It was eventful in lots of small ways and seemed to imbue my very arms and legs with this quivering, inspiring energy that I can’t seem to shake.

In the tradition of Joy the Baker, whose random advice alongside yet another stellar kale recipe made me smile real big, I have some thoughts zooming around my dome that I wanted to share. I’m not sure if it’s because they’re valuable or because I just drank a lot of coffee. Nothing qualifies me to give any of this as advice except that it’s advice I myself need to hear over and over and over.

Go on lots of dates. And I’m not just talking about dates with menfolk (or ladyfolk). Those are fun, don’t get me wrong; you get to dress pretty (or handsome) and get doors opened for you (or open doors?) and stuff. But I think dates are much bigger than that. Go on dates with your friends; go to dinner and order fancy cocktails and split giant plates of enchiladas with extra hot sauce. Cook at home and drink out of mason jars. Go to the park and climb trees. Go on dates with yourself, even if it’s just grocery shopping. Treat yourself to the fancy peanut butter. Use your free drink on your favorite coffee shop punch card and bring a really good book. When I look at ordinary things like this as something special, it simply makes me more aware of how loved I am and how much I love. It’s a good thing.

Recycle/upcycle/reuse/reduce. It feels so much better than just throwing stuff away. Give things another chance at life and use. Use those spare socks as dusting mitts. Don’t use the plastic produce bags at the grocery store if you don’t have to. Bring your own bags everywhere, even when the people at the mall look at you funny. You’re saving trees and air and people.

Be thankful. It’s really that simple. Be thankful. For everything. For hot coffee, for clean floors, for surprise sister hugs. Be thankful even for the awful, crappy stuff that makes you cry the kind of tears where snot runs out of your nose and you feel pathetic. Be thankful for that. This is a posture and a way of looking at life that I am doing my utmost to live into and live into well. I know so much of what I write may sound like a broken record, but I’ll say it again: gratitude is the best possible lens I know at which to look at life and really does make all the difference.

Smile at people. I walk to one of my jobs and pass a fair number of people on my way to and fro. I’ve started to intentionally smile at each person I pass, instead of staring at the sidewalk with my headphones in, convinced that everyone is going to mug me. You never know what something that simple can mean to someone else. If nothing else, it helps remind me that these people are real humans who are so very worthy of being loved and smiled at.

Listen to good music, eat more vegetables, buy less stuff. Live outwardly, love the people who deserve it the least, ask the hard questions, hug without reason. Don’t worry so much what other people think of you; it doesn’t really matter nearly as much as you think it does sometimes. (Plus you’re awesome.) Don’t speed or tailgate people when you’re driving; it’s just plain bad manners. Give yourself a break once in awhile; you’re human and screw up and it’s okay. Try new recipes, laugh really loud, wear skirts, call instead of text, invite people into your home as much as you can. Live the kind of life that fills you up to your toes.

“Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly.” – 1 Corinthians 13:13 (The Message)

I sincerely love making lists, yet I am absolutely, miserably terrible at lists that require more discipline that just checking things off. Making goals, writing budgets — I stink. I will write grocery lists and cleaning lists and packing lists like they are poetry of the highest order, yet when I try to organize the more serious areas of my life, the ones that I have to be accountable to, I suddenly find much better uses of my time…like Pinterest…or Facebook…or scrubbing my sink. (All of which I’ve done today, so I’m out of excuses.)

However, I read this the other day and it got me to thinking. Goal-making is supposed to be good, right? You’re supposed to make goals that you WANT to achieve, yes? In thinking about it, I think I may have stumbled upon what my problem has been in the past: I made the goals I thought I should achieve, not the ones I wanted to achieve. Therein lies a giant, giant gap! A big, stern, judgmental gap that laughs at me each year as I make goals that I have no intent of keeping.

So here are a few goals for 2012 that I have every intention of keeping! So let’s go!

1. Play around with more creativity in my clothing: My clothing default comfort zone is what I like to call “preschool yoga teacher.” Lots of muted colors, lots of long shirts, lots of leggings. Not bad, just rather boring. This year, I want to have a little more fun with how I dress. So I’ve recently gotten really into colored tights (red, yellow, aqua, navy, oh my!) and began playing around more with textures and layering different items together. I will never relinquish my deep and powerful love for cardigans, but hopefully, this year, they can have a little more fun.

