twd: chocolate-chocolate cupcakes

a single scary cupcake...

As I mentioned in my last post, the chocolate-chocolate cupcakes were the finishing touch to the first annual Wine Club gathering at Chez Dharmagirl...I imagined and inspired commingling of chocolate and pinot noir, as both meld heartbreak and bliss...

Friday night I mulled over the decorating possibilities, and reading Dorie's suggestions for filling the cupcakes with marshmallow cream put me in mind of a Martha Stewart cake creation, filled with 'mallowy meringue and a profusion of cute ghosts fashioned out of multi-sized marshmallows...

And so it was that I headed home from the store with a bag of classic jet puffed marshmallows, a bag of mini's, and a jar of cream (otherwise affectionately known as fluff). Buying commercial marshmallows forces me to willfully suspend my disbelief, or at least overlook my objections to these puffy delights on the grounds of vegetarianism (gelatin) and whole-unprocessed-foods-ism (corn syrup, likely of the high fructose variety). I know you can find vegan alternatives, gourmet products, or make your own...but when you have a bevy of tiny ghosts to make and you live in a small town some distance from gourmet foodstuffs, sometimes you have to compromise food values.

I set about making the cupcakes, selected for the indefatigable TWD bakers by Clara of I♥foodforthought. They came together nicely, and I was eager to taste the batter--a delicate yet rich, bright chocolate flavor, more nuanced than my standard 6 minute chocolate cupcakes from the Moosewood Cookbook. I poured my best chocolate into these cakes, using my the last of my Valrhona cocoa powder and bar chocolate. I baked them a tad long, as they were a bit dry, a problem many other bakers experienced. I take full responsibility for not checking them soon enough. I stripped the cupcake papers, filled their centers with the aforementioned fluff, and topped them with the shiny glaze.

As I talked to my college friend E., catching up on months of news, I fashioned 36 diminutive specters, drawing on eyes with leftover glaze. Arranged on stacked cake plates, the ghoulish cupcakes looked more kitschy than scary.

When my friends arrived, they marveled at all the little marshmallow ghosts and likely wondered at my sanity. What I realized an hour into the ghost assembling process is how much I love doing fancy detail work, and how I only seem to spend the extra time for a big event, like Wine Club or the holidays. I'd like to change that, and to allow my full creativity time to flourish. I suspect that the baking creative spirit will invigorate my writing and vice versa, much as it did when I was writing my dissertation those several years ago when I began baking in earnest...

As I look ahead to November and my participation in NaNoWriMo, I need all the inspiration I can find, through Dorie and Martha and, mostly, through all y'all:)


a towering ghoulish mass...

return to race day

chicago half marathon, october 2006


Yesterday morning I laced up my trusty asics, grabbed my iPod shuffle, and drove to a local park to meet my friends B, K, and J for my return to "competitive" running...

My last race was October 1, 2006, when I ran the Chicago half marathon. Since then, my running has mostly fizzled out. This fall, however, my friend H and I decided we would run together two mornings a week, and soon I felt the peaceful easiness returning to my feet and lungs.

And so when I heard of this local race, I recruited a few of my guy friends who run to join a team with me...

And so on a chilly, colorful autumn morning, we set forth, battling winds, gravel hills, and the stench of a petting zoo (seriously. the trail wound behind the local zoo). I quickly lost sight of my friends and was fairly certain I was the last person in the pack, but I paid no mind...

This is your motivation to train longer, and harder. To make fitness a true priority once again. This is your moment to realize you don't have to be first, and you can even be last. To be in the now, to breathe, to know that all things change constantly.

As I picked my way up the steep gravel hill, I heard my friends cheering me on: "You're almost there! Keep it up!"

I rounded a corner and hit the straight away. The clock came in sight: 29:39. I can actually make it under 30 minutes! I sprinted to the finish line, with a race time of 29:50. Not anywhere near my best time, but so much faster than I thought I would be after such a long hiatus.

And, imagine my surprise to receive a 3rd place medal for my age group (okay, so there were only 4 people in my age group...). And, my team, the Hillside Hipsters, won first place in the team division, thanks to our ringer, J, who ran the race in 18:05. K and B ran in the mid 20s to round out our stunning finish (in the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that there was only one other team). We're already planning to enter another race in December--the question is whether I should run the 2 mile race or the 5 mile race...

heartbreak grape + brie en croute

brie en croute with homemade raspberry jam

My friends/colleagues spent many idle moments last year discussing our plans for a book club...we mentioned books we would like to read, shared horror stories of other book clubs we've known, and then proceeded to forget to make any plans. This summer my friend H. gave me an Andrea Immer Wine Tasting DVD and I decided that the solution to the book club inertia was to change the shared medium. Hence, Wine Club was born.

Last night was our inaugural session and since I was the host, I selected the wine varietal--Pinot Noir--and provided the snacks. I spent all afternoon making marshmallow ghosts á la Martha Stewart to top Dorie's chocolate cupcakes (you'll have to wait for tomorrow for the entire entry). And then, I created my very first Brie en Croute...

I used David Leite's recipe, which uses frozen puff pastry, and I used a supermarket Brie--the Light Brie from President. In another moment of Martha inspiration, I brandished my mini leaf cookie cutters and decorated the edge of the pastry with autumn's finest leaves. When the puffed, golden pastry encrusted cheese came out of the oven, I topped it with my homemade raspberry jam. Stunning in presentation and utterly simple in execution--party perfection!

My friends arrived, bearing bottles of Pinot Noir and even more cheeses (this is Wisconsin after all). We toasted the evening with a bottle of Larry Mawby's sparkling Wet, and then filled my living room to watch the inimitable Andrea Immer give us a brief history of this finicky, sensitive grape. Although the information was useful and interesting, the bubbles had already gone to our heads and we couldn't take a word she said seriously and spent most of the video taking her words out of context...merriment ensued.

We opened the four bottles of Pinot Noir and tasted them in turn while noshing on the various cheeses, crackers, dips, and olives. Laughter and warmth overflowed, and we managed to keep work talk to a minimum (something that is not always easy when we're together).

At the end of the evening, we enjoyed the cupcakes, and planned our next gathering, to be held at B and M's home between the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.

Viva la Wine Club!

recipe: almond and michigan dried cherry biscotti

At long last, here is my favorite biscotti recipe. My best friend S's cousin J shared it with me after serving these rich, flavorful treats one summer morning. This recipe makes enough biscotti to send to far flung friends...or you can halve it and have enough biscotti to share with your family and/or co-workers. Enjoy!

3 3/4 c. all purpose flour (I use King Arthur, unbleached)
2 1/2 c sugar
4 eggs + 2 egg yolks
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. almond extract (I use Penzeys)
2 c. raw almonds, roughly chopped and toasted
3/4 c. softened butter
1/2 c. dried cherries or cranberries (I generally use more so the biscotti are chock full of fruity goodness)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Prepare a baking sheet or two. I use parchment paper; you could use a silpat or butter and flour the sheet.

Place flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl; make a well in the center of the bowl.

Place eggs, yolks, butter, and flavorings into the well; combine into a sticky dough.

Work in the almonds until the dough is smooth; add the cherries. Knead for 5 minutes.

Roll dough into logs 2 1/2 inches wide and 10 inches long. If you like larger biscotti, make the logs wider. I usually flatten the logs a bit before baking.

Bake the logs for 40 minutes; remove from the oven and cool for 10 minutes. Reduce the heat to 325 degrees. Cut the logs diagonally. Place cookies on their sides, and return to the oven for 15 minutes. Cool.

