Dad

We lost my father-in-law in August 2004. Snark was very close to his dad so there is a small piece of his heart that shriveled up. It hurt me more than I thought it would. I have known my father-in-law my whole life. Snark's parents and my grandparents were close, so as a child I was always hearing about Snark's family and vice versa.

To someone who did not know my father-in-law, their first impression would have been "elegant." He was a gentleman in the truest sense. Elegantly dressed, well-read and a renowned physician. He was an imposing figure. He didn't believe in wasted words. If you listened carefully, you would have caught flashes of humor interspersed in his thoughts.

My sister-in-law and I would feel a little quake when we were alone with him. He was introverted, and we had no clue what to say around him. He looked stern. Did he approve of us???

As time went on we saw glimpses of the man he really was. My first peek was when Snark told his parents we were engaged. His mother blustered about being young and foolish. Later in life, I heard that his dad kneeled down and said a prayer, crying for joy that we had found each other.

When the grandchildren were born, he held everyone of them like the professional he was. And when he visited, he always had a baby dangling off a knee. When he was ill, the grandchildren would throw themselves at him. He had a painful tumor in his stomach. He never told them to stop or pushed them away. I saw him wince numerous times, but he always held them close and kissed them. When they ran around the house yelling like banshees, he would quietly disappear into his room(Snark always snuck in with him) leaving them to scream the house down.

He never mentioned things he did. Only after he passed we found out he had put various cousins through college or supported family members.

He and my mother-in-law were an arranged marriage. They were just an old married couple. She has suffered since he passed. I never knew the extent of her longing for him until this past weekend.

I was clearing out his office and found a stack of letters he had kept. Most of them were from him to my mother-in-law when she was pregnant with Snark's older brother (When you are Indian, it was, and is, a given that you go to your mother's house to give birth. You stay there for a month). He was in the U.K., finishing his education and starting his career, and she was in India. The letters were moth-eaten and the writing had faded. I did not want to pry, but I couldn't help reading one. He spoke of his love for her. He asked about their beautiful son, and if he looked like her. He couldn't wait for his family to come home because he missed them. The feelings he expressed made me understand the quiet man I grew to love as a father. I couldn't read anymore, tears were staining the page.

I put them away in a place my mother-in-law would find. If anything, I miss him more after I read those letters.

Air Travails

If there is one thing worse than going to get cavities filled, it is traveling with small children on a plane.

I always tell myself that this is the year that they settle down and chill out on a flight. It is bound to get better. I pack umpteen things to fiddle with and food to cram down their throats. It wasn't any better.

We got to the airport just fine and that was when the fun started. We had the carry-on fight, which consists of two girls wrestling over who gets to roll it along while they are running. The winner is the one that runs over the most feet while I am running after her. The loser is the one screaming hysterically that her sister gets all the fun.

Choose a seat is the next game. I tell them to pick a number between one and ten. The one closest to my number gets to choose the seat. My oldest gets it this time. She graciously gives the window to her sister. She then adds that she prefers the aisle because she gets drinks first and she can visit the restroom at will. "Besides, that way your window trip is over and done with and I can look forward to having the window on the way home." she throws that in for good measure. Can you guess what happened after those comments?

Security check was fun. I tell them to take off shoes and keep quiet. It was going well until the youngest piped up to the security guard. "Do you think we have a bomb and we'll crash?". I almost disowned her. Luckily, the guard was benevolent and explained procedure to her.

Getting on the flight was the easiest part. The highlight of the flight for the youngest was the stewardess gave her a can of Pepsi. Within ten minutes the oldest was done with reading three books and was bored of her GameBoy. I apologized for not realizing she was a genius. I then wanted to talk about the books. She pretended to be asleep.

The bathroom was fascinating. The first time the youngest went in she couldn't figure out how to get out and banged on the door till the stewardess unlocked it for her. She fell into my arms, wild-eyed and trembling.

"That is one dangerous bathroom. I thought the toilet was going to suck me away. I was thinking you would leave the plane without me." The rest of the trip she was quiet. I think she was concentrating on holding it till she could get to a "normal" bathroom.

My oldest had springs in her rear end. She bounced up and down and kept grabbing the back of the seat in front of her. I correct that, she kept grabbing the bald man's head in front of her. I would give her the evil eye and she would stop, only to start a few minutes later. It did not help that her sister whispered loudly.