2. Read more books, watch less movies: Once winter hits, there is nothing I love more than hibernating in and watching movies and backlogged seasons of TV shows. While I have no intention of giving this up, I do want to balance my media diet with more of the written word. I love to read but I tend towards thinking I should read “serious” books, which sometimes makes me not want to read. Because sometimes I want to read novels about other girls who love Jane Austen and have problems! Or sometimes I want to read foodie books! Or sometimes I like historical fiction! So lay it on me, readers. What books have you read recently and loved?

3. Live in community again: I wrote about this recently and am now in the midst of figuring out what this might look like. It may still take a few months, but I plan on entering summer 2012 with some solid action. I am really, really looking forward to cooking together, hanging out, watching movies, dance parties, and generally enjoying what it is to be hilarious, awesome ladies in our 20s.

4. Eat better: As a baker, I have a whole lot of butter, sugar, and flour in my life. It’s my job, it’s my passion, it’s the reason I have a little bit of a muffin top. I absolutely love carbs and I tend to indulge a little more than I should. It’s been too easy to do this while living alone; no one is there to ask why I think that four pieces of toast and a glass of wine is a suitable dinner. However, I really want to try balancing my tendency to scarf carbs with more vegetables and whole grains in my diet. (I’m also hoping cooking in community will help keep me accountable to this. Cassie, you hear that? TAKE AWAY MY TOASTER.)

5. Have more fun: This may sound like a no-brainer, but trust me, there are many moments where I need to kick my somewhat introverted self in the tush and demand that I go dance, go to that art show, go meet friends for a cocktail, go for a walk, even when I’m tired and feel more like going to bed at 9 p.m. like a granny. I want to take more advantage of the fact that I am young and living in an amazing city that has ample opportunities to enjoy life. So next weekend, it’s a comedy show and a birthday party; the weekend after, it’s a dance party. There will be party dresses and bright tights and photos and giggles. And what fun we shall have!

6. Write it down: It’s no secret that I love to write. I’ve never had much of a problem doing this with any frequency. But for 2012, the goal is getting back into writing with more intention. This means both here on Ye Olde Blog (hopefully bringing more recipes back!), as well as in my own personal handwritten journal. It’s a wonderful tool for becoming more diligent in prayer, in becoming a more self-aware person, and as a way to understand better how my experiences, relationships, and choices affect who I am, the way I see the world, and what can be learned from all things.

So those are my goals! I’m excited about living into these thoughts and ideas with intention and excitement. And feel free to keep me accountable and ask how these things are going.

So now what I want to know — what are some of YOUR goals for 2012?

“When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in it in great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad, and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one’s ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the fender, of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries.”
- Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

When I wake up on cold mornings and every molecule in my body wants to stay hibernated under the warm blankets, drowsy and safe, the only thing that seems to lure me out of bed is a promise of a boiling kettle. Whether it’s for some fragrant coffee or a cup of tea, it helps bring my morning to life. Even when my apartment is dark and I’m still stumbling around in a post-sleep fog, to know that there is freshly made bread in the toaster, butter and jam on the counter, and three heaping spoonfuls of coffee in my French press is enough to stay awake for.

One of my favorite parts of our stay in England was eating meals together, particularly breakfast. It was usually late (us Americans blamed it on jet lag, far after the point when it could have feasibly been jet lag’s fault) and it was always simple: homemade granola, yogurt, fruit compote, and tea. But it was a moment to pause, with sleepy eyes, sweaters, and crazy morning hair; to acknowledge that the dawning day was a gift we might open and to enjoy the simple beauties of being in each other’s company and the crunch of a big spoonful of granola.

No matter how early the morning or how cold the air outside my door may be, it is always easier to greet with some hot buttered toast and a steaming cup.

[photo credit here]

I’ve lived by myself for two and a half years now and it’s been a good and necessary season for me. But I’ve found myself aching for community lately; for roommates to connect with, to eat with, to cry with, to watch BBC shows and drink tea with. The past few days in my life have been bittersweet ones and I found myself longing for others to come alongside me, to help give me the strength to bear the answers to the questions I’ve been asking. I am so grateful for the friends whose support shines in other ways (phone calls, texts, Facebook), yet I felt keenly the absence of consistent physical presence. I don’t really know what to do about this; my friends who I would love to live with aren’t really in a place to sign leases and move in their couches. As in so many other seasons in my life, all I can do is hold this loosely and openly, trusting that He who moves in mysterious ways is still telling a redemptive and true story in my life, and hasn’t run out of ideas yet.