Enjoy with your favorite mug of rich, dark coffee.

twd: pumpkin muffins

an autumn still life


Something about this time of year, when the wind whips the remaining leaves on the hardwoods into a golden frenzy, when temperatures dive close to freezing at night, when I change my summer bedding for primaloft and flannel, when I hold more tightly onto pockets of sunny warmth and vibrant color makes me nostalgic.

Sunday afternoon I drove to S-town to purchase a few sundries from Target and to snap up any deals at TJ Maxx. Listening to Simon and Garfunkel's greatest hits as I drove down the highway, I noticed the increasing paucity of leaves and the unmistakable thrust of bare branches. There's no more denying that autumn is upon us, and, in this little corner of the world, about to succumb to winter. My mind started ranging over losses--far flung friends who I talk to sporadically, former friends who are now strangers, and those who have passed on. Suddenly I wanted to be driving to meet my best friend S. at Starbucks in Eastwood Towne Center. I thought of our Sunday evening rituals two falls ago when we would share tears as well as coffee as every week brought worse news about S's father, who was losing a battle with liver cancer. But, alas, S. lives a state and a half away, and that Starbucks was closed in the massive shop closure several months ago. Loss.

I wandered around the stores drinking a tall vanilla latte, my classic 'bucks brew, and stopped at my favorite grocery store to buy the Libby pumpkin and chocolate chips I needed to make this week's TWD creation, pumpkin muffins, courtesy of Kelly of Sounding My Barbaric Gulp. I drove home and returned to the prosaic act of grading student essays (rhetorical analyses, always a horror) to bring my thoughts away from Autumnal Sadness and into English Professor Confoundment and Indignation.

And yet, these autumnal tracings lingered, bouncing around my head in lines of poetry I still remember from Humanities class in high school, some 17+ years ago:

Spring and Fall, to a Young Child
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

MÁRGARÉT, áre you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, líke the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Áh! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

And, tonight, as I baked the muffins after a frustrating day at work, Shakespeare's Sonnet 73, a favorite from Dr O's class at A. College:

THAT time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day 5
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, 10
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.


I mixed together the muffins as I talked to a colleague about foodie and English topics. I used white whole wheat flour--incidentally, you can replace it almost without altering the amount, with the only noticeable change being a bit more "crunchy" texture. And, following the suggestions on the TWD site, I used chocolate chips, the bittersweet Ghiradelli ones, as my add in.

The muffins are a delight--I baked them last year, using pumpkin I "rendered" from an adorable little pie pumpkin, and adding dried cranberries and candied ginger for jewel like touches. I like this year's version better--the consistency of the canned pumpkin is more to my liking (a difficult admission for this whole-foods slow-food foodie to make).

And lest you all be concerned about the melancholic turn of this post, and particularly the bittersweet poetry, fear not. Turning to poetry always signals to me a resurgence of creativity, a determination to seek out the best, to attempt new leaps of faith, and to revel in the beauty of the fleeting moment. As I watch the leaves cascade and the geese fly, I prepare myself for that first magical swirl of snowflakes, of floral frost etchings on my windows, of endless mugs of hot chocolate, soft fleece blankets, and a kitchen and pen full of inspiration.


the excess muffin batter in my favorite paper baking "pans"

twd: lenox almond biscotti

chocolate almond biscotti, intelligentsia coffee, and my favorite black dog cafe mug


When I was working on my Master's degree at Michigan State, I took a fiction writing class for fun. I dreamed up the perfect heroine, named her Aurora (hoping to conjure up allusions to Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poetic bildüngsroman Aurora Leigh), and placed her into fun situations, like playing saucy scrabble matches and munching homemade biscotti with the inscrutable, Kerouac-esque hero Sam.

A few months later, I moved to Auburn, Alabama to work on my Doctorate. Fiction writing courses weren't in my immediate schedule, and so I was thrilled to find a group of women who met every few weeks to workshop creative writing. With great nervousness and trepidation, I printed out eight copies of the Aurora stories and distributed them to the group. They liked the saucy scrabble game, and thought Sam was a suitable hero. But Aurora? She wasn't real. She made her own biscotti, and, really, who did that?

I do! I protested, revealing that the line between fact and fiction was slim at best.

I still make my own biscotti (and still write my heroines as bakers)...Double Chocolate Walnut; Dried Cherry and Almond; Lemon Poppyseed.

This week, TWD baked the Lenox Almond Biscotti, thanks to Gretchen of Canela & Comino. I decided that my playing around would take the form of chocolate chunks and slivers mixed in with the sliced almonds and almond extract. I used white whole wheat flour, without a noticeable difference. The biscotti spread out so much in the pan I was worried they would be too flat, but they turned out alright. After the second baking, the biscotti were still a little soft, so I decided to crisp them up again. This recipe includes cornmeal, which heightens the crunch and textural dimension of the cookies, and also, somehow, makes them seem a little more rustic. I like it, but I still prefer my Dried Cherry and Almond biscotti for overall flavor and texture.

Biscotti are easy to make, and a perfect treat because they last so long out on the counter (unless, of course, you have many hungry eaters roaming your kitchen). They're a moment of joy to accompany that afternoon cup of coffee, and maybe, they'll give you flights of fictional fantasy and help you connect to your inner Aurora--that slightly cooler, more endearing, and quirkily charming version of yourself who is ready to march through the pages of a novel, offering biscotti and poetry to all she meets.

baking, chefing, and chick lit

So I'm currently working on a project looking at baking and/or chefing heroines in Chick Lit novels. Do any of you dear readers have any book suggestions for me? Thanks in advance for any titles you can give me ♥

lasagna and autumnal musings

Fall continues to assert itself, with a profusion of colors, wildly fluctuating temperatures, and a certain distinctive quality to the air. As I step through crinkly leaves, I think of the song "This Time of Year" by Better than Ezra, evoking languorous Friday afternoons and football games. And when I think of football, I think of the Auburn Tigers: war damn eagle. Six years of graduate school, often tortuous, lonely, and hot, are now fading into blissful, social, and temperate as reality melts into memory...

Now that I live back in the upper Midwest, fall comes on a little stronger, a feisty coquette. And, though it's blasphemy, I don't follow Big Ten teams OR the Packers.

Instead, I measure seasons in my kitchen. Simple sautes and salads with fresh nearly raw ingredients give way to slow cooked soups and hearty pasta dishes. And so, tonight, inspired by fresh ricotta from Il Ritrovo and fresh mozzarella from Nala's Fromagerie, as well as abundant spinach and red bell peppers, I make lasagna. I bake enough to tuck away in the freezer for the even colder nights to come.

butternut squash soup + bittman's biscuits

Today was a gorgeous autumn day--warm-ish temperatures, lilting breeze, multi-colored leaves lining the sidewalk, and nearly imperceptible waves washing up on the shore. After a long walk, during which I listened to a podcast of The Splendid Table and counted political signs (18 to 3), I set about transforming a ginormous butternut squash into soup. The first winter squash of the season...

I sauteed onion and garlic in olive oil and then added cubed raw squash, salt, pepper, fresh sage, and water to cover. Bubble, bubble, toil, and trouble dissolved along with the squash as it veritably melted in the pot. I made a salad with roasted chick peas, shaved carrots, and red bibb lettuce, topped with Wisconsin Parm and balsamic vinaigrette. And, I mixed up a batch of Mark Bittman's yogurt biscuits.

