In the interest of being nice, you’re going to pretend that you’re looking at a nice clean-cut bar so I can hit the sack. This is called I-cut-too-soon-and-didn’t-let-it-cool-sufficiently-in-the-interest-of-getting-a-picture.
I ran into a friend at the grocery store today and she chided me for my web site having “gone healthy.” Kris, this recipe is for you. ;)
I’ve been making Pear Custard Bars sporadically for the past few years. They aren’t a huge “go to” for me personally to eat, but they are usually well-received and liked so I keep it in rotation. One of my co-workers is pregnant and Pear Custard Bars happens to be one of the things she likes. She swore them off awhile back when she was following Weight Watchers, but now, as with most pregnancies, she’s giving in to cravings. So I decided to tempt her.
This time, instead of following the ingredients and recipe for the base of the bars, I used Pillsbury Sugar Cookie Dough instead. Because I still kept it in an 8×8 baking dish, it did have to bake a little longer than the package calls for. I took mine out after about 20 minutes.
Sugar cookie base. Creamy filling. Sweet, soft pears. Healthy? Not so much. A sweet treat to indulge in once in awhile? Absolutely.
Project 365
March 31, 2011, Photo #90
My parents dog, Beauregard, today, in one of his more ungentlemanly poses.
(photo from yesterday’s Zumba class; Nick is quite the sport. He didn’t really want to go, but I made him because she wanted to go. It will even out when soccer starts in a few weeks.)
The Madeline Files:
Today my mother called Madeline “bawdy,” and it certainly seems to fit some most days. That might have something to do with the fact that the newest phrase she learned (and unfortunately loves) is butt-crack. The joys of having an 8-year-old brother. She is going to be a perfect guy’s girl when she grows up, given some of her habits.
As we were in line at the grocery story today, she asked me if the cashier was a boy or a girl. You know, in a stage whisper of course. As we were leaving, she said “be quiet old man” to the innocent gentleman sitting on the bench by the exit. Girl’s gonna need a muzzle soon. He needn’t have worried. She ended her night calling me an old lady.
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