daily bliss: wine club

dharmagirl discerning different malbecs...

The first rule about Wine Club is...

1. No work talk: we weren't so successful last night, but that was the first time work crept into conversation (perhaps because we have pre-first day of class jitters).
2. The hosts chooses a variety of wine and everyone brings a bottle to share: pinot noir, zinfandel, malbec have been our choices thus far.
3. Hosts provide delicious treats, and others can bring food as well.
4. We slowly work our way through the bottles, comparing notes, and generally making up our own lexicon of wine criticism.
5. Laughter, merriment, shared stories, and opportunities to know one another outside of the confines of work abound.

Wine club is simple, blissful, and one of the highlights of my month. I'm blessed to work with such amazing people who would be my friends even if we didn't work together. Everyone has humorous and tender stories to share, and these nights help build the bonds of friendship. I love the chance to know my friends better, entering their home, being their guest, and sharing food and drink.

Here's to many more meetings of this august society, working our way through wines both ubiquitous and rare, delicious and swill-ish, through the darkest days of winter to the sparkling sunsets of summer.

daily bliss: lotion

Today's entry seems a little odd, and more prosaic rather than poetic, but in the dry frigidity of winter, lotion is a temporary salve to my skin and my well-being. Cold dry air outside, warm dry air inside...there is seemingly no escape from dryness, but for those blessed moments when I'm bathed in lotion. Because I also suffer from eczema, my dry skin can become extremely irritated, and only the most sensitive of lotions will do. For now, I'm using Aveeno--the one in the green bottle. I would like to switch to something more natural, but all of the organic and/or natural ingredients varieties I find include chamomile, which I'm allergic to. Perhaps you know of an all-natural skin saver?!?

daily bliss: laughter

I've been fortunate to spend the last 3 weeks with an amazing group of students, studying poetry, one of my favorite literary genres. Our small class clicked immediately, and soon the silliness and jokes bubbled up during discussions of Eliot and Wordsworth and Dickinson, coming to a crescendo as we explored Denise Duhamel's delightful poem "One Evening When Barbie Wanted to Join the Military."

One day I laughed so hard I almost cried.
Another day, a raucous snort broke through.
And today I rolled with laughter, although our time together drew to a close.

During the deepest stretches of winter, it's easy to lose a sense of lightness and humor. To feel the ebullience of laughter, and the comfort of relative strangers laughing with me, was perhaps the greatest gift of this poetic journey.

*thanks to David for allowing our collective laughter to fill his cafe**

daily bliss: pink

I love the color pink. Baby pink. Hot pink. Blush. Pink that veers into purple. Pink that flirts with peach.

pink clothes...


pink shoes...


pink flowers...


pink hotels...


pink kitchen goodies...

daily bliss: comfort food

Tonight I made a meal I haven't fixed in, well, years. Pure, mostly unadulterated, comfort food: mashed yukon golds with roasted garlic and olive oil, steamed veggies with light cheddar cheese sauce, and navy beans with garlic. A little pinot noir on the side. A slice of Berry Surprise Cake and a mug of tea in a little while. I felt the need for gustatory comfort--slightly rich, carbohydrate dense nutrients to ease the ache of winter, sadness, and a little frustration.

twd: berry surprise cake

Diva eggs--Dorie's words.

Diva eggs--the bane of many TWD bakers this week.

I *usually* have luck working with eggs, but I was scared. After an unfortunate incident with my renegade KA, I decided to coax my Diva eggs into fluffy volume using my KA hand mixer. THEY TOOK FOREVER to increase in volume and thicken, rather like a Diva preparing for a night out on the town, keeping everyone waiting while she primps and fusses until every hair is in place, the lipstick is glossy and thick, and the strappy sandals are fastened just so. (not that I have EVER kept anyone waiting in just such a matter. Just don't ask my brother:)

My patience was tested, and my instinct was honed--I watched, listened, and worried over my eggs, but I kept going until they were ready.

And, I'm pleased to say that my cakes turned out just lovely.




They sank a tad while cooling, but no serious craters formed.






I left the cakes overnight, and assembled the final piece de resistance today, with a few mishaps, brought on by a) drinking Pinot Noir and b) chatting with my friends B. and B. while I made the syrup, filling, and topping.

I used meyer lemon zest and a hint of juice to flavor my syrup, which came together quickly.

When I started making the filling, I skimmed over the directions, and decided, distractedly, to use half and half instead of whipping cream before realizing that the filling actually is a kind of whipped topping, and hence the heavy cream is necessary. Rookie mistake. I blame, again, the wine, and my friends, whose conversation ranges from stalkers, odd colloquialisms, and general cheerfulness.

So I started over after my friends left, and the filling was finished in a snap. I decided to use some of my strawberry jam rather than fresh fruit because my inner locavore balked at the thought of out of season berries, even if I did have a vision of creating the Obama logo in berries. Instead, I printed out a little Obama swag to celebrate the day.



As I watched the inaugural ball coverage this evening and rested after a long day of intense emotions, the cake has made a surprisingly good companion. I love the lightness and freshness, the promise of Spring, of hope and virtue, of better days ahead after these days of stark darkness.



Thanks to Mary Ann of Meet Me in the Kitchenfor selecting this delightful recipe. Check out the other talented TWD bakers for more tales of Diva eggs and stately cakes:)

daily bliss: hope

photo taken by Master Sgt. Cecilio Ricardo, U.S. Air Force, courtesy of wikipedia

"The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness." President Barack Obama

dharmagirl 0, kitchen aid 1

the innocent looking KA


I'm laughing so hard that I can barely post...

Here I am, peacefully mixing up some cookie dough (Oatmeal Cherry Chocolate Pecan), and thinking happy thoughts about all my glorious baking experiences, how much I've learned, and generally feeling less than humble...

As the KA whirls the butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla together, I step to the island to grab the bowl of dry ingredients when I hear a most terrible sound--of clunking, of spinning, and then--horrors--of splintering. The spatula I left neatly placed across the top of the mixing bowl, now flailed around in the mixing bowl as the KA settled into a powerful turn.


spatula detritus

And, because of the splintering, I had to begin again. Luckily, I had not added the goodies yet or I would be crying instead of laughing.

So, thank you, oh talented KA, for keeping me humble. Forgive me for anthropomorphizing you, and for underestimating your sheer force

Now I'll proceed with delicacy with those diva eggs I've heard so much about for this week's TWD creation. Perhaps it's time to haul out the hand mixer?!?

daily bliss: jam

strawberry jam on a winter's morn

As the snowplow scrapes by, and brilliant winter sunshine streams in, I reach for another jar of jam from my hoosier cabinet, desperate for some taste of summer. As I pry off the lid and the air whooshes out, I remember that hot July day that I stood over the stove stirring the bubbling fruit and sugar, imagining this very day and the joy the jam would bring.