I find my heart brimming with wordless prayers today; a begging to simply feel close and held.
That’s all I can manage for right now.

(This song speaks hope for me today.)

We decided to seize a once-in-a-lifetime experience whilst here in Old Blighty and head into foggy London town for New Year’s Eve. We caught a train into the city around lunchtime and once we arrived at Paddington station, we hopped onto the Tube straight to Trafalgar Square, so we could wander around the National Gallery. From there, we walked over to the Strand and the West End, to find a gem of a falafel place called Gaby’s our hosts has clued us into. After stuffing ourselves with hummus, hot pita, and falafel, we started heading down into Covent Garden and after happening upon a four-floor H&M (which caused Jettie to literally gasp out loud) and passing some time (and pounds) there, we ended up at a fun bar. We sassed it up with red lips, toasted with mojitos, took silly photos, made friends with (and got flirted with by) the bartenders, and jammed to their most excellence playlist.

After celebrating with a few cocktails, we walked over to Waterloo Bridge around 9 p.m., to secure a place to stand and watch the fireworks. We were facing the London Eye and Big Ben and were in prime position to enjoy the show. We passed the time with some more dancing to the DJ the BBC had so kindly provided (Adele1 Black Eyed Peas! Elbow!) and had some truly interesting opportunities for people-watching. And, naturally, we bought light-up bunny ears. (We’re in London for New Year’s Eve! Why not?)

Once midnight hit, the fireworks show was spectacular. We all cheered together, shot off confetti poppers, and sang a rousing chorus of “Auld Lang Syne” to toast 2012. After that, we then had to buckle down and shuffle shoulder-t0-shoulder through a two hour line just to get INTO Waterloo train station, where we then had to hop on the Underground, head back to Paddington, and catch the last (3 a.m.!) train to Reading. By the time we finally walked in the door, it was 5 a.m. and both of us were barely standing.

What an experience! We spent New Year’s Day enjoying a delicious lunch with the Russells and going to St. Laurence, the church where our host, Chris, is the vicar. It’s a beautiful little church that actually used to be attended by the likes of Jane Austen. We spent a moving evening in that community and ended up back next to the fire at the house, drinking wine, eating “mezze” and enjoying our time together. Today was a brisk romp around the Berkshire countryside, followed by a magical roast lunch (roast pork! roast potatoes and parsnips! veggies! Yorkshire pudding! crackling!) and now, we’re lounging around, after a movie with the family, sipping cognac and being utterly spoiled.

What a trip! And still another week to go!

We’ve decided this is simply heaven.

It’s also an amazing and humbling lesson in what it is to receive. Being a person that loves to take care of people, feed them, and generally shower people with love and affection, it’s been a huge system shock to be shown this overwhelming brand of hospitality this family is showing us. I have never felt more welcomed and loved in my life; it’s a snapshot of exactly the kind of life, home, and family I hope to grow into someday.

Enjoy these snaps; we’re off today to explore the village, walk along the Thames, and enjoy a dinner and game night with friends tonight. Tomorrow, it’s New Year’s Eve in London!

(I think “blessed” is the biggest understatement I could make right now.)

How appropriate that these artists, named after the French for “good winter”, have been my soundtrack lately. In the falling of winter, the slow and quiet sleep, the loss, the cold; this beautiful music is something that sustains and reminds me that in the necessary dark, there is goodness and beauty brewing.

Even though it’s the holidays, this hasn’t been an easy week to get through. A whirlwind two days where we drove for 12 hours, attended a funeral, wept and laughed together, and I stumbled back home just in time for friends to arrive on visits from D.C. and Germany. I got sick, slept for 14 hours, wore yellow tights and gold shoes, and let other people do most of the cooking (which mostly never happens). My gift to myself for Christmas has been rest. All I made was a chocolate cake and a pot of coffee.

I hope your Christmas has been happy, restful, and full of the kind of perfect love that reminds us of the quiet goodness of winter and the One who gives it.

