Malted Pretzel Crunch for Super Bowl Sunday and Bad Boy First Love, Part Two.February 3, 2012 at 11:48 pm | Posted in Appetizers, Candy | 40 Comments
Tags: Bad Boys, Christina Tossi, First Love, Malted Milk Powder, Momofuku Milk Bar, Munchies, NE Patriots, NY Giants, Pretzel Crunch, pretzels, Snack, snacks, Superbowl Sunday
First I just want to say that this post was almost set to go Wednesday, and then my computer crashed. It was fixed briefly, but then it crashed again. Thankfully I didn’t lose anything, but went through two days of no computer hell! You know how it is nowadays. Can’t live without them, really can’t live without them.
Before I get to this amazing Super Bowl snack, I think I owe you all a Part Two to my Bad Boy First Love story. If you’re just tuning in, Part One is HERE.
Last we left off..
We couldn’t stop staring at each other as my friend and hunky monkey man chatted away, shy, fleeting glances from my end – more direct, confident ones from his.
The animated chatter between my friend and hunky monkey man was in stark contrast to the deep, silent connection that was developing between me and this dreamboat of a guy. Their voices seemed far away, Charlie Brown/Peanuts ‘adult’ garbles meshing with the loud music, shouts of barkers trying to get people to come play 25 cent games they’d never win for less than $25, and video game bings, zips and throttles.
Apparently, they found an instant connection via classic rock;
“Van Halen is nothing without David Lee Roth – nothing. I mean, I like one of the albums with Hagar..but you know, still not the same.” Monkey said, resulting in my friend perking up on this topic so near and dear to her soul.
“I KNOW..you couldn’t replace David Lee Roth. Hagar was okay, but the Extreme guy made no sense. They were never Van Halen without David Lee Roth!”
I couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked even better under the bright lights of the arcade the carousel was in. Like I said in part 1, he was exactly what I had envisioned when I dreamed of the perfect guy for me. This was too uncanny, but in no way was I complaining.
Then, he spoke…in our own little world.
“You have beautiful eyes.”
Up until then, I don’t think I’d ever really blushed in my entire life. It was some weird missing gene anomaly, or so I thought. I felt it start on my chest, crawl up my neck, and soon my face was on fire. Damn, I was blushing. I wanted to pull my jean jacket over my head.
“Thank you, so do you” I said. And he really did..steel, cerulean blue eyes that made my stomach do cartwheels, somersaults, and handsprings every time he looked at me. 10′s across the board. I still couldn’t feel my legs.
Soon hunky monkey was playing a video game, my friend leaning on the side of it watching him with a look I knew very well, a look that meant she liked him. He had set the game for two and soon was calling on dreamboat to take his turn, busting open the invisible bubble that had formed around us, blocking out the world.
“Nahh, why don’t you have her friend play you?” dreamboat said, not taking his eyes off of mine. I felt faint.
I interjected – “It’s ok, go ahead..really!” The truth was, I wanted to feel my legs again, not to mention I needed to breathe normally. My heart had been beating like a Dave Grohl, during his Nirvana days, drum solo. Was it possible to have a heart attack at 15 going on 16? Plus, and most importantly, I had to confer with my friend.
In my best Wicked Witch of the West voice..I leaned in close to her and chirped, “I’m melting..I’m melting.” although I ended up sounding more like a munchkinland denizen because I was so excited and nervous, my voice was quivery.
“I’ve never seen you like this, you’re gonna marry this guy” my friend whispered
“I’d marry him right now if he asked me.” I responded – and I meant it.
We both laughed and whispered about every moment of the whole 10 minutes we’d been there. She really liked hunky monkey. I knew I was falling in love. It was the craziest feeling ever. This was most definitely one of those love at first sight deals.
I felt a hand brush my arm, then that sexy, tough voice, in the softest, sweetest tone, asked…
“What do you want to do? Get something to eat, maybe? Any place you want to go?”
*I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you non-stop until we’re 90 years old. I want you to kiss my lips off, even if it looks weird and people turn away at the sight of me, even if I have to drink from a sippy cup for the rest of my life!*
“Umm..anything is fine, I’m flexible.” I answered weakly, weak from the powerful feelings overwhelming me. With him, watching paint dry would be amazing.
Hunky monkey said there was a party still going on at the place he was staying at, complete with a few kegs, would we want to do that?
My friend and I exchanged what we called brain waves via eye contact. We always knew what the other was thinking with just a look.
“Sure!” we both squealed in unison, then collected ourselves, acting all cool, embarrassed by the squeal.
