Plummy

I'm a cluttered state of winter emotions right now. I don't feel like decorating for Christmas or getting particularly festive. But as my Oma wisely used to say, "Appetit kommt beim essen."

Appetite comes with eating.

Christmas spirit comes with Christmas baking.

So I made sugarplum gingerbread cake, from a recipe in a recent New York Times Magazine. Normally, I don't view stewed prunes as a positive, but in this case it inspired visions of the Nutcracker Suite. They were mixed into a molasses-y rich batter with all the spices one desires for such a cake: ginger, cinnamon and cloves. And one odd-ball ingredient: spelt flour.

I always get a thrill when I turn cakes out of this Bundt pan. Isn't it pretty? Each piece is like a mini mountain range.

One thing I learned recently in Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat is to look for cake recipes that call for oil, rather than butter, if you want a moist cake that lets the flavors shine through. This recipe is a perfect example of how that works. I used grapeseed oil, and now we're on day 3 and this cake is still tender and only just a slight bit dried out around the edges. I think the prunes help, too.  

While the Christmas decorations are still, at the moment, stashed away in the storage closet, I am starting to think that maybe it's time to get some eggnog for the fridge. It's a process.

Sugarplum Gingerbread Cake
Adapted slightly from New York Times Magazine, which was adapted from Genevieve Ka

1 c. (184 grams) pitted prunes, quartered
2/3 c. molasses
1/2 tsp. baking soda
Butter/spray for pan
1 c. (137 grams) spelt flour
3/4 c. (108 grams) all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 heaping T. ground ginger
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. table salt
3 large eggs, at room temp.
1 c. (215 grams) packed dark-brown sugar
1/4 c. grapeseed or other neutral oil, like canola
2 tsp. cocoa powder (optional - I didn't use)

Put the pitted prunes and 1 1/2 c. water in a small saucepan, bring to a boil then reduce heat to a simmer. Cook for about 5 minutes, or until the prunes start to break down. Remove from heat and stir in the molasses and baking soda (note: not powder). It will foam up a bit and it's kind of exciting. Set it aside.

Set your oven rack to the center position and preheat to 350. Generously butter and flour your bundt pan of choice, then place it on a baking sheet.

In a small bowl, whisk the flours, baking powder (note: not soda), spices and salt - set aside.

In the bowl of your electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the eggs and brown sugar on medium speed until the mixture has turned thick and slightly pale - about 3-4 minutes. With the machine on, pour in the oil in a slow, steady stream down the side of the bowl, beating until incorporated. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and with the mixer on low, add the molasses mixture, which should be slightly cooler by now. Gradually add the flour mixture, mixing on low only until all traces of flour disappear, folding in the last bits by hand. Transfer batter to the pan.

Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the tallest part comes out clean. Cool in the pan on a wire rack for 15 minutes, then carefully invert cake onto the rack, lift away the pan and stand in awe. Let it cool completely before dusting it with the optional cocoa powder. Cut and serve.

Buttery weekend

Last weekend we were at Auntie's Bookstore and I got that familiar feeling of being overwhelmed by the number of books I will never read. Or the cookbooks I will never cook from.

But worse, holy lords!, my conscience nags, think of all the books that are just sitting on my shelves at home right now, books that are half-read, cookbooks that are barely weathered.

Rather than buying anything new, I returned home and hung out with my books. It's a weird combo of feeling a little depressed and a little grateful. Look at all I don't have. Look at all I do have. Hey, it's the holidays. This feels appropriate.

Rhubarb compote

Also appropriate in this moment: butter-laden recipes. In November and December, butter is cheap, and there are likely things sitting in your freezer or on your counter that could easily be transformed into a sweet or savory filling in a buttery tart dough.

So in the spirit of appreciating what I already have, in one Saturday, I used one well-loved cookbook and one pound of butter to do just that - dinner (big savory tart) and dessert (sweet mini tarts). The cookbook was Deb Perelman's The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook. It's been awhile since I've tried anything new out of it.  (And I've since been tempted to buy her brand new cookbook.) Trying new recipes gives new life to older cookbooks, and until Saturday, this one's pages were mostly well-worn in the pizza dough section (I've since memorized her recipes for pizza sauce and rushed pizza dough).

