Ten Musings

Well. Let's get right to it.

1) Soft grapes are an abomination.

2) Daniel informed me the other day that he has a teacher who is "allergic to triangles." I just...just love him.

3) When Steve returns home from a business trip, I find myself resisting a most burning desire to bake about 3 different cakes. Fondant Au Chocolat, French Style Lemon and Yogurt Cake, and some other French cake. Before you think,"Oh, what a sweet and benevolent wife", I'll stop you right there and confess: The cakes? For me. Steve's homecoming is the perfect cover for such an indulgence. (Hi, Honey!)

4) I typically do not care for cake or cupcakes. I know. That pretty much dumps me into the camp of "Not A Fun Person". Before I met Steve, I used to envision a wedding without cake. I imagined pie. I love pie. Pie as far as the eye could see. French Silk Pies EVERYWHERE. Banana Cream! Key Lime! Chocolate Peanut Butter Icebox Pie!! All my beloved friends, all present during the happiest day of my life. Well. Steve doesn't particularly care for excessive amounts of pie. So we chose the tastiest cake we could think of: marble cake with raspberry filling and buttercream frosting. I did love it. It truly was a good cake. BUT... it wasn't until I discovered French-style yogurt cakes that I realized cakes could be moist, mouth-wateringly delicious without being cloyingly sweet, and oh-so-simple. No layers or frosting here, which is good, because I seriously can't be bothered with either. A simple glaze over a rustic, single-layer cake and a hot cup of tea will do very nicely, thank you. Here is one of our favorite French-style yogurt cakes.  Bonus: Steve LOVES these cakes. Win!

5) I dream of a TV-free household one day. I'm not kidding, I'm not crazy, and yes; I really do mean that.

6) If you are 4 years old, it is extremely important that you start off each and every day by disassembling your father's small electric grooming devices, all the way down to stripping it of its batteries. Make sure you do this when it's your turn in the bathroom, so your mom thinks you're just doing an amazing job brushing your teeth. Chuckle to yourself when your mom finds the once-again stripped devices, and laugh even harder when your father puts the devices back together and PUTS THEM BACK IN THE EXACT SAME LOCATION AS BEFORE. Grown ups. They never learn, do they?

7) Watching your six year old play air guitar while listening to "In The Hall Of The Mountain King" is a most joyous activity.

8) Realizing that your youngest boy is a spitting image of your father is also a most joyous thing. At least, in my case, it is. BA HA HA.

9) Steve bought three different kinds of Irish cheese over St. Patrick's Day weekend. Not only did I fall ridiculously in love with him all over again, I was positively blown away by the amazing flavor, texture, and no-nonsense straight-forwardness of Irish cheese. I highly recommend Kerrygold Dubliner, and Wexford Mature Irish Cheddar. I am seriously dreaming of the next time I can wend my way to our local little delicatessen to acquire some more Dubliner.

10) I infinitely prefer Easter to Christmas. I only have about 56,493 reasons for this, so I just might have  to share them another time.

It's good to be back. I hope to be back on a more frequent basis. Good night to all.

The Art of Owning a Scone

Over the years, I have learned with great shock that not every single person adores scones as much as I do. I can understand that. After all, what do most people think of when the word "scone" is thrown around? Some sad, woefully dry, rock-hard concoction involving some tooth-achingly sweet glaze  languishing in the glass pastry case at any given coffee shop. Appetizing? I think not! No, my friends; to experience a real scone, one must experience high tea (not to be confused with high tide) at an actual tea house of sorts, and depending on where you live, this can be quite a challenge. Short of hopping the next plane to England (which I'm not necessarily discouraging you from doing), the next best thing to a high tea scone is a good, honest scone made by yourself in your very own kitchen. I am in earnest here, because really; once you learn the art of making your own scones, you will never, ever, and I do mean EVER purchase one of those dry mouthfuls of wood shavings from any given coffee shop ever again. You may enter one of these coffee shops to purchase a beverage, but upon seeing that pastry case, you will scoff with such derision at the poor, unsuspecting hipster in front of you purchasing a blueberry scone (SNORT) and you will KNOW, you will KNOW that you have found the higher way. And other than your wild, maniacal laughter as you are escorted from said coffee shop, that poor hipster won't suspect a thing.

Or will he?

I'm sorry. I'm currently listening to David Bowie as I type this, and it's forcing my writing into wild overdrive. I'll try to remember that I'm actually writing about SCONES, for goodness' sake, SCONES. The epitome of high British society!! Get it together, Mary!

Ahem.