Before dipping into the soup, I drizzled it with honey, walnut oil, and a few chopped walnuts. Quick, simple, and tasty. A crisp, minerally sauvignon blanc would've been a most lovely accompaniment, but, alas, I only have a bottle of L. Mawby Wet, which begs for company...won't you join me?

locavore potluck + fighting the return to the produce aisle

Tonight was the final event of my campus' Locavore Challenge, two weeks of mindful local eating. I was impressed with the student turn out tonight, and the quiet joy of sharing our favorite foods with one another. By the end of the night, one student and one faculty member were named winners--they'll receive a Green Label Organics t-shirt of their choice. And, still later, we shared stories of childhood foraging and berry picking whilst swapping recipes.

I brought a simple apple crisp, as well as two tiny apple galettes and one jar of my homemade strawberry jam to give to the contest judges in thanks for their service.

I think the Locavore Challenge and programming was successful--on our campus reaching just a small handful of people is, unfortunately, a mark of impressive engagement. I had several thoughtful conversations with students about food issues, and connected with several of my colleagues on a more personal level through the process of planning and attending these events. And yet, I'm glad it's done. I need to think of a new Green Program, but for now, I'm taking a break.

And yet, I feel a deeper melancholy these days as farm stands close for the season and the first tentative fingers of frost creep over the gardens in the deep hours of night. My cucumber plants are finished, though the grape tomato plant is still laden with tiny green fruits. My geranium is gone--removed by my landord's son when he came to "winterize" the yard and porch. I missed last week's farmers' market and am scared at what little I'll find this Saturday. I'm not ready to transition to California veggies just yet. I need a few weeks of local late fall veggies first--broccoli, cauliflower, roasted root vegetables, and, my favorite, homemade butternut squash ravioli in brown butter and sage sauce...

twd: caramel peanut topped brownie cake

someday I will own a digital camera and take better foodie photos...


Coffee hour is an old-fashioned, even quaint concept--a tradition of building connections, of taking time out of a busy day to slow down over mugs of steaming java, whilst noshing a little something sweet. My friend B. started the school year with a big box of Starbucks coffee he brought in, and last week we decided it was time to bring in more outside coffee (industrial strength as opposed to the novice level served in our cafeteria). We also decided to make Coffee Hour a true event, complete with treats and a formal invitation. We invited all the instructional staff on our hallway and a few colleagues from other buildings who come to our hall to socialize. Though our campus is tiny, people tend to tread well-worn paths to the office, the cafeteria, and the classrooms. Our hall, located next to the gym and past the large lecture hall, doesn't see much incidental traffic. We wanted to reward those who made the trek on purpose.

I decided to bake this week's TWD selection, the caramel peanut topped brownie cake selected by Tammy of Wee Treats by Tammy, early, and so Wednesday night I was scrounging around my chocolate drawer to see what I could find. An 85% Lindt bar would have to do. Unsalted peanuts would work. I had cream left over from the creme brûlée last week. I also found a 6 inch springform pan I had forgotten about, so I greased, floured, and papered it and a wee 4 inch pan for the excess.

Since the cake is true to its name and a brownie style cake that doesn't see a mixer, the batter came together quickly, and in no time the scent of warm chocolate, that most comforting of fragrances, wafted through the house. Once again, I was grading papers, and checking the cake intermittently. The springform cake burned just around the edges--I belatedly remembered the rule about lowering the temperature 25 degrees for dark baking pans. Once the cake cooled, I used my new tomato knife (thanks, Grandma!) to trim off the burned edges, ridges, and even bottom. I hoped that with enough caramel topping, the cake would seem moist and perfect. I also suspected that hoping for the caramel alone to transform what I knew to be a slightly dry cake was akin to putting lipstick on a pig...

I left the student papers behind and set about making the aforementioned caramel. I love making caramel, though I'm always scared that I'll miss the crucial moment and burn the sugar into a disastrous mess. Caramel making, along with any kind of candy creation (besides the too-easy -to-be-believed ganache truffles) is a lesson in patience, in faith, and in observation. I could have cooked mine a tad longer, but I erred on the side of caution. The caramel took a good deal longer than Dorie suggested to turn a golden brown, but eventually it did, and I added the cream and butter to glorious effervescence. I ran my finger around the edge of the spatula and tasted one cooling dollop--like the buttery softness of my favorite cashmere sweater on the first nippy day of fall. I poured the peanuts in the caramel, gave it a swirl, and then spooned the nut studded topping on the brownie cake.

The next morning, my colleagues and I set up the coffee boxes in B's office, and the table full of sweets--naturally--in my office. We pulled chairs into the hallway, and tucked in for enough coffee and treats to arrive at our first morning classes with the java-sugar-jitters. Our conversation ranged near--the local geology of our campus and region--and far--relationship dynamics and who does the baking. Since then, everyone wants to know when our next Coffee Hour will be.

Incidentally, I toted the tiny 4 inch cake to Chicago to share with my best friends--we met for a weekend of shopping, eating, and sitting in coffee shops. After hitting Pops for Champagne, a truly sparkling bar, we headed back to the apartment where we were staying. We ate the cake with plastic forks as we watched the opening sketch on Saturday Night Live, then fell asleep, with sweet dreams for all.

happy birthday, bliss!

Hooray--today is the two year anniversary of my first tentative post.

I'll share (again) this beautiful cake, Dorie's Perfect Party Cake, page 250 of BFMHTY, with y'all in honor of this special day.

creme brûlée, part two: the truth about creme brûlée

Oh, for that first bit of creme brûlée: a marvel, a wonder. The complex interplay of hard and soft, hot and cold. The luxurious simplicity, the purity of flavor, the elemental richness, and utter too-too muchness...

And yet. Its seeming facility belies the potential for disaster: a failure of the elements to commingle, a custard that won't set, a crust that won't harden.

The danger of consuming creme brûlée with abandon, without context, and with--horror of horrors--artificiality or false pretense.

But, oh, when it's done right, it's sheer transcendence, ineluctable bliss, utter harmony.

twd: creme brûlée, part one

pre-bruleed espresso custard

Florida heat shimmered outside in counterpoint to the air conditioning blasting inside. A group of five diverse grad school friends, tense after two days of Fort Walton Beach escapades, sat down for a lovely meal at a restaurant whose name escapes me. The tranquil, marine themed ambience soothed the jagged edges of a too-long mini-break with too-many strong-willed women.

My friend S. ordered creme brûlée for dessert, and when it appeared, crackling and beckoning from its shallow ramekin, I edged my spoon closer. The magic of that crack of the sugar crust and the give of the custard, the pure vanilla bliss of that first bite, revealed a whole new world beyond cakes and pies and cookies. I was smitten.

Over the years I've baked creme brûlée at home with mixed success--the trick of any custard is tempering and not scrambling the eggs. Dining out, I used creme brulee as a litmus test of restaurants' dessert menu.

And so, this week's TWD recipe, a classic creme brûlée, chosen by Mari of Mevrouw Cupcake, revived memories of creme brûlées past. I decided to follow Dorie's recipe and cooking directions fairly closely to see if her method was more successful than hot stove top stirring and water baths of my previous attempts at creating a perfect custard.

I made just a few modifications:
1. I halved the recipe and set out three small porcelain ramekins
2. I followed the espresso variation, dissolving instant espresso rather than infusing the milk with freshly ground beans
3. I used one yolk from a jumbo farm fresh egg
4. I used skim milk in place of whole

Because of these changes, the custard didn't set quite as firmly as I would've liked, but Dorie's directions, unsurprisingly, produced the smoothest custard I've ever made. I'll definitely follow her tempering directions again.

I refrigerated the individual custards after baking, and last night after dinner I set one out to warm slightly before sprinkling with raw sugar and sticking under the broiler, as my kitchen torch is on the fritz.

