Chocolate Covered Tuesday

As I'm sure many of you were probably aware of, and a few remorseful souls were completely oblivious of, Tuesday was Valentine's Day. You know, that special time each year you either:

1) Celebrate the fact that you are with someone that you care so much for that you will buy them lavish gifts like, roses, chocolates, teddy bears, or (for the high rollers) jewelery. Nothing says "I Love You" like credit card debt.

OR

2) "Celebrate" the fact that you are free to do whatever you want whenever you want, like single-handedly eating a half gallon of ice cream in your pajamas while watching "He's Just Not That Into You."  Love: pshh- who needs it.

Last year on Valentine's Day Ben and I were engaged but in two different states. He sent me flowers and I made him some brownies for when I saw him a week later. I remember thinking, "next year we'll do something great because we'll be together." Fast Forward 1 Year- Nichole works 11am to 7pm + Ben works 5pm to 12:30am = not a whole lot of the togetherness. And throw a head cold in the mix and you've got a Valentine's for the record books.

Yet, I was determined to have a great Valentine's day. So I got off work, picked up the car, plopped some Alka-Seltzer Plus and chugged it down, then off to the store! There I found everything on my list plus some. Shortly thereafter I decided that "yeah, sure. I can bake that. everything I've ever baked in the past has failed, but this time it will work." Actually it did! I discovered the secret: Follow the directions like a Nazi soldier and use a cake pan for cakes. Although they are similar, pie pans are not good substitutes. 

The final product was a set of chocolate bowls filled with strawberry flavored whipped cream and fresh strawberries, chocolate covered strawberries, Ferrero Rocher things, sparkling cranberry apple cider, and chocolate strawberry truffle cake (covered in chocolate ganache.) That is a lot of chocolate, people! 
  

So when Ben got home shortly before 1am and saw this:

It's no surprise that we were in a sugar-coma 30 min later.  

{Moral of the story}

Next year: Less Chocolate.