It’s amazing how agreeable you are when you want to marry a guy you just met two hours before. It’s also amazing when you already have a visual of your wedding dress picked out. He could kiss my lips off at a party – he could kiss my lips off in a sewage plant for all I cared. Part of me wanted to be alone with him, though, and I could feel he wanted that too. Look! I was already having brain waves with him. Yep, this was meant to be.
We started making our way down the boardwalk to a ramp leading off the boardwalk. We were walking close, close enough that our hands brushed a few times. I was surprised, but thrilled, when he gently took my hand in his..our fingers entwining naturally, a perfect fit.
I felt faint again.
His hand was strong, warm and ever so slightly calloused, not what you would find on the hands of any of the guys I grew up with. In fact, a lot of their hands were softer than mine. He squeezed my hand, breaking me from this very brief, and so not important, hand comparison. Oops, there went my legs again. I was walking on clouds or some fluffy substance that made me not to feel the asphalt below.
I could not believe this guy was holding my hand! The hot bumper car guy was actually holding MY hand! I had to keep sneaking side glances to confirm it because I kept expecting him to turn into this kinda cute, but pimply guy with skinny legs I dated for one night at summer camp when I was 12. We just held hands, but it was called a ‘date’ by the counselors, making us both blush (well, I think I blushed a little) and giggle.
This was all too surreal.
Soon we were at a parking lot. Huh? Why would we need to drive anywhere? Then I recalled one thing he mentioned when we first met a few hours earlier. His parents had a summer house in Toms River, across the bridge. Of course he needed a car ..to drive to work. There it sat, a lone navy blue Volkswagon Beetle from like 20 years ago. What the..? I didn’t know even used ones existed anymore, plus, I couldn’t imagine this dreamboat of a guy, so strong and tough, with a Volkswagon Beetle. Hunky monkey’s voice interrupted my thoughts..
“Would you believe this guy bought this car for twenty-five bucks from a junkyard, completely dead, and restored it back into working order all by himself?”
My friend and I ‘wowed’ and made the appropriate ‘impressed’ noises. None of it was feigned, we really were impressed!
I started to melt again, could he be any more perfect?
When we got to the party, it was good to see that there were some local girls there that we had met and hung out with the previous few days. While my friend sauntered over to them, he brought me a beer. I briefly joined my friend and the two local girls (again, to feel my legs and breathe normally) while I sipped it slowly, wishing it was one of those lemonades with all the crushed ice and lemon halves, because I had major nervous cotton mouth and beer wouldn’t cut it. After our little coffee clotch broke, I jokingly mentioned my lemonade craving to offset my distaste of beer. He immediately offered to go back to the boardwalk and get me one before the place closed. Of course, I said “No, no, no. it’s okay, water is fine”, but then I realized it might be a great way to be alone with him.
He insisted, so I asked if I could come along. Big time brain waves were happening between us , and they were swelling and crashing non-stop during this little exchange.
“I was hoping you would ask.” He said with that sexy smile that now owned me. OMG, I could die right now, I thought, but not until he kissed me at least once.
I still couldn’t believe this guy liked me.
That’s it..10 minutes at this party and we were out of there. I told my friend, whom I knew would be safe with the local girls there, plus, she was having her own little moments with the hunky monkey, and they were getting along famously. All was cool in the land of love, puppy love, and pure, unblemished, teenage puppy lust, or whatever you want to call it. The local girls and hunky monkey would walk her home if we weren’t back by the time she wanted to leave.
Once he got the lemonade for me, just in time too, since they were cleaning up and about to close, he said he knew a really pretty place we could go to talk (ha ha, talk…I’ll scream if you don’t kiss me). Of course I smiled and nodded yes. Remember, I was flexible – for him.
We ended up at this beautiful lookout on Barnegat Bay. He turned off the ignition, but kept the radio on..classic rock, the same station he was playing at work. My hand was numb from the ice cold, giant lemonade I was holding on my right knee as I stared at his silhouette in the moonlight. I couldn’t let go of the cup to dissolve the numbness because I needed to grip something tightly to ease the trembling.
Soon, my eyes adjusted to the dark, and I could see him clearly, those blue eyes shooting lasers through every pore in my skin. I found myself intermittently taking him in, his sexy lips, strong arms, and his gorgeous, light brown/dirty blonde hair grazing the collar of his work shirt..all absolute perfection. I was off the charts intoxicated being this close to him. This was a really old Volkswagon Beetle, so we were close before we could even get close.
Frankly, I don’t remember what we even talked about, not a clue. My eyes were focused on his lips and eyes, alternating every few seconds. As we talked, we got closer, and then he brushed a few hairs away from my face and smiled. I remember Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven started at that very moment.