I watched and waited, moving the ramekin with tongs to evenly brown under the broiler. The sugar crystals slowly fused into a slick, caramel expanse.

I hovered over the dish with my spoon, awaiting that magical moment of cracking the crust...

fabulous. The slight bitter acidity of the espresso contrasted and even accented the voluptuousness of the custard in a way that pure vanilla does not. I fought the temptation to a) lick the inside of the ramekin and b) fire up the broiler for another serving.

Dorie's recipe for creme brûlée is simple and rewarding--sheer elegance and depth of flavor achieved with minimal labor. Another delicious revelation!


creme brûlée bliss

locavore quiche tart

quiche tart, prior to baking

My campus began a Locavore Challenge on Wednesday, and I've been wracked by guilt--I haven't been stretching beyond my pre-existing local boundaries. Eating locally is in some ways harder for vegetarians like myself; while we have lovely grassfed, organic, free range beef and chicken in these parts, local soy products, dried beans, and nuts have been nearly impossible to find.

And so today, with a little extra time, and an egg white left over from making this week's TWD recipe, creme brulee, I set about to make a quiche in my yet unused tart pan. (I lost my pan somewhere in the last year's two moves).

I made a simple Pate Brisee crust, roasted garlic, and caramelized onions with fresh thyme. I wilted handfuls of spinach, sliced roasted peppers, thinly sliced smallish tomatoes, grated stravecchio (wisconsin parmesan style cheese), and chiffonaded basil.

After freezing and then blind baking the tart crust, I assembled the tart. I slipped it into the oven and headed back to the business of answering work emails and preparing for another week of classes.


quiche tart, in its golden, baked splendor

I served the tart with roasted yukon gold potatoes and roasted broccoli. The only items in the entire meal not locally produced and sourced: flour, olive oil, salt, pepper, red pepper flakes. A vegetarian locavore success!



a delicious locavore feast

romance and locavores

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I'm taking a break from baking and baking blogging today to share some exciting news: two fun presentations this week!

1. On Friday I'm giving a talk at my College on popular romance fiction, my current research (and creative) specialty and interest. I'm hoping to share my enthusiasm for the genre and to "redeem" this genre in the face of common charges of formula fiction that's simply wish fulfillment fantasy written by "the damned mob of scribbling women" (said by Nathaniel Hawthorne about the 19th century domestic novelists like Fanny Fern, whose books were outselling his, but echoed in many a review and casual conversation even today). I'm making some classic ganache truffles and bringing sparkling wine, and a friend is making other romantic treats.

2. I've been asked to speak at our farmers' market on Saturday on our campus green initiatives, particularly our Locavore Challenge that starts tomorrow! I'm so excited--I love the farmers' market and I'm so passionate about local foods. I'm also thrilled to represent my school and to hopefully build positive connections between the campus and the community.

p.s. dimply peach cake...

...tastes caramelly from the brown sugar, and rich from the organic valley pasture butter. The cake puffs up around the sunny peaches, which cook just enough that they're soft but intact. What a lovely before bed snack with a mug of strong Cafe Fair French Roast decaf coffee. Good night, y'all ♥

twd: dimply peach cake

And, here I am again raving about peaches...

Friday night after we drove back to my parents house from the ferry dock, Mom surprised Dad and I with a delicious little nectarine galette. On Saturday, Mom and I were too busy soaking up the late and next-to-last summer sunshine to fuss with pastry and a full blown peach pie. Instead, we made a peach crisp to follow a dinner of farmer's market veggies and Grandpa's stories.

Today I carried a heavy paper grocery bag filled with Michigan fruits and veggies on the car ferry, and when I stepped off on the other side of the Lake feeling a little blue, and a little alone, I decided to use some of the peaches Mom sent home with me to make this week's TWD recipe: Dimply Plum Cake, chosen by Michelle of Bake-en. Dorie suggests peaches as an acceptable alteration.

I buttered and floured my favorite and under-used green Emile Henri pie plate, since my 8 inch baking dish is at a friend's house. I set about mixing the dry ingredients and allowing the cold ingredients to reach room temperature while I washed, peeled, and halved the peaches.

I decided that today was a day to dip into my Organic Ancient Snow Sprout Green Tea, a special occasion tea (read: ridiculously expensive) that I purchased at Great Lakes Tea and Spice in Glen Arbor, Michigan earlier this summer. This shop is actually two little refurbished "out buildings," which are charmingly and simply equipped with shelves of tea and spices and various high tech tea machines and quaint pots. Besides the high quality tea, the best part about the shop is the proprietor, who brewed a pot of the aforementioned tea for us, shared its story, and generally left us--no, not H, because she is happily married (as is, I should mention, Tea Guy), but rather ME--smitten.

And such a lovely green tea asked to be steeped and served in an authentic cast iron Japanese tea pot, so I dug that out too. I eschewed my Japanese tea cups in favor of my pretty, cottagey, vintage Johnson Brothers Rose Chintz tea cup and saucer. I brought the water to a boil, then removed it from the heat for 3 minutes. I poured the hot water over the full tea petals, and allowed it to steep for 8 minutes.

I set about whirling the butter and sugar and eggs and flavorings together, and finished assembling the cake as my tea reached perfection.

I turned on the Americana radio station on my new digital cable and relaxed to Alison Krauss and Shawn Mullins.

I pushed the cake in the oven, sipped my tea, and made a batch of Mark Bittman's crunchy granola for the week: oats, flax meal, walnuts, coconut, dried cherries, maple syrup, and vanilla.




My house is toasty, and while grey skies and fog linger outside, inside I have the clarity of a Bodhisattva.

fruit flies and peach pies

peach watercolor painting, circa 1895, courtesy of wikipedia


I've been craving peach pie now that peaches are in season. Several years ago--more like 5 or 6, when I was still living in Alabama and visits with family in Michigan were sparse-- my Mom and I made a scrumptious peach pie. Something about that pie, that time spent together, and the sweet card that Mom sent me afterwards, when I was back in the sweltering South, lingers in every bite of peach pie I've eaten since.

Last Saturday I bought 25 peaches at the farmers' market. Our peach person sets up big boxes of peaches, arranged by variety, and a big stack of paper bags, and people line up to fill the bag with however many peaches fit their fancy. I like this system--some weeks are a 7 peach week and others, like this week, are 25 peach weeks.

My intention was to make a pie and to freeze some peaches for a chilly winter day.

Then the first rhino virus of the season descended (incidentally, just in time for the first round of one-on-one meetings with my freshmen composition students. coincidence? i think not, when considering this has happened with a fair degree of regularity the past 4 fall semesters...). The peaches sat on the counter, happy in brown paper bags. I used one each morning, sliced and cooked with my oatmeal.

Pie seemed a little too touchy-feely for a girl with cold germs--I'm firmly in the blend-the-crust-with-your-fingers camp of crust making.

But today, I unrolled the bag: fruit flies! One overripe peach had sprouted mold, so I removed all the peaches from the bag and decided to make a quick peach crisp. I followed Mark Bittman's recipe for the crisp topping, using the oat variation with maple syrup and a lot less butter. Since he suggests blending the topping with a mixer or food processor, I could rest easy knowing my crisp was prepared under the best hygienic conditions for someone with a stuffy head and scratchy throat. I added cinnamon, vanilla, whole wheat flour, and a touch of nutmeg.

**I also want to rave about the butter I found at the Woodlake Market: Organic Valley Pasture Butter, limited edition, available in a half pound. A brighter yellow than most butters, it is also fragrant and extra creamy.**

Back to the crisp...it was delicious and peachy and rather virtuous for a dessert, but I'm still dreaming of pie. Peach pie.