So, yes; make your own scones. I shall save you the trouble of finding a good recipe and post my own marvelous, wonderful brain-child of a scone recipe. If you do feel like embarking on a rather useless search of your own, all I can do is urge you to search for British or Scottish scones. Us Americans, well, we just really do not have the slightest clue when it comes to a successful scone. After all, we're the ones who came up with the coffee shop "special"!

Scottish Scones with Apricots and Vanilla Bean

-Adapted from Molly Wizenberg's "A Homemade Life".

This recipe is by far my absolute favorite homemade scone recipe. As Molly states in her original recipe, feel free to play with the flavorings in this recipe. Instead of 1/4 cup of snipped dried apricot, try 1/4 cup of another dried fruit, or play around with different citrus zests. Lemon! Orange! Lime! *GASP* If going the citrus zest route, the original recipe calls for 2 teaspoons of zest, so keep that in mind. I usually make these as lemon scones, but a vision came to me as I was texting my sister Megan (this is not uncommon), and I knew I had hit upon a combination to kill for. I had found my scone. I was OWNING this scone.  

2 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) cold, unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
3 heaping tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup dried apricots, snipped quite small (think the eraser head of a pencil)
1 whole vanilla bean (Smell it. Right. Now.)
1/2 cup half-and-half, plus more for glazing
1 large egg

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Using your hands, rub the butter into the flour mixture, squeezing and pinching the butter (this is very therapeutic) until the mixture resembles a coarse meal and there are no butter lumps bigger than a pea. Add the sugar and dried apricots, and whisk to incorporate.
   Pour 1/2 cup half-and-half into a small liquid measuring cup (I usually use my 2-cup measuring cup) and add the egg, whisking well to combine. Using a small, sharp-tipped knife, split the vanilla bean down the middle, then scrape out the seeds (tip: flip the knife around to use the dull side for scraping out the seeds, press down on the bean, and in one, smooth motion, move the knife from top to bottom. The seeds will gather on the blade of the knife.) Place the vanilla seeds into the cream/egg mixture, and once again, whisk well to combine. This will smell just wonderful. Pour the cream mixture into the flour mixture, and using a fork, mix until just combined. Turn the dough out onto a kneading surface (it will look like a dry, shaggy mess. Don't be alarmed!), and using your hands, squeeze and press the dough into a rough mass. Continue to gently press, gather, and knead the dough until it JUST comes together (Molly suggests kneading no more than 12 times. I have never disobeyed her. Sorry; I am a second born child. I always do as I'm told.) There may be some excess flour that is not absorbed, but that doesn't matter. As soon as the dough holds together, pat it into a rough circle about 1 inch thick. Cut the circle into 8 wedges.
   Place the wedges on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or a silicone baking mat. Pour a splash of half-and-half into a small bowl, and gently brush the tops of the scones with a thin coat to glaze. Bake for 10-14 minutes, or until pale golden. Transfer them to a wire rack to cool slightly, and serve warm, with butter, or clotted cream, or lemon curd, or strawberry jam, or nothing at all, if that is what your heart desires.

Note: These scones freeze remarkably well. To freeze, allow the scones the cool completely, then transfer them to a freezer bag. To reheat, allow them to thaw in the fridge overnight, then heat for about 10 minutes in a 300 degree oven just before serving.

Make these, and prepare to be the envy of all the hipsters who frequent those ironic and sad coffee shops, searching for perfect scones and who knows what else. And with that, I will most likely never mention hipsters again on this blog. Good night to you all.

Afterthoughts

Well, Christmas is over, and I somehow managed to survive AND enjoy it. Miracle of miracles! Christmas and I have not gotten along very well for the past 6 years, and it's mostly because we have this incredible knack for:

1) Barfing like mad on Christmas.


-OR-

2) Ending up in the ER for one reason or another on Christmas Eve/Day (take your pick!).

But this year was different.

Yes, indeedy, my friends. This year was one for the ages, because for the first time in SIX YEARS (no lie!), we had a healthy Christmas. It. Was. EXTRAORDINARY. And miraculous. And to celebrate, I give you...

Christmas Afterthoughts, or The Christmas Caramels That Will Change Your Life And Render You Speechless Each And Every Time You Sink Your Teeth Into Them. 

