Betty Crocker GF Brownies: or, How I Learned to Love Again

I have to confess to having a little bit of a big sweet tooth.  My favorite treat?  Ice cream.  Buuuuut, that's off the table.

(When I'm not focused on being cold turkey of anything that might be bad for me, I use these puppies.)

Not actually puppies, jeez, I'm being clever.  Get with it.

Anyway, jokes and brain-melting puppy cuteness aside, my second favorite sugar vehicle is a good, chewy brownie.  Except, oh wait, brownies all have gluten in them, right?

WRONG.  SO VERY VERY WRONG.

YOU GET AN F- BECAUSE I SAY SO.

Yeah, so they make GF brownie mix.  That's the point of all of this.  Praise the heavens.

So, you could get all fancy and make flourless brownies, but say you're sitting on your couch with your mom and America's Got Talent is almost over and you had too much caffeine to sleep right this second but you're too tired to do anything hard?

That's where our good friend Betty Crocker steps in.

Betty Crocker GF Brownie Mix is the second I've tried.  I've had Hodgson Mill brownies before.  I've liked their other products, such as their Almond Meal, but the brownies were, well, sub-par.  In a dense, hardly-like-a-brownie-at-all sort of way.

But good ol' Betty came through.

This graphic itself might get its own post because wow is this actually super interesting.

I was actually really starting to miss some baked goods at this point in my GF-ness, but I was shocked at the power of these brownies to make me just as happy as regular ones.  Maybe it's a chocolate thing.

These brownies were super easy to make.  2 eggs, a little dollop of whatever butter you happen to have (I used Earth Balance Vegan Butter because of the whole no dairy thing and it worked fine.  Let me know your experiences with other butters), and the mix.  I'm not the world's most adept baker, so I was all about this easiness.  It's super thick so yes, make sure you grease your pan and have a good spreading tool cause this batter won't just run out into the pan like gluteny brownies will.

What the box said I'd have.

28ish minutes later, and you got yourself some gooey chocolate squares.

They aren't *quite* as pretty as the box, but still have a lovely crunchy top that mimics the flakiness you get with regular brownies.  Fudgy coming out the oven, chewy the next morning.  Nice dark chocolate flavor with little chocolate chips in it.  Betty Crocker can do no wrong.

What I ended up with.  Now that I took the picture I'm eating this one.

My favorite thing about these is that they don't have the typical gritty feeling that a lot of GF products and mixes I've tried can have.  It's still there, but not distracting at all.  Pretend it's whole grain or something and healthy and you're all set.

I'm itching to reheat one and put some almond milk ice cream on top because mmmm.

So, here we are.  Review #1.  Let me know your experiences with brownies and the like.  Hit up the contact page, comment, or like, send an owl or something.  Also follow me on social media outlets for more exciting things!  Like...yeah...I'll work on it.

Brownies.  Much chocolate. Tell your friends.

"Coherence Not Included" Getting a New Look

Hello loyal readers!

*crickets*

So I won't give you the whole story here (cause I just made a tab for that!  Look how Internet I am!) but essentially, I'm gonna actually be using this blog now for other productive things better than getting a grade.

I'll be reviewing, recommending, and anecdote-ing on my new gluten-free, dairy-free, other-strange-food-free, starting-college lifestyle.

On a budget.

In college.

I promise I won't be pretentious.  Actually, I intend to give the low-down on how this actually works.  I'll only be optimistic when I am.  Honesty is the best policy, all that jazz.

Maybe I'll have guest bloggers.

So, you know, welcome to my newly-subtitled slice of the blogosphere.

Come for the gluten-free recipe reviews, stay for the unbearably sexy wit.

Treat Yo' Self

I’m gonna write a blog post about candy bars.

Hang with me, there’s a point, I promise.

Who doesn’t love a good candy bar?

Probably this guy.

Candy has been around like forever.  Ancient Egyptians were all about honey and junk.

He definitely loved Reese's.

Montezuma was a total chocoholic.  He and his Aztec brethren were guzzling spicy hot chocolate like there was no tomorrow.

