Mmmmmm-muffins!

When I am in the throes of PMS, besides the temptation to rage on any living organism that crosses my path., I also get uncontrollable munchies. This month, PMS has been particularily rabid. (That deserves a post of its own later my friends.) I've analysed whether getting the munchies - is it an off shoot to "emotional eating"? No, I have come to the conclusion. It's comparable to the cravings one gets during pregnancy. You know the voracious ones that also comes with uncontrollable voltions to procure (or better yet, get hubby to procure) a Double Whopper with Lg fries during the 11pm news? My PMS cravings usually constrain themselves within the chocolate and potatoe chip boundary -and usually consumed in large quantities with the 11pm news. Not a good thing when you are stubbornly determined to a new eating regimine. And one that is high fiber, low fat and vegetable dominated.

Bear with me folks. This is NOT going to become a food dominated blog.

So I found this Weight Watchers recipe for chocolate muffins that were low in points. (A snack that is below three is ideal). The recipe was ridiculously easy. A box of cake mix and a can of pumpkin. Oh yeah, a dash of patheticness and smidgen of self-loathing... So in the throes of PMS, I threw caution to the wind. The kids went into a pre-chocolate rush frenzy when they saw me crack open the cake box. "Cake! Mommy is making cake!"

Owen and Harry rush over to the kitchen. I am flanked on either side by salivating potential bowl lickers. This I do not mind. I think it is the first step to producing men who like to cook. I refuse to unleash another man into the world who does not like to cook. Living with a non-cooker is one of those clauses I would like to revisit in my marriage contract.

"Can I get the eggs mommy?" Owen asks.
"No eggs in this cake" I reply as I open the can of pumpkin. The looks of confusion and bewilderment set in. First, in a mixing bowl, I try to stir the cake mix and pumpkin together. Given the consistency of both materials made the job all the more challenging. I began to doubt the success of my experiment. Owen at this point was completely mortified at this sacrilige. He excused himself from my adventures in low fat cooking. Harry was entranced.

"Mommy it looks like poop!"

I gave up stirring by hand and got out the big guns. My hand mixer. The thick consistency even proved more daunting to my handy dandy mixer. Pellets of brownish orange batter began flying out of the bowl and clumping the beaters. Harry's excitement turned into frenzy.

"Mommy it looks like poop! MommyitlookslikepoopmommyitlookslikepoopmommyitlookslikePOOP!!!"

I stop mixing. PMS rage is in full expression and get out the mutha of all blending contraptions. My Brawn ten speed, blades that could puree your hand food processor. I scrape the glop in. Then I wiped the rest that spewed over my counter. Given the smear factor of the batter, I have to concede with Harry. It does resemble poop quite strongly. And given the orangish browny hue of the smear, I'd day it was a spot-on replica. I was thinking of lovely pranks that could be committed with the batter. Oh how evil I could be.

In 10 seconds, my batter was blended, all shitty coloured and viscous. I still doubt the resuls. I spoon it into muffin tins and bake at 350. They did not rise, as much as develop a cake like consistency. This is a good thing. I took a bite of the result...not bad...not bad at all. Moist, and a bit dense, and chocolaty. No hint of pumpkin.

Mmmm...PMS friendly muffins!