Because I am so incredibly organized (bwahaha), I am posting a Christmas treat recipe now rather than the weeks leading up to Christmas. I'm just THAT GOOD. But lest you think you have grown weary of Christmassy treats, let me just stop you right. there. These caramels...Oh, these caramels. I can barely speak of it. But I must. The world must know!!! Let me tell you a few things about these caramels.
  I had all sorts of grandiose plans before Christmas to make all sorts of cookies, even after partaking in two cookie exchanges. There can never be enough cookies, right? And then...AND THEN I stumbled across these caramels from one of my favorite food blogs, Not Without Salt. Mmm...Caramels...I thought dreamily to myself as I was transported back to my childhood, back to that One Christmas when my Grandma Jeanne stayed with us for for about a week, and I remember being nine and having dreadful glasses, but what did that matter when mom and grandma were making FUDGE and CARAMELS?? It didn't matter at all, even though I was also wearing stirrup pants and tunic sweaters as well. I don't even know how I had the chutzpah to leave the house. But as I said, it didn't matter, because glorious things were happening in the kitchen. The fudge was wonderful; dense, chocolatey, perfect texture and consistency. I really liked the fudge. BUT THE CARAMELS....oh, the caramels. I fell madly and violently in love, and I simply couldn't get enough of them. SO, when I saw this caramel recipe, I knew my time had come. It was a rite of passage. It was my turn to make the caramels now. And make them I did. It was all I made in the weeks before Christmas. Any notion of making cookies flew out of my mind at an alarming rate of speed. Forget cookies. There were caramels to be made. The process was surprisingly simple- turns out I can boil butter and sugar just fine. All you need is a few simple ingredients, a candy thermometer, a prepared pan/workspace (there is to be NO checking of the Facebook whatsoever whilst making caramels; are we clear?), and a little bit of patience. Here we are in the "freshly poured into the pan" stage (allow about 8 hours to set. As I said, a bit of patience!)

Here we are in the gifting stage. So. Much. Fun.

These caramels. They are the most exquisite blend of sweetness, creaminess, a bite of salt (yes, I said "bite"), and the most wonderful and unexpected hint of sweet spices. They are my favorite forever. These are the caramels you need to drop everything for and make them at once, even if it's 2:30 in the afternoon and your kitchen smells like a yeast factory because you, once again, haven't quite finished all of the breakfast dishes, and there is cereal fermenting somewhere in your sink (not that I have EVER experienced THAT- hahaha...ho boy). Heed not the fermenting cereal, and make thyself these caramels! Thou shalt not regret it. Here is the link to the blog post and recipe for the caramels. Let's hear it for the Christmas Afterthought! Better late than never, I suppose. Enjoy, my friends!

When Only Pancakes Will Do

We survived Thanksgiving quite nicely yesterday, despite my roaring at a pie crust early in the morning, and dealing with an especially belligerent turkey. In the end, though, the crust was flaky and beautifully rustic, and nobody got sick from the turkey. For this, and many, many other things, I am most thankful. YES. And, no; I do not shop on Black Friday, I have never shopped on Black Friday, and I never will. I start sweating just thinking about it. My heart starts pounding ever so slightly, and I start feeling panicky. No shopping deals, no matter how appealing they could possibly be, could never, ever induce me to participate in the consumerist insanity of Black Friday. Now, let me tell you how I really feel about it...JUST KIDDING. Anyway, it's the crowds and lines that freak me out more than anything. I also have this irrational fear of being trampled in some sort of mad stampede. After all, I am only 5'0 tall. (Barely). But enough about Black Friday. It's time to talk about breakfast. Pancakes, to be precise.

I firmly believe that on certain mornings, only pancakes will do. Not just any pancakes...Wheat Germ Buttermilk Pancakes. 

Now, I realize these pancakes will not be winning any beauty contests any time soon. But before you turn up your nose and dismiss me as a hopeless leftover hippie, please allow me to extoll the virtues of wheat germ. Not only does it have a delightfully mild, nutty, and ever so slightly sweet flavor, it is packed with protein (2 tblsp. contains 25% of your daily value), no trans fat, low in sugar, cholesterol free, and sodium free. It is also an excellent source of iron and folic acid. It's basically an incredibly delicious and effective nutritional supplement. If you want to up the nutritional value of a baked good, throw some wheat germ in there. Just do it. It's also very inexpensive. Frugal folks; unite!

So there's my little plug for wheat germ.

Now let's get to the good stuff.

When it comes to pancakes, I infinitely prefer buttermilk pancakes over, um, non-buttermilk pancakes. Buttermilk adds such a lovely fluffiness and body to pancakes, and the FLAVOR, PEOPLE. Don't even get me started on the FLAVOR. When you combine buttermilk pancakes plus a bit of wheat germ, you get a fluffy, yet incredibly hearty pancake (I'm stuffed after two small pancakes) with just a hint of sweetness and nuttiness. I dare say, it truly is my favorite pancake, EVER. I do not exaggerate. I've been using the same pancake recipe for nearly 8 years, and I have no intention of deviating whatsoever. Please. I beg of thee. Try these soon.

