Thursday, March 23, 2006

Creatures of Habit

When little somethings are bothering me, I worry a lot. Like when company is coming and the house is a mess, I sit around and fret and waste time before I realize that I could better spend my time by actually cleaning up the mess. Asinine? Yes. But when big somethings are going on, like this new financial mess, I am perfectly capable of grinning and bearing it. After all, the worst really COULD happen in this case, so I am fully aware that I could sit around fretting or I could do my best to work hard and trust that things are going to work out fine in the end. I mean, thank God, but I am not in charge of life so there is most likely no point in trying to carry around the weight of the world on my shoulders right now. So I allowed myself about an hour Monday night to freak out. And then I freaked out for another 30 minutes on Tuesday morning. And then I did what I do best. I baked a pie.

I am a creature of habit. I like to have a fairly steady schedule, and I'm not particularly fond of surprises. Of course, I have a toddler, so routines change every few months, and it throws me for a loop every time until I adjust. Odd Toddler's nap routine went really well for a few months there. At around 11:30am every day, he would eat some yogurt, rub his eyes, and then lay down quietly in his crib and sleep for two and a half hours. I could set my clock by him. All that has changed. He now takes his nap at about 1:30pm every day, and he needs about 30 minutes of snuggle time first. Then he only sleeps for about an hour. I am now, more than ever, the queen of efficiency. After all, I only have one hour a day now to get done All The Things You Can't Do When A Toddler Is Making His Demands.

I love our 30 minutes of snuggle time. Frankly, I need the snuggles now. After losing a baby, I am more aware than ever of the fragility of life, and so I am better able to actually slow down for half an hour and do nothing but sit in a rocking chair and love on Ray-Ray while he drifts off to sleep. Better yet, since efficiency is still the name of the game, I have timed this snuggle time to coincide with my favorite Food Network show, Everyday Italian. I absolutely CANNOT sit down in the middle of the day and watch a TV show without feeling like the laziest, most useless wench in the world. So I am eternally grateful to Odd Toddler for giving me the opportunity to sit down, guilt-free, right smack dab in the middle of the day and stock up on snuggles (which are becoming rare now that Ray-Ray is growing up on me) and at the same time, get to learn new food tricks and recipes. Nearly every day, as soon as Ray-Ray is sound asleep and the show has gone off, I go online and print out one or two of the recipes that Giada made during the show.

On Sunday afternoon, Giada made a chocolate ricotta pie. Yes, a Chocolate Ricotta Pie. I know, it made me swoon too. A mere 48 hours later, I was digging through the fridge and the pantry to see if I had the ingredients I would need to make said pie. I didn't have time to make a pie crust, and I'm still kind of wary of pie-crust-making in general, so I broke one of my cardinal rules and pulled a store-bought crust out of the freezer. Giada's pie was made with a pine nut crust, and then topped with a generous pile of more pine nuts. I am not fond of pine nuts, so I scrapped that ingredient altogether.

And Giada's version used semi-sweet chocolate chips. I not only didn't have any of those on hand, but I'm more of a dark chocolate kind of person anyway, so I decided to substitute the Hershey Special Dark chocolate chips that I had in the fridge. One can rarely, if ever, go wrong with dark chocolate. Besides, its better for you. The big issue was the whole busted food processor problem. Mom tried to help that morning by finding me most of the parts to an extra one she had. However, the attachment that stops the chopped items from being flung out the chute was missing, and that was going to be a CRUCIAL part of the processor considering I was going to be combining LIQUID ingredients. No matter how much I NEEDED that pie for emotional comfort, I was not willing to wipe liquid chocolate off of the walls of my kitchen.

There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth until The Carnivore managed to locate all of the parts to a blender my sister-in-law passed down to me, and then succeeded in figuring out how to operate it even though all of the words had rubbed off of the many oddly-placed buttons on the machine. He worked hard on this. Apparently Preston needed this pie as much as I did.

When all was said and done, the pie was crazy easy to make, especially since I skipped the time-consuming crust-making stage. And, OHMYWORD, this pie came straight from heaven. It. Was. So. Darned. Fabulous.


  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 8 oz dark chocolate chips
  • 3/4 cup part-skim ricotta cheese
  • 3 oz lowfat cream cheese, at room temperature
  • 1 egg
  • 3 egg yolks (I HATE separating eggs, but it was worth it. This time.)
  • Deep dish pie shell
  1. Combine sugar and water in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Cool the sugar syrup slightly.
  2. Melt the chocolate chips any way you see fit. I used the microwave to warm the chips a little, and then stirred them until they fully melted. Giada recommends using a double boiler. I don't have one.
  3. Pulse the ricotta and cream cheese in a food processor (or whatever rigged up mechanical kitchen utensil you have on hand) until smooth. Add the egg and the yolks and process until combined. Giada recommends adding the eggs one at a time. I didn't feel like doing that.
  4. Add the melted chocolate to the cheese mixture and process until combined. With the machine running, add the sugar syrup in a thin steady stream and process until smooth.
  5. Pour the custard into the pie shell and bake at 350 degrees until the custard has set. The recipe said this should take 30 minutes, but it took an hour when I tried it.

The Carnivore and I loved this recipe. It tastes like an Italian chocolate cheesecake. Deysi and Yolie lucked into some leftovers that I brought to mom. Deysi loved it, but I'm not sure about Yolie. She opened the Tupperware container and SMELLED the pie before she tasted it. WHY WOULD YOU SMELL A PIE? My family is pretty weird to begin with, but that takes the cake. Or, in this case, the pie.

1 comment:

yolie said...

smelling enhances the dining experience...or maybe I am just weird?