The ground’s generosity takes in our compost and grows beauty. Try to be more like the ground. – Rumi

There are those moments in life when grief and sadness arrive and we are presented with a choice: consume or be consumed. Take in the hurt and the brokenness and allow it to create in us more space for grace, for understanding, for patience, for love; or allow it to swallow us whole. Sometimes, it seems to be a delicate dance between the two. Sometimes, it’s a crawling out of one and into another.

I lost my grandfather this past weekend. He had been so sick for a very long time, and in all honesty, I find myself mostly relieved and grateful that he is no longer in pain, suffering, and weak. I believe that whatever comes next, I will see him again and he will be strong and full of life, the way that I remember him as a child. Yet still, I feel the sadness in losing someone I love and in walking alongside my mother as she has lost her father. I realize that I only have one grandparent left and I feel the urge to be evermore grateful for her presence and life, her love and endless support of me.

In feeling grief, the best things I can think to do is to celebrate those things that are good; like the really, really good things. Because we’re all ticking off days here on earth, young or old, healthy or sick; we all have a numbered amount of breaths left to take, moments to laugh, meals to eat, songs to listen to, and times to kiss the people that make our insides smile. So even in loss, all I know to do is celebrate because I never want it to be “too late”.

I will listen to amazing records in the dark, under the twinkle of Christmas lights.
I will let my phone calls with my mom be rambly and let our hugs last as long as they can.
I will eat spicy noodles and try new flavors and splurge on fancy butter without feeling guilty.
I will make my grandma’s amazing Greek salad and eat lots of it, with crusty bread and creamy mushroom soup.
I will be extra grateful to sit in a gray chair in my church that I love, next to my (newly stateside) dear friend home from Spain.
I will dance. A lot. (And probably badly. But I won’t care!)
I will take more pictures and be thankful that my grandpa was the reason I have this beautiful camera in the first place.
I will sip holiday ales and laugh too loud with my friends, grateful that the miles that separate can get smaller, if only for a few hours.
I will be still and amazed as much as possible. Our world’s wonder is endless, if only we stop and listen properly once in awhile.
I will be grateful that I get to be a part of “ours” in so many ways; not mine, not yours, but ours, together.
I will wear brightly colored tights and sparkly gold shoes just because they make me happy.
I will make my niece laugh as much as I can, because the sound of her laugh makes me believe extra hard that this life is a pretty great thing.

[photo credit to my best friend here]

That’s so weird to say. I am done. With culinary school. No more classes. I get to be a normal adult again. I don’t have to do homework again. Culinary school is now a finished space on my CV.

That is just plain wacky-crazy-go-mad to me.

Monday was my final exam and when I walked out of the door, it didn’t feel like a big sense of “OVER” to me. It just felt…complete. It felt like “Yes, this is the last step of this, but also the first step of something else.” Basically, I never stop walking and no matter where I am, I am always going somewhere interesting.

I celebrated by making a delicious dinner (that Borlotti Bean-Tomato-Fennel Sauce over Polenta!) for my guy and he showed up and surprised me with a bottle of chilled champagne and a bar of fancy extra-dark chocolate just for me. What better way to throw up your hands and say “Yeah!” than cracking open a bottle of bubbly and watching “The Holiday”? It was just perfect.

Now I’m celebrating with a visit from my best friend, Skype conversations with fabulous blog friends (hi, Aban!), coffee dates with my dear friend who shall be my London companion in just two short weeks (!), and just a lot of time spent cooking and crafting Christmas gifts that make my home smell and taste magical.

Speaking of London, I’m not even sure I mentioned that to you out there on the interwebs! As a celebratory trip, my friend Jettie and I are going to London for about two weeks, right after Christmas through the first part of January. As I’ve finished culinary school and she’s wrapped up her masters’ degree, we figured it was time to party hardy with our favourite isle of people — you know, drink pints, fake British accents, prance around. So that we will! I am so excited and just keep stopping myself these past few weeks, thinking “Wait, WHAT?! I’m GOING?! I need to PACK?! WHAT!”

There is so much to celebrate that the best thing I can think to do, the place and posture I keep coming back to, is one of thankfulness and grace. That I am here, doing something I love, around people I love, feeling joy, feeling pain, learning, failing, getting back up, and just plain connecting with people and loving and being loved — I keep stopping, naming, thanking.