Wheat Germ Buttermilk Pancakes
-Slightly adapted from "Whole Foods For The Whole Family", compiled and edited by Roberta Bishop Johnson. An interesting note on this cookbook: my mom handed this cookbook down to me, and it is literally falling apart. It is the second edition of the original La Leche League family cookbook. I don't cook a great deal of recipes from this book, but the breakfast section does not disappoint. 

- 2 cups of buttermilk
- 1 egg
- 1 tsp. baking powder
- 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
- 1/4 c. brown sugar
- 1/4 c. canola oil (or another flavorless oil)
- 1 1/2 c. unbleached, all-purpose flour
- 1/2 c. wheat germ

In a large bowl, place buttermilk, egg, baking soda, salt, brown sugar, and oil. Mix well. Add flour and wheat germ, beating only until large lumps disappear. Cook on a lightly greased skillet or electric griddle over medium high heat (375 degrees for the griddle). Flip pancakes when they begin to puff up a bit (they will not form little bubbles like traditional pancakes). Remove from heat after about 2 minutes, serve with maple syrup. Makes about 12 small-ish pancakes.

Make-Ahead:
You can make the batter the night before and store it in a covered container overnight in the refrigerator. Also, feel free to stir in blueberries, etc. to jazz up the pancakes.

How about you? Do you have a favorite style of pancakery?

Ten Things

1) A couple of weeks ago, Steve and I decided to take advantage of our tax dollars and utilize the storytime for 3-5 year olds at our local public library. We dropped off David and Daniel in the storytime room, danced a jig, then took turns browsing. It is a many-splendored thing to browse unfettered. We will return. Oh, we will return. Bonus: my children did not set off the fire alarm (like my sister Meg did at the ripe old age of three), run away, or start wrestling. Win!

2) I've been a yogurt-making fool lately. Try it.

3) I am actually full after eating half a pomegranate. Have you tried an actual fresh pomegranate? Fear not the de-seeding process, my friends! This technique takes me less than five minutes, and can I just say how wonderful it is to sprinkle fresh pomegranate arils into homemade yogurt? It is truly outstanding.

4) I can't put this book down. It involves Maine, self-sustaining farms, hippies, and family tragedy. Beautifully written, this moving memoir captures a pivotal point in history in regards to the "back-to-the-land" movement.

6) This blog post cut me to the quick the other day. Motherhood has been, um, a rather robust challenge these days.

7) I might be losing my voice. This may or may not be a good, nay; GREAT thing.

8) Around this time of year, I start to yearn for a trip to England. I attribute this to the fact that Steve and I got engaged in England the day after Thanksgiving almost 9 years ago. To be precise, we got engaged at the oldest restaurant in London.  To say it was glorious is to make a devastating understatement. One of these days, I'll post the whole crazy story. But today is not that day. Oh, England. I will love you forever. Lake District, you're next.

9) True story: Steve and I have participated in a book group for quite a few years now. I have this dreadful, dreadful habit of starting our chosen book, then all of a sudden getting terribly interested in basically every other book on earth but the one I am actually supposed to be reading. Does this happen to anyone else?? It's not that I didn't have time to finish the book...I just read about 7 other books in the meantime. And yes; I am currently in the process of doing that very thing as we speak.

10) Lucas threw my digital camera in the garbage. No, I didn't see him do it, but I know my children. No problem, said I. I'll just use my iPhone until I can save up some money for a new camera. That was all well and good, until I got a pesky notification on my phone that the memory was almost full. What. Just. Happened. "Wait a minute," said Steve. "How many pictures do you have on your phone?" "Only 2,302!" I huffed. When Steve finally stopped laughing about ten minutes later, I realized that I'm going to have to do some housekeeping on the old iPhone. Pray for me.

11) Okay, okay, I know I said ten things. Did you really expect me to stick to that? Yesterday, I made banana muffins, banana bread, and this glorious soup for dinner. I haven't had such a satisfying soup in quite some time, and this one was just perfect for easing into late fall. Late fall, I fear ye not!! At least not yet...
AND LAST, BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST...

I just deleted over 1,000 pictures from my phone. Don't worry; everything was saved and backed up before I deleted them. I'm suffering only mild heart palpitations. 

On that note, Happy Friday, and have a lovely weekend. :-)

And Just Like That...

...Lucy is six months old.

It just happened. I blinked my eyes, and it just happened. I know what I'm about to write is quite cliche, but I simply. Can't. Help. Myself. How on earth did half a year just fly by? And how on earth did I end up with such an astoundingly sweet baby girl? I thank God every day for her and her marvelously crazy brothers.