"That man's head is really shiny. Do you think he waxes it?" The man was not amused.

Nobody lynched us on the flight and the kids survived to visit their grandmother. Next flight I am taking a Benadryl and/or knocking myself out.

Snark, during all this, was snoring in another seat away from us. To get my revenge I put him with the girls on the trip home.

Thanks for giving

To everyone that celebrates Thanksgiving here are a few of my reasons to be thankful this holiday.

I am thankful...

*For a healthy, happy family.
*For being an employed family( so far).
*For friends that love me, even to the extent that they would feed my cat(and they don't like cats).
* For the kiss Snark gives me every night when I go to bed.
*That I can write whatever I want on this blog.

The Lavacakes are off to Michigan for the holiday. Have a safe and happy holiday.

Here is my Friday recipe early:

Corn Casserole

1 box Jiffy corn muffin mix
2 eggs
8 oz sour cream
1 can(14 oz) creamed corn
1 can(14 oz) sweet corn, drained
1 stick butter, melted

Pre-heat oven to 350

Mix all ingredients together. Pour into casserole dish(I use an oblong 2 qt). Bake for 45 minutes. Casserole should be golden and slightly firm on top.

I remember when I was in Nepal with the Yeti..........

Do you remember Commander McBragg? He was the the blow-hard on the Rocky and Bullwinkle Hour. If you are asking who they are, stop reading. You are too young to read this blog. The reason I am making this analogy is because women who have given birth are like Commander McBragg. They are into one-upmanship with birthing stories.

Give us a labor story and there is always one better. The most mild-mannered woman who considers nursing a horror(the whole exposure thing plus deflated breasts) will gleefully recount the agony, and all the goriness in minute detail. We have been through the birthing wars, it is our moment to shine. We want other women to wish they hadn't gotten the epidural so early.

I admit, I like to tell people how I lost 20 lbs with each pregnancy(not fun but makes for appropriate ooohs and ahhhs) and then told the doctor during my first delivery that I was too tired to push. I was lazy. Only after he threatened me with a c-section the kid popped out. I take a stab at Snark whenever I recount the second delivery. He was holding up the wall talking baseball with the doctor. They both didn't notice that my walk consisted of a one step circle till I fell on the bed with dizziness. I then informed them that the kid was arriving and the doctor told me that he wasn't dressed for it. At the time I wanted to brain him, but I now have my revenge by laughing about him to everyone.


My all time favorite is my sister-in-law. This is the one woman I know who delivers 9-10 lb preemies. I promise you, all her kids were born ahead of schedule. With her second my brother-in-law went in the drive-through to the ATM for some money. While he was getting money he noticed that she was pulling her pants off. Thinking that she was "in the mood", he leaned over and she told him that the baby was coming out. They slid into the ER entrance with moments to spare and she gave birth in the waiting room of the ER, on a gurney. It was quite the story in the hospital for weeks.

Much to my chagrin, that story tops mine so she gets the privilege of telling it first when we all get together. It's a great thing when we can laugh about possibly what is the most humiliating moment of our lives.

So I leave you with what one friend told the nurse who was insisting she look in the mirror during delivery.

"Just look so you can see your beautiful baby."

"All I can see is a hemorrhoid, so put the damn thing away."

Pom-o-arigato

Snark whipped this drink up last night. He was grasping at straws on this since I had finished the last of his beer. It turned out tasty. You be the judge. I, personally, like the name he gave it.

1-2 fl. oz. clear liquor--light rum or gin (depending on your desire to have floral/herbal/Christmas tree notes)

3-4 fl. ozs. pomegranate juice

vanilla syrup to taste (I use a dash)

Serve over the rocks or use a shaker. Please feel free to adjust quantities as desired, personally, I like 'em a notch or two weaker than sulphuric acid, for a three-strikes/sips-yer-out effect.

Squash gratin

This is sad, but I make this casserole almost every week. It is delicious, even for people who hate squash and this is the only way my kids will eat the squash. I don't bother coring the tomatoes and the squash gets cut how I feel like cutting them. In a pinch I use dried thyme or oregano and I use whatever hard cheese is available. Make sure that the casserole is fully cooked to get the caramelization that is integral to the flavor.

