I’m celebrating spring with a sweet, new ride. That said, since I brought my little car home, the weather has not been particularly spring-like. After an unseasonably warm winter, we’ve been plagued with repeated doses of what weather.com calls a wintery mix. Anyway, a few gray skies and icy drizzle can’t dampen my exuberance for my shiny new Mini Cooper. After all, this boxy two-door in British Racing Green (of course) is all about fun. With its moon roof for summer and heated seats for winter, it is nothing short of perfection.
Although it is not my first small car, it’s my first cool little car. I have always admired cool little cars. In fact, coveted might not be too strong a word. When I was a tween and teen, about half the college kids drove Volkswagen Beetles. I just knew that would-could-should be the car for me. The other half drove their grandmother’s old Chevy Novas.
Since I went to college about 100 miles north of the middle of nowhere, my dad agreed I needed a car to get back and forth. Nana Nye drove a Chevy Nova but, thankfully, was in perfectly good health. I suggested that I take Dad’s weekend car, a twenty-something year old Land Rover. In those days, men coming up from the suburbs to New Hampshire bought old Land Rovers or Jeeps with canvas tops. Now they buy pickup trucks. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that the Land Rover would have been a man magnet and made me ever so popular with the rock climbers and skiers at school. Unfortunately, it couldn’t go much faster than thirty-five and spent more time in Kidder’s garage than it did on the road.
In the interest of safety or to avoid a rescue mission on the frozen tundra (I’m not sure which), Dad found an almost new, bright yellow Ford Pinto station wagon. The Pinto cost $1,500. Thanks to my summer waitressing job, that was every penny that I owned. Dad and I struck a deal. First, since the Land Rover had made one too many trips to Mr. Kidder’s, Dad agreed to sell it. The money would go towards the Pinto. It took all of ten minutes to find a buyer, probably another suburbanite. Dad had paid $500 for the blue beast and got the same back. I turned over $500 from my hard-earned tips and Dad chipped in the rest. It wasn’t a Beatle but it was bright yellow and not a Chevy Nova.
A few years later, I had my first gander at the Mini. Prince Charles had just announced that Lady Diana Spencer was not the love of his life but an appropriate choice for a wife. The press was all over her, trailing her comings and goings. Although it could be false, I have a distinct memory of the long legged, soon-to-be princess climbing in and out of a dark blue Mini. Move over VW Bug, I’d found a new car to covet.
By that time, the Pinto had gained fame for its deadly fuel system and was long gone. It was replaced by Mom’s old Firebird. Although decidedly more flashy, the Firebird had definitely seen better days. It was a simple question of sooner or later. When exhaust started streaming into the car through the air conditioning vents, sooner or later became NOW.
So, you wonder, did I buy a Mini? I might have but they weren’t available in the US. It had something to do with emission standards or some pesky nonsense that had nothing to do with being cool. Instead, I bought a boxy little Honda. It was the antithesis of flashy and never claimed to be cool. Best described as trustworthy, the Honda could haul a passenger or three plus skis, bikes and bags from here to there and back again.
Well enough practicality, finally, all these years and four Hondas later, I have my Mini.
Happy trails and bon appétit!
Mini Chocolate Peanut Butter Whoopie Pies
Whether you have a new car this spring or not, with warmer weather and sunshine (let’s hope!), it’s time to make whoopie! Enjoy!
Makes 20-30 whoopie pies
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa
1 teaspoon espresso powder or instant coffee
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
4 ounces (1 stick) butter, at room temperature
1 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Peanut Butter Filling (recipe follows)
Arrange the racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven and preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Line 2 large baking sheets with parchment paper or silicon mats.
Put the flour, cocoa, espresso powder, baking soda and powder and salt in a bowl and whisk to combine.
Put the butter and sugar in a bowl and beat with an electric mixer on high speed until light and fluffy, about 4 minutes. Add the egg, sour cream and vanilla and beat on medium speed until well combined.
With the mixer on low speed, slowly add the dry ingredients and mix until combined.
Using a 2-teaspoon or 1-tablespoon scoop or spoon, drop dollops of batter onto each baking sheet, leaving about 2 inches between cakes. Bake the cakes for about 6 minutes or until springy to touch. Cool on the baking sheets for 5 minutes and then transfer to racks to cool completely. Repeat using the remaining batter.
Using a spoon or pastry bag, drop a generous dollop of Peanut Butter Filling on half of the cakes and top with the remaining cakes.
Peanut Butter Filling
4 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup smooth peanut butter
About 2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
Put the cream cheese, butter and peanut butter in a bowl and beat with an electric mixer on medium-high until light and fluffy. Add the vanilla and beat until combined.
With the mixer on low, slowly add the powdered sugar. Increase the mixer speed and beat until smooth.
Printer-friendly version of this post.
One Year Ago – Tiramisu
Two Years Ago – Grilled Lamb Chops with Lemon-Mint Yogurt Sauce
Three Years Ago – Confetti Salad with Citrus Vinaigrette
Four Years Ago – Magret de Canard Provencal
Five Years Ago – Strawberry & White Chocolate Fool Parfaits
Six Years Ago – Grilled Lamb & Lemon Roasted Potatoes
Seven Years Ago – Spicy Olives
Or Click Here! for a complete list of and links to all the recipes on this blog!
What your good news this spring? Feel free to share!
Want more? I’ve got links to lots more to read, see & cook. © Susan W. Nye, 2016