First, I rid my freezer of rhubarb and made her recipe for rhubarb hamantaschen, starting with a simple rhubarb compote.

This is a cookie that's traditionally eaten during the Jewish holiday of Purim. I'm not Jewish, and it's not Purim, but each time I page through the cookbook these catch my eye. They're so pretty, and in the last few years I've become a real fan of jammy cookies.

It was only after I put these in the oven that I learned how difficult it can be to keep the corners together. But I still got a few good triangles, and the taste was what mattered most. If you'd like the recipe, here is one blogger's very enthusiastic transcription of it. 

I didn't let these floppy corners get me down

After a couple of hours, I continued on. Next up in my Smitten Kitchen Saturday was a butternut squash galette.

This tart dough, by comparison, was just as I'd hoped: flaky and melt-in-my-mouth. And it was a dream to work with. I used a combo of white and whole wheat flours, and mixed it with nonfat Greek yogurt and white balsamic vinegar in addition to a stick of butter. The contents included roasted butternut squash, caramelized onions, fontina and fresh thyme (the cookbook calls for thyme, though her original website recipe calls for sage; either would be lovely I'm sure), with just a pinch of cayenne pepper. Pair it with a salad and you really need nothing else for a complete meal.

I only remembered to get a photo of the finished product, right before we sat down to watch The Big Chill (how have I lived my whole life without seeing this movie?!).

I highly recommend this recipe.

I know what you're wondering to yourselves: How does one handle all this butter on a single day? Turns out, you don't need to eat everything in one sitting. You can spread this out over several days or even a week. Enjoy every single bite, savor slowly, and double your normal vegetable intake for awhile. If you feel your conscience try to guilt you about it, be grateful for the very thing that is sitting in front of you on your plate. It's the holidays. This is appropriate.

The week (and a half)

Halloween sunset

What I read:

• I finished up Prodigal Summer before the weekend (which made me want to commune with nature...it also made me realize I don't know an ash tree from a chestnut, and don't know a robin's song from a finch's. I even felt compelled to save and study the lives of the boxelder bugs that always make their way into our house. So...I loved this book). 
• Bored and Brilliant: Quick, thought-provoking read. This is one of those books that makes you grapple with your use of technology, but I liked that it was not an anti-tech book. Just one that makes you think about how to use technology, particularly your smartphone, in smarter ways that don't impede your creativity. The basic idea is that we need to re-learn how to be bored. I came away feeling pretty OK about my phone use, but it made me want to use it even less. 
• After reading an article about Thoreau in the latest issue of The Atlantic and being totally entranced by the illustrations by Lisel Ashlock that accompanied the piece, I went down a rabbit trail and found that she illustrated a book called Do Unto Animals, which I promptly ordered and started reading. It's a very sweet guide to treating animals humanely whether they're in your home or backyard or on a farm. It was a nice way to follow up on the feelings I was having after reading Prodigal Summer.

Margot cuddling up to Bored and Brilliant

Saturday morning walk with Luna

What I ate: One of the big reasons I bought my Instant Pot this summer was because I learned that Melissa Clark (my favorite living recipe developer) was coming out with a pressure cooker cookbook. I think I ordered my Instant Pot and pre-ordered that cookbook, Dinner in an Instant, on the same day. The cookbook arrived a couple weeks ago, and we tried out her recipe for smoky lentils and sausage on Halloween. Great success! If you have an Instant Pot and eat meat, you should probably get her book.

On Saturday, I had the greatest excuse to make pretzels: a neighborhood Oktoberfest party. I think pretzels might be one of my most favorite things to make. The dough is so fun to work with and the finished product is so satisfying.

And it's officially soup season (YES!), so I returned to an old favorite recipe for creamy parsnip soup from who else, Melissa Clark, and instead of serving it with a boring loaf of bread (I don't mean that), I tried this recipe for rosemary almond meal bread from Sprouted Kitchen. It was quite tasty, and another nice gluten-free discovery.

