Friday, April 06, 2007

 

I better not hear one more Peep!

Yes, this will be my last Peep-Post for this year, as far as I know. And sadly, it's not nearly as "inspired" as the previous posts. But to be complete in my Peepology, I feel I simply must cover the two obvious ones:
At first it seems so simple and obvious, it isn't worth the trouble. I am sure you've heard the old story of how to boil a live frog. You can't throw a live frog into a pot of boiling water, or it will simply jump right back out. You have to put the frog in the cold water and then slowly heat it up. The frog won't notice the increase in temperature until too late.
Well, with Mr. Peepers, that won't work. Remember, the microwave causes him to grow to gigantic proportions. By the time the hot chocolate is hot enough to be any good, you'll have burned marshallow all over the inside of your microwave, and the neighbors will have a petition started to get you run out of town because of the smell. So of course you make the hot chocolate first and then drop Peepers in after it comes out of the microwave.
Now my coffee mug was a smallish one, so while trying to drink my hot chocolate, I kept getting pecked in the eye. When I tried to punish him by dunking him under, he fought back mightily. Perhaps peeps aren't the best choice for putting in your hot cocoa. However, the marshammlow bunnies are flatter and lack that sharp beak, so they probably work better.
As I mentioned previously, I am a Boy Scout (Eagle Scout) and love nothing better than a hot cracklin' fire to cook some marshmallows. Sadly, roaring camp fires are against my insurance policy. So I must turn to the stove.
You have to be careful roasting a peep on the stove. The sugar coating offers more protection than usual from burning, but once it gets started it burns like crazy. But there is a suprise benefit. If you've ever made a Crème brûlée, you'll understand. A sweet soft, melty center, with crispy crunchy sugary outside. Oh yes, it's that good. I shall call it "Pèep brûlée" (no I don't have a clue what all those accent thingies are. My brother's the polyglot, not me.)

(Kids, be sure to get your parents permission before you burn stuff up on the stove.)

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