This morning I made a half batch of biscuits, using Mark Bittman's recipe. I slathered jam on the warm biscuits, fixed a cafe au lait, and watched the snow sparkle outside, and, in the distance, the lake undulate under a layer of ice.

daily bliss: shared meals

As much as I love to bake and cook, I delight in sharing my creations with others. Taking time to break bread or sip tea with others strengthens social bonds and can provide a much needed lift. My class has been enjoying hot beverages every morning, as I tote in a bag filled with coffee and tea supplies, including my old coffee maker and an hot electric kettle. On occasion, one of the students will bring in treats.

This weekend I've been fortunate enough to share a delicious pesto dinner with some friends who invited me over rather impromptu. The shared conversation seemed to infuse the simple dish with another layer of flavor. And, yesterday, my friend H. and I went to lunch after yoga class, and reflected on our goals for the year and how we want to achieve them. I've had quite a few of these conversations lately, made stronger by food. My friend B. and I also enjoyed lunch out together a week ago, and planned how we would execute better life balance.

Because so many of my meals are solitary affairs, I treasure those shared meals all the more. And while there's something to be said about the freedom of eating solo--an ultimate flexibility of time, of taste, of tradition--it's something I do too often, and something I will try to change.

daily bliss: yoga

the sacred symbol om

This morning my friend H and I drove to Kohler for a yoga class at Yoga-on-the-Lake, a new studio overlooking a small-ish lake. We walked into the studio, a large, warm open room, and immediately felt cozy and calm; it is heated to 85 degrees, via radiant heating--ahhh, bliss. The bathrooms are gorgeous, with curvilinear modern Kohler fixtures. As I settled my mat on the heated floor, I watched fat snowflakes drift to the ground before I was swept up in an intense vinyasa flow class.

Although I've practiced yoga for eight years, I've mostly practiced on my own, using CDs or DVDs as my teachers. Whenever I actually take a class, I'm curious and a little apprehensive about the teacher's style. Today's class challenged me, not through new poses, for the most part, but to reach within myself for edges that I often don't press. I felt my soul fly in half moon (ardha chandrasana), my favorite pose, and felt my heart wide open in camel (ustrasana), my least favorite pose. By the end of the class, my cheeks flushed and my whole being toasty and expanded, I felt...purified.

daily bliss: oatmeal

good morning


Nearly every morning, I start my day with a hearty bowl of oatmeal--Quaker Old Fashioned, topped with walnuts, dried fruit in the winter or fresh fruit in season, cinnamon, flax seed oil, and milk. Somedays I feel like dried cherries and pecans, others its dried cranberries (Wisconsin's finest!) and walnuts. Either way, it's a warm and delicious and healthy beginning!

daily bliss: frost

a room with a view

"The frost performs its secret ministry," so writes British Romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge in "Frost at Midnight," a "conversation poem" written for his son Hartley. And so it does. Yesterday afternoon I watched the lacy patterns of frost expand across the window of my study, noticing how the faint winter light highlighted the intricate details from one angle and then another. In these days of brutal cold--it is currently -4 degrees with a wind chill of -22--a beautiful pattern of frost helps dispel the mental gloom and the muscle twitches as I cope with frigid, interior days and long, dark nights. There's something magical about the frost, as Coleridge recognized; it appears "unhelped by any wind" and in unique floral patterns and arcing webs.

daily bliss: warm winter outerwear

outside the Weather Center cafe in Sheboygan, Wisconsin

Precious winter sun juxtaposes with eight degrees and a sub-zero wind chill this afternoon. As I read poetry for class tomorrow, drinking endless pots of tea and mugs of coffee, I try to focus on the blessings in such cold. My Mom noted that we're lucky to have so many means of warmth--coats, homes, cars. And so today I'd like to celebrate my winter coat, which manages to be both cozy and stylish. I found it at Burlington coat factory back in October, when H. and I went shopping for winter accoutrements. I especially like the graduated quilting (slimming!) and the off center buttons, as well as the price: $55. As you can see here, I have a bright wool Nepalese hat, a little goofy, but bright and warm. You can't see my boats but they're also functional and fashionable--vibram soles, waterproof leather and quilted fabric, all lined with shearling. Toasty.

twd: savory corn and pepper muffins

gorgeous muffins, weird lighting. i'm still learning my new camera!

I come from a family that loves food, and can be rather high maintenance about what we eat, where we eat it, and how we eat. Consider my Grandpa C and his peppers: he will tuck a jalapeno pepper into his shirt pocket when going to a restaurant or even to someone else's house for dinner. He will unceremoniously produce the pepper from his pocket and enjoy it alongside his meal, adding a little extra crunch and zing to whatever delicious dishes happen to appear on his plate.

(Tangent: Back in college, I would bring my own salad dressing to the cafeteria. Now, I cook at home more often than not because, well, I like food they way I like it, and my corner of the world is most decidedly not a mecca of vegetarian food.)

So, as I selected a single jalapeno for this week's recipe, I thought of my Grandpa and how much he would enjoy these muffins, with their subtle heat and their delicious spice melding with a cornbread base--another staple on my Mom's side of the family. Of course, our cornbread eschews sugar because of our Southern roots, but I made an exception and tossed it as Dorie required.

As I seeded, deveined and chopped my jalapeno, I continuously thought don't touch your face! don't touch your eyes! capsaicin! capsaicin! danger! I psyched myself out, and only added half of the pepper to the batter rather than the whole pepper that Dorie recommends. As I chopped and tasted the dough, I could feel the tiny fissures in my dry, winter skin as the pepper's powerful potion lingered on my hands.

I made a few adjustments to the recipe besides halving the jalapeno: I used 3 TBS butter and 3 TBS canola oil instead of 1 stick/8 TBS butter to lower the overall fat profile. I also used part ground chipotle powder instead of all chili powder for a hint of smoke.

I love these muffins, though they're more labor intensive to make than my usual cornbread, which I can whip together in 5 minutes. The chopping and dicing adds an extra 5-10 minutes total, but results in a delicious, hearty muffin that is perfect paired with a hot bubbling soup on these insanely, criminally cold winter nights. Many TWD members enjoyed their muffins with chili--my soup du jour included navy beans, carrots, potatoes, fire roasted tomatoes, and a hint of chipotle. The perfect winter meal, and now I have extras for lunch!