Parsnip soup, pre-puree, and the rosemary loaf

What I watched: Stranger Things 2. We finished it on Halloween and I was totally on a high from it. I didn't think I could get into it again like I did the first season, but after the fourth episode I was back in its grip.

Other excitement:

I ordered this pin to have for the anniversary of Nov. 8, 2016.

I have been watching squirrels with great delight. They were everywhere last week and were working seriously hard. This one paused above us while Luna investigated the smells on the ground.

I've also been enjoying how loud the falling leaves were in the quiet morning hours. I took this photo around 5:30 a.m. on my walk with Luna - if you look closely you can see a couple on their descent.

I found it sweetly coincidental that I had car trouble while my car-loving brother was in town for work. After getting a new battery and new starter installed, I got to share a pizza dinner with both brothers on Wednesday night. After a very satisfying bag of popcorn at the mechanic's.

Around and about

 The river is still in a rage. But what a view! This was from late March.

Bread before/after. Don't get me started on baking bread unless you really want to hear an earful because I love talking about it, almost as much as I love eating it, or listening to it crackle when it comes out of the oven and starts to cool, or getting the perfect design on top. These are magical things in my life right now.

A scene from an incredible night featuring a magical collaboration between the Spokane Symphony and local artists, playing and interpreting Vivaldi's Four Seasons. Inspiring. My favorite movement of the Vivaldi seasons is winter. But in this performance, it was fall. In real life, SPRING. Late spring.

On a cold, rainy Saturday we made our first-ever trip to Mike's donuts in the valley. The apple fritters did not disappoint. I'd like to think this is Mike himself. Does anyone know Mike?

 I came out of the hallway after vacuuming to find these two curled up in their respective places. (Luna is not normally allowed on the furniture, but she's really taken to that chair by the window, and if it keeps her from getting up on the other things, then we're OK with it.)

 I love these. I still don't know how to pronounce ranunculous.

 Friday night, eating burgers and drinking wine by candlelight at a record store. Like we do. (At Garageland, at least.)

 Fresh orange rolls. I'm declaring this to be my Easter tradition, even though I come from a long line of other delicious baked-good Easter traditions, not the least of which is hopping bunny rolls. If you're interested in the orange-roll recipe, I posted the recipe here.

RaNUNculous? RA-nun-CU-lous?

 Friday night table is set for our dinner date with PBS Newshour JUST KIDDING. But we did watch The Amazing Race, which we DVR'd from the night before.

Who needs ham for Easter dinner when you can make Pasta Primavera?  Joel made the sauce, I made the noodles. A new favorite veggie pasta dish for me. I like the idea of a pasta for all the holidays.

Friday morning bathroom - before. Generally, there was nothing offensive about this bathroom and the stenciling from the 90s. But our house is covered in this green.  I wanted something cleaner and a little brighter. Enter: Rodda paint #0622 Serene Setting...

Saturday morning - after. The wainscoting still needs some touch-ups, but I'm not thinking about that right now.

These April days have mostly been soggy ones, but if you get out at the right moment, the sun hits you and all the colors are suddenly bright and the earth smells incredible. 

Lately I've been thinking about headwinds and tailwinds. Maybe because it's been so windy with all these changes of weather. But it was prompted by an interview I heard on Freakonomics about our tendency to believe that our lives are harder than others'. The headwinds come and become our focus as we struggle to get through them. But there are also tailwinds in our lives that make certain things easier for us. We may notice them giving us a boost at first, but as they continue to push us forward, we stop noticing them. If we pause to notice the seemingly invisible tailwinds, we start to realize how well we are set up in our lives, beyond the major things we're quick to rattle off when asked what we're thankful for. This is what makes daily gratitude journals so powerful and often life-changing. I've worked to make this a habit in my life for years, but something about framing it this way really made sense to me. In case you want to listen to it on a particularly windy day (or read the transcript): Why Is My Life So Hard?

