Let’s Make Some Whoopee (Pies)*–without Refined Sugar, Gluten, Eggs, Dairy, Soy or Nuts

*Or, It’s almost Valentine’s Day–time for bad puns!

When I was a teenager, I believed Valentine’s Day was all about romance–and the fact that I didn’t have a sweetheart with whom to be romantic.  I’d sit at home listening to (Rod Stewart’s version of)  The First Cut is the Deepest on my parents’ console stereo in our living room, fantasizing about tall, dark, handsome strangers who’d present me with a dozen long-stemmed roses; or dashing, rakish strangers (who happened to own their own chartered jets) who would sweep me off my feet and fly me to Paris for brunch. In reality, I was spending the evening alone, feeling sorry for myself and, mostly, wondering why I didn’t have a boyfriend.  My parents, of course, were out for the evening, with each other–since it was Valentine’s Day. Once I met my friend Sterlin in grade nine, she and I began to spend our Valentines Days together, watching old movies on TV and ruminating about why neither one of us had a boyfriend.  One of our best February 14ths was the year they decided to broadcast that old Susan Hayward classic, I Want to Live, on TV.  (You see, Oh Younger Readers, those were the days before the advent of PVRs–or even VCRs–in every home, and we were dependent upon the whims of the Great TV Programming Gods for our show selection.)  We sat on the faux leather sofa in my parents’ basement hunched over a big bowl of Doritos, alternately munching and sobbing uncontrollably–especially when the laywer character (not realizing he is defending his own mother) remarks to the Susan Hayward character (who is going to face the gas chamber after being wrongfully accused of murder), “If I had a mother, I’d want her to be just like you. ”  Oh, boo hoo hoo hoo!! (Crunch, crunch). Nowadays, although I have a sweetie with whom to share the Day of Hearts and Roses (and let’s not forget Chocolate), I still bemoan the lack of romance in my life on Valentine’s Day.  The HH, you see, is many things (witty, kind, generous, incredibly artistically talented, a human trivia database, in love with our Girls), but “romantic” is not one of them.  His idea of romance is reading aloud to me. . . from his “Polywell Fusion Reactor” article.

Normally, for special occasions like Christmas or my birthday, I’ve learned to let the HH know in advance what I might like so that, at the least, he’ll show up after work with something gift-wrapped under his arm.  This year for Valentine’s Day, however, I decided not to put in my usual request for chocolates (not ACD-friendly) or champagne (ditto) or flowers (I’d probably be allergic to the ones he chose) and just accept that he expresses his love in other ways.  A few weeks ago, for instance, when I was feeling a little under the weather, the HH marched out into the snow and -22C (-8 F) weather with The Girls every evening to spare me having to go.  And when I slowly rotate my head from side to side in an attempt to release some of the stress in my neck, he’ll often magically appear behind my desk chair and provide a mini neck-and-shoulder massage, no prompting necessary. I hope I’ll be pleasantly surprised on Valentine’s Day, whether or not the HH’s contribution to the day is classically “romantic.”  For my part, I’ve got a special celebration in mind, and it involves making Whoopee. (Pies, of course.  Silly!).  We’ll have chocolate, we’ll have cake, we’ll have sweetness and a light filling.  And, of course, we’ll have each other. And that’s romantic enough for me.

[For this Halloween Version of the Whoopie Pies with “Pumpkin” Buttercream, see here.]

“Mum, we wouldn’t mind staying home watching a movie on Valentine’s Day if we could munch on those Doritos, too. . . or else maybe we could make our own canine form of whoopee by just playing outside.  As in, ‘It’s snowing–Whoooopeeeee!'”

Last Year at this Time: Apple Pie Smoothie Two Years Ago: Featured in Clean Eating! Three Years Ago: The Best Home Fries Ever © Diet, Dessert and Dogs 

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