FOR THE ONIONS:

2 Tbs. olive oil

2 medium onions (14 oz. total), thinly sliced

2 cloves garlic, minced

TO ASSEMBLE THE GRATIN:

1-1/4 lb. ripe red tomatoes, cored and cut into 1/4-inch slices

3/4 lb. (about 2 small) zucchini or other green summer squash, cut into 1/4-inch slices on the bias

3/4 lb. (about 2 small) yellow summer squash or golden zucchini, cut into 1/4-inch slices on the bias

3 Tbs. olive oil

1/4 cup fresh thyme leaves

1 tsp. coarse salt

1-1/4 cups freshly grated parmigiano reggiano

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

To cook the onions -- In a medium skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onions and sauté, stirring frequently, until limp and golden brown, about 20 min. Reduce the heat to medium-low if they're browning too quickly. Add the garlic and sauté until soft and fragrant, 1 to 2 min. Spread the onions and garlic evenly in the bottom of an oiled 2-qt. shallow gratin dish (preferably oval). Let cool.

To assemble the gratin. -- Heat the oven to 375°F. Put the tomato slices on a shallow plate to drain for a few minutes and then discard the collected juices. In a medium bowl, toss the zucchini and squash slices with 1-1/2 Tbs. of the olive oil, 2 Tbs. of the thyme, and 1/2 tsp. of the salt. Reserve half of the cheese for the top of the gratin. Sprinkle 1 Tbs. of the thyme over the onions in the gratin. Starting at one end of the baking dish, lay a row of slightly overlapping tomato slices across the width of the dish and sprinkle with a little of the cheese. Next, lay a row of zucchini, overlapping the tomatoes by two-thirds, and sprinkle with cheese. Repeat with a row of squash, and then repeat rows, sprinkling each with cheese, until the gratin is full.

Season lightly with pepper and the remaining 1/2 tsp. salt. Drizzle the remaining 1-1/2 Tbs. olive oil over all. Combine the reserved cheese with the remaining 1 Tbs. thyme and sprinkle this over the whole gratin. Cook until well-browned all over and the juices have bubbled for a while and reduced considerably, 65 to 70 min. Let cool for at least 15 min. before serving.

recipe courtesy of Fine Cooking magazine.

Coffee-nated

I adore coffee. I was addicted when my mother would pour me a glass of cold milk, add a few drops of coffee and plenty of sugar. Coffee milk. That was a treat in my house. She would then plunk down her banana fritters and we knew it was a perfect day. But this is not an ode to her banana fritters. Actually they were little pancakes that were thin and crispy-edged with nuggets of melting banana. Okay, I just had to get that out. This post is really about coffee.

The first time I realized the power of caffeine was in college. No, I wasn't doing something as sensible as pulling an all-night study session. I was on a date, and we just kept talking till the wee hours. So I kept my coffee cup full. I was a novice then. I added plenty of milk and sugar.

My husband fell in love with me when I took one sip of a coffee, deemed it unacceptable and pitched it in the trash. He knew then I was a woman of discriminating taste.

I had two dry seasons. It was ugly. It was a sign I was pregnant when all coffee tasted off. I couldn't drink it for 10 months (Those in the know are aware that pregnancies last 38-40 weeks, not "nine months."). Needless to say, Snark is a saint after being with me after that withdrawal period. After delivery, in my dazed state I grabbed him and whispered "Get me a Caribou latte now!" The nurse was not pleased that I wouldn't eat anything until he came back with the elixir. It says a lot when a man goes into a blizzard for a latte.

I try not to drink coffee at people's houses. If I like them, I don't want their bad coffee to be a strike against them. There is far more bad coffee out there than good. I went to someone's house one Christmas. I didn't think much of her, in fact, leaning towards dislike. Then she served us coffee. To this day I will remember her fondly. I have never had a cup of coffee like her's since. I've tried to duplicate it right down to the bean.

I bought a machine that sounds like an airplane taking off but makes a heavenly cup of coffee. I swear by the Capresso CoffeeTeam Luxe. It measures, grinds and brews a great pot of coffee. My only complaint is that it does not have an insulated thermos. Snark's only complaint is that it isn't self-cleaning. The funny thing is my sister-in-law who is a coffee addict, but can't brew a decent cup to save her life, hooked me on this nifty machine. She still brews a bad cup because she doesn't know how to use the machine. But since she showed me the light, I will swallow the swill she puts in front of me with a smile.