A Little Christmas Music

Sometime before Thanksgiving I was driving around and listening to classical music on public radio. They started playing a bright, brassy number with fast vibrato – probably something by a British brass band - and all at once, gosh darn it, I felt the spirit of Christmas move in my weary soul. The piece was not a Christmas hymn or anything explicitly written for the holiday, yet I found myself waiting at the traffic light, reflecting on my feelings and letting the music transport me to Christmases past.

My mind took me to when I was about 6 or 7: Pulling peppermints off of the advent calendar hanging on the door in the kitchen; unpacking the odd boxes that held the ornaments; the smell of candles, freshly snuffed; a package of Schwarzbrot from the Timmermann Bakery and rock-hard Haribo gummy bears; and brass music, compliments of my oldest brother, Rich. It was then that it hit me how much that brother was so entwined with my more visceral memories of Christmas.

Rich was about to graduate from high school when I was born, so Christmas and summer - his breaks from college - were really the only times I got to spend any amount of time with him as a kid. I remember feeling shy around him because I had to get reacquainted with him each time, but it helped that he brought me music, books, and once, a pencil case from New York City that was long a prized possession. Our house had a different energy when he was home – my other two siblings were around a bit more, too, along with my Oma, and sometimes my Uncle Art and Aunt Alice. While the house at other times of the year felt more like a kid’s domain (to me, at least), at Christmas, everything suddenly felt that much more adult. And thus I remember trying to act a little more like an adult, too – eating things I didn’t care much for because I knew they were special (like that Schwarzbrot), sitting at the table while the adults conversed, not always knowing what they were talking about but waiting for a moment that I understood or could insert a joke or make a funny face. I remember my brothers watching movies in the family room (Dad usually gave us sets of Laserdiscs for Christmas) while I played with my new toys in the living room, and hearing them laugh heartily. And at some point during his visit, Rich would inevitably turn on a cassette tape that featured one or several of his performances at school. Our parents listened with great interest and pride. I found it rather boring and couldn't wait to put on the fun records again.

One year Rich gave my parents a copy of the King’s Singers “A Little Christmas Music.” Not surprisingly, I didn’t like it one bit the first few times we played it – too stuffy-sounding, sometimes weird, what’s with men singing with high voices, anyway? – but it was on repeat long enough that the next year and in the years that have followed, it doesn’t feel like Christmas without it. Today when I listen to my favorite “Ding dong! Merrily on High” I feel a certain nostalgia toward that punchy brass. Those men in falsetto have even been known to prompt a tear if I'm not on guard. May the music always remind me of the joy of the anticipation of being reunited with family. Christmas is here.

Rich on the left, me with the stuffed animal abundance, Dad on the right

Holiday tonic

A number of fun, important things happened at our house in recent days. One was Thanksgiving, our first time ever to host, and the first time ever to seat more than 8 people around our table (a total of 11). Another was getting our parents (Joel’s and mine) in the same place long enough to share a meal and get to know each other in person for the first time in 8 years. It was a sweet evening that meant a lot to us. And another was paying our first sizable vet bill after our very playful cat accidentally - I'm being gracious here - snagged our sweet, trouble-avoidant dog, right on the eyelid. That doesn't really fit in the "fun" or "important" category, but it happened when everything else did. After some stitching and dental work while they were at it, she’s OK now, off drugs and no longer wearing the cone of shame.

But I'm still basking in the afterglow of those first two things. The Thanksgiving menu was something we planned for at least a month. As soon as we knew we were hosting, Joel got on a jag of thinking outside the turkey. At first I resisted (my one chance to roast an entire turkey!), but then I realized it might be kind of fun. So, for instance, instead of preparing a whole bird, we opted for several boneless breasts which we slow-roasted and glazed using this recipe. Instead of mashed potatoes, Joel whipped up one of our now-favorite risottos with caramelized fennel and onion. There were more traditional pairings in the mix, too, including these rolls, and though we worried there wouldn't be enough food, or that people would be disappointed that there were no sweet potatoes on their plate, everything turned out just fine, and I'd be happy to do it all over again. Thinking back on all of the planning, I already have sweet memories of the occasional argument over whether or not we should have potatoes, and the moment we discovered that slow-cooked onions just kind of taste like bland onions, and the feeling of being a good team in the kitchen. 

