparrow hopped round the garden looking for crumbs.

But alas! Nobody threw any crumbs for the sparrows that day:

At last Mr. Sparrow said:

"All the people must be away on holiday."

"Then why don't we go away on holiday?" chirped Mrs. Sparrow.

Mr. Sparrow cocked his head on one side.

"Yes, we will have a holiday. We will go into the country to visit our cousins, the Hedge Sparrows."

"Hurrah!" chirped all the little sparrows.

They flew over the houses and the chimneys, and soon they came to the fields, which were full of golden corn. There were lots of brown sparrows pecking the grain.

"These are our country cousins," said Mr. Sparrow.

"How do you do!" chirped the Hedge Sparrows. "We are very pleased to see you."

They all had such a happy time in the fields. There was plenty to eat, because the corn was ripe. Indeed, the little sparrows ate so much that they felt fast asleep among the corn.

Too soon it was time to go home. So they said "Goodbye" to their country cousins, and away they flew, over the fields and hedges, back to the houses and chimneys. But they did not forget the kindness of their country cousins. When winter came Mrs Sparrow said:

"We will invite our country cousins to spend Christmas with us. There will not be much to eat in their part of the world now."

So the Hedge Sparrows came to spend Christmas among the houses and chimneys.

And they all had a jolly time. There was plenty to eat, because in winter everyone puts out crumbs and titbits for the birds.

So in winter, when you throw out crumbs for the birds, do not forget to throw a little extra for the country cousins too.

Super Simple "Crumb" Cake

Ingredients:
1 yellow cake mix
4 large eggs
1 cup sour cream
1 cup water
5 Tbsp. butter, softened to room temperature
.
For the Crumb Topping:
2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 cup very soft butter (soften for 2 hours at room temperature)

Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9 x 13 pan.

Combine cake mix, eggs, sour cream, water and butter in a large mixing bowl.
Beat until smooth.

Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake 15 minutes.

While cake is baking, make the crumb topping:
Combine flour, sugar and cinnamon together in a large bowl.
Cut in butter until mixture becomes crumbly.

Sprinkle crumb topping over half-baked cake.
Return to oven to bake another 20-23 minutes or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.

The Twelve Months...a Russian folktale (and two fab recipes)

The Twelve Months
THERE was once a widow who had two daughters, Helen, her own child by her dead husband, and Marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. She loved Helen, but hated the poor orphan because she was far prettier than her own daughter.

Marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. The hardest work fell to her share. She cleaned out the rooms, cooked, washed, sewed, spun, wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all this without any help.

Helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and go to one amusement after another.

But Marouckla never complained. She bore the scoldings and bad temper of mother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of a lamb. But this angelic behavior did not soften them. They became even more tyrannical and grumpy, for Marouckla grew daily more beautiful, while Helen's ugliness increased. So the stepmother determined to get rid of Marouckla, for she knew that while she remained, her own daughter would have no suitors. Hunger, every kind of privation, abuse, every means was used to make the girl's life miserable. But in spite of it all Marouckla grew ever sweeter and more charming.

One day in the middle of winter Helen wanted some wood-violets.

"Listen," cried she to Marouckla, "you must go up the mountain and find me violets. I want some to put in my gown. They must be fresh and sweet-scented-do you hear?"

"But, my dear sister, whoever heard of violets blooming in the snow?" said the poor orphan.

"You wretched creature! Do you dare to disobey me?" said Helen. "Not another word. Off with you! If you do not bring me some violets from the mountain forest I will kill you."

The stepmother also added her threats to those of Helen, and with vigorous blows they pushed Marouckla outside and shut the door upon her. The weeping girl made her way to the mountain. The snow lay deep, and there was no trace of any human being. Long she wandered hither and thither, and lost herself in the wood. She was hungry, and shivered with cold, and prayed to die.

Suddenly she saw a light in the distance, and climbed toward it till she reached the top of the mountain. Upon the highest peak burned a large fire, surrounded by twelve blocks of stone on which sat twelve strange beings. Of these the first three had white hair, three were not quite so old, three were young and handsome, and the rest still younger.

There they all sat silently looking at the fire. They were the Twelve Months of the Year. The great January was placed higher than the others. His hair and mustache were white as snow, and in his hand he held a wand. At first Marouckla was afraid, but after a while her courage returned, and drawing near, she said: --

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? I am chilled by the winter cold."

