kim versus the volcano

so a few weeks ago, i was getting ready for the annual cookie exchange at work. last year, my contribution was pans of brudgies, which are a cross between a brownie and fudge. very tasty and very simple to make.

this year, i once again had delusions of the food channel and decided it would be ever so grand if i made something with more panache. or just something fancier.

i looked through my copious amounts of cookbooks but ruled out pretty much everything because what i learned was: FANCIER COOKIES = MORE WORK.

and there's enough stress during the holidays to boil easter eggs...so i scaled it back a bit.

what about my grandma's refridgerator cookies? mmmmm, made with almonds...ruled out due to nut allergies at work.

fudge? too sloppy.

snowball cookies? nah, over done.

i made a rash decision to go online and search for something simple, tasty and with flavor that could be found no where else.

this is what i got:

Gooey Bars
1 pkg cake mix
1 egg
1/2 cup butter

mix it all up, press into the bottom of a 9x13 pan.

toss 2 cups chocolate chips over this and press into dough.

THEN mix together:

3 cups powdered sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 8oz bar cream cheese

pour this over the rest and bake for 30-40 minutes at 350.

i know what you all are thinking: this sounds messy. with a name like "gooey bars" i should have known better.

shoulda, woulda, coulda.

i was already having a rough-ish day when i started baking. i'd bought a lampshade at ikea that didn't work on the intended lamp. in the upstairs bedroom, the venetian blinds behind the roman blinds had tangled the cords to hell and back, a knot worthy of time i didn't have. i was pms-ing and annoyed, and i had to bake 90 bars to package neatly in groups of 6.

and due to genetic procrastination, it was the 9th hour.

i press dough into greased pan. i press chocolate chips into dough. some for pan, some for kim. i mix eggs and vanilla and cream cheese with my handy little mixer. i slop it into the pan.

at this point, i'm already considering the goop factor of the bars. i'm also considering the fact that the pans, which were purchased at the dollar store, are the right dimensions...but not the right height. they're like a 8.5 x 12.5 x 1.5...not a 9x13x2.

but in the hopes that they'll turn out amazing enough to turn martha stewart a lovely shade of envy, onward i bake.

and then i realize that i've forgotten to add the sugar to the top mixture. i'm ready to bawl over baked goods.

at this point cari calls. i'm so wound up and feeling defeated by domesticity that i'm not even sure i want to talk to her, my phone-chat soulmate. i get on the phone and i'm trying to be un-cranky, while balancing the phone on my shoulder and tipping my pan back towards the bowl, dumping the top layer back into the bowl, adding the fluffy sugar that doesn't want to go into the bowl and mixing with a spoon.

"i hear from dan that you're having a hard time," she says.

"yes in fact i am." i start to tear up a little, because i'm so frustrated by the day and all the things i perceive as so tiny that have added up and are now drowning me. i start to explain why i'm on the verge of running screaming and bald into the night, and as i explain, the entire situation becomes more amusing. by the time i've got the bars in the oven, i don't care if they work out or not--everything seems more manageable.

the bars are spilling over the sides of the foil pan (bought for ease of use, and so i can just recycle them when i'm done baking the multitudes of cookies...) and i have to find a cookie sheet to put under the pan. by the time the bars are done, they look like this and are a complete disaster:

unfit for cookie exchange! unfit! unclean! messssssssssssssssssssssssssssy!

part of me is embarrassed, even though it's cari on the phone, because she's staying with her dad and brother at the Sheraton or Marriot or something equally fancy, with pillow top beds and luxurious down pillows and soft, dove-colored walls. cari is classy; i'm feeling like the barefoot contessa without the valium i'm convinced keeps her so calm.

i finally pour a glass of wine, stop my own whining and ask: "so, what are you up to tonight?"

and cari says: "i'm washing my underwear in the sink because i forgot to pack any."

***

after laughing until i weep i feel better. but the bars are still taunting me from the stove, and the 9th hour has become the 10:30th hour. it's down to the wire: what can i create that's going to be worthy of my coworkers, who have been discussing for weeks what they're elaborately going to be creating... ? what, i ask you, what?

i pore over my cupboards and go back to the cookbooks. i finally decide to make my most basic weapon in the arsenal: chocolate chip cookie bars. i bake four pans of bars within half an hour, and by midnight they're neatly packaged and red-beribboned.

and i'm feeling like i should have done more--that these aren't going to be good enough.

the volcano, in my mind, has won the day.

dan gave me a pep talk about how everyone always loves the cookie bars, and how they're the best thing i make, and how simple is often the best option out there.

i go to work the next day with my basket in tow. i bring the volcano with me, in the hopes that the syrupy sweetness will be devoured by my teammates. if nothing else, i rationalize, i can just toss it, pan and all.

i email my friend amanda and commiserate about the flashingly busy week, and how i was so defeated by the eruption of mundane baking and lampshades. i tell her about how things got better after i talked to my classy friend cari and she was washing her single pair of underwear at 1030 pm in the Hilton bathroom.

***

everyone loves the brown bags of cookies. point for me.

everyone loves Sugar Lava, which is what the pan resembles, in my mind. point for volcano.

cari goes home and calls our friend amanda, who immediately asks, "how're your underwear holding out? still going commando?"

the circle is complete. truce has been attained. the volcano, for the moment, is dormant. (;