But what I'm here to tell you about now is drinking, of the somewhat healthy but festive variety. In the midst of dreaming and scheming our Thanksgiving plans, I came across an article in Rodale's Organic Life about fall shrubs. This has nothing to do with the plant variety, but the ultra-trendy, hipster tonic variety. I committed myself to making the apple shrub on a Saturday, which was simply a matter of slicing several pounds of Granny Smiths, covering them in brown sugar and cinnamon, refrigerating them for several days, stirring them each day, then straining on a Monday and mixing with apple cider vinegar. Best part, you can then snack on the apples or use them to bake into a quick dessert! The article described handing these refreshing apple shrubs to guests as they came in from the cold, either mixed with sparkling water or bourbon…or both. 

Unfortunately, a week later, this cozy image was quickly forgotten on Thanksgiving after we’d decided cranberry mimosas would be a festive morning drink for everyone. Oops. But who can go wrong with a festive mimosa?

Not to worry, though! Snow is in the forecast and I'm coming in from the cold each day and can mix up one of these refreshing tonics for myself. Depending on the hour, bourbon is added. And/or ginger ale. This sounds good. Experiment with your own, or come over and help me drink mine.

To our health!

Apple Shrub
from Rodale's Organic Life

9 Granny Smiths, washed and sliced into 8 slices each
4 c. loosely packed brown sugar
2 T. ground cinnamon
1 c. apple cider vinegar

Place all ingredients except the vinegar in a very large bowl or container. Stir for 5 minutes, then cover and place in the fridge. Stir the mixture again the next day, and one more day after that. After that (the third day), get your biggest strainer or colander and dump the mixture into it over another large bowl. You'll probably find some large gloopy chunks. Take a fine strainer and strain those out. Place the apples aside for snacking (I did this for about 3 days) or put into a baking dish and sprinkle your favorite topping over it and bake for dessert. Pour the apple cider vinegar in the strained liquid and stir to combine. Place in a jar and store in the fridge for up to a month.

Welcome Christmas!

I wrote this post back in 2013 to accompany my Christmas playlist that year and never ended up posting it. I'm not sure why, except that I might have worried it was on the dark side of my normal fare.  But the words are still true. I wish you peace and hope. Enjoy this playlist here.

In recent years, I've begun to listen to Christmas music with an ear toward irony. In the midst of sleigh bells and jolliness, Christmas music often seems like a mask, a state of denial, a stretch to find small morsels of joy. I listen to "Deck the Halls" and think of someone sticking fingers in their ears, drowning out reality and singing "fa la la la la..."

At the risk of being a downer, I can't help but think of how hard this time of year can be. Sometimes we have the wherewithal to reflect, but often we work hard to deflect uncomfortable feelings of change and pain that seem to heighten during the holidays. Perhaps it's because the absence of loved ones feels especially obvious when carrying on old traditions. Perhaps it's because we put a lot of stock into making the holidays special for young ones who are in their most impressionable years, knowing that these are the memories they will pine for in adulthood and we don't want to screw it up. Perhaps it's because we spend more money than necessary on gifts that may or may not be appreciated, decorations to make us merry, and big dinners to make us full, and then January comes and we're broke, a few pounds heavier, and baby, it's cold outside, but the weather is not nearly as romantic as it is frightful. Occasionally we stop to consider those who are eating their Christmas meal in a soup kitchen, or alone in a nursing home, or those who have no idea it's Christmas at all. It may make us remember all we take for granted, but to sing "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year," seems a little over-stated.