Except they knew there was cause they were good at calendars and stuff.

But long after Christopher Columbus “discovered” the new world and the Caribbean was made into one giant sugar cane plantation, here we are, with candy bars by every checkout counter and sitting forgotten in Halloween buckets in closets of American children across the country.

Not everyone's a hoarder.

In 1875, Henry Nestle, bless his soul, added milk to chocolate and made it less bitter.  Milton Hershey debuted chocolate making machines at the World’s Fair in 1893 and a year later came out with the world’s first Hershey’s Chocolate Bar, and by God, we’ve never looked back.

We even have *shrines* to chocolate.  Offerings and all.

I could go on for hours about the history of candy and chocolate and such (and I did…I wrote a paper in third grade about chocolate.  It was great.).  However, l will give you a bit of insight as to *why* I chose to sit down here, on a Tuesday, half watch Doctor Who, and write a blog post about candy bars.  Here is that insight:

I'm sure this is you right now.

Candy bars are great because everyone deserves a treat sometimes.  Feeling sad? Candy bar.  Stressful day?  Candy bar.  Something to celebrate? Candy.  Bar. 

CANDY BAR.

In general, people need to treat themselves more.  Sure, not all the time.  Take care of yourself.  But candy bars should not be a guilty pleasure.  Savor your singular, first-world ability to go out and buy a stick of sugar and processed tree seeds and butter!  Life is to be lived.  So buy a candy bar.

Donna and Tom have it right.  Treat.  Yo'.  Self.

That Time I Did A Thing

So one, time, I did a thing!  And it was actually super neat.

Everyone liked the thing, and I felt good about it.

But seriously, this weekend was cool.  I participated in the Regional Thespian Conference as a part of The Laramie Project (well, a 45 minute cut of The Laramie Project), and we got second place.  It’s cool, not bitter or anything.

Totally not bitter.

Anyway, despite what awards we did or did not receive (*cough* Best Ensemble *cough* Best Supporting Actor (Gus) *cough* Best Actress (Me)), we, as a cast, felt that the show made a colossal impact on the audience, as for many participants, it struck a very personal issue.

Everyone in the audience.

The Laramie Project is a piece of documentary theatre (which is a brilliant concept in itself and deserves its own separate blog post) written by the members of The Tectonic Theater Project about the brutal kidnapping, beating and murder of University of Wyoming student Matthew Shepard because he was gay.  Here’s the first line of the show just to clarify some factual things:

“On November 14^th, 1998, the members of the Tectonic Theatre Project travelled to Laramie, Wyoming and conducted interviews with the people of the town.  Over the next year, we would return several times and conduct over 200 interviews.  The play you are about to see is edited from those interviews, as well as from journal entries by members of the company and other found texts.”

Our company members.

So, in essence, the play is a live-action documentary, with 8 different actors (in our version) literally putting on hats to become different characters.  These characters range from Aaron Kreifels, the boy who found Matthew beaten and tied to a fence in the middle of nowhere, to Reggie Flutey, the responding officer who was exposed to HIV attempting to revive Matthew, to Doc O’Connor, a limousine driver acquainted with Matthew, and to Sherry Johnson, a local woman who doesn’t believe Matthew was the martyr the huge media coverage made him out to be.

Media coverage!

The Laramie Project is an iconic piece of theatre, not only because of how successfully it accomplishes a documentary style, but because of its clear message.  One of my favorite lines is from a scene titled “Two Queers and a Catholic Priest”, in which Father Roger tells two of the company members that he would “resent it immensely” should they use anything he said to promote negativity.  The line closing this scene, which is also repeated in the show’s finale, says “if you write a play of this, I trust that you’ll say it right, say it correct.  I think you have a responsibility to say it correct.”

Eric as Father Roger during the IndyFringe Festival.