The great January raised his head and answered:
"What brings thee here, my daughter? What dost thou seek?"

"I am looking for violets," replied the maiden.

"This is not the season for violets. Dost thou not see the snow everywhere?" said January.

"I know well, but my sister Helen and my stepmother have ordered me to bring them violets from your mountain. If I return without them they will kill me. I pray you, good shepherds, tell me where they may be found."

Here the great January arose and went over to the youngest of the Months, and, placing his wand in his hand, said: --

"Brother March, do thou take the highest place."

March obeyed, at the same time waving his wand over the fire. Immediately the flames rose toward the sky, the snow began to melt and the trees and shrubs to bud. The grass became green, and from between its blades peeped the pale primrose. It was spring, and the meadows were blue with violets.

"Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said March.

Joyfully she hastened to pick the flowers, and having soon a large bunch she thanked them and ran home. Helen and the stepmother were amazed at the sight of the flowers, the scent of which filled the house.

"Where did you find them?" asked Helen.

"Under the trees on the mountain-side," said Marouckla.

Helen kept the flowers for herself and her mother. She did not even thank her stepsister for the trouble she had taken. The next day she desired Marouckla to fetch her strawberries.

"Run," said she, "and fetch me strawberries from the mountain. They must be very sweet and ripe."

"But whoever heard of strawberries ripening in the snow?" exclaimed Marouckla.

"Hold your tongue, worm; don't answer me. If I don't have my strawberries I will kill you," said Helen.

Then the stepmother pushed Marouckla into the yard and bolted the door. The unhappy girl made her way toward the mountain and to the large fire round which sat the Twelve Months. The great January occupied the highest place.

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near.

The great January raised his head and asked: "Why comest thou here? What dost thou seek?"

"I am looking for strawberries," said she.

"We are in the midst of winter," replied January, "strawberries do not grow in the snow."

"I know," said the girl sadly, "but my sister and stepmother have ordered me to bring them strawberries. If I do not they will kill me. Pray, good shepherds, tell me where to find them."

The great January arose, crossed over to the Month opposite him, and putting the wand in his hand, said: "Brother June, do thou take the highest place."

June obeyed, and as he waved his wand over the fire the flames leaped toward the sky. Instantly the snow melted, the earth was covered with verdure, trees were clothed with leaves, birds began to sing, and various flowers blossomed in the forest. It was summer. Under the bushes masses of star-shaped flowers changed into ripening strawberries, and instantly they covered the glade, making it look like a sea of blood.

"Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said June.

Joyfully she thanked the Months, and having filled her apron ran happily home.

Helen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled the house with their delicious fragrance.

"Wherever did you find them?" asked Helen crossly.

"Right up among the mountains. Those from under the beech trees are not bad," answered Marouckla.

Helen gave a few to her mother and ate the rest herself. Not one did she offer to her stepsister. Being tired of strawberries, on the third day she took a fancy for some fresh, red apples.

"Run, Marouckla," said she, "and fetch me fresh, red apples from the mountain."

"Apples in winter, sister? Why, the trees have neither leaves nor fruit!"

"Idle thing, go this minute," said Helen; "unless you bring back apples we will kill you."

As before, the stepmother seized her roughly and turned her out of the house. The poor girl went weeping up the mountain, across the deep snow, and on toward the fire round which were the Twelve Months. Motionless they sat there, and on the highest stone was the great January.

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near.

The great January raised his head. "Why comest thou here? What does thou seek?" asked he.

"I am come to look for red apples," replied Marouckla.

"But this is winter, and not the season for red apples," observed the great January.

"I know," answered the girl, "but my sister and stepmother sent me to fetch red apples from the mountain. If I return without them they will kill me."

Thereupon the great January arose and went over to one of the elderly Months, to whom he handed the wand saying: --

"Brother September, do thou take the highest place."

September moved to the highest stone, and waved his wand over the fire. There was a flare of red flames, the snow disappeared, but the fading leaves which trembled on the trees were sent by a cold northeast wind in yellow masses to the glade. Only a few flowers of autumn were visible. At first Marouckla looked in vain for red apples. Then she espied a tree which grew at a great height, and from the branches of this hung the bright, red fruit. September ordered her to gather some quickly. The girl was delighted and shook the tree. First one apple fell, then another.