Culinary school is done, Christmas is coming, I’ll be back on English soil soon, and I am loved well.
Stop, name, thank.

[photo credit here]

Somehow, I manage to get so into what I’m baking that minor things, like being covered in frosting or having chocolate cake batter all over my elbows and arms (also happened today), just slide by my notice. An occupational hazard of making lovely things like these!

I just sent these little beauties on their way to my friend Jordan’s house, for his daughter Oona’s first birthday! I made a dozen fancy-pantsy salted caramel cupcakes for the guests and one giant vegan chocolate cupcake for the birthday girl. I love that something I made will become a part of their family’s memories forever. I love when they look back at photos in one year, two years, ten years, that that chocolate cupcake I made will be smeared by the fistful all over a happy baby face (and if she’s anything like my niece, in her hair, on her feet, and in her tutu).

It’s times like these that I really love my job the most; the small chances I have to bring joy into people’s lives and be a part of something beautiful and lasting. It’s not a testament to me or to cupcakes at all, really; rather a testament that there is always something to celebrate about life, something to be grateful for, something to laugh and smile about, something that makes you just want to be glad that today, you get to be in that place, with those people, eating cupcakes.

These are just a few recipes I’ll be trying this coming week:

Borlotti Beans with Tomato-Fennel Sauce over Creamy Polenta — I’ll be making this Monday night; a perfect, hearty early winter dinner that will make us just sleepy enough to want to curl up with a Christmas movie and a handmade blanket.

Nutmeg Maple Butter Cookies — I’ll be momentarily whipping up a batch of these guys as my mom and I bake some Christmas cookies! I love traditional cut-out sugar cookies and can’t wait to take a bite of a freshly baked one, and taste the warmth of the nutmeg and maple syrup.

Whole Grain Gingerbread Pancakes — If it’s made with whole wheat and Greek yogurt, I can eat as many pancakes as I want, right? I can’t wait to stir these up when I have my favorite chefie friend, Amanda, over for breakfast-for-dinner! I think they’ll be excellent with hot maple syrup and a little of the extra Cranberry-Pomegranate Marmalade from my Christmas gift baskets.

Spiked Hot Chocolate — After a whirlwind Saturday evening of dinner, ice skating downtown in Rosa Parks Circle, and then exchanging gifts with my handsome guy,  what better to accompany a pink-cheeked night in (with perhaps a viewing of “Love Actually”) than a bit of Nigella Lawson’s spiked hot cocoa? Oh, yum!

Okay, I’m going into the kitchen now, friends. Have fun decking the halls of your own kitchen and let me know what you’re cooking!

[photo credit here]

Sometimes it is something very common and easily passed over; a few weeks ago, I found myself utterly mesmerized by frost-glazed maple leaves littering the grass next to the  sidewalk I walk down to work. I couldn’t stop staring at them and nearly ran into a mom taking her child into the nearby school playground.

Sometimes it is something that gives me pause and stirs me up; the past few days, it’s been these two duets, by Feist and Ben Gibbard, and St. Vincent and Bon Iver, respectively, that I just can’t stop listening to. Their quiet beauty has simply not stopped astonishing me.

But particularly, this morning, I find my inspiration in the comfort and challenge of written words by a handful of women whose books are marked up and well-loved on my bookshelf; women like Anne Lamott, Barbara Brown Taylor, and Rachel Held Evans. As a girl who grew up in a church that didn’t exactly encourage or recognize the role and wisdom of women leaders, I find myself now drawn to these women for their strength, their thoughtfulness, and their boldness. These are NOT the meek, submissive creatures held up as examples in some circles; instead, they charge forward, speaking of love, of doubt, of forgiveness, of the down-and-dirty-sometimes-life-is-shitty-but-I’m-still-fighting-anyway kind of strength that makes you walk taller, bolstered by the fact that you are equally created, that you are loved, and that your voice is worth hearing. I am so grateful to have women like these, among so many that I know and love in my own life, to look up to and be inspired by.