Thanks to Rebecca of Ezra Pound Cake, a delightfully entertaining blog, for choosing these muffins! Check out the other talented TWD bakers for their gorgeous photos and delightful stories of muffin making.

daily bliss: coffee shops

Uncommon Grounds, Saugatuck, Michigan

I could spend a great portion of my days in coffee shops, if I had but the time and the money. The heady aroma of coffee seeping into my clothes...the people watching...the aura of introspection. All sustain my interest and stoke my curiosity. Over the holidays, I spent some time in coffee shops with my family, from the Dutch Brothers bakery and Cafe with my Dad to Uncommon Grounds by myself. Last week my poetry class met in a local coffee shop, attempting to puzzle through Coleridge and Wordsworth as the espresso machine ground and steamed. And yesterday, my Hipster friends/colleagues and I met at the local Starbucks to catch up after vacation. We lingered as the snow started falling and the sky turned dark, planning wine club and talking about adventures from our more youthful days, while sipping tea and lattes.

daily bliss: poetry

I'm currently teaching a 3 week intensive poetry class, and every day I am afforded the luxury of settling down with a handful of poems and delighting in the language, the themes, the style, and the overall emotion. Today we read Emily Dickinson, a favorite of mine since I took an undergraduate seminar that explored her poetry in Massachusetts, and Walt Whitman, whose long lines and frank images are impossible to ignore. To delight in words, to treasure that effusive or contained emotion or image on the page, to feel "the top of my head fly off," well, that is a blessing indeed. And to share that joy with 9 students who are engaged and serious and silly, well, it almost seems a shame that they're paying me for so much pleasure.

"I dwell in Possibility
A fairer House than Prose."
Emily Dickinson

daily bliss: moon shine

Last night I stayed up late reading Breaking Dawn, the last installment of the Twilight series. I had hope to finish reading the tome, but at about page 572 all my reading energy had been drained away. As I left my couch for the comforts of my bedroom (see previous post), I noticed the bright light of the moon calling me outside. I cracked open the door to the porch to see a landscape transformed into magical oppositions of bluest black sky, sparkling snow, and long, precise shadows. The moon glowed overhead, surrounded by a pantheon of stars shimmering in the frigid night. Nary a breeze rippled through the trees, and the silence remained unbroken as not a single car ventured down the road. A singular moment of purity and clarity rippled through my heart, and then I sleepily ventured to bed.

daily bliss: flannel sheets + faux down comforter + corduroy duvet

slightly rumpled because it's impossible to iron a corduroy duvet cover or to tumble it wrinkle free in the dryer (i tried)

Saying that winter is cold in Wisconsin is (under)stating the obvious. While this time of year I'm prone to massive fits of self-questioning (why did you leave the sunny south?) and checking the weather where I used to live in Alabama and Georgia, I still feel the strange magic of this harsh Midwestern landscape running through my veins. And, mornings, when the dim light of another (likely) cloudy day filters in the cracks of my light blocking shades, I snuggle deeper into the warm, soft layers of my bed and luxuriate. I am home.

daily bliss: ruby red grapefruit

In order to meet two of my goals for 2009--practice gratitude and blog more regularly--I'm beginning a new feature. Daily Bliss will be a snapshot of something that provides me with a moment of bliss, a moment of gratitude.

Ruby Red grapefruit, sliced in half, and carefully carved out into sections that I eat with my spoon: a sprinkle of raw sugar on top provides texture and a sweet counterpoint to so much tartness. Fresh and seasonal, if not local, the fruit wakes me up on cold winter mornings when I'd rather stay in bed, dreaming of warmer, sunnier climes.

twd: french pear tart

mise-en-scene: tart, tea, and poetry in my study/guest room

As much as I love being on vacation and spending time with my family, cooking and baking with my Mom, brother L, and Dad in my Mom's lovely and well-stocked kitchen, there's something comforting about being back in my own kitchen. I know exactly where my kitchen tools are, am attuned to the whirl of my KA, and have already established, in the brief year I've lived in this home, certain muscle memory: a long reach for the spatula and a twirl to the island.

Neither of my TWD creations turned out as I wished when I made them away from home--and I fully accept all responsibility for their less-than-perfection status. Perhaps the fact that I had a cold and would've stayed on the couch watching seasons 4 and 5 of the Gilmore Girls with my Mom the entire visit (after I gave her said DVD's) had a little something to do with my lackluster TWD performance.

Regardless, I was anxious--and nervous--for the first TWD of 2009: the French Pear Tart, chosen this week by the illustrious Dorie Greenspan herself. I wanted the tart to be perfect, and I wanted to devote an afternoon to creating this masterpiece. However, since I indeed *did* spend a large portion of my vacation watching GG, I did *not* spend much time preparing for my three week Poetry class, which started Monday morning. And so, my baking conditions were not ideal, but evolved around my syllabus creation and reading of classic British poetry, hearkening back to my own halcyon undergraduate days...

And so, last night at 9:00 pm I decided to create the components of the tart. Crust: check, though I had to use 1/4 c. extra fine baking sugar instead of powdered sugar because of a supply issue. Almond cream: check, though I substituted Maker's Mark for the rum because of a supply issue. Poached pears: check, though I had to use Meyer lemons because of, you guessed it, a supply issue. The pears, however, were planned long in advance; my dear mother gave me 3 pears from her farmer's market stash to elevate the tart to locavore status. I stashed the crust in the freezer and the other components in the fridge and went to bed, with visions of all the tasks pending dancing in my head.


poaching pears

This afternoon, in between a study of the sonnet, I prebaked the crust, assembled the tart, and baked it to golden lusciousness. What a comely dessert! And now, as another day of poetry and kitchenry comes to a close, a slim sliver of French Pear Tart and a mug of French Earl Grey Tea awaits. Ahh, buttery. Ahhh, pear and almond merging into one. Somehow, I managed something closer to perfection this time, and found a truly impressive and stunningly simple dessert.


the finished tart

Thank you, Dorie, for continuing to inspire with your pastry poesy. And, Happy Anniversary to TWD! Here's to a delicious 2009.


a perfect cookbook, a perfect slice, and a pretty French plate

new year, new beginnings

my favorite vintage pink cake carrier and canisters

Hello! I've been a negligent blogger lately, enjoying my two week respite from work and words, both of which I love, both of which are entwined, and both of which I delight in all the more after a long vacation.

First, I'd like to thank Mary, The Food Librarian, for the Trader Joe's tote bag filled with goodies--candies and cookies and fruits--for my holiday Elfster surprise. What a delicious and thoughtful treat to find sitting on my doorstep when I returned after my sojourn in Michigan.

And I'd also like to thank Christine, of Happy Tummy, for all of her kind words about me. What fun it was to send off a package of goodies to my secret Elf!