"That is enough," said September; "hurry home."

Thanking the Months she returned joyfully. Helen and the stepmother wondered at seeing the fruit.

"Where did you gather them?" asked the stepsister.

"There are more on the mountain-top," answered Marouckla.

"Then, why did you not bring more?" said Helen angrily. "You must have eaten them on your way back, you wicked girl."

"No, dear sister, I have not even tasted them," said Marouckla. "I shook the tree twice. One apple fell each time. Some shepherds would not allow me to shake it again, but told me to return home."

"Listen, mother," said Helen. "Give me my cloak. I will fetch some more apples myself. I shall be able to find the mountain and the tree. The shepherds may cry `Stop!' but I will not leave go till I have shaken down all the apples."

In spite of her mother's advice she wrapped herself in her pelisse, put on a warm hood, and took the road to the mountain. Snow covered everything. Helen lost herself and wandered hither and thither. After a while she saw a light above her, and, following in its direction, reached the mountain-top.

There was the flaming fire, the twelve blocks of stone, and the Twelve Months. At first she was frightened and hesitated; then she came nearer and warmed her hands. She did not ask permission, nor did she speak one polite word.

"What hath brought thee here? What dost thou seek?" said the great January severely.

"I am not obliged to tell you, old graybeard. What business is it of yours?" she replied disdainfully, turning her back on the fire and going toward the forest.

The great January frowned, and waved his wand over his head. Instantly the sky became covered with clouds, the fire went down, snow fell in large flakes, an icy wind howled round the mountain. Amid the fury of the storm Helen stumbled about. The pelisse failed to warm her benumbed limbs.

The mother kept on waiting for her. She looked from the window, she watched from the doorstep, but her daughter came not. The hours passed slowly, but Helen did not return.

"Can it be that the apples have charmed her from her home?" thought the mother. Then she clad herself in hood and pelisse, and went in search of her daughter. Snow fell in huge masses. It covered all things. For long she wandered hither and thither, the icy northeast wind whistled in the mountain, but no voice answered her cries.

Day after day Marouckla worked, and prayed, and waited, but neither stepmother nor sister returned. They had been frozen to death on the mountain.

The inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to Marouckla. In course of time an honest farmer came to share them with her, and their lives were happy and peaceful.

story & picture found at Russian-Crafts.com

I've included 2 recipes since both of them are really simple!

Russian Luscious Strawberry Treat
serves 2
A great recipe for using up leftover strawberries.

Ingredients
20 average-sized strawberries, chopped
1/2 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon sugar (recommended but go according to your taste)

Directions
1) Mix all ingredients together well.
2) Wait a minute or so before serving so that the sour cream sauce will be slightly pinkish from the juice created by the strawberries and sugar.
3) Enjoy!
Note: This will NOT work with any other berry, so strawberries only!


Strawberry Shake Recipe
Ingredients
1 cup of Milk
1/2 cup of Strawberries (Fresh)
1 tbsp. Sugar
Cracked/crushed Ice (no specific amount, you have to "eyeball" it)

Mixing Instruction:
Mix all of the ingredients in blender until smooth.
Ice can be added gradually until you get the consistency you wish.
Pour into a tall glass.
Garnish with fresh strawberries.

The Three Cranberries......a Chippewa Fable

The Three Cranberries
A Chippewa Fable

Three cranberries were living in a lodge together.
One was green, one was white and one was red. They were sisters.
There was snow on the ground and the men had gone hunting.
The sisters felt afraid and began to say to each other, "What shall we do if the wolves come?"
"I", said the green one, "shall climb up a Shingoub(spruce) tree."
"I", said the white one, "shall hide myself in the kettle of boiled hominy."
"And I", said the red one, "shall conceal myself under the snow."
Presently the wolves came and each cranberry sister did as she had said.
But only one of the three had chosen wisely.
The wolves immediately ran to the kettle and ate up the corn and with it the white cranberry.
The red cranberry was trampled in the snow under the wolves feet.
But the green cranberry, who had climbed up the thick Shingoub(spruce) tree, escaped notice and was saved.

retold from Algic Researches: North American Indian Folktales and Legends by Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, Curtis M. Hinsley, first published in 1839

Once called bounceberries, because ripe ones bounce, cranberries are a staple at Thanksgiving, mainly due to the fact that they are harvested in the fall.
Because of their extreme tartness, cranberries are best combined with other fruits, or turned into cranberry sauce.


