TWD: Caramel Crunch Bars

I'm pretty sure that my mother and I spent the vast majority of every summer during the mid- to late-80s demanding more Heath bar chips in our Blizzards from the poor workers at various Northern Michigan Dairy Queens.


I'm not going to lie. If I know anything about successful negotiations or hostile takeovers, it's from watching her reach her arm into the window of the Dairy Queen, little red spoon in hand, and instruct the ice cream maker how to put yet another scoop of Heath Bar chips into the cup and whirrrrrr. Because, honestly, if you don't know how to follow my directions, what good are you? Don't listen to that man - he's the manager of a Dairy Queen. He's an idiot.

While we were never profane or cruel, I will say that things got a little out of hand when she shoved me up through the window of the Dairy Queen so that I could show the tearful ice cream girl how to just "do things the right way, the first time, dammit."

I'm pretty sure that just by writing this blog entry, her telepathic intuition is affecting her, making her get on Google Maps and find the nearest Dairy Queen, thinking that it's time to bust out the flip flops and Hawaiian t-shirts, and sending me a text message asking me how Weight Watchers is going.


And it's not her fault. Have you ever eaten a Heath Bar? I mean, my dog. It's amazing. You can't do anything about it. It's sweet, it's salty, it's chocolatey and crunchy. I mean, are you not in O face mode right now? Hello.

In honor of my mother and all our wonderful Heath Bar experiences, I made these cookies a while ago. Upon reading the recipe, my mom in turn made them and sent me this text message:

"Made your cookies. It's ok that you never became a doctor. You've moved on to bigger and better things."


So thank you, Dorie. I think that your next book should be called "Baking with Heath Bars: From My Home to Yours."