I look forward to chatting more with these two amazing bloggers and the rest of the TWD kitchen crew in 2009. I've already found a community of kindred spirits, passionately baking and writing all over the world. I love how the sweetness in life has brought us together, and I know the act of baking and writing has sustained my spirit many a time this fall.

I first began baking in earnest while I was writing my Doctoral Dissertation--a long and tortuous process of never-ending writing and research, revision and questioning. Baking allowed me to start AND finish a project in one short period of time, and provided me with sustenance for the long, lonely hours of writing.

Now that I'm on the tenure track--a six year probationary period in which I prove--through teaching, service, and research-- that I'm worthy of the job security and academic freedom that tenure guarantees--I feel many of the same pressures as I did when I was a lowly graduate student. My work, it seems, is never done, and I can easily lose myself and my balance in my endless pursuit of if not perfection, then at least excellence. As you can guess, this pursuit often feels impossible, and becomes all consuming, and at times discouraging.

Joining TWD in August forced me to set aside time to bake AND to write for myself at least once a week, and though sometimes it feels like one more requirement, I love the routine, the deadline, the camaraderie, and the time for myself.

This year I vow to carve out more time for myself, separate from my career. Time to read just for the fun of it. Time to linger over coffee with friends. Time for a quick visit with family on the weekends. Time to date and find Mr. Almost-Wonderful (as my dear Dissertation advisor calls him). Time for an hour of vinyasa yoga, a long walk along the lakeshore with my new digital camera (yay!), and time to pursue my non-academic writing goals.

Thank you for reading, and for choosing to spend a little bit of your time with me:)

happy christmas!

holiday greetings and chocolate visions!


Just a quick post today to wish everyone a Merry Christmas! Yesterday I made a Yule Log cake, a.k.a. Bûche de Noël, for the very first time. I followed a cake recipe in the Gourmet cookbook for a chocolate roulade--a souffle wonder! I then improvised a coffee flavored buttercream, infusing half and half with coarsely ground coffee beans, adding it to powdered sugar and butter. I then glazed the entire cake with a bittersweet ganache and fashioned mushrooms out of marshmallows. Though it's a little more square-ish than rounded, it's cute and promises chocolate deliciousness for my family!

Santa was kind to me, and I now have a digital camera! Look for improved photographs in the new year.

I hope the holiday--whether Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, or Festivus--finds you happy and healthy. Thank you for spending time with me on this little blog:)

let it snow + candy cane cookies

Luckily, I left Wisconsin on Saturday morning and made it to Michigan before the a) blizzard warning; b) lake effect snow advisory; and c) winter weather advisory. We're slowly building up to our 3rd foot of snow here in Western Michigan, as you can see from these photos taken from the toasty inside of my parents' home, looking out into the yard:


pines laden with snow remind me of a poem I wrote as a child when these trees were so much smaller


half of the fence is already buried, and the snow is as high as the porch

I want to trek through the woods and the pristine snow, walking into the eternal hush of the forest, but so far I've stayed inside where it's warm, reading poetry for my winter session class, baking cookies, visiting with my parents, cooking soups, and practicing yoga to help me overcome this nagging cold that keeps me feeling just less than 100%. I'm waiting for my brother to arrive tomorrow to share in some holiday hijinks, and adventures outdoors, which will invariably include a noisy and smelly but exhilarating ride on the snowmobile.

Today I made a batch of Chocolate Candy Cane Cookies, a delicious sandwich cookie from Bon Appetit.


Do you think they'll tempt Santa?

Tomorrow's baking extravaganza: Buche de Nöel

twd: real butterscotch pudding

a pale pudding, dressed up with chocolate chips


"It tastes good, but I'm not sure what it is," said my Dad, as he dipped his spoon back into the tea cup for another bite of the mystery dessert I foisted on him.

"That's going in the blog," I laughed, as I explained that this was no ordinary butterscotch pudding, but an upscale concoction that featured his favorite liquor, Crown Royal.

"It doesn't taste very butterscotchy, but it's good," he exclaimed. My Mom tasted one bite, not being a fan of butterscotch favored things and concurred.

I tasted a bite and was rather disappointed--the caramel flavor wasn't very deep, and the texture was marred by a slight curdling that never disappeared. Not having a food processor, I used a more traditional pudding preparation involving tempering the eggs and constant whisking. The eggs were lovely--no scrambling there--but the slight curdling remained nonetheless beyond the point where Dorie says it might first appear.

C'est la vie...

I made a few minor adjustments to the recipe, namely using skim milk and half and half instead of whole milk and heavy creamy. This could account for the textural issues. And, lacking real Scotch Whiskey, I turned to our neighbors to the North, and selected Crown Royal from my parents' liquor shelf for the finishing touch.

Thanks to Donna of Spatulas, Corkscrews, & Suitcases for choosing this recipe--check out the delectable pie she made using this pudding.

winter haiku

large flakes fall slowly
another inch, another foot
winter wonderland


Greetings from snowy Holland, Michigan, where blizzard warnings have now expired, yet piecy snow continues to fall...

Saturday morning I followed the contour of Lake Michigan, traveling from my home in Wisconsin to my parents' home in Holland, timing my journey between massive storms. I'm enjoying the laziness that comes at the end of the semester and the enforced hibernation of blizzard warnings outside and rhinovirus inside.

I'll be back tomorrow with my holiday retrospective AND the story of Dorie's butterscotch pudding, bound to be a favorite for my Dad!

Safe travels and happy holidays to you all!

twd: buttery jam cookies

pink cookies! pink holiday!


If you can't already tell from reading my blog and just seeing the profusion of pink in my photos (my KA is pink:), I have a thing for pink. I always have. And so, when I added raspberry jam to my cookie dough and watched the soft mass turn a delightful shade of pink, I clapped my hands and dreamed of tea parties...

Because, really, these bite size morsels, ever so slightly sweet, and just this side of a biscuit or scone, are more suited to a tea party, with dainty treats and mismatched vintage tea cups, than to a last day of class party, as I discovered yesterday. My students and I managed to stay on schedule all semester and so our last day of class was open--no more stories to read, no more presentations to make. How to win over college students on the brink of finals? Food! Party! I brought the buttery jam cookies and some of last week's sugar cookies I had tucked away in the freezer, but they were no match for the store bought holiday cupcakes and the fruit torte billowy with whipped topping brought by my students.