I know it's a sign of Christmas when Starbucks puts Peppermint Mocha on the board. I know my coffee tastes best early in the morning sitting with Snark out on my patio. The company has a lot to do with it. I know it's love when for the past twelve years my morning coffee has been creamed, sugared and waiting for me to drink.

Princess for a Day

One birthday down, one more to go. For the youngest's birthday treat her sister and I took her to a Princess lunch at the Akershus in Norway. I mean the Norway in Epcot. If I am unwilling to pay for a resort stay, I surely am not flying the kid to Norway. But I digress.

First off, Epcot was jam-packed. Everywhere we turned there were lines. Mexico, which is a two-snore ride, even had a line. When all else fails go on the Mexico ride, but today they had a line. We fortified ourselves with chicken quesadillas. The saving grace is that the Food and Wine fest is going on so there is plenty of food. After all, the only timing they had for the Princess lunch was 3 pm.

I was naughty. I felt like a margarita and my friend was a good girl. She wasn't going to have one, but I got her one anyway. Anything not to look like a lush. Another good thing was the cute guy in front of me was talking to me until my children came running over. Never heard a peep out of him after that. In fact, I think he switched lines.

I checked in for the lunch at 2:35. They told me to hang out and wait to be called and I was 10th on the list of people who had checked in. It annoyed me. So chances were I wasn't going to get called in at 3 pm either. It was a good thing I checked in, but what was the point of making a 3 pm reservation only to be seated later?

The kids were restless, and my friend's youngest threatened to beat up a mini Snow White who was invading his space. My youngest was run over by a motorized granny, in a hurry to make the FastPass line for Maelstrom. I had to tell her to reverse off the kid's foot.

At 3:30, the Royal Table called our name. By this time, we were all planning to rush the door and tackle Ariel and Belle (they were in view). We were ushered into a picturesque setting and trod on Aurora's gown to grab our seats. No sooner had we sat down, a parade of princesses came to our table. They were in a hurry to get our pictures and autographs taken care of. The girls were enchanted. So enchanted, they did not notice Jasmine had smokers cough and a pierced belly button.

We then hit the appetizer buffet. I was impressed by the selection. Smoked salmon, several other varieties of smoked fish, cheeses, and salads. Who needed the entree? My children stuck to the safety of cheese, bread and a piece of smoked salmon. I offered my oldest a taste of beet salad. She wrinkled her nose.

"It's red?"

"It's beet root."

"Yeah, didn't you roast those things before and try and make us eat it?"

"Yup, have some."

"No thank-you. It looks like a slab of blood."

After that comment, I didn't feel like eating it.

The meal went okay. We managed to get through lunch without any incidents. Dessert was family style. A big bowl of rice cream with strawberries, a dab of chocolate mousse and lingonberry bars. It was attacked and there were no survivors. It was like nobody had ever had dessert before. I was spooning rice cream on a plate and looked up. The only thing left of the mousse was a pathetic chocolate flake.

They gave the youngest a cookie in the shape of a viking hat and a birthday card signed by the princesses, even missing Snow White (whose only previous presence was on the side of a milk carton). What pleased my daughter the most was the other girls didn't have Snow White's signature. Highlight of her evening.

We staggered to our car and prayed everyone would fall asleep.

"Hey, my birthday is in two weeks, can I do this also?"

Sigh.

Castellane with Mascarpone and Grape Tomatoes

The only reason I subscribe to Gourmet is for the "Five Ingredients" feature. This recipe is a staple in my house. Feel free to make substitutions if you can't find the ingredients. The mascarpone should not be hard to find anymore. Even Walmart has started to carry it. Just remember to eat this right away. It doesn't re-heat too well. But I don't think you'll have leftovers.


2 pints grape tomatoes or cherry tomatoes, halved lengthwise
1 lb castellane pasta or medium (regular) shells
1 1/4 cups mascarpone cheese (from a 1-lb container)
2 oz finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (1 cup)
1/4 cup minced fresh chives

Put oven rack in upper third of oven and preheat oven to 400°F. Line a large shallow baking pan with foil and butter foil.

Arrange tomatoes, cut sides up, in pan and sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper. Roast until slightly plumped, 15 to 20 minutes.

Cook pasta in a 6- to 8-quart pot of boiling salted water, stirring occasionally, until al dente, about 12 minutes. Reserve 1 1/2 cups pasta cooking water, then drain pasta well and transfer to a large bowl. Add mascarpone and stir until melted. Add reserved cooking water, tomatoes, half of parmesan, 3 tablespoons chives, 3/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon black pepper and toss well, then cool to warm.

