Whoopie Pies for the One I Love

Peanut Butter-Banana and Fruit Punch Whoopie Pies

Dear Mona,

I am sorry I cried today. It wasn’t your fault. You see, you made me realize something about myself that I didn’t know: there is still someone left who can hurt me.

A person I knew once said that I was admirably strong, that I nothing phased me, and so, I fell under the naive assumption that I am above pain; I am so above and beyond showing any indication of emotion that, if one were to cut me open, they would find a gene modification hiding the outward expression of pain. But, you–you, dearest Mona–can trump even biology.

I have come to accept the state of my dysfunctional relationship with our family: father has so lost himself in his disease and the side effects of the rat race and, mother–well–you know, but you, my little one, were mine. The day I carried you into our parents house, across a bed of rose petals, you were mine; the days spent adorning you in little dresses and superman capes, you were mine; the moments spent fixing all your hurts with the “magic” for which I named you, you were mine; the nights spent soothing your fevers with cloths so cold they could have been soaked in liquid nitrogen, you were mine. You were always mine.

I don’t know what I expected. After all, we haven’t spoken in months. How are you to know that, every time I see a little boy fiddling with a video game, all I can think of is you? How are you to know that, if it so happens the little boy is Indian, I cannot help but yell, “Mona!” at such a volume that everyone around me thinks I have gone mad? Perhaps I have. It often seems that way.

When I saw you today, it was all I could do to not jump on top of you. Mother came, wanting to talk, and I only let her in out of courtesy for the long drive father had endured. I made very sure not to ask about you, occupying my mind by cleaning to such an extent that Better Homes and Gardens would be jealous. You see, deep down I know of the coy control you have over me and do not ever wish to evoke it, for fear that you too might learn I am nothing more than a real-world Ella whose only command is loving you.

Perhaps I was hoping some part of you felt the same of me: that you could not even bear to speak to me for fear of the emotional outburst it would provoke. Obviously, I was wrong. Very, very wrong. Today, my fear was realized: that you are now trapped in the little bubble-like world of your special school and can no longer see beyond its brick and mortar walls. It has consumed every part of you: your clothes, your body, your mind, and even (as I feared) your heart. I suppose one can say it is only my selfish desire to have all your love to myself that makes me feel this way. Perhaps it is a good thing, perhaps it is making you a better person, perhaps it is even making you happy, but none of these things matter to my id-driven heart.

I know if I spoke these words to our mother, she would say I simply have too much free time. In a way, she is right. After all, I didn’t think of you half as much when bones and muscles filled my mind. But I do not believe that I loved (if you can call this strange sort of obsession by that term) you any less. I do not believe that seeing you act and speak as you did today wouldn’t rip me apart. I do not believe that I could watch you look into my eyes and see yours not fill will joy. I do not believe I could stand it, now or ever.

Most likely, you will never read these words. You do not even know I have a blog, much less read it. You do not know anything more about me than I know about you. All you know is that, somewhere you have a sister with long black hair, a cat she calls “kitty” and an entertaining chemistry teacher. Most likely, this is all you will ever know. But should you, by some cosmic irony, happen upon these words, know this: I hate you; I hate the tears plopping on my keyboard; I hate the strange looks people in the stores give me when I shout; I hate that you like mother’s cooking more than mine; but, most of all, I hate that you can look me in the eye with an obscenely stoic face.

Always and forever,
Didi

Mix-and-Match Whoopie Pies
makes 6-7 sandwiches

What a lonely cookie...

Start with some dry…

• 1/4 c. mashed Fiber One Original Bran (mash it till it has the consistency of flour)
• a pinch baking SODA
• 1/2 t. baking POWDER

Add about 2 T. (1/8 c.) total of…

• Nut flour (peanut, almond, pistachio, etc)
• Oat bran
• Flavored powdered gelatin
• Oat flour (oatmeal blended until it’s the consistency of flour)
• Protein powder (any type, although I have found soy works best)
• All purpose flour
• Cocoa
• Wheat bran
• Wheat germ
• Flaxseed meal
• Low-calorie drink mix
• Sugar-free hot chocolate mix
• Cut open tea bags
• Any combination of the above

For the wet, add a total of 1/2 c. of…

• Melted butter/nut butter
• Natural applesauce
• Flaxseed meal mixed with water
• Yogurt (flavored or plain)
• Eggs/eggbeaters (don’t add more than half an egg worth per batch)
• Cooked lentils
• Sugar-free jelly
• Guar gum or xanthan gum mixed with water
• Pureed fruit (banana, berries, peaches, etc)
• Canned unsweetened pumpkin
• Pudding (prepared from mix or pre-made)
• Low-fat/fat-free cream cheese
• Any combination of the above

Toss in some…

• Sugar-free syrup
• Extract
• Dried herbs
• Chocolate chips
• Nuts
• Spices
• Any combination of the above

And don’t forget to add some sweetener and/or salt if you feel the need…

→Preheat the oven to 350*F.
In a bowl, mix the wet ingredients (using only yogurt is my favorite so far).
In another bowl, mix the fiber one, baking soda, baking powder and 2 T. of variable dry ingredient.
Add the wet to the dry and mix. Taste a very small amount.
Add any sweeteners, spices or seasonings. Mix.
Add enough water or flour/gum to make it drop cookie consistency. If you use eggs, it should be a like a loose drop cookie batter. If you don’t use eggs, it should be firm enough that you have to use your finger to push it off of the spoon but not so firm you can shape it.
Drop by spoonfuls on cookie sheet sprayed well with nonstick spray and bake for about 8-10 minutes, turning halfway through. (You want the cookies a little under-baked).
Remove the cookies from the baking sheet and put them in the fridge.
While they chill, make the whipped cream.
Lay half the chilled cookies on a plate/board, flat side up. Spoon a dollop of whipped cream onto each cookie and top with another cookie, creating a sandwich.
Freeze until hard.
About 15-20 minutes before eating (depending on the temperature of the environment), take them out of the freezer.
Try not to make a mess.

→Don’t have an oven? No problem!
Mix the dough as directed.
Drop by spoonfuls on parchment paper.
Microwave at full power for 2-3 minutes. Check the cookies at this point and rotate. (You want them to be holding their shape before you open the door, but still not done.)
Microwave at about 70-80% power for 3-6 minutes longer. (Variations in flour/wet ingredient choice change the cooking times slightly).
Prepare pies as directed above.