Thanks to Heather of Randomosity and the Girl for choosing this week's recipe.

honey vanilla fleur de sel caramels

the same holiday scene, with caramels, wrapped and unwrapped


This weekend, when I wasn't tidying up my home or grading papers or setting up my holiday decorations, I watched cooking shows on television, including one on PBS that showcased holiday treats, including handmade sea salt caramels. I've always wanted to try making caramels and other candies, and emboldened by the new baking frontiers I've encountered in TWD, I decided to find a candy thermometer and transform sugar into chewy caramel.

Living in a land distant from any *good* cooking shops, whether local or national chains, I hoped that TJ Maxx or Target in the next town would have a thermometer, and thankfully Target had one model for candy, though many models of meat thermometer, not particularly helpful for a baking and vegetarian!

I needed a block of time to devote to the candy making, and the weather gods, together with my University administration, provided me just what I needed today, in the form of 10 inches of snow and a snow day! Furthering my good luck was the fact that I'm in between essay assignments, so my only work related task was to read Jhumpa Lahiri's charming and devastating story "Sexy" for my American Lit class tomorrow.

And so it was that I gathered together my supplies and began the simple but time consuming process of caramel making. I used a recipe from Epicurious, and made a few small changes: half and half instead of heavy cream, honey instead of corn syrup, and a splash of vanilla for good measure. I also splurged for some really good butter--because the recipe is simple and the ingredients few, using the purest products you can find will greatly increase the final taste of the product. I've included my altered recipe below.

Caramels are simple to make, if you can resist the temptation to stir when the sugars are first beginning to caramelize, if you can judge a "light golden caramel" color accurately, and if you can patiently stir occasionally and watch the candy thermometer for however long it takes to creep up to 248 degrees, the firm ball stage. The recipe claims this last step should take 10-15 minutes, but it took a good 30-45 minutes for me. I had the heat on medium low to keep the mixture at a very gentle boil. I also think my stove--glass top electrical--might be slower that a more direct, controllable source of heat like gas.

No matter--I multi tasked, executing lunges and squats and calf raises in my small kitchen as I intermittently watched the thermometer and stirred the bubbling sugar. I needed to pre-emptively work off the extra calories I was bound to consume once the candies were finished.

Finally, the mixture reached the magical point of 248 degrees, and I poured them out into an 8 inch square pan lined with quick release foil (per Dorie's suggestion). After cooling for two hours, the caramels were ready for a final sprinkle of Fleur de sel. I ran my rolling pin over the top to press the salt crystals into the candy, cut them into small squares, and painstakingly wrapped them individually in squares of parchment paper. Voila!

After sampling one...or two...or three, I declare them delicious. These are the caramels for which master candy makers and gourmet food shops charge $15-20 per pound, and with a little effort and a bit of time, you can make 40+ candies for a fraction of the price.

Honey Vanilla Fleur de Sel Caramels
*adapted from Epicurious.com*

1 cup half and half, Organic Valley
5 TBS unsalted butter, Organic Valley unsalted European cultured
1 tsp. Fleur de sel, trader joe's
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/4 cup honey, Wisconsin Clover
1/4 cup water, filtered
1 tsp. vanilla
extra Fleur de sel for sprinkling

Line an 8 inch square pan with buttered parchment or quick release foil.

Boil cream, butter, and salt, then remove from the heat. This stabilizes the cream, and, I believe makes the caramels keep longer.

Boil sugar, honey, and water, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Keep boiling, but do not stir, until the mixture reaches a "light golden caramel" color.

Stir in cream mixture--be careful, because the entire mixture will bubble up Continue stirring occasionally until the temperature reaches 248 degrees. I added the vanilla somewhere in the middle of this process.

Pour the mixture into the pan, cool two hours, sprinkle with Fleur de sel, cut into squares, and wrap. Enjoy making people smile with pleasure and deliciousness:)


a poor quality photo from inside my house, looking out at my deck, covered with snow!

twd: grandma's all-occasion sugar cookies

holiday scene, complete with cookies

Some years the holiday spirit is strong, while others it seems to sputter. Since the holiday season and the end of the academic semester coincide, I'm often caught in a frenzy of paper grading and gift making and traveling that leaves me exhausted by the time Christmas Eve rolls around. This year, however, I'm managing the stress better thus far, and the generous, loving spirit burns strong. The early December snow has created a Winter Wonderland, and I long for two weeks to spend with family and friends enjoying leisurely days and treks in a world of white.

This morning I'm home instead of at work because of a snow day--a blessed event for all students and faculty who need just a smidge more time at the end of the semester to catch up on that paper writing and grading. As for me, I'm in between essay grading, and so I'm baking and blogging and watching Martha Stewart. As luck would have it, it's cookie week!

This week's TWD recipe, Grandma's All-Occasion Sugar Cookies, was selected by Ulrike of Küchenlatein, a delightful blog to test my undergraduate German minor (she also offers an English translation). I've baked Dorie's sugar cookies before, and I have to say that they're delicious! My great-grandma, Cookie Grandma, always made a brown sugar cookie, but it wasn't a roll out dough, therefore we don't have a sacred family sugar cookie recipe. I feel no qualms about declaring my unequivocal love for Dorie's version.

Dorie's dough is buttery and easy to manage. Like any roll out cookie, this one needs constant cooling. I rolled the cold dough out into a thin sheet, and popped it in the freezer for about 10 minutes. I then cut out the cookies and then popped it bake in the freezer before placing the sheet in the oven. The cold temperature should help the cookies hold their shape.

I made tiny trees, snowflakes, and hearts, because the holidays are all about love.

As the snow continues to swirl outside, and the world is awash in white, my mind is clear, and my heart is open, ready to share the abundance of the holiday season.

twd: linzer sables

hearts and trees


Here in my corner of the world, we have six inches of fluffy new snow draping everything, and all I want to do is cozy up with a deliciously long novel, an endless pot of tea, and a stack of cookies. Alas, this is also the busiest time of the semester in my little academic world. Students are melting down as they race to finish research papers, read the last novel, and beg for extra credit once they realize their dire grade situation. My colleagues and I are also buffeted by stress--all those papers to grade, all those agonizing final grade decisions, coupled with holiday parties and events, and, for me, looming travel plans.

This morning I'm looking out my east facing windows at a world of white snow, pale blue sky with a band of yellow as the sun rises, and in the far distance, a sliver of Lake Michigan that looks frozen in motion. Joni Mitchell's "River" is playing (thanks to Shari of Whisk: a Food Blog for quoting from my favorite holiday song). My coffee is hot and strong, I have 2 hours before I teach my first class, and I have finally finished baking my Linzer Sables. At the moment I'm content.