Cranberry Pumpkin Bread

PREP TIME 15 Min
COOK TIME 1 Hr
READY IN 1 Hr 25 Min
Original recipe yield 2 - 8x4 inch loaves

INGREDIENTS
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup egg substitute
1 (16 ounce) can whole cranberry sauce
1 (15 ounce) can pumpkin puree
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 tablespoon orange zest
2 tablespoons chopped walnuts

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
Spray two 8x4 inch loaf pans with non-stick cooking spray.

Combine the flour, brown sugar, baking soda, baking powder, salt, ground cinnamon and ground cloves in a large bowl and mix well. Set aside.

Mix the egg substitute, cranberry sauce, pureed pumpkin, vegetable oil and grated orange zest together.
Add this mixture to the flour mixture and stir until just moistened.
Pour batter into the prepared pans. Sprinkle the top of each loaf with the chopped nuts.

Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 55 to 60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Let loaves cool for 10 minutes then remove from pans.
Can be made even lower in fat by substituting 1/3 cup applesauce for the 1/3 cup vegetable oil.

Did You Know?
Cranberries help fight bacterial infections.
It takes 4,400 cranberries to make a gallon of juice.
Native Americans used cranberry juice as a natural dye for rugs.
more cranberry facts and recipes at Allrecipes.com

Thanksgiving Poems for kids and a delicious Pumpkin Apple Soup Recipe

THANKSGIVING NIGHT

T'was the night of Thanksgiving
But I just couldn't sleep.
I tried counting backwards.
I tried counting sheep.

The leftovers beckoned - the dark meat and white,
But I fought the temptation with all of my might.

Tossing and turning with anticipation,
The thought of a snack became infatuation.

So I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door,
And gazed in the fridge, full of goodies galore,

I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,
Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.

I felt myself swelling so plump and so round,
Until all of a sudden, I rose off the ground.

I crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky,
With a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie.

But I managed to yell as I soured past the trees,
"Happy eating to all, pass the cranberries, please.

May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump,
May your potatoes and gravy have nary a lump.

May your yams be delicious, may your pies take the prize,
May your Thanksgiving dinner stay off your thighs."

Anonymous.

THANKSGIVING by Jack Prelutsky

The turkey shot out of the oven
and rocketed into the air.
It knocked every plate off the table
and partly demolished a chair.

It ricocheted into a corner
and burst with a deafening boom,
then splattered all over the kitchen
completely obscuring the room.

It stuck to the walls and the windows.
It totally coated the floor.
There was turkey attached to the ceiling
where there'd never been turkey before.

It blanketed every appliance.
It smeared every saucer and bowl.
There wasn't a way I could stop it
that turkey was out of control.

I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure
and thought with chagrin as I mopped,
that I'd never again stuff a turkey
with popcorn that hadn't been popped.
•••••

I ATE TOO MUCH

"I ate too much turkey,
I ate too much corn,
I ate too much pudding and pie,
I'm stuffed up with muffins
and much too much stuffin',
I'm probably going to die.

I piled up my plate
and I ate and I ate,
but I wish I had known when to stop,
for I'm so crammed with yams,
sauces, gravies, and jams
that my buttons are starting to pop.

I'm full of tomatoes
and french fried potatoes,
my stomach is swollen and sore,
but there's still some dessert,
so I guess it won't hurt
if I eat just a little bit more."
JackPrelustsky.com

Pumpkin Apple Soup
Recipe submitted by chef Richard Catania of The Award winning Hearth n' Kettle Restaurants of Plymouth, Ma. and Cape Cod.

PUMPKIN APPLE SOUP
Ingredients
1 lb. 5 oz. Pumpkin Puree
1/4 tsp. Clove
1/4 lb. Apple Sauce
1-1/4 lb. Butter
2-1/2 tsp. Nutmeg
3 qt. Chicken Stock
2-1/2 tsp. Ginger
1-1/2 cups Brown Sugar
2 qt. Light Cream (Hot)

Directions
METHOD:
Cook all ingredients until smooth and hot -- simmer 15 minutes. Finish with cream.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me, Too!!......a poem and a recipe for Mulligan Stew

As I am sure I have mentioned before, or at least I should have, I love poems and poetry. And I have quite a few favorite poems and poets. One of my favorite writer's of children's poetry is Shel Silverstein.

