It began, as these things do, with the internet.
I was in the middle of my daily ‘Calgary Herald’ website check, when a picture caught my eye. And its caption: pretzel nutella ice cream bites. I abandoned the article about the crazy-man-decapitating-a-sixtysomething-woman and focused my energy on something beautiful and delicious. Ice cream. And nutella. And pretzels.
Various thoughts pulsed through my brain. It’s Chubby Hubby! With nutella! These are little, perfect morsels of tastiness and the boys would love them. I have to go to Costco and buy that enormous bag of pretzel crisps. Now.
And, within about twenty four hours, I was on my way to Costco to procure said enormous bag of pretzel crisps. And let me take this opportunity to profess my undying love for the little slabs of fat free goodness. My boys, who’d expressed their disdain for the crisps several weeks ago when they were being handed out as samples, became instant converts….the minute I smeared a thin layer of peanut butter on them.
The Hen, who is currently my pickiest eater, ate ten of them. Percy happily ate the little chunks of nutty broken pretzel (after I realized an entire pretzel crisp in his mouth spelled disaster.) And, when the Gort came home from school I told him about my discovery. ‘I made the most delicious snack today,’ I announced. ‘Oh yeah, what was it’ he replied enthusiastically. Intrigued by the word ‘delicious’.
‘Pretzel crisps…..with peanut butter.’
‘Oh, I don’t like those,’ he rejected my discovery. Without even trying it. ‘Well, you have to try one,’ I insisted. So he did. And suddenly he liked them, too.
After dinner, during which our youngest two cherubs inhaled about a pound of meat – each – and the professor and I looked at one another with fear for our bank account in our eyes, I made myself a little dessert.
Two pretzel crisps. A thin smear of peanut butter and a tablespoon of ice cream. The professor raised his eyebrows at me, all too familiar with my Chubby Hubby obsession, ‘what do we have here?’ I looked up. ‘You’re supposed to add Nutella, but I didn’t want to buy Nutella at Costco because I don’t want two enormous jars of it.’
I am, after all, ‘trying’ to shed my winter-blub.
‘You want me to bring you some Nutella after my game,’ the professor offered. I declined, I’d already eaten more peanut butter in one day than I had in the two months prior. ‘You should make a blizzard,’ he suggested, ever the creative genius. ‘We don’t have the right equipment,’ I shrugged.
‘What about the Kitchen Aid,’ he asked in an obvious tone of voice as though people the world over are using their mixers to make home-made blizzards. I can’t say I’ve ever thought of putting ice cream in my Kitchen Aid, but as soon as he said it, I knew it would work.
So he came home after his soccer game. With a Safeway-sized jar of Nutella. And we made our own [mini!] Chubby Hubby blizzards.
Move over, sticky toffee pudding, there’s a new obsession in town.