I'm heading to Michigan for a short visit with my family this weekend, and just maybe Mom and I can take to the kitchen and make another baking memory together.

twd: chocolate chunkers

dharmagirl with a bowlful of chocolate chunkers

Friday afternoon grey skies threatened rain and temperatures plummeted, marking a clear transition to FALL. I'm still dreaming of summer, and these early fall days bring a certain amount of sadness. To combat my blues, I headed to the Weather Center Cafe for a steaming bowl of soup and a creamy cafe au lait. I read through a stack of rough drafts and started drafting another blog entry.

Then, I went to the Woodlake Market, one of my favorite grocery stores in the region. It's a favorite because of their chocolate selection--Scharffen Berger bars, Vosges mini bars--their wine selection--and their wide array of Alterra coffee. I was in search of a decent unsweetened and white chocolate for this week's recipe, from Claudia of Fool for Food, Chocolate Chunkers. I had hoped for Scharffen Berger unsweetened chocolate, but settled for Ghiradelli.

I mixed up the dough on Saturday, starting with chopping all that chocolate--6 oz. of bittersweet (Lindt excellence); 1 oz. unsweetened (the aforementioned Ghiradelli); 3 oz. milk chocolate (Scharffenberger); and 3 oz. white (Ghiradelli). I toasted walnuts, and splashed a cup of craisins with a little Maker's Mark to push the cookies a bit over the top. The dough came together easily and tasted like a loaded brownie. I let it chill for an hour or so, and then set out baking.

Once again, I established a rhythm of filling the cookie trays, reading student essays while they baked, and then starting the cycle over again as I emptied the cookie tray and filled it again.

On Sunday I shared the cookies with my friend B and her sister M who's visiting from California. We sipped coffee and tea, munched on these delicious, lovely textured, and completely chocolate cookies while talking politics and forgetting about the never-ending rain outside.

This TWD adventure has been a joy, connecting me to other baking bloggers, but also connecting me to my friends and colleagues through the fruits of my labor. And, I'm enjoying trying new recipes that I would probably admire but never actually bake. So far I've enjoyed all the cookies I've baked, but this week's cookies are a real winner. Next time I'll use pecans and dried cherries, and hunt down all Scharffen Berger chocolate.

veggie one hundred

The Vegetarian Hundred from Barbara at Tigers and Strawberries

Bold any items you've eaten, and strike through any items you'd never eat (okay, the Safari version of blogger does not allow strike-throughs, so I shall italicize items I'll never eat).

Have fun!

1. Real macaroni and cheese, made from scratch and baked: the ultimate comfort food
2. Tabouleh: fresh and summery
3. Freshly baked bread, straight from the oven (preferably with homemade strawberry jam): i once made brioche, which takes 2 days, loads of butter, and a powerful kitchen aid mixer
4. Fresh figs
5. Fresh pomegranate
6. Indian dal of any sort: i really want to play around with indian food more this fall and winter
7. Imam bayildi
8. Pressed spiced Chinese tofu
9. Freshly made hummus: yummm. i make a white bean hummus.
10. Tahini
11. Kimchi
12. Miso
13. Falafel: i really wish that we had a falafel joint around here
14. Potato and pea filled samosas
15. Homemade yogurt
16. Muhammara
17. Brie en croute: a favorite of mine at Beggar's Banquet in East Lansing, Michigan
18. Spanikopita
19. Fresh, vine-ripened heirloom tomatoes: from my favorite farmers
20. Insalata caprese: pure summer
21. Stir-fried greens (gai lan, bok choi, pea shoots, kale, chard or collards): i love chard!
22. Freshly made salsa: i make an avocado and grape tomato salsa with a touch of red onion
23. Freshly made guacamole: one of the few non-local staples in my kitchen
24. Creme brulee: hahaha. my friends and i have an elaborate creme brulee joke:)
25. Fava beans
26. Chinese cold sesame peanut noodles: something i've always wanted to try
27. Fattoush
28. New potatoes
29. Coleslaw
30. Ratatouille
31. Baba ganoush
32. Winter squash: i love butternut squash soup and ravioli in late fall and winter
33. Roasted beets: but i don't like them
34. Baked sweet potatoes: with a little olive oil and sea salt
35. Plantains
36. Chocolate truffles: i make these for special occasions, and often for christmas gifts
37. Garlic mashed potatoes
38. Fresh water chestnuts
39. Steel cut oats
40. Quinoa
41. Grilled portabello mushroom: i don't really like them, though
42. Chipotle en adobo
43. Stone ground whole grain cornmeal: my friend M sends me a bag of fresh stone ground grits from georgia every fall
44. Freshly made corn or wheat tortillas
45. Frittata
46. Basil pesto
47. Roasted garlic
48. Raita of any type
49. Mango lassi
50. Jasmine rice (white or brown)
51. Thai vegetarian coconut milk curry: one of my favorite foods that i don't eat often enough
52. Pumpkin in any form other than pie: pumpkin soup, pumpkin lasagna
53. Fresh apple pear or plum gallette: and how about peach?
54. Quince in any form
55. Escarole, endive or arugula: arugula with parm slivers, salt, pepper, and lemony olive oil dressing
56. Sprouts other than mung bean
57. Naturally brewed soy sauce
58. Dried shiitake mushrooms
59. Unusually colored vegetables (purple cauliflower, blue potatoes, chocolate bell peppers…)
60. Fresh peach ice cream
61. Chevre
62. Medjool dates
63. Kheer
64. Flourless chocolate cake: i am a master of chocolate baking:)
65. Grilled corn on the cob
66. Black bean (or any other bean) vegetarian chili
67. Tempeh
68. Seitan or wheat gluten
69. Gorgonzola or any other blue veined cheese
70. Sweet potato fries
71. Homemade au gratin potatoes: number 2 comfort food
72. Cream of asparagus soup
73. Artichoke-Parmesan dip
74. Mushroom risotto
75. Fermented black beans
76. Garlic scapes
77. Fresh new baby peas
78. Kalamata olives
79. Preserved lemons
80. Fried green tomatoes: southern classic
81. Chinese scallion pancakes
82. Cheese souffle
83. Fried apples
84. Homemade frijoles refritos
85. Pasta fagiole: winter staple
86. Macadamia nuts in any form
87. Paw paw in any form
88. Grilled cheese sandwich of any kind
89. Paneer cheese
90. Ma Po Tofu (vegetarian style–no pork!)
91. Fresh pasta in any form
92. Grilled leeks, scallions or ramps
93. Green papaya salad
94. Baked grain and vegetable stuffed tomatoes
95. Pickled ginger
96. Methi greens
97. Aloo paratha
98. Kedgeree (the original Indian version without the smoked fish, not the British version with fish)
99. Okra: coated with corn meal and pan fried, yummm.
100. Roasted brussels sprouts

blueberry season

blueberries, courtesy of wikipedia


In late July through early August, the sky buzzes with the whine of perilously low flying crop dusters and the groan of irrigation pumps. Welcome to rural western Michigan blueberry country, nestled between sand dunes and flat land. The sun burns bright and warm, turning the fields dusty and dry. The air smells of harvest--berries, corn, a hint of Lake Michigan--taking me back to childhood and those summers shaped by berry picking...



This was no idyllic time, even through my genuinely idealistic, optimistic child's view of the world. I longed for cool, rainy days when I could read with abandon, draw dress designs, or go back-to-school shopping at Rogers Department Store in nearby Grand Rapids.