Born Sheldon Alan Silverstein, September 25, 1930 in Chicago, Illinois, "Shel" Silverstein was an American poet, songwriter, musician, composer, cartoonist, screenwriter and author of children's books. He wrote 3 books of poetry for children Where the Sidewalk Ends (1974), A Light in the Attic (1981)and Falling Up (1996).

Just an interesting aside, Shel Silverstein also wrote the music and the lyrics for the following songs: "A Boy Named Sue" that was performed by Johnny Cash, "The Unicorn" which is popular in Irish pubs all over the world, "The Cover of the Rolling Stone" a song performed by Dr. Hook.

The following poem can be found in his book "Where the Sidewalk Ends". "Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me, Too" is a wonderful poem. It's fun to say, the children love the rhyme and the images that it creates. It is also a marvelous poem to act out. There are so many places for the children use their imagination.

If you have the time and the facilities, why not go a step further and have the kids make Mulligan Stew!(It's mentioned in the poem :)


Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too,
Went for a ride in a flying shoe,
"Hooray!"
"What fun!"
"It's time we flew!"
Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle was captain, Pickle was crew,
And Tickle served coffee and mulligan stew
As higher
And higher
And higher they flew,
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.


Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too,
Over the sun and beyond the blue.
"Hold on!"
"Stay in!"
"I hope we do!"
Cried Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.


Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too
Never returned to the world they knew,
And nobody
knows what's
happened to
Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Written by Shel Silverstein (1930-1999)


I know from experience that your average child will ask you what mulligan stew is as soon as you finish the poem, if not sooner. So here is your answer (just in case you did not know, I didn't.)

Mulligan stew is a kind of dish said to have been prepared by hobos in camps in the early 1900s. Usually, it includes meat, potatoes, vegetables, and whatever else can be found. The hobo who put it together was known as the "mulligan mixer". A stew is generally difined as being made, literally, of "whatever is on hand" including meat, potatoes and vegetables in any combination.

I have included 2 different stew recipes. Enjoy!

Campfire Mulligan Stew
Ingredients :
Method :
In small amount of hot fat in heavy frying pan, brown: 1 pound stew meat, cut in small pieces Add: 1 tsp. salt Stir in: 1 can condensed tomato soup 1 can water Cover tightly and let cook slowly until tender (about 1-1/2 hours). If fire gets too hot, take from heat occasionally to keep at a simmer. When the meat is tender, add: 3 carrots, cut in thick slices
3 potatoes, quartered
3 onions, halved Continue cooking slowly about 30 minutes. If there is not enough juice, add water during cooking. If too thin take off lid and cook sauce until thickened. 4 to 6 servings
Recipe from the Betty Crocker's Cook Book for Boys and Girls


Easy Crock Pot Beef Stew Recipe
Ingredients
- 4 each potatoes, chopped into bite size pieces
- 1 each onion, chopped
- 1 pound carrots, sliced
- pound stew meat
- 1 can tomato soup
- 2/3 cup water
- 1 package stew seasoning

Directions
Cut the vegetables and meat into bite sized pieces. Mix the stew seasoning with the water. Place the meat on the bottom of the crock, cover with vegetables. Pour the soup and stew seasoning mixture over all. Cook in the crock pot on high for 6 hours or low 10 hours.
Prep Time: 30 minutes
Cook Time: 6 or more hours
Servings: 6
http://www.recipetips.com/recipe-cards/u--3732/easy-crock-pot-beef-stew.asp

Cookie, Cookie, Cookie .....starts with C!!!!

I looooove these songs!
Let's face it....I love most of ...okay all of the songs I sing.

This evening I decided I "needed" a cookie. Fortunately, I keep cookie dough around for just such an emergency. So I got out the pan and "made" a few chocolate chip cookies. Yummmmm!
Which is what got me thinking about cookie songs.

The first three songs I thought of were these..."C is for Cookie" (a classic)..."I'm A Little Cookie" (a sleeper song but a good one) and , well, the last song is more like a chant and it's a game...the ever popular "Who Stole the Cookie From the Cookie Jar".
At the end of this blog are some good cookie recipes for kids.