“You were loved because God loves, period. God loved you, and everyone, not because you believed in certain things, but because you were a mess, and lonely, and His or Her child. God loved you no matter how crazy you felt on the inside, no matter what a fake you were; always, even in your current condition, even before coffee. God loves you crazily, like I love you…like a slightly overweight auntie, who sees only your marvelousness and need.”
- Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

“What is saving my life now is the conviction that there is no spiritual treasure to be found apart from the bodily experiences of human life on earth. My life depends on engaging the most ordinary physical activities with the most exquisite attention I can give them. My life depends on ignoring all touted distinctions between the secular and the sacred, the physical and the spiritual, the body and the soul. What is saving my life now is becoming more fully human, trusting that there is no way to God apart from real life in the real world.”
- Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith

 ”Sometimes I wonder if I might have spent fewer nights in angry,resentful prayer if only I’d known that my little systems - my theology, my presuppositions, my beliefs, even my fundamentals - were but broken lights of a holy, transcendent God. I wish I’d have known to question them, not him.”
- Rachel Held Evans, Evolving in Monkey Town

I am more moved and whole through these things than I can speak of. From the soft light of strings of Christmas lights that watch quietly while I fall asleep to the feeling of my niece’s arms wrapped tightly around my neck, as I find my inspiration, I find that God, too, is in these places. Nothing particularly holy or theological or biblical; just in spaces of quiet, of kindness, of light, of the moments where you recognize we’re all humans, trying to figure out our messiness together. It has become so much less about belief or doctrine for me, and so much more about recognizing that we all are connected to the same life-force, the same creative thread binds us together. And that’s what we are, whether we want to be or not — we’re together in this thing, side by side.

If that can’t inspire me to a life lived with eyes wide open, then I don’t know what can.

What inspires and shakes you?

[image credit here]

It begins to get cold, I slip into hibernation mode, and I somehow convince myself that I absolutely have to rewatch all six seasons of “How I Met Your Mother” and eat as much breakfast as possible. I have to wear my favorite cream knit hat and go the farmer’s market and talk too much about Ryan Gosling; I must bake many pumpkin things and drink whiskey drinks and read Tina Fey’s book, Bossypants and laugh so loudly that it’s a little inappropriate.

I absolutely must spend an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen and forget to take photos of pretty much anything I make. I have to squeeze in as many Thanksgivings as possible with friends and family and light a lot of candles in my apartment and string up twinkling lights that I leave on when I sleep because it makes me feel cozier. I have to swing from holiday to holiday, spending evenings trick-or-treating with a sassy little pirate, beginning to decorate Christmas trees with my mom, baking things in Mason jars, making fabulously buttery tri-colored birthday cakes, and reveling in the joy of the first snowfall.

It’s been busy, yet not busy at all with anything big. My days have been pleasantly filling with small moments and it’s been amazing. It is a sweet, sweet thing to be content, to be happy, and to be present in the goodness that is my everyday kind of life.

“Missions then is less about the transportation of God from one place to another and more about the identification of a God who is already there [...] You see God where others don’t. And then you point him out. So the issue isn’t so much taking Jesus to people who don’t have him, but going to a place and pointing out to the people the creative, life-giving God who is already present in their midst. ” [Rob Bell]

I hope your day is beautiful and that your eyes spot the small places where the Sacred rests, waiting for us to discover Him like diamonds in the rough.

[photo credit here]

So it’s a pretty sure bet that if you put the words ‘pumpkin spice’ in anything, I will immediately want to make it. Pumpkin spice lattes. Pumpkin spice cheesecake. Pumpkin spice mashed potatoes. (Okay, maybe not the last one.) A friend recently coined the term “pumpkiphiles” for freaks like us. In this pumpkin-obsessed vein, I started getting a devilish hankering for pumpkin spice doughnuts last week, but was stopped short when I read the ingredient label of the store-bought ones. As much as I love their cakey, sugar-coated goodness, I was uneasy with the idea of ingesting chemicals I couldn’t even pronounce. Plus, let’s be honest, most baked goods I pick up at the grocery store, I usually think, “Yeah, I could make that even better.”

So I set out to do just that. After a little sniffing around the internets, I discovered you could make baked doughnut “holes” with a mini muffin pan. I tweaked the recipe a little, adding some whole wheat flour and ground flaxseed, mostly so I can convince people that sure, doughnuts are healthy! Have another one!