Instead, long summer mornings and afternoons of my childhood were filled with field time. In the early days, my family and I composed the work crew. I even remember one afternoon that only grandma and I were in the field, picking berries and telling stories. As the fields multiplied and grew--from our off season work potting and planting new blueberry bushes--our labor force also grew. Neighborhood kids not working at another farm, kids from the now defunct Port Sheldon Presbyterian Church, and friends from school strapped buckets to their waists, eager to earn $.22 per pound. With a group of peers joining me in the field, picking became less of a chore and more of a social occasion. As the farmer's daughter/granddaughter, I thought I had special immunity from grandpa's gruff warnings and rules. When he yelled at my cousins I realized it was because of my follow-the-rules-don't-make-waves personality and not my last name.

By the time I was in high school, I started hauling a boom box into the field, pumping popular music into the fields. Discussion of how we would spend our hard-earned wages volleyed between the bushes. One year, when I was still in elementary school, I saved all summer to buy a pair of Calvin Klein jeans. Another summer I contemplated saving for a Gunne Sak dress. Always, my mind turned to fashion, even as I was wearing my oldest, berry stained clothes.

We would break for lunch, and I would eat sandwiches and drink pop from grandma and grandpa's garage fridge. Then I would lead the other kids in elaborate gymnastics routines, flipping and twisting and leaping across the front yard before heading back out into the fields for a few more hours of work. At the end of a long, hot day, I was happy if I picked 8-10 pails full, which would add up 50-70 pounds. There were legends of people who could pick 100 pounds a day. I was well on my way to buying one lovely fashion piece for the year to come.

As the bushes grew taller and bent with ripe fruit, hand picking gave way to machine picking, and my job moved indoors to the packing shed. I would stand along the conveyor belt picking out green, red, soft, diseased berries; twigs and leaves; and the occasional slimy slug (which I would only scoop up with an errant blueberry leaf). The wages were higher, the work less grueling, though perhaps more tedious and a little grosser, and more grown-up in nature. My mom, aunt, grandparents, and neighbor lady B all had our favorite positions along the belt...



The vinegary, dusky smell still wafts through my memory, and late this summer I could smell that distinct fragrance as I drove along the familiar roads of my childhood. One night Mom and I were driving back from town behind a truck, out of which debris was flying. We conjectured at the contents, and when we rolled down the windows and smelled that familiar processed berry cocktail, we knew for certain that the truck contained the detritus of machine picked and cleaned berries--a sludge of waste, headed perhaps to a local pig or turkey farm to continue the food cycle.

As I headed out the field the next morning with my aunt and young cousins, I gave into the pleasure of recreational picking--scatter picking the bushes, seeking out the most luscious berries to make our favorite "double good blueberry pie." I was glad to be home, my fingers remembering one activity so intrinsic to my formative years that my pail filled faster than anyone else's. I walked slowly back up the pine needle strewn path back up to my parents' house, swinging my full pail ever so gently, headed for the sanctuary of my parents' porch, a glass of ice tea, a J-Crew catalogue, and a half-finished novel begging to be read.

s'more pie: an over the top treat for a lonely sunday

All day Saturday, visions of a pie from one of my cooking magazines danced through my head: S'mores Pie. Imagine the crunch of a graham cracker crust, the smooth creaminess of chocolate pudding, and the sticky sweetness of bruleed marshmallow topping.

When I was still thinking about the pie during my long walk on Sunday morning, I decided it was time to make the pie. I couldn't find the exact recipe, and the one I found on epicurious.com wasn't exactly what I had in mind. It was time to improvise.

While so much of baking is an intricate chemical reaction, pie begs for freestylin'. Just watch the fabulous film Waitress if you need a little inspiration.

I bought an Arrowhead Mills graham cracker crust; while the graham flavor is a little assertive, this crust contains NO high fructose corn syrup and NO trans fats. I also bought a jar of marshmallow fluff, which is almost 100% high fructose corn syrup. I figure they cancel one another out.

I searched epicurious.com and Cooking Light for chocolate pudding recipes, and decided to adapt an recipe from epicurious.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees and bake the crust until it is golden brown. Next, make the pudding.

Dark Chocolate Pudding
1/3 c sugar
1/3 c cocoa powder (I used Valrhona)
2 TBS cornstarch
1/8 tsp salt
2 c fat free organic milk
3.5 oz. bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped (I used 70% Lindt Excellence)
1 TBS espresso (I used espresso powder dissolved in hot water)
1 tsp vanilla

Whisk together first four ingredients in a medium saucepan. Add 1/3 cup milk to make a paste. Then add the remaining milk and whisk over medium heat. Cook until the mixture bubbles and thickens. Remove from heat and stir in the chocolate, espresso, and vanilla.

Pour the hot pudding into the crust and allow to cool for one hour at room temperature. Cover the pudding with a piece of plastic wrap or waxed paper, pressed down over the surface of the pudding. Then refrigerate the pie until chilled--overnight would be splendid if you can wait (I couldn't).

When the pie has chilled, and right before you're ready to serve, turn on the broiler. Spread a generous layer of marshmallow fluff over the pie (it will be sticky and tricky so be patient). Stick the pie under the broiler and brown the marshmallow topping. Your home will fill with the scent of toasting marshmallows, minus the campfire smoke.

You may want to very briefly chill the pie before serving so it has time to set and will hold together better when you cut it (although this is highly theoretical. I did chill my pie at this point but it still spilled out over the crust when I cut it).

Enjoy with a mug of strong coffee and conversation with friends.

twd: chocolate whopper malted drops

chocolate whopper malted drops, courtesy of my web cam


This week teachers, students, and professors returned to school as summer sun gave way to crisp fall breezes. I embarked on a full semester of teaching two writing classes, American Literature, and first year seminar. The amount of energy required to move from inertia to full activity never ceases to astound me. This week was exhausting and fun as I met my classes and reconnected with friends after summer vacation.

Thursday night I stopped by the grocery store to buy the necessary supplies for this week's TWD recipe, Chocolate Whopper Malted Drops (on page 85), selected by Rachel of Confessions of a Tangerine Tart. I quickly located Carnation malt powder next to the Ovaltine and Hot Chocolate, Whoppers in the candy section, and my favorite 60% Ghiradelli chocolate chips in my favorite aisle--baking! After baking the cookies and eating way too many Whoppers as I was chopping them, I decided that next time I would splurge for candy store malted milk balls, which seem to have an extra layer of higher-quality chocolate.

The dough came together easily with a mousse-like texture, and an utter deliciousness when scooped up and eaten raw! Several TWD bloggers suggested that the dough was too chocolatey, but I was fearless and even used my favorite "mahogany gold" Valrhona cocoa powder instead of my standard Ghiradelli cocoa. Although Dorie doesn't specify to chill the dough overnight, I did anyway.

Friday afternoon I set about baking the cookies while emailing my students about their first writing assignment. I set up a baking station and a computer station on my kitchen island and seamlessly moved between the two. The rhythm of forming balls of dough to fill a baking sheet, emailing while the cookies baked, and lifting their molten goodness on to the cooling rack soothed my agitated soul.

In addition to the fun of being back to school, our campus community was saddened with the news that one of our colleagues lost both of the babies she was carrying when she went into labor way too early. The memorial service was that afternoon. The warm smell of baking chocolate wrapped around me, holding me tight against the sober truth that, as my friend B. so eloquently stated, "mother nature can be a real bitch."

As the first batch of cookies cooked, I brewed strong coffee and heated milk on the stove for a cafe au lait--the perfect counterpoint to the caramelly, chocolatey wonder of the cookies and the heavy sadness in my heart.