I'm a Little Cookie is a great song about differences and tolerance.
A version of this song can be heard on John McCutcheon's Mail Myself to You CD.
This is where I first heard it.

I'M A LITTLE COOKIE

I'm a little cookie, yes I am
And I was made by the cookie man
And on my way from the cookie pan
A little piece broke off of me
A little piece broke off of me, uh-huh
A little piece broke off of me, uh-huh
But I can taste just as good, uh-huh
As a regular cookie can

I'm a little chocolate bar, I am
And I was made by the chocolate bar man
And on my way to the chocolate stand
I got a little bend in me
I got a little bend in me, uh-huh
I got a little bend in me, uh-huh
But I can taste just as good, uh-huh
As a regular chocolate bar can

I'm a little tootsie roll, yes I am
And I was made by the tootsie roll man
And on my way from the tootsie roll land
I got a little twist in me
I got a little twist in me, uh-huh
I got a little twist in me, uh-huh
But I can taste just as good, uh-huh
As a regular tootsie roll can

I'm a little gum drop, yes I am
And I was made by the gum drop man
On my way from the sugar can
I got a little dent in me
I got a little dent in me, uh-huh
I got a little dent in me, uh-huh
But I can taste just as good, uh-huh
As a regular gum drop can

Oh, I'm a little cookie, yes I am
And I was made by the cookie man
And on my way from the cookie pan
A little piece broke off of me
Now I ain't as round as I might be
But I taste good just wait and see
And I can love back twice as hard
As a regular cookie can

Words and Music by Larry Penn
(c) Larry Penn


And here is everyone's favorite cookie loving monster....

Who Stole the Cookies is a fun game and a marvelous song for helping kids learn to keep a steady beat.
Children pat a steady rhythm on their thighs while chanting the song.
Older child can do a pat...clap...pat...clap rhythm.
Have kids sit in a circle.
Begin the game by going in order around the circle.
Once the kids understand how the game works you can move into choosing students at random.

Accuser/Group: Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?
(name of a child in the circle) stole the cookie from the cookie jar.
Accused: Who me?
Accuser/Group: Yes, you!
Accused: Not Me, Couldn't be!
Accuser/Group: Then who?

This can go on and on until the last person or a designated person (usually the teacher in the beginning) says Who me?...Kids: Yes You!....Teacher/Thief: Possibly! and then you bring out the cookie.

I could explain every step of teaching and playing the game but I found this lovely vid at my favorite place (YOUTUBE!!!) that does an excellent job of teaching the game. The words are a little different but it is basically the same game. YOu will note that the kids are older and that the use a pat/clap instead of a steady patting of the legs which works best with younger children.

Here are a few simple cookie recipes for kids. I found these at Easy Kids Recipies
But there are lots more on the net. Go explore!


Chocolate Cornflake Clusters

2 cups cornflakes, crushed
3/4 cups craisins
3/4 cups flaked almonds
3/4 cup shredded coconut
3/4 cup sweetened, condensed milk
2 cups melted milk chocolate chips, white chocolate, or peanut butter chips

Preheat oven to 325F degrees. Mix together all ingredients except chocolate chips. Line a cookie sheet with foil and grease. Spoon onto cookie sheet about 1 tablespoon per cluster.

Bake for 15 minutes until golden brown. Remove from oven and cool for 5 minutes. Then spread the bottom of the clusters with the melted chocolate. Let the chocolate harden, then turn clusters over and drizzle more chocolate over the top.



Mrs. "You Know Who's" Chocolate Chip Cookies

2 cups butter
2 cups sugar
2 cups brown sugar
4 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
4 cups flour
5 cups oatmeal
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
24 ounce package chocolate chips
1 8 ounce Hershey chocolate bar, grated
3 cups chopped nuts

Cream together butter,sugar, and brown sugar. Add eggs and vanilla. Mix together flour, oatmeal, salt, baking powder, and baking soda and add to mixture. For oatmeal, put small amounts into blender until it turns to powder. Measure first, then blend. Add final ingredients and mix together.

Bake on ungreased cookie sheets. Make golf-ball sized cookies and place them oncookie sheets, 2 inches apart. Bake at 375F degrees for 6 minutes.

Love, Laughter, Peace, Blessings and COOKIES!
La