The Linzer Sables, chosen by Dennis at Living the Life, were simple to bake, despite their fancy and fussy appearance. The greatest difficulty I had was lifting the cut cookies to the pan without breaking them--the little christmas tree cut-out left some thin borders in places, and made them a bit more fragile. The house still smells nutty and warm this morning after my late night baking session. The hazelnut with nutella filling is wonderful--the nutella adds a touch of sweetness, ramps up the hazelnut flavor, and the chocolate is essential. These cookies would be just the right touch of sweetness after a meal, and are just the right pick-me-up in the middle of a paper grading session.

And now I'm inspired to begin the holiday baking, turning to old family favorites like buttery thumbprint cookies and English toffee, as well as my new classics like chocolate peppermint sandwich cookies (the ne plus ultra of sandwich cookies, from Bon Appetit magazine, December 2005). I'd love to make either a gingerbread house or a buche de Noel, a grand, intricate pastry wonder.

the cookie dough is in the freezer...

...and will be baked tomorrow, once I a) catch up from being gone for the long Thanksgiving holiday; b) catch up grading student essays; and c) finally have time to devote to these gorgeous cookies, hazelnut and nutella linzer sables.

Thanks to Laurie for giving the TWD bakers a little freedom this month with baking and posting...

twd: thanksgiving twofer pie

close up of my pecan crusted twofer


I wasn't going to bake this pie.

You see, I had this idea that I didn't like pumpkin pie. And why waste all those precious pecans on pumpkin?

And so I spent last Sunday night peeling Jonathan apples and composing a poem, "After Apple Peeling," as a riff on Robert Frost's delightful and dark meditative poem "After Apple Picking." Only these apples were bad. As in every single one I started peeling was half brown and mushy. I suspect that they are last year's crop posing as new, relatively local fruit. Ugh.

And so, Monday morning I threw the remaining unpeeled apples and a single peeled one as evidence into my trunk, intending to return them to the grocery store after work. (Am I really now the woman who returns produce to the grocery store? So it would seem). Not wanting to deal with more apples, and missing the communal adventure of baking the week's TWD recipe, I gave into the promise of Dorie's Thanksgiving Twofer Pie, selected by Vibi of La casserole carrée. I filled my cart with all the goodies I needed, and headed home to bake.

Now, Monday night was one of those catch-up-and-cram evenings, in which I graded a handful of essays, read three short articles for class, talked to my best friend S, and made the Twofer. And hence I made this rookie mistake--I baked and talked. On the phone. And so I forgot the bourbon I was going to use instead of the rum. And I mixed the pecans into the gooey syrupy filling (I used maple syrup instead of corn syrup because I'm a little crazy about avoiding corn syrup) instead of following Dorie's advice to layer them over the pumpkin. And so my pie was a little messy and a little haphazard, but I can unequivocally say that it's also delicious. I would eat Pumpkin pie like this all day, all season long.

I brought the pie to a multi-cultural club harvest feast on Tuesday, and it was a lovely finish to a meal with foods as diverse as pierogi, papaya salad, Italian macaroni and cheese, and stollen.

For my family, I made my classic Maple Bourbon Pecan Pie. I use an all butter crust, and a Bon Appetit recipe from the November 2003 magazine, replacing the corn syrup with dark/Grade B maple syrup. My parents and I polished off the last large piece today before we drove through the snow so I could fly back to Wisconsin after a fabulous long weekend. It was the sweetest end to a delicious holiday.

mad about madison!

photo of Wisconsin State Capital, Madison, taken by Darin ten Bruggencate, courtesy of wikipedia, and licensed by GFDL

"Well, if there's a long wait at the Nepali restaurant, then we could go to the Greek place," so said M as he, D, and I walked up and down State Street in Madison deciding where to eat.

Now that's a sentence you don't often utter when considering places to dine on a remarkably chilly evening. Or any other evening, for that matter.

Lucky for us, there was an open table by the window in the tiny restaurant, and we settled in for our very first Nepali meal at Himal Chuli. Or anywhere else, for that matter. I selected the Roti, Dal, and Takari, and I further chose the Chana Takari with chickpeas, potatoes, and carrots. The food was delicious--utterly familiar and vastly different than any other food I've ever eaten because of the spice and herb combinations binding together favorite foods. A gentle heat underscored the dal and the takari, and the mild soft, buttery bread was a perfect accompaniment.

We headed back out into the cold, in search of a basement bar where D and M could drink Strongbow hard cider and I would sip a Bombay Sapphire G & T as we talked about the conference on Liberal Education that had brought us all together from various corners of the state to the Capital city.

The next afternoon, after attending more sessions and parting ways from new and old friends, I bundled up in an extra layer, slung my messenger bag across my shoulder, and walked up State street to the Capital Square. I made it to Cafe Soleil just before they stopped serving lunch, and enjoyed a Dairyland classic: grilled cheese. This one melded together several artisan cheeses and caramelized onions and thinly sliced tomatoes. I stopped by fromagination on the recommendation of several fellow bloggers, and selected a cheese to bring to Michigan for Thanksgiving, dried cranberries, local chocolate, and local crackers. One more stop: Barriques Coffee Trader, a brilliant coffeeshop cum wine shop, stocked with reasonable bottles of wine and an espresso bar. I purchased a French pinot noir and an Argentinian torrontes. Loaded down, I walked back down State Street, past the hippie shops and fair trade coffee shops, smelling nag champa incense whirling on the air and mingling with a thousand cuisines.

And then it was back to my car and a long drive across the state, past a graceful field of wind turbines and rolling farmland, and back home.

twd: arborio rice pudding

arborio rice pudding pre- Big Chill


The first gentle, shimmery skiff of snow to drape on roofs and line my deck fell tonight--a preview of months of whiteness (and grey, but don't let's speak of those more-than-touches-of grey tonight) to come. Despite my despair at never ending months of winter, that first snow has a holy, mystical quality, especially when it comes gently like it did here and not en masse as it did on my native side of Lake Michigan (drive slower, dear brother of mine!). I'm almost tempted to haul the antiquated VCR out of the closet to watch "First Snow," an episode of Northern Exposure where the town celebrates this very moment (though I'm not sure I can look at Alaska quite the same way again post-Palin).

And so, after reading the weekly dose of Annie Dillard for class tomorrow--her delightful chapter "Stalking" that recognizes the convergence of quantum physics and mysticism --and grading more painful-to-read research essays that require me to wield a pink highlighter with utmost precision--I took to the kitchen to cook this week's TWD recipe, arborio rice pudding (black or white or both) from Isabelle of Les Gourmandise d'Isa.