My thoughts turned again to C and the sadness of the memorial to come. I thought about the complexity of issues regarding women and motherhood, thrust once again onto the collective consciousness with political events of the week.

There's never been a week when I both wanted and didn't want to be a mother so much.

I ate another cookie, loaded up the baking sheet, and returned to my laptop to help my students, and steer my mind into more practical and less complicated emotional waters.

On Saturday, I packed up the cookies and gave them to my friends A and J, who were hosting an open house to share their new, beautiful home with friends and colleagues. They--the cookies, though also the party and the home-- were a hit, and more than one person admitted that they ate more than 4 cookies. Another TWD success! Thank you, Dorie, for a recipe that brings comfort, joy, and chocolate to those in need when life is full of sadness and elation.

twd: chunky peanut butter and oatmeal chocolate chipsters

Hooray--cookies! I stocked up on the few ingredients I didn't already have: non-natural peanut butter (though it nearly killed me to buy such an adulterated product), light brown sugar (I'm almost out because I put a big spoonful on my oatmeal every morning), chocolate chips (ghiradelli 60%, not on hand because chocolate doesn't fare well without AC and I pledged not to use it unless absolutely necessary), and dry roasted unsalted peanuts.

I mixed the dough on Saturday afternoon in my trusty pink mixer. The dough was a little wet because my eggs are super powerful and larger than normal, from my friends at the farmers' market. I chilled the dough the requisite two hours and then baked one cookie sheet full to take to my friends' house, leaving the rest to chill overnight.

B and I ate (devoured?) the cookies whilst working our way through a bottle of Conundrum, one of my favorite wines--all floral, creamy, and well-bodied for a white without devolving into the flabby oakiness of a rich Chardonnay. Meanwhile, her two sons slept and her husband S declared a bottle of Pinot Noir to have a "pvc aftertaste." He settled on a Malbec instead, which prompted me to tell a story about how I once went out on a magical first date with a Malbec-quaffing Irish man on St. Patrick's Day! We gathered steam, discussing politics (family, national, feminist) and the ironic goodness of Neil Diamond. How wonderful to have friends to be at home with, who keep inviting me over even when our conversations extend past a reasonable bedtime for parents of an energetic three year old and a newborn.

Tonight, after I finished painting my bedroom sea glass green a la martha stewart, working on back-to-school prep, crafting a delicious farm market pizza, and biking eight miles, I baked the rest of the cookies. Their egginess translated into flatter, crispier, lacy cookies, studded with peanut and chocolate goodness. The peanut flavor is muted, despite the added nuts. The raw cookie dough is addictive. I trust the cookies will be a welcome addition to first day of school festivities; the H-Hall Hipsters are kicking off the year with a coffee ritual involving a big box of Starbucks to Go, milk stashed in a contraband mini fridge, and the aforementioned treats from my TWD ventures. What a lovely start to the school year, and a delicious tradition.

***p.s. for any non-H-Hall Hipsters reading this blog, you're welcome to join us:)

baking adventures: tuesdays with Dorie

cupcake tower for M and B's wedding

I really love Dorie Greenspan's baking sensibility--her cookbooks are wonderfully written, the recipes delicious and diverse, and her overall joie de vie infectious. I'm thrilled to announce that I've joined the group Tuesdays with Dorie, a group of bloggers/bakers, who all bake the same recipe from Dorie's masterpiece Baking: From My Home to Yours each week and then blog about it on Tuesdays. (note: I am aware that the name is a riff on the popular bestseller Tuesdays with Morrie, a book I've deliberately shunned). So, look for regular baking posts from yours truly, sans photos (still no digital camera), but with fabulous written commentary.

The inaugural recipe for September 2: Chunky Peanut Butter and Oatmeal Chocolate Chipsters on page 73.

This project will expand my baking repertoire, connect me to other baking bloggers, and further endear me to my colleagues and friends who will be sharing the treats of my labor.

book meme from B

So, my friend B has a lovely blog, and she writes such funny, witty stuff. I'd share a link to her blog but I need to ask her first if I can out her as a blogger:) Anywho, she recently posted two memes--an adventurous eating meme and a book meme. Of course, I immediately decided to ditch the list of entries in my queue in order to add this book meme. Now, I need to say that I have no idea who chose the books for this meme, and believe me, I'd have a few things to say to them about their choices: it's very Anglo-centric and not at all multi-cultural. But I'll try to leave the English PhD behind and have fun with this list.

Bolded books: I've read in their entirety; italicized books: I've read parts of; commentary is for your pleasure.

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen a good choice to start the list
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien - never had any desire.
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte; this used to be my favorite novel. the moors...the passionately doomed love...heathcliff, the ultimate bad boy...
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens - to quote B, "oh god. miss havisham!"
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy; Hardy's a total downer
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare; undergrad, with Dr. O
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks; what?!? is this a book i should know?!?
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger -
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot; it took me MONTHS to read this, but i loved it
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald; one of THE best American novels. Who can resist that green light and the hope of an "orgastic future"?!?
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams -
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky; have read parts of The Brothers Karamazov. I have issues with the Russian Realists.
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy; see above for my issues with the Russian Realists
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen; okay, I adore Austen, but seriously, three Austen novels?!? Share the love...
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis; once again, I want to leave B's original comment: "Er, duh, this is one of the Chronicles of Narnia. Who's in charge of this list? Moron."
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meany - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery; the entire series, multiple times. i've also visited prince edward island...i'm a bit of an anne fanatic:)
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood; I've read other Atwood...
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan; I liked On Chesil Beach better
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen; OMG! Too much Austen! How about some Edith Wharton...
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac; The Dharma Bums is my favorite Kerouac. Ask me about Jack and the Beats...I wrote my dissertation on the Beats:)
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy; what's up with all the Hardy on this list?!? This is starting to look a little Anglo-centric...
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie; I saw him speak at Michigan State...
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville ; a surprisingly delightful and thought provoking novel
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce; are you kidding?!? I've read Joyce-lite--Stephen Hero, Portrait, Dubliners...
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert; Emma Bovary annoys me so much that I can't finish the novel
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery; my Aunt B gave me this when I was a young lady
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

total: 35 read in their entirety, 7 read in bits and pieces.
I swear I'm well read.
Really.
I'm not at all feeling inadequate in my profession.
I really don't sit around and only read Harlequins.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
I'm just saying.

both sides now

I love Lake Michigan, that gleaming body of water rimmed with towering dunes, rocky beaches, rolling dairyland, and magical vistas. I suppose I'm lucky to say that I've lived on both sides now, and I never want to become accustomed to the sublimity of life by the Lake. But when it comes time to leave this side of the Lake for the other, my heart is heavy, my soul deflated, and my mind anxious.

Maybe if I think of the Lake itself as my home, the distance between two of my home places--my childhood home and my present home--will disappear, and home will again be one. Add my "third place" (a concept I promise to explore in some depth later) and the Lake seems even more my home (that is, forgetting my time south of the Mason-Dixon line, a time in which my Lake ties were stretched thin).

Gretel Ehrlich, an insightful nature writer, writes that home is many places. I believe Thomas Wolfe wrote that you can never go home. The mnemonic HOMES helps kids memorize the Great Lakes. Home is more of a state of mind, but cannot be entirely divorced from place--geographical, literal, on the map place.

Lake Michigan. Home. My Place. My primary residence amongst many HOMES. Whether here or there, then, I'm always already home.

sweet somethings: captain sundae

It's 9:45 p.m. on a balmy August night, the air sweet with flowering weeds, and tangy from Lake Michigan breezes. I'm craving gelato or ice cream, something cool, refreshing, and quintessentially summer.

