Shit from My Pushy Coworker

Kristy Klein is BACK! I happen to think this recipe is pure (dirty) genius. Happy Lenten rebellion, friends.

When I was growing up Lent meant one thing – no desserts. Unlike other children in the hood (or at catechism – the Wednesday night version of Sunday School), my sister and I were not afforded the opportunity to select our 40 day sacrifice. While my overachieving peers had signed on for 40 days without hitting their siblings, I was stuck in an 8 year old’s nightmare. 40 days and nights without one single Oreo, scoop of ice cream, brownie or jumbo size box of rainbow nerds. Life was rough (but don’t think that I didn’t cheat; I didn’t choose the sacrifice so I figured I was doing Jesus a favor by obeying my parents 90% of the time).

It is my firm belief that this forced sacrifice led me to distrust anyone in a Girl Scout uniform for the better part of my formative years. What, you may ask, do those two things have in common? The answer is: plenty. You see, every January the cute little pig-tailed Girl Scouts would arrive at our front door selling their sugary wares. My favorites at the time were Thin Mints, Samoas and Tag-Alongs so I would casually mark off a few boxes of each. Without fail that same Girl Scout would arrive at our house with her wagon full of cookies on the second day of Lent. She would smile sweetly at my mother and say “Here are your cookies, Mrs. Klein!” and my mother would take the cookies and promptly place them in the back of the freezer for safekeeping until Easter. How rude. How dare she drop those off when she knew that my mother would hide them from me!!! The NERVE!!!

Over the past few years I have learned something very interesting. Girl Scouts don’t sell cookies; their parents do. And their parents work in your office and my office and they are ruthless. They present you with the order form for little Suzy and casually point out that everyone else in the office has purchased at least 5 boxes for themselves and 15 boxes to be sent to the troops in Iraq. What are you supposed to do? Even CNN did a piece on this motley crew. So you make a purchase. Despite the fact that we ordered no more than 1 box of cookies from anyone who wasn’t a niece (and that Mike kept 3 boxes at work for strategic bribing of his 300 pound coworker), Mike and I ended up with 2 boxes of Thin Mints and 2 boxes of Samoas on the kitchen counter.

At this point in my life I would probably thank my mother for hiding those boxes of cookies in the back of her refrigerator. Anything to get them out of my face since I can no longer eat through an entire box of Samoas without being overcome by an immense feeling of guilt… and usually some agita. Rather than dealing with the cookies in a responsible manner, I decided to go the opposite direction and turn them into something disgusting… errrrrr…. delicious. In honor of Mike’s birthday I was inspired to combine Mike’s favorite cookie, the Samoa, with two of his other favorite things: cheesecake and bourbon. So I present to you something that is not for the faint of heart, but something that does allow you to forget that you are consuming an entire box of Samoas.

Mike’s Birthday Bars

1/2 box vanilla cake mix
3 eggs
1 stick of melted butter
1/2 cup flaked coconut
chocolate syrup/fudge
5 oz light cream cheese (to pretend you’re being good)
2 cups powdered sugar (to offset the ‘light’ part of the cream cheese)
2 tbsp Makers Mark bourbon
1 box of Samoas, chopped into chunks

Mix the cake mix, 1 egg and 1/2 of the melted butter. Pour this mixture evenly over the bottom of an 8×8 (or so) baking dish. Cover in shredded coconut and drizzle lightly with chocolate syrup/fudge. Using your stick blender to blend together the cream cheese and 2 remaining eggs. Gradually add in the powdered sugar (so as not to create a thin layer of white dust all over your kitchen) and remaining butter and blend until smooth. Stir in the bourbon and Entire Box of Samoas. Stick that bad boy in a 350-degree oven for about an hour. You’ll know it is done when the sides are sufficiently brown but the middle is still a bit jiggly- not too jiggly- but enough that it will move a little when you set the pan down. Allow everything to settle for about 30 minutes. Prepare for your sugar coma.

My final word goes out to the dedicated Girl Scouts of America: I am terribly sorry for blaming you for all these years.

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