In my 30+ years of existence, I have never eaten, much less cooked rice pudding. I was always skeptical of this "Dessert," which seemed much too virtuous to be in the indulgent category that I generally reserve for Desserts (simple fruit concoctions notwithstanding). Now, Dorie suggests a chocolate variation, but still, chocolate and rice? Don't misunderstand--I ♥ rice, but in Dessert? I needed some convincing.

Luckily, my grocery store has a nifty little natural/organic/bulk foods area where, among many other rice varieties, one can purchase arborio rice. I love working with this starchy powerhouse, which makes for a simple and delicious risotto, a lovely dish to prepare when one needs a little kitchen zen. Say, after a stressful day of grading and navigating certain political waters, not to mention coming to terms with the seismic seasonal shift (I swear I'll adapt to winter one of these days, or at least stop bringing it up in every paragraph).

Though the rice pudding didn't demand as much stirring as a typical risotto, it was still a quiet, calm dish to prepare. No powerful whirl of the Kitchen Aid. No vigorous slapping (!) of dough. Just the soft, metallic scrape of my squared off spoon on the bottom of the pot. And the fleece-blankety warmth of hot milk and vanilla wafting through the house.

It is now chilling overnight, and in the morning, in lieu of my daily oatmeal, I will sample this heretofore unknown delicacy, feeling indulgent because I'm eating Dessert for breakfast.

***
Bon Jour! After a long chilly walk along the lake shore, the zebra mussel shells encased in frost, the hoary grasses reaching for the sun, I returned to the warmth of my kitchen to taste the rice pudding...while it did not thicken as much as I expected overnight, the flavor and texture wrapped around me with shouts of vanilla! comfort! home! I topped my little portion with dried cherries and pecans and savored every luscious bite. Hooray, arborio rice pudding!


breakfast time!

root vegetable lasagne

root veggie lasagne


Are you familiar with Lynne Rossetto Kasper's delightful radio program The Splendid Table? I've been listening to podcasts of the show on my daily walks and learning much about food, cooking, and gastronomic trivia. For instance, I learned that lasagne is the proper spelling of the completed dish, as lasagna is the word for a single noodle.

This afternoon as I walked along the Lake Michigan shore, bundled in fleece, down, and wool, crunching over the empty zebra mussel shells and watching freighters crawl across the lake, I listened to Lynne and thought about dinner. I remembered the enticing photo of root veggie lasagne from one of my fellow foodie's blogs (whose is now escaping me), and remembered the recipe from this month's Cooking Light magazine. My pace quickened as I headed back to the house to make a grocery list and procure the few missing ingredients.

The house now smells spicy and roasty and I am well fed: the aforementioned lasagne, a wedge of crusty bread, sauteed broccoli and chickpeas, and a glass of pinot noir. A delightful Sunday evening!

weekend waffles

My Dad has a thing for food traditions--like Mexican food Wednesdays and Weekend Waffles. Last night I was talking to my Mom, who was prepping waffle batter (we make the yeasted, refrigerate overnight variety) for a Sunday morning breakfast with my Grandpa, and I was inspired to make waffle batter too.

The recipe is adapted from Cook's Illustrated. I like to make a half batch when I'm a) low on milk and b) low on freezer space to store the extra waffles. I have a Cuisinart Belgium Waffle maker, and this recipe makes 2 and 1/2 batches (i.e. 5 single rectangles).

7 oz. skim milk
2 TBS butter
1 c. flour (I used 1/2 cup white whole wheat and 1/2 c whole wheat)
1/2 TBS sugar (I used raw sugar)
1/2 tsp. salt
3/4 tsp. yeast
1 egg
1/2 tsp. vanilla
cinnamon to taste

Heat the milk and butter until butter is just melted; cool until just warm to the touch.

Mix together the dry ingredients in one bowl, and whisk together egg and vanilla in another bowl.

Add the cooled milk/butter mixture to the dry ingredients and whisk until smooth. Finally, whisk in the egg mixture. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

In the morning, remove the bowl from the fridge and allow it to warm up as your waffle iron heats. Follow the directions for your waffle maker, and enjoy! I like to top my waffles with local maple syrup and nuts--pecans or walnuts--and whatever fruit I might have. This morning I ate fresh pineapple slices on the side, along with a cup of orange juice and a mug of hazlenut coffee with the very last dregs of milk, steamed to frothy perfection.

friendship

I've been thinking about friendship quite a bit lately, as I settle more into my new home and my new job and continue to make new acquaintances. Building community proceeds slowly and hinges as much on serendipity as intention--the few non-work friends I have in M- are people I met either at the Farmers' Market or volunteering for a political campaign this fall.

But more I've been thinking of friends from other stages in my life, those thoughtful men and women who joined me for part of my journey, whether through the awkward days of high school, the halcyon days of undergrad, the fleeting years of my Master's program, and the intense days of my doctoral program, not to mention the in-between post-grad years before I landed this tenure-track position. Living the rather itinerant decade or two of life that higher education and life in academe requires, I've becoming increasingly separated from these friends, not only geographically but also in life stages. We email, facebook, or chat on the phone occasionally, but it's hard to bridge the distances between our lives when faced with so many competing demands and new challenges.

In the idealistic world in my mind, we would move along together at a similar pace. But, priorities shift, new locales beckon, unforeseen opportunities and new relationships arise, setting us on an altogether different course than our dear friends. And the beauty of it is that we learn and grow from one another, even as our paths diverge. I think it was Anne Shirley, the plucky heroine of my childhood favorite Anne of Green Gables series, who famously declared that true friends were together in spirit, a sentiment that seems fitting and comforting.

twd: kugelhopf

a hot loaf from the oven...


Yesterday afternoon I took a break from my winterizing frenzy to begin the long process of making this week's twd recipe, kugelhopf, from Yolanda of The All Purpose Girl. The dough came together easily, and it kept me awake longer than usual since it requires periodic monitoring and slapping, yes, slapping.

The sunrise and my alarm clock came too early and too chilly this morning. My friend H arrived at 6:30 and we headed out for our Monday morning run along Lake Michigan, and changed our return route to take in a stop at a cute little coffee shop. We walked the rest of the way to my house sipping steaming coffee in the twenty degree chill, and chatted about the week ahead before she left for home and I prepared for the day. On Wednesday mornings, I drive to her house for a run along another stretch of the Lake. We've pledged to continue these early morning jaunts through the winter, though I can imagine blustery days when it will take something stronger than a cafe au lait and a brisk jog to drag me out of bed!

After a long day at work wringing my hands because my lovely composition students are posting to the class blog and *not* citing sources in their entries, I returned home to check on the dough and set it out of the cold confines of the fridge. I did not order a kugelhopf pan--a gorgeous fluted tube style baking pan. My tube pan is huge, and bundt pans too cute, so I opted for my emile henri loaf pan. I patiently waited while the dough rose, attending to a quick chili and a pan of corn bread.