The themes of The Laramie Project are what prevails.  The play preaches equality, understanding, and justice.  This is accomplished not only through the way the script sheds light on the true nature of the town of Laramie, Wyoming, as a laid back, welcoming place despite the violence done there, but also the unbiased nature characters with commonly negative opinions are presented.  Sherry Johnson, who has a line that says “I didn’t know him [Matthew] of course, but there’s just a lot of things about him that have come out, like about his character and spreading AIDS and just the kind of…person…he was…” is given just as much weight as an individual as university student Zubaida Ula, who gives an impassioned monologue about how “we [the citizens of Laramie] should be sad that we live in a town, in a country, where this kind of thing [a hate crime] happens.  We need to own this crime…we are like this…WE are like this…”

Our Zubaida...not ranting.

This triumph in true understanding of the individual is beautiful.  Everyone’s opinions, no matter how much one may disagree, deserve weight.  This play is a true testament to the character of the authors, many of whom are homosexual and could easily have taken a much more berating tone when presenting this horrific incident as a play, because it is so incredibly unbiased.  There’s a reason opinions are called opinions, not “facts”, and that’s something a lot of people, from all facets of life, fail to remember.  One cannot judge another based on the way they were brought up or process the world as an individual.  The best way to move forward as a society, so crimes like what was done to Matthew no longer happen, is to learn from others before attempting to teach them.

So, because this post was uncharacteristically preachy and I could have gone on longer about how much I’ve grown to love The Laramie Project, I’ll close by saying we lost to a show about how hard it is to be a teenager.  But they had a reference to Netflix, and we touched on universal issues like civil rights and acceptance, so you know, I guess we should have seen it coming.

Still not bitter.

Despite that, I feel good about what we did.  I feel like a lot of people had thoughts provoked from this show.

Matthew Shepard died 15 years and 5 weeks ago.  And here I am, someone who was wetting the bed at the time his life was ended, talking about him.  Learning from his story.  That’s something that’ll last a lot longer than a second place medal and Netflix references.

So topical.

Weighty Matter; or, Laura Writes a College Essay

For this week's check point, I thought I'd share my Common App essay that was completed (and submitted to two other schools, shhhh...) this weekend.  Not my typical blog fodder, but, in my opinion, still some good stuff.

To give you a little background, I picked the essay prompt to "describe a place where you feel most content, what you do there, and what it means to you."  I picked the Theatre Department, and more specifically, the hallway of lockers that is the entryway to the auditorium area.

This happened there one time.  Those are, in fact, life-size dolls.

So, here we are.  Laura applies to college and attempts to actually take something seriously, part 1/1:

I'm what most people, including myself, would refer to as a "Theatre Kid."  I've been involved in theatre for almost my whole school career in some way, shape or form.  I am an eight star Honor Thespian and I am spending my senior year as president of “Rising Stars”, the Carmel High School drama club, but to me theatre is so much more than my accomplishments. Coming into Carmel High School is a daunting experience.  There are clubs, organizations, and activities shoved in your face like potato salad at a family reunion.  It’s not hard to be confused and overwhelmed.  It’s not hard to be without a direction.  Finding my niche in the theatre department gave me that.  It gave me the chance to believe in myself more than I ever had before.

There’s a certain hallway in my school where all the theatre kids converge.  You can walk through the open, airport-like lobby down the slightly slanted wheelchair ramp into an area of the school obviously much older, where paint chips away to reveal what used to be a mural.  On the other side of the hallway from this relic of the 1970’s resides a strip of lockers, all with similar laminated papers toting achievements taped to their blue facades.  Many of these proudly accumulated signs belong to members of the “Ambassadors” show choir, like myself, and contain pictures of well-coiffed, bright, enthusiastic individuals in sparkly dresses and perfectly aligned ties.  Even more announce that the locker belongs to a “GKOM”, or Greyhound Kick-Off Mentor - upperclassmen in charge of making freshman at the school of over 4,500 feel welcome.  Though none of the lockers, much like their well-rounded inhabitants, are exactly alike, they almost all have one thing in common – a small, rectangular sign that says “This Locker Belongs To…” followed by the name and role of the student decorated carefully in Magic Marker for whatever the most recent play or musical might have been.