Last week I lingered over a dish of Palazzolo's cafe mocha gelato at the Coral Gables Annex in Saugatuck, but that's too far of a drive tonight.

Visions of creamy, smooth, flavor-laden gelato dissipate and now I'm thinking of a Tommy Turtle sundae from Captain Sundae, just a ten minute drive from my parents' house. I look at the clock. I call. They're open until 11:00 p.m. Hooray!

Mom, Dad, and I climb into my G6, and drive under a golden moon to an assortment of tunes on my road trip mix CD, starting with Kid Rock's blend of Alabama and Michigan in "All Summer Long," followed by Brad Paisley's flirtatious banter in "Ticks."

The parking lot is full, and entire families crowd together on faded wooden benches next to the new Captain statue (chained down, since the old one was stolen). Cars whizz by on Douglas Avenue, the road that eventually becomes Ottawa Beach Road and leads to Holland State Park, home of Big Red Lighthouse and Mt. Pisky.


Big Red, Holland Harbor Lighthouse, photo by Bill Konrad, wikipedia commons, licensed by creative commons



Mom orders a chocolate cone, Dad holds out for the last piece of blueberry pie at home, and I order the aforementioned Tommy Turtle: vanilla soft serve draped with achingly sweet caramel, thick hot fudge, toasted buttered salted pecans, whipped topping, and a plump stemless maraschino cherry.

One bite and I'm back in High School, sitting on the bench closest to the road, hoping a car will honk, hoping someone will see me sitting here and be smitten.

The artificial sweetness is jolting me awake, and I wonder just how much high fructose corn syrup is in this plastic cup. I'm fairly certain I don't want to know.

"I can't believe you're eating that whipped cream," my Mom says, knowing all too well that this is no cream but topping, of sketchy moral turpitude. One time I argued the virtue--or lack thereof-of whipped topping with a friend. I rightfully asserted that there was no dairy to be found in a tub of whipped topping, and he believed there was. We reached an impasse. I avoided whipped topping, and I still do.

But tonight, the past pulls stronger than my desire for fresh, pure, whole foods, and I revel in the momentary bite of the past, the tug of the caramel on my teeth pulling me into memory, the brights illuminating the corn and blueberry fields keeping me grounded in the place where memory and present meet. Sugarland and friends sing "Life in a Northern Town," and my heart swells.

peninsula meditations: door county

beautiful flowers at door county peninsula state park

When I decided to take a new job in Wisconsin last year, several people pointed out that I would be relatively close to Door County. Suddenly, Door County references proliferated--articles in Midwest Living magazine, blurbs in the local Sunday paper, in conversation with friends. I was eager to investigate this shapely peninsula.

Studying the atlas, I noticed that the Door Peninsula almost mirrors my favorite stretch of land, the Leelanau Peninsula in Michigan. In my mind this geographical parallel certainly conveyed a deeper similarity. But, as Japhy Ryder tells Ray Smith in Jack Kerouac's novel The Dharma Bums, "comparisons are odious." I often forget this gem of wisdom. My first visit to Door County, when I was expected the undulating orchard land and breathtaking lake vistas, the charming towns with tasty treats, of my dear Leelanau, was an utter disappointment. Door County did not fit into the Leelanau model I so adored, and therefore I found the Peninsula lacking.

This summer I was determined to give Door County another try. After all, I was much closer to Door than Leelanau, and I had a year of living in the Dairyland State to my credit. It was time for me to challenge my first impressions and make some new memories. I wanted to love Door on its own merits, not as a substitute for a truly unique place.

So, one Sunday afternoon my friend B and I set out for Algoma, a small town towards the base of the Peninsula. Two places in Algoma enchant visitors. The Flying Pig art gallery and garden shop, features artworks by local, regional, and even national artists. The plants are arrayed in gorgeous gardens that are also sprinkled with art work, and the selection of terra cotta pots is phenomenal. I purchased a tall, narrow French style terra cotta pot, a round terra cotta bowl with three feet to set it on, and a gorgeous lavender plant.

Also in Algoma, Cafe Tlazo serves delightful fresh sandwiches, from wraps to paninis; salads; and a bevy of espresso drinks. I'm partial to the Honey Latte myself. Their lunch choices overwhelm--this is one of the most vegetarian friendly places I've encountered in Northeast Wisconsin, and each time I go it's hard to decide what to order. On that Sunday, I enjoyed a Mediterranean wrap with a side of kettle chips. Yumm!

B and I also stopped in an antique mall in Kewaunee on our way back down the Peninsula, where I was tempted by a pink and chrome dinette table, but left it behind for someone else to purchase.

Several weeks later, I decided to venture farther up the Peninsula on a sunny Sunday. I packed a picnic lunch in my cooler, packed my day pack with essentials for a short hike or two, and set out. Driving the Peninsula affords spectacular views of gently rolling dairy farm land that stretches right to the shore of Lake Michigan. I drove past my favorite Algoma stops and continued on to Egg Harbor, where I stopped at the grocery store for chips and a drink to round out my picnic lunch. I also wanted to peruse their wine selection, as I had remembered it fondly from the previous year's ill-fated trip. They have many nice bottles, but nothing I had to buy that day.

I drove the few remaining miles into Fish Creek, the most kitschy and overtly touristy of the towns on the Peninsula. I motored on by the crowds of confused tourists thronging the sidewalks and headed for Peninsula State Park.

This state park hugs Green Bay and offers a lovely interplay of densely wooded forests, rocky beaches, and towering stone cliffs. Bike trails and hiking paths lace the park, and features like a four story lookout tower, golf course, and campgrounds, appeal to many different ideas of recreation. I found a semi-sunny picnic spot along the beach and enjoyed my lunch. The clouds kept building, hiding the sun and threatening rain, but I bundled up in extra layers and made the best of my time. I then drove up to the aforementioned lookout tower, where several trails begin.


a perfect spot for a picnic

I selected the Sentinel trail first, thinking it would be decently busy, because less strenuous. The trail winds through varying landscapes--woods, meadows, tall grasses, and features interpretive signage along the way. I kept mosquitoes at bay by maintaining a brisk pace, stopping only to skim the signs and snap a few photos.



Invigorated by my time in the woods, I decided to tackle the Eagle Trail, rated the most difficult in the park because of rocky ledges, small boulderfields, and large hills. I expected this trail to be less traveled than the Sentinel, but it was actually filled with hikers--most of the amateur-not-so-polite and/or ginormous-extended-families-blocking-the-trail variety. The excellent views of rock walls and dense, varied foliage kept me company as I stepped off the trail to let others pass: good hiker etiquette.


eagle trail

My day ended as I wended my way back down the Peninsula, bypassing the myriad fruit stands since my fridge was well-stocked from the previous day's trip to the farmer's market. I stopped at Door County Coffee Company for a little latte caffeine infusion to fuel my drive home, and dreamed of my next trip--in the fall, with friends, camping overnight and enjoying the gorgeous color explosion of hardwoods in their autumnal finery.

Has Door County entered my soul like Leelanau? No. Leelanau still lays claim to bucolic farmlands, orchards, and lake views; their wineries produce nuanced, flavorful, not syrupy sweet local wines. Plus, I have a nearly fifteen year history of summer jaunts with friends. But Door stands on its own merits now, of breathtaking and accessible state parks and a closer geographic if not emotional distance, and I'm beginning to love it too.

leelanau + traverse city

rolling hills, orchards, lake swept vistas, wineries, lots of local food culture, film festivals, vintage clothing stores, old friends, relaxation: bliss.