Finally, as I read student rough drafts in which the citations did not follow any of the *rules* I provided, I placed the risen (?) dough in the oven. After 10 minutes, the elemental smell of yeast blanketed me, and I faced a conundrum: what is better--the smell of chocolate baking or of bread? I might equivocate and say chocolate bread, like the babka my friend N and I made at Christmas time two years ago, eating thick slices and drinking a King Estate Pinot Noir she brought from Oregon.

The kugelhopf continued to rise and to brown, and I finally removed it from the oven after about 25 minutes total baking time. I quickly unmolded it, spooned melted butter over the golden edges, and sprinkled with raw sugar. I ate a piece of crust that stuck in the pan and thought of brioche. The texture, so light and airy; the flavor so delicate and rich; the dried cranberries, soaked in maker's mark bourbon, so tart-sweet.

While my cake cooled, I finished reading "Fecundity," from Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek for class tomorrow, one of the darkest chapters in the entire text. I thought of my student who just lost her grandfather and want to tell her not to read. I want the rest of my students to crack open their dictionaries or go online and learn Dillard's vocabulary of memento mori and anathema and fecundity itself...

And then I checked the cake, which was nicely cooled, and I sprinkled just one corner with powdered sugar, and cut a narrow slice. I fixed an earl grey latte, a neat trick from H: steam milk with honey and brew half a cup of earl grey tea; combine and enjoy. The floral overtones of the bergamot infused tea nicely highlighted the subtle flavor of the cake.

In all honesty, I wasn't thrilled about this week's recipe, but after baking, I can say that I very much enjoyed the change of pace. Using my Kitchen Aid mixer, I hardly did any work transforming the raw ingredients into a queenly loaf. The cake, really more of a bread, is simple and the sort of thing I would serve at a holiday brunch or tea party. Or on a just-winter evening, with a tea latte, and a surfeit of words.


unmolded and not exactly pretty, but definitely delicious

winterizing

snowflakes, against an autumnal backdrop, view from my deck, november 8, 2008


Yesterday I drove one hour to a six hour meeting (seriously? a work meeting on a Saturday?) in the first *real* snow of the season. Fat flakes fell fast, and melted into puddles on the road, preventing any driving difficulties. There's no more hoping for Indian Summer--winter teases and beckons every other day or so now...

And so, after a contemplative and quiet and lazy morning, I set about winterizing my little home. It was time to lower all the storm windows. Time to cover the patio furniture on my second floor roof deck and stow the umbrella in the garage. Time to rake the front yard again,and time to empty the terra cotta pots of withered plants--goodbye, ghosts of summer, may you sweeten the compost pile! Time to change all the bedding from filmy cottons to heavy flannels and faux down. Time to store the straw purses and set out my hats and gloves and scarves.

It's time to stock up on tea and cocoa powder. Time to read new soup recipes and then experiment in the kitchen. Time to shift my exercise increasingly indoors. Time to visit my yoga mat and to savor a square of dark chocolate each day, those little antidotes to SAD.

Time to kindle the creative fires, and time to find that inner light to stave off the coming darkness and greyness that months of winter bring. It is time.

And though I'm never quite ready, never quite prepared for the immensity of winter, today went a long way in signaling the season shift. I want, now, to feel a shift inside me, an eye towards the beauty of fresh snow; a mind towards new creative paths; and a heart open to comfort and love.

twd: rugelach

Oh, tonight I'm a bundle of nerves waiting for tomorrow...I want all readers to feel welcome, so I shall keep my political views and hopes quiet, as hard as it is at this moment when I want to shout from the rooftops of the world...and so this blog post will be brief...

Instead, let me share this plate of rugelach with you! I'd like to thank Piggy of Piggy's Cooking Journal for choosing this delicious pastry cookie. I've never made, much less eaten, rugelach, though they've beckoned me from the shelves at Zingerman's Bakehouse in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I read the recipe, and pondered fillings. Then, at lunch a few days ago rugelach served as a safe, diversionary, bi-partisan topic to engage friends of differing political persuasion who were being mocked by other colleagues at the lunch table. Our little corner of the table focused on baked goods and not shallow political jabs, and B. gave me tips for making the dough (lots of refrigeration) and filling ideas (poppy seed and honey being a most intriguing possibility).

In a marathon round of Sunday baking, I made homemade butternut squash ravioli--I even made my own pasta! I made foccacia--which crusted nicely despite the absence of steam in my oven. And, I made the rugelach. My homemade raspberry jam is on its last dregs, and I cannot abide store bought jam, and I couldn't find directions for the poppy seed filling my friend mentioned, and so I decided to improvise. Honey, walnuts, brown sugar, and cinnamon proved a classic filling that my other friend B said was akin to Baklava when I brought him a cookie today. I'm waiting to hear B's assessment of my pastries--he and his wife are experts!

I used 1/3 less fat cream cheese in my dough, which rolled out smoothly and quickly. I had no problems rolling up the crescents, and they baked to golden nut-studded loveliness in no time at all. I like these cookies--they are very subtly sweet, romantically rich, and perfect with a mug of dark roast coffee or a cup of delicate darjeeling tea. I could use one right now to soothe my nerves, but I left them in my office to share with all who vote for deliciousness:)

farewell, farmers' market

This Saturday was the last farmers' market until next May...it was with a heavy heart that I walked down to the market, my trusty market bag filled with a mini apple pie I made for the T's, my favorite farmers' market vendors and friends.


apple pie, made with a melange of fruits


I stocked up on cranberries--one of Wisconsin's unique crops--and a selection of Apples--Cortlands, Empires, Jonagolds, and Russets--for Election Day pies. I snagged a half gallon of cider that I'm now afraid to drink--not because it's unpasteurized, exactly, but because of my oral allergy to raw apples. A few years ago I realized that whenever I ate raw apples (or grapes), my mouthy would feel scratchy and like something was stuck at the base of my throat...so now I only eat apples that are cooked. Say, in pies, or applesauces, or crisps, or other delicious goodies. I have a marvelous apple cupcake recipe that uses both apples and cider--the perfect autumn treat!

And, from my friends, I purchased spinach, carrots, garlic, onions, and peppers to last at least a week. And then it will be back to the grocery store...


the season's bounty


And so, another sign that summer is *officially* long gone, fall is fading, and winter is returning. It's time to cook with a vengeance, to fire up the stove for breads and roasted vegetables, to simmer pots of soup and steaming, endless mugs of tea, coffee, and hot chocolate.