Actually, it started with a no-good, awful, very bad mood a week ago Friday. And the mood, which I can only imagine had something to do with hormonal imbalances, led me to one of my mother’s recipes a week ago Saturday. We’d found the recipe weeks earlier and tacked it to the refrigerator with the intention of trying it at some point. But when Saturday afternoon rolled around and the no-good, awful, very bad mood had not subsided, I knew I needed some serious comfort food to help fight the battle.
Out came the Crisco—yes, you use Crisco in this recipe–the sugar, the cocoa powder, the white flour, the sour milk, more sugar…. and I began assembling and baking what would turn out to be just like my mom’s Whoopie Pies. I have to admit the process at least distracted me from the mood for a while. And then when I tasted that first cake out of the oven (no icing yet), I was immediately transported back to an easier time, when I was maybe 8 years old. Ah, Crisco.
I finished up the baking, which by the way made 40 cake halves or 20 complete pies ( if I ever make these again, I will have to adjust the recipe to make less…oh sure), let them cool and added the icing, which came out awesome, just the way Mom used to make it.
With the first bite, I felt the no-good, awful very bad mood melt away just a little as I remembered my mother baking all the time and bribing us with her tasty treats. However, one Whoopie Pie led to another… and then another half. And the next day, more Whoopie Pies. Since my stomach wasn’t quite right after Saturday’s sugar fest, I didn’t get out for a run as planned on Sunday either…or Monday and there were still Whoopie Pies to be eaten. Mind you, my children helped me put a dent in the mountain of chocolately, sugary goodness, but they are rich and you can only eat so many until you build up a tolerance.
My tummy never regained any tolerance in that week though, so almost subconsciously, it became a week off, a bad week, whatever you want to call it. No exercise, lots of sugar (even after we relegated the remaining cakes to the freezer), more bad food and more tummy distress.
I kept telling myself it was good to take a week off. A WHOLE WEEK off. It’s not really that good. The scale is not your friend when you are downing Whoopie Pies and other assorted goodies and avoiding the workouts. By this past Saturday, I had come back to my senses and got up in the morning for a run. It was a good run. I didn’t lose too much ground in my “lost in Whoopie Pies” week, and on Sunday, I went for a good long hilly walk. The tummy has recovered and my body is happy to be back in its routine.
The trip back in time was enjoyable but it didn’t really take care of the no-good, awful, very bad mood all that well. The run was actually much more of a help than the chocolate.
I think we have to have these experiences sometimes as we pave the road to fitness, so we know what to expect next time. I won’t be making Whoopie Pies for a while, but the next time, I’ll make fewer. I”d like to say I’d make the batch and eat fewer, but I can’t promise that. They are really that good, Crisco and all.
Maybe I’ll just make sure I go for a run first. At least that way, the calories will be guilt-free, sort of.