Butter a 3-quart (13- by 9-inch) gratin or other shallow baking dish. Toss pasta mixture again, then spoon into gratin dish. Sprinkle remaining parmesan over top. Bake pasta until golden and bubbly, 18 to 20 minutes. Sprinkle with remaining tablespoon chives.

Recipe courtesy of Gourmet magazine.

Ode to FleaBiscuit

Happy Birthday to the youngest member of my household. She is three today. It feels like yesterday when I held her trembling body close to me. The only time she trembles now is when I threaten her with no Scooby snacks for misbehavior. We can't imagine life without her even when she is tormenting the cat, stealing trash, and chasing lizards into the house. For her birthday treats: she got to sleep in, had breakfast on time, was let out out before she rang the bell and I looked the other way when she nosed the toast out of the trash. Only the best for her.

A Day in the Strife

I like to think that I don't overschedule myself. In my perfect world I have taken the girls to all the extracurriculars that they excel at, and I come home to the dinner I prepared in the afternoon. I then leisurely bathe them and cuddle with them as I read a chapter from "The Secret Garden." We then say prayers and they fall asleep like the angels they are.

HA! Sounds great and I actually know women who do this. They are called Stepford Wives.

Welcome to Tuesday afternoon in my household. I am chatting on my cell phone as I walk half-way up the street to meet the girls. They don't walk off the bus, they explode out and are yelling something that sounds like an obscenity to each other. I think I hear it and I threaten their backsides if I ever hear that again. All this time my friend is on the other line, but you know what? She doesn't care because she's doing the same thing with her kids. We mutter how much we need a beer and hang up.

I run to catch up with the kids and trip over the shoes scattered all over the entrance of the homestead. But wait, there are only three socks. Oh yes, Sophie(the hound) is doing the boody shake with one in her mouth.

I then put out a "stinkin" snack. It's "stinkin" because it doesn't involve the two C's. Candy and Coke. Then half-hour to relax. Relaxation consists of staring dumbly at the t.v. or listening to my two yell at each other. Loving sisters.

Homework! I love that I get to go back to third grade. No place else I want to be transported back to. I quiz, cajole and push them to finish so we can get out the door. As I stuff them into shorts and t-shirts, I hear a voice say.

"My book report is due tomorrow."

My teeth are worn down because I grind them to stop the scream in the back of my throat.

"Well, I guess we are staying up tonight." I speak extra loudly.

"It has to be non-fiction."

"Well, we can do it on my life story."

I push them into the car. I run back into the house because the dog thinks the house is her personal toilet. I shove her in the crate and yell at the girls to quit playing in the front seat.

I drive a mile not realizing the emergency brake is on. I drop one off at dance and listen to the "beauty pageant" moms talk about how tall my kid is and "How are they going to do the lines?"

"Um, when you signed her up did you know we have a recital in December?" one of the sharks ask.

"Yes." I really want to scream "For goodness sake, just let the poor kid dance. That is all she wants to do. Screw your lines." What the hell is a line anyway?

I then jet to drop the other at Girl Scouts. The Girl Scout leader really needs help but I wave her away as I drive to pick the dancer up. Of course, dance runs late because the "moms" are trying to improve the line with their suggestions. My little girl is looking happy and oblivious to her tallness or ruining the line. And it had better stay that way because if someone says anything to wipe the smile off her face, well they just better not. I don't have time to rough them up in the parking lot.

Back to Girl Scouts. As penance I clean up and tote out the Leader's supplies to her car. On the way home I remember that we have not had dinner. Protests from the back seat as I go to Chick-Fil-A. I love it, they don't. Who's the parent?

Home again and back to homework. The little one gets Mom's famous 30 second shower. She is tired and only comes out of her room three times for me to "scratch her back". Okay, this is where I get selfish. I have a book-report to help with, but "The Amazing Race" is on. So, I install the older one next to me. She writes and watches "The Amazing Race" out of the corner of her eye. I give her a stern look, but Phil is on.

Off to bed. No book read, no laying down because I have laundry to fold. I throw the blanket on her and kiss her. I think I will wait for Snark to get home and then fold laundry. You know that doesn't happen. I fall asleep, and the laundry is laying there as it has been for the past week.

You should hear about my Mondays.

Busy month

As you have noticed, I have been letting Snarkboy post recently. He seems to have more to say this month. I have been concentrating on birthdays. I have the blessing (if I don't say blessing , God will probably strike me) of having my children's birthdays exactly 23 months 2 weeks and 1 day apart from each other. I have one on the 10th and one on the 25th of November. One child was supposed to be a December baby, and the other I swore was coming at the end of October. She ended up being coaxed out three days after her due date. Free housing was over.

So this month, needless to say, is a frenzy and way too short for all the activities I need to plan.
Notice how I said need to plan. ... Well that is a shortcoming of mine. I don't plan my children's parties till the last minute. Now wait a sec! This is not my entirely my fault. First off, they dither over what they want. They always seem to want things when I am not willing to buy them, yet when this time of year rolls around, they can't decide or want outrageous things.

The youngest takes the cake this year. Since we live so close to Disney she tried to opt for a resort stay for one night. The condition was it had to be the Grand Floridian or the Polynesian. Her pampered self needed the monorail to drop her at the door. Now I decide to consider this (stupid me.). I logged on and saw that a room was $304-$400 a night. Yes, that is dollars not pesos.

Now for some parents that is not a big deal. In this household it is. And if I need to go into why a $300 dollar hotel room 10 minutes from my house is not a feasible idea, please e-mail me, then adopt me.

I told her what any sane parent would tell their child. All the rooms were booked. She went online and found a room. I then had to explain that $300 is a lot of money.

She didn't get it. She is only just learning the concept of money. She enjoys seeing the ATM spew out cash. It's magic.

It's not just her though. Birthdays are more elaborate and gifts are plentiful. If you have ever read "Harry Potter," children are becoming like Dudley Dursley("But this is only 36 gifts.").

We encourage it. Last year, I took 12 kids to a farm to pet a goat, ride a nag and feed cows. The cost was the downpayment on a car including the gift bags. Since when are gift bags necessary at a birthday party?

"Thank-you for bringing a gift. Here, take a token of my gratitude that is way more expensive than what you brought."

We have been to catered birthdays, birthdays that have themes and birthdays that resembled coming-out balls. Children don't have the capacity to appreciate these events. But they do have the capacity to expect something grand and want more. I guess these elaborate gestures make parents feel better. They don't make my wallet feel good, though. The presents they got last year were discarded by this year. The dog ate half of them, and the other half the kids lost or broke.

This year I am scaling back. I got to thinking about my birthdays. We received a couple of presents or money, something we really wanted. The best part was the birthday person chose the restaurant where we ate. That was the highlight, because my dad would make sure to get home early from work, and my mother would bake us whatever we wanted. I never wanted birthday cake. I always requested trifle, with layers of pound cake, custard and fruit crowned by a cloud of whipped cream.

I did have birthday parties, but they were not the fireworks displays that they are now. They were quiet affairs spent enjoying the few good friends you had, and the family that loved you. So this year, we are spending the the little one's birthday with a couple of good friends and a chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting. The older one is a Thanksgiving child, and she will be with her family, and have a vanilla cake with chocolate icing. I will be giving thanks that I have two pretty great kids and the fact I am able to afford Christmas(which is just around the corner).

Chocolate lava muffins

This recipe is courtesy of Snarkboy's idol, Alton Brown.

Chocolate Lava Muffins

8 ounces semisweet chocolate chips
1 stick butter
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup sugar
3 tablespoons flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
4 eggs
Butter, to coat muffin tin
1 tablespoon cocoa powder
1 cup vanilla ice cream
1 teaspoon espresso powderPreheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Place a small metal bowl over a saucepan with simmering water. Melt the chocolate and butter in the bowl. Stir in vanilla.

In a large mixing bowl, combine sugar, flour and salt. Sift these into the chocolate and mix well with electric hand mixer. Add eggs one at time, fully incorporating each egg before adding the next. Beat at high until batter is creamy and lightens in color, approximately 4 minutes. Chill mixture.

Coat the top and each cup of the muffin tin with butter. Dust with the cocoa powder and shake out excess. Spoon mixture into pan using a 4-ounce scoop or ladle. Bake for 10 to 11 minutes. Outsides should be cake-like and centers should be gooey.

While muffins are in oven, melt the ice cream in a small saucepan. Stir in the espresso powder. Serve over warm muffins.