Christmas music - some of it, anyway - can be trite and grating when you stop to consider reality. And yet, it's the first thing that I look forward to after Thanksgiving. Why? I don't really know, except that perhaps it represents hope. The first and final track of this year's mix captures this feeling most fittingly - Christmas is here, right when we need it. We may all be making a desperate plea to the world to bring us Christmas joy, whether we're feeling sadder, older and colder, so let's all be festive and love each other. I hope you've had a great year and are spending the holiday with renewed vigor. Notice that the title of this year's Christmas mix is not "Welcome, Christmas" as though you were greeting an old friend. It's a command. Join me in my attempt to welcome everything that Christmas promises in the best ways. This is the time to welcome the season and to look forward with hope.

A new year

Here we are, at the end of my two-week vacation, and here's a small sampling of what I have to show for it. 

A few weeks ago, Joel came home with a surprise bottle of Calvados, not knowing that I had also purchased a surprise bottle of Laird's Apple Brandy - the stuff you have to order all the way from New York City. 'Twas the season to indulge in these things that often start off as gift ideas for the other person but are clearly meant to be shared.

I know that photos like the one above are not entirely appetizing under harsh lighting, but if you're looking for a delicious chicken katsu curry recipe, take my word for it, this is indeed one. I was hoping to cook more interesting stuff like this over the last two weeks, but this was just one of a few dishes that wasn't leftovers of some bigger, tried-and-true dish (rouladen, roast, prime rib...I ate more red meat in two weeks than I'd eaten all year).

 Are you catching a theme here? It's always about what I ate/drank. I did try a new cookie recipe this Christmas - an America's Test Kitchen recipe for real ginger gingersnaps, which calls for browned butter and pepper and everything you'd ever want in a gingersnap, including the extreme snappiness that calls for hot tea.

We were on our own on Christmas Eve. We watched "Home Alone" for the first time in ages. It's such a snarky comedy - and I couldn't believe what a jerk Kevin was to his parents, or how dumb those burglars were to not look before they took a single step. And yet, the musical theme always makes me a little teary-eyed. The night before we watched "Adventures in Babysitting" - a classic I had never seen. We were truly on a roll.

Yesterday (Jan. 2) we celebrated our second full year with this cat. I love remembering the day we got her and the tiny "meows" she made as she explored each new area of the house, and how excited I felt when she found little spots to curl up and sleep. Then there was the moment when we realized that cats are little terrors in the night who knock things over and howl, who walk across your legs when you're in the middle of a wonderful dream. Alas, she's a cat. But she is kind of the best.

And now we are in a new year. Despite the crazy way we celebrated it - leaving a casino a few dollars poorer, but just in time to catch the fireworks rain over downtown - it feels like the most anticlimactic start to a new year I've ever experienced, and I think it is partly because I started some good new habits at various points last year to counteract the bad ones that kept creeping in. Nevertheless, it should be no surprise to you, after viewing the display of food and drink above, that I'm looking forward to leaner months with more tea and fewer cookies. I'm devoted to writing more things by hand, spending far less time on my personal Facebook account (usually just on Fridays, for about 10 minutes) and far more time on at-home daily routines (I'm a sucker for things like this) and getting better at my job. I borrowed a friend's copy of Zero Waste Home and am trying to incorporate a few of her practices in my ongoing quest to consume less. (I'm also really glad to have people around me who are good at this.) I want to travel more this year (like every year) and already have a few trips in mind. I hope to have more people in my home this year for impromptu drinks or dinner or dessert or tea. I have oodles of craft projects in mind, and am venturing into sewing clothes with knit fabrics instead of stiff cotton ones. In summary, those who know me know that my 2015 resolutions are pretty standard Liz fare. Either way, I'm bound and determined to make something out of them. Cheers to this bountiful year!

On nurturing your favorite cook and/or baker this Christmas

When I got my first apartment after college, I bought a handful of things for the kitchen, probably from an aisle or two at Target: measuring spoons and cups, a dish-drying rack, some kitchen towels. Nearly everything else was covered by gifts and hand-me-downs. For someone who's never had a wedding registry, I've cleaned up quite well over the years, thanks to the loving folks in my life who know how much time I enjoy in the kitchen.

Perhaps you're already done with your shopping, but just in case you're out of ideas, here are a few things that I highly recommend for cooks - from the newbies to the ones who seem to have everything.

Little somethings

1. Measuring spoons. Most people already have a set, but having two sets can be a lifesaver from time to time. Plus, they come in all sorts of fun designs, like these, these and these ones. 
2. Pan scraper. Because new and seasoned cooks alike get stuff stuck to the bottom of the pan. The best ones are the size of a credit card and are just as flexible, but I've learned they're not easy to find unless you go to the right kitchen store (we stocked up at a store in Petaluma, Calif., knowing we might not find them elsewhere). They are also a dream for scraping out dough remnants from your mixing bowl. If you don't know the difference, a hard plastic square variety still works great.
3. Paring knife. Another item it doesn't hurt to have a few of. I like the ones that come with their own plastic sheath, making it easy to stash in a lunch bag.
4. Cookie and biscuit cutters. People like me don't need much of a reason to make cookies, but the opportunity to use fun cookie cutters is a compelling incentive.
5. Poach pods. I'm lousy when it comes to poaching eggs the traditional way, so these silicone wonders changed my breakfast life. You simply simmer some water in a pan, crack an egg into each pod, float them on the water, cover the pan, and in 6-7 minutes you have a perfectly poached, English-muffin sized egg. It's really fun.

Joel uses the microplane for fresh nutmeg topping on our adult drinks

Solid gifts

1. Microplane. Your life is made instantly easier and fancier in owning one of these. I use it almost every time I cook for mincing ginger and garlic, zesting citrus fruits and grating nutmeg and really hard cheese. 
2. Baking stone. Those who are serious about good pizza and crusty loaves, and who don't happen to have a wood-burning pizza oven, shouldn't attempt either without a baking stone.
3. French Press or Aeropress. I don't like taking up space on my counter with coffee machines, which is one reason I've loved my French press for so long, plus it makes really good coffee for one or two people. After developing a post-dinner espresso habit, however, the Aeropress came into our lives, and none to soon. We love it so much, it even comes on vacation with us. It's lightweight, stashable, simple, and makes a mean cup of coffee and espresso-like sips. 
4. Whirley Pop: I am normally not an advocate for single-purpose appliances like these, but for people like me who make a lot of popcorn and like having a seasoned pot for it, the Whirley Pop brings much joy. Include a bag of Tiny But Mighty heirloom popcorn for extra loveliness. 
5. A cutting block with a good chef's knife. Don't underestimate the power of one good knife on a sturdy surface. 
6. Pasta maker. It took me awhile to drum up the courage to make pasta, but after my first successful try (after a major fail), I was hooked. I started off with an Imperia, before I got my Kitchenaid attachment (even more fun to use), which came with two attachments for spaghetti and fettuccine noodles. Once you know how to make pasta, I say, you're set for life.

Cookbooks: The basics

1. The New Best Recipe cookbook (or any big book from Cook's Illustrated/America's Test Kitchen). This was a gift to myself right after college, after one of my friends used it for a recipe for calzones with perfect results. Years later, I still use this regularly for basic recipes and guiding principles, and its recipe for molasses spice cookies. There are no photos, which I think is important because it makes you read their detailed instructions carefully. 
2. The Art of Simple Food. Alice Waters is a wonderful teacher in showing us how to prepare food in a way that celebrates what it is, without all the fancy nonsense.
3. Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child. I love venturing into this beauty of a book whenever I want to tackle something new. Turns out that it's not all that difficult. 

Once you know how to do it, you can bake these babies anywhere. These were made at Mom and Dad's.

Cookbooks for expanding horizons

1. Ratio by Michael Ruhlman. This book, along with Tamar Adler's An Everlasting Meal, has made me a much more confident cook because it's taught me principles of cooking. No longer do I need a recipe for a vinaigrette, beef stock or bread dough because I know the ideal ratio and key ingredients for making them. This breeds much creativity in cooking, too; people might think you're a real whiz kid.
2. Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day. A great companion gift with the baking stone. There is no easier way to make your dinner more luxurious than by pulling a crackling round of bread from the oven. Thanks to this book, you'll usually find a bucket of dough in my fridge, ready to parse out over a couple weeks' time for loaves and pizza crust.
3. Smitten Kitchen Cookbook. There's a good variety of beautiful and approachable recipes in here. I make Deb's recipe for granola regularly.