“My heart is racing.” He whispered as he moved in closer.
OMG, his heart was racing for me? Goofy me? Goofy me, the girl who sometimes bites her toenails when alone? The former chubster who used to devour half a king-sized bag Doritos while devouring book after book on Saturday nights?
There’s a lady who’s sure, all that glit-ters is gold
Oh my gahhd, those blue eyes, those sexy lips, and he smells so good
and she’s buyyying the staaaiiirway to heeeaaven
I can’t believe this gorgeous guy is going to kiss me, his lips are really close now!
When she gets there she knows if the stores are all closed..with a word she can get what she came for
Houston, we made contact. OKAY, I can die now.
I will never forget how soft his lips were and how perfect our lips felt together. His breath was awesome (I’m a huge breath fiend..I’m never without gum, tic-tacs, altoids, sprays, drops, you name it). Too bad this wasn’t taking place in 1752 when Ben Franklin was still with us. He wouldn’t have needed a kite and key to get some serious electricity.
Quick digression – I’m trying really hard to keep you all from gagging or hurling from all the lovey-dovey, gushy, mushy stuff, but it’s proving to be pretty impossible. If you feel the need to do any of the above, skip the next paragraph. Thank you.
The world no longer existed outside of this kiss. As it got more passionate, his hands combing through my hair..caressing my face, my left hand entangled in his silky hair, (Okay, cliche coming up) it felt like we were one person. We were definitely kissing until we were 90 because this could never end. In between the passion, he stopped to give me a few baby kisses, then kissed each cheek, my eyelids, and my nose, with a smile. I’d never been kissed like this before! I was used to sloppy, shy and/or awkward kisses, since my first real kiss at the age of 12, from boys my own age. He wasn’t a boy, he was a man, and he really knew what he was doing! All thoughts dissolved as he leaned in for yet another amazing kissing marathon.
Holy cow, nothing, and I mean nothing, existed outside of this moment. He was, hands down, the best thing that had ever happened to me.
How did I get so lucky? I wondered. I must have been a Mother Theresa like figure in another life, or Lassie, alerting people to kids stuck in wells.
We kept kissing, and I was now changed for life. I wonder what color my bridesmaids dresses should be? Oh, I know..cerulean blue, like his eyes. He’d look so hot in a tux.
“WHOA!” He exclaimed as he broke our kiss. He pulled away from me violently, his eyes wide, mouth agape, a look that could be disgust.
OH NO, he hated the way I kissed! He could sense I was 15! He knew about my toenail biting!
I just remembered, there’s two twists. Keep checking back for Bad Boy Love Part Three coming soon, most probably February 6th – honest!.
Now I have an awesome Super Bowl munchie to present to you. I’m a Giants fan, so naturally this is a special Super Bowl Sunday for me, which deserves a special and unique snack. It was created by Christina Tossi of Momofuku Milk Bar fame, but I made a few subtle changes, one of them reducing the milk powder so I could double the malt powder, and the other, doubling the recipe, because you’re going to need a lot of it. In fact, I would triple it, quadruple it! It goes very fast. *By the way, my bad boy was/is a Giant’s fan, not that it matters or anything*.
Let’s Go Giants!!
Malted Pretzel Crunch
Recipe created by Christina Tossi, via Epicurious, with my revisions
4 cups salted mini pretzels – about 1/2 of a 16-ounce bag
1/2 cup tightly packed brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
6 tablespoons milk powder
1/3 cup malted milk powder
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
14 tablespoons butter (1 stick, plus 6 tablespoons), melted
DIRECTIONS: (my blurbs in parenthesis)
1. Preheat the oven to 275 degrees F.
2. Pour the pretzels in a large bowl and crush them with your hands (I threw them in a ziplock bag and hammered them with a mallet – easier, in my opinion) to one-quarter of their original size. Add the milk powder, malt powder, sugar, and salt, toss to mix. Add the butter and toss to coat. As you toss, the butter will act as glue, binding the dry ingredients to the pretzels and creating small clusters. (I did not get small clusters, but once baked, it formed a sheet of pretzel crunch that I broke into pieces).
3. Spread the clusters on a parchment- or silpat-lined sheet pan and bake for 20 minutes, until it looks toasted, smells buttery, and crunches gently when cooled slightly and chewed.
4. Cool the pretzel crunch completely before storing or using in a recipe. Stored in an airtight container at room temperature, the crunch will keep fresh for 1 week; in the fridge or freezer, it will keep for 1 month. (I think these would be fantastic in cookies with chocolate chunks OR pour or drizzle melted chocolate over the top of the sheet of pretzel crunch, let set, then break into pieces – like you would toffee.