I love how big she's getting. I treasure how small she still is.

Blue eyes!! It finally happened. 

My Lucy Hannah. I am looking forward to so many things with you. Happy half-year, baby girl!!

The Answer To (Nearly) Everything In Life

Most of life is quite complicated, but every once in a great while, there lies an answer so incredibly obvious, you will: A) wonder why on earth you didn't think of it sooner, and: B) how in the world you ever got on without it. One fine example is how I taught my dear brother the many-splendored virtues of vinegar as a cleaning, disinfecting, and deodorizing agent. Like many poor souls before him, he gave me a weird-eyeballed look that said,"Okey dokey, you goofy little hippie", and went on his muscular way. I pleaded with him most fervently to try it (okay, I shoved the spray bottle at him, and growled,"TRY IT"), and once he did, he couldn't stop singing the praises of the good old 50/50 mix of vinegar and water. Cheapness, er, frugality prevails!! That is just one example of something so simple, yet so life-changing. The other life-changer, well, I just don't know if I can muster up the courage to share it with you. I've come this far. I must press on and tell you The Answer To (Nearly) Everything In Life: 

Put an egg on it. 

That's right. You heard me. Put an egg on it. 

You may be saying,"Well, DUH, Mary; I've been throwing poached or fried eggs on my veggies/potatoes/children/cereal/pizza/oatmeal/second cousin's sister's nephew for YEARS. What took you so long?" I may be quite late to the egg party, but hey man, I'm here now, and have no plans to take off anytime soon. It all started with grilled asparagus. I had read in A Homemade Life about putting a fried egg on top of leftover Ratatouille, and I was quite smitten with the idea. When I was left with a generous amount of leftover asparagus, I knew exactly what to do. And then there was sauteed zucchini.

And many, many others. It has become my mantra- "Put an egg on it." It's far from original, but it will solve just about every culinary dilemma you are presented with. Even the boys have fallen hard for veggies with poached eggs on top, and before you give me the whole "My child wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole yadda yadda yadda" let me ask you: HAVE YOU TRIED?? Well, if not, try this:

Steamed Broccoli with Parmesan and Poached Eggs

By Mary Johnson, Extreme Egg Enthusiast.

This is perfect for when you have nothing in the fridge except half a dozen eggs, a head or two of broccoli, and 1/4 wedge of Parmesan cheese. Not that I'm speaking from experience or anything...AHEM. 

First, chop two heads of broccoli into small-ish florets. Steam (in a saucepan on the stovetop in just enough water to cover the broccoli or a countertop steamer) the broccoli for 10 minutes. NOT A MINUTE MORE OR LESS. Just kidding. In the meantime...

 Fill a frying pan slightly less than halfway with water, place over medium heat, and bring to a slightly aggressive simmer. While the water is heating up, crack an egg into a ramekin to ensure a perfect transfer to the pan, like so: (easy does it!)

 Repeat the egg process three more times, for a lovely even number of four eggs. I hate prime numbers. Just thought I'd share. WARNING: At this point, the eggs are going to look like a heinous, horrendous, disgusting, grotesque mess. DO. NOT. PANIC. That's an order! See my revolting poached eggs? It's okay! It really is! Hang in there!

  

Fight that panicky feeling inside and give those eggers a good 3-4 minutes of simmering, occasionally "basting" the top of the eggs with a little water. I just use a large spoon and scoop a little bit of the hot water on the tops of the eggs. I find it helps "seal" in a perfect poach.

While the eggs finish poaching, drain the broccoli, and toss with a little bit of olive oil, kosher salt, pepper, and a heaping tablespoon of freshly grated parmesan cheese. Divide the broccoli among 4 bowls (fourth bowl not pictured here- sorry), and gently nestle the egg amongst the broccoli. FORGIVE ME FOR THE UPSIDE-DOWN PICTURE. I CAN BARELY STAND IT MYSELF. But for some reason, iPhoto is being weird right now, and I am quite irked. Anyway, season with salt and pepper, and eat it with a most ferocious passion. 

Yes. The verdict is Yes. The boys regularly request "bloccoli with eggs", and I am more than happy to oblige. 

So there you have it. You heard from me. Put an egg on it. When you find yourself in a culinary dilemma, Put an egg on it. When you find yourself questioning the meaning of life, Put an egg on it. When life hands you lemons, throw an egg in its face, I mean, Put an egg on it. 

And that's all I really have to say about that. 

Stay tuned for more egg-related adventures soon!!