An old trick on cold winter nights - soup on the stove, bread under the broiler, hands near all elements.

Pièce de résistance gifts

1. Pots and pans. This was my parents' Christmas gift to me when I was a senior in college. It made me feel like I'd arrived. I still love the set. It was from Macy's (Belgique brand) and it came with a stock pot, a large, medium and small sauce pan, a 10-inch skillet, and a steamer pot that fit on the large saucepan. I use them all.
2. Stand mixer. I was shocked when I received my Kitchenaid for Christmas. I was totally fine with the handheld mixer I had, but having the ability to machine-knead dough and whip egg whites while I readied other ingredients changed everything for me. And they come in such pretty colors.
3. Food processor. Another thing I didn't realize how much I'd love until I had one. I love mine for pasta dough, pie crust, big batches of well-whipped hummus, and pureeing nuts.
4. French or Dutch oven. My 5-quart red Le Creuset gets a lot of love. Everything I make in it looks so much more thoughtful, expertly assembled and delicious. And it just cooks things better, I'm convinced.
5. Cuisinart griddle/grill/panini press combo: I have fallen in love with this thing. I use it to grill meat, smash panini and fry pancakes. It's versatile and easy to clean, and I learned you can also buy waffle plates for it (!!). 

WEEKEND: 3.14.14

I'm baaa-aaack!

Friday started with the rains. I rode the bus for the first time in months and enjoyed that moment when I was the only one left on the bus (mine is the next-to-last stop on the route).

This post needs some color. I made these along with giant shamrock cookies for my sister-in-law's birthday.

A beautiful drive to Colville for dinner. We stopped so Joel could take a photo. I waited in the car and took this one with my phone.

We made money at the casino on the way home. Our best machine was called "Milk Money." When you're doing well, it moos at you, and you get to watch a whole animated scene of some poor cow's utters getting squeezed of its chocolate and strawberry milk - and eggnog. Only furthering my utter confusion (pun intended) on how you actually play these machines.

Irish soda bread.

I spent all week preparing this corned beef for an authentic-as-it's-gonna-get boiled dinner for St. Patrick's Day. I was kind of proud of myself - you can tell by the blurry picture.

WEEKEND: Dec. 6 + Eggnog cookies

 I spent a lot of time in the Kraft Zimmer this weekend.

 Sunday night eggnog cookies. For no one in particular. Except for maybe...

Eggnog Cookies
adapted slightly from America's Test Kitchen

2 1/2 c. flour
3/4 c. superfine sugar (or regular sugar processed through your food processor)
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. salt
16 T. (1 c.) unsalted butter, cut into 16 pieces, softened
2 T. cream cheese, softened
2 large hard-cooked egg yolks, pressed through fine-mesh strainer
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. dark rum

Icing:
1 T. rum
1 T. milk
1 T. cream cheese
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
3/4 c. powdered sugar (or more for thicker consistency)

Using stand mixer, mix flour, sugar, nutmeg and salt on low speed until combined. Add butter, one piece at a time, and mix until crumbly, 1 to 2 minutes after all pieces have been added. Add cream cheese, egg yolks, vanilla and rum and beat until dough is clumpy. Knead dough by hand just until a cohesive mass. Divide dough in half and form each half into a disk. Wrap disks individually in plastic wrap and refrigerate 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 375. Line baking sheets with parchment. Roll each disk out to 1/4 - 1/8" thick. Cut into desired shape (ATK used a biscuit cutter; I used a snowflake cookie cutter) and lay on sheets 1" apart. Gather and reroll scraps as needed. Bake for 10 minutes, rotating sheets as necessary, or until golden grown. Let cookies cool on sheets 3 minutes before transferring cookies to wire rack to cool completely.

Whisk icing ingredients together and spread glaze over cookies. Let dry 30 minutes.