I chunked these up and layered them in Mason jars with lightly sweetened whipped cream and an apple compote. Drizzled with a little apple molasses, my friends and I were quite literally licking out our jars.

These are a great fall treat that you don’t have to feel too guilty about. So Happy Halloween! Go eat some doughnuts.

Baked Pumpkin Spice Doughnut Holes
Adapted slightly from Craving Chronicles

For Doughnuts
1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup white whole wheat flour
1 tablespoon ground flax seed (optional)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoons nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1/8 teaspoons ground cloves
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 cup canned plain pumpkin (not pumpkin pie filling)
1/2 cup low-fat milk

For Coating
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons cinnamon

Directions

Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray each cup in a 24-cup mini muffin tin with baking spray or butter generously.

In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, salt and spices (through cloves). In a separate, large bowl whisk together oil, brown sugar, egg, vanilla, pumpkin and milk until smooth. Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients and mix until just combined – do not over mix!

Divide batter evenly among muffin cups. (Using a 2-tablespoon scoop will ensure uniform size.) Bake at 350°F for 10-12 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.

While the muffins bake, melt butter in one bowl and combine granulated sugar and cinnamon in another bowl. Remove muffins from oven and cool for 2 minutes, or until just cool enough to handle. Dip each muffin in melted butter, then roll in cinnamon sugar to coat.

Makes 20-24 doughnut holes

Fall is my favorite time to take photos; the colors are so warm and luscious and snap out spectacularly against a blue sky. I ended up with some lovely shots from a family apple-picking venture, as well as a family photo shoot I did with my sister Johanna, her husband Matt, and their daughter and my niece of choice, Addison. So of course, I wanted to share them.

I’m plotting to make a wholesome, chock-full-o’-grain spin on pumpkin pie this weekend, so look out for that soon, I hope! I’m also going to attempt to figure out how to do mini apple pie parfaits in little Mason jars (just ’cause it sounds cute and I’m obsessed with Mason jars). Hopefully the next time I post photos, it will be of tummy-rumblin’ food. But for now, here’s some cute people, a baby goat, some pretty leaves, and a whole patch full of pumpkins.

Here are a few of my favorites shots from my sister’s family photo session.

How have you been spending your fall days?

Surrounded by all the deepening colors of fall, this time of year makes me nearly giddy. So giddy, in fact, that I feel the need to eat a lot of brownies and sing at the top of my lungs and dance around. (A silly mental image, perhaps, but so true.) And what other kind of brownies would I want to eat during this time of year but the Pumpkin Swirl variety? I made these last year for a party I catered and I fell utterly in love. Deeply chocolate-y, comfortingly pumpkin-esque, and spiked with a tiny bit of cayenne pepper, these brownies are gooey and gorgeous.

Some people may balk at the idea of chocolate and pumpkin mixed together. Perhaps you’re a traditionalist and think pumpkin goes in pie and maybe muffins, but that’s it! None of this crazy mixing together of things for you! Well, to that I say, “Live on the edge!” And at this edge, there are brownies! Fudgy, luscious, autumnal, dreamy brownies!

So here’s the deal: you go bake these brownies and I’m going to go pounce around in the leaves for awhile. (Deal? Deal!)

Pumpkin Swirl Brownies
From Smitten Kitchen

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, plus more for pan
6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups sugar
4 large eggs
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups solid-pack pumpkin
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 8-inch square baking pan or dish. Cut a length of parchment that will cover the bottom and two sides (makes it much easier to remove), and line the pan with it. Butter the lining as well.

Melt chocolate and butter in a heatproof bowl set over a pan of simmering water, stirring occasionally until smooth. Whisk together flour, baking powder, cayenne, and salt in a large bowl; set aside. Put sugar, eggs, and vanilla in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment; beat until fluffy and well combined, 3 to 5 minutes. Beat in flour mixture.

Pour half of batter (about two cups) into a separate bowl and stir chocolate mixture into it. If you find that it is a little thick, add a little more batter (a few tablespoons or so) until it is more pourable. (Note: You want both batters to be about the same consistency, so they swirl together easily.)

In other bowl, stir in the pumpkin, oil, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Transfer half of chocolate batter to prepared pan smoothing top with a rubber spatula. Top with half of pumpkin batter. Repeat to make one more chocolate layer and one more pumpkin layer. Work quