Cliff's sister saves their garbage for our pigs; she keeps it in a bag in the freezer, and when they come to visit (which is most every weekend) the pigs have a treat. A couple weeks ago, along with her frozen stuff, she brought a bottle of blackstrap molasses for the hogs, too. It was a full bottle, and I really hated to see the pigs get something I could put to a better use.
I've always loved gingerbread warm from the oven, topped with whipped cream or Cool Whip. But after years of making it fairly often, Cliff broke the news to me a long time ago that he really didn't care that much for it, and I stopped making it.
However, with the granddaughters here Sunday, I figured it was as good a time as any to get creative and use the molasses, so I made a nine-serving panful. I had a piece, warm, with Cool Whip, and it was as good as I remembered. Cliff even ate some, with Jello AND Cool Whip, and pronounced it "pretty good". Natalie, my granddaughter, took a piece home with her (I don't think her sister was so crazy about it). This morning when I went to work, there was one piece of gingerbread left, in a Rubbermaid container. Cliff doesn't like it, right? So all day, at work, I thought about that last piece of gingerbread awaiting my return home.
Well, I've looked the kitchen over with a fine-tooth comb, and that gingerbread is nowhere to be found. Obviously, my husband (the gingerbread-hater) has eaten MY treat!
As I type this, there's another pan of gingerbread in the oven, making the kitchen smell divine. And should this panful disappear (the next-door twin boys often eat lunch with Cliff), I think there's just enough blackstrap molasses for one more batch.
Oh, and here's an update: there may be a waffle maker on my horizon: Someone who shall remain nameless knows of one that has never been used, and if she can sneak it away from her grandma, it's mine!