The owners of these locker signs are my friends, and that little strip of hallway with terrible cell phone service is where I have discovered I belong.  It was in this piece of hallway that I found out freshman year that I was going to perform on the auditorium stage.  As a sophomore, I practiced a dance as a rapping reindeer with the other girls in my choir.  It’s in this piece of hallway I found out as a Junior that I didn’t get the lead role in the fall play, and learned in that way to cope with disappointment.  It’s in that hallway that I now, as a senior with stacks of college mail on my desk at home, make plans for sushi or gas station slushies with my friends.   All of us are past cast mates and all of us know in the back of our minds that in a few months we may never see each other together again.

Not only have I found my social circle in the clump of jumping, hugging weirdos that inhabit this space in the “E Building” within the entire 265,000 square feet of learning that is Carmel High School, I’ve found what I want to do for the rest of my life.  I’m very fortunate to have grown up in a family that supports me through all of my endeavors, but in the Theatre and Film Department I found a different kind of family.  My support group of teachers and friends has believed in me through whatever I’ve done, though sometimes I haven’t quite lived up to expectation.  However, with the combined support of my “house” family and my “hallway” family, I’ve learned that it’s alright to mess up; you just have to keep going.  Because of the little strip of hallway where my friends conglomerate, I have the confidence to continue with the lessons and passions all those locker signs represent. 

Stuff like this also happens in the Theatre Department.

Truly Moving Pictures

I have exciting news!

The movie I co-made with Gus Leagre was chosen as an Honorable Mention in The Heartland Film Festival High School Competition!  Check it out below, and consider coming to screenings of other fabulous, touching films at Heartland this year.  Follow the link to check out their site - their program is amazing.

Here we go.  Thanks to Matt McDonald (look him up at James Winston Band on Facebook) and Leo Biette (Carmel High School's Speaker of the House and true modern Renaissance gentleman).

A Strange Man's Van

One time, I got in a van with a strange man.

 It looked a lot like this!

Don’t worry, I had a good reason. Here’s the story.

I went camping every summer as a kid with my cousins. And I mean all of my cousins. Like my dad’s brothers’ kids, and then my dad’s cousins kids. Total, there was about 20 of us at the height of summer camping.

It was a lot like this.  Except less diversity.

It was way cool. We did crafts and stuff.

Lots of these bad boys.

Well, one year when I was about 4, I wasn’t allowed to do the same craft as the older kids, and naturally that made me angry. How dare they think I was incapable of stringing beads in a specific, predetermined pattern!

In retrospect, I probably was incapable, but I digress.

Anyway, I went off to the bathroom house thingy and got lost. Which should be an indicator, if anything, of how adept I would have been at semi-advanced crafting. On my way back to the campsite, which was not nearly as far as I thought it was, a nice guy in a big van thingy with his teenage son asked if I needed a ride somewhere.

This would be a good moment to interject that, as a 4 year old, I was probably like 2 feet tall and was probably very conspicuous walking by myself.

So, since the campsite was still decently far away (like 800 feet!) and it was hot, I jumped in the van. I directed the van driving guy to “the camper with the green boat cover…see the bead thingies? Yeah! With all the kids!” He kindly let me out of his vehicle.

My Aunt Sandy, who saw all of this, was not pleased, and gave the guy a pretty good verbal lashing. At the time, I thought this was completely rude. He was being so nice!

I mean, he offered me so much candy!

Alright, let’s bring this story back around. I vaguely remember this story. I said I was 4, but I very well could have been 2. It’s one of those stories from your childhood that you think back on and go “did that really happen?”, and for the purpose of this blog post, it did happen.

So, what does this mean to me now?

I choose to look at this as a lesson in “don’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Because of my limited memory of the situation and my naivety at the time, the van driving guy could have had ill intentions that I didn’t realize that prompted my aunt’s verbal lashings. However, if the story was truly as I remembered, I got out of the van and was well on my way before any adult said anything. Because of bad outcomes in other situations, my aunt chose to stereotype this guy, who very well could have been doing a super nice thing.

 This goes along with my “philosophy” that everyone deserves a chance to explain their story before someone makes judgments.

Cause it’d be really nice to not have to consider the whole stranger danger thing every time a guy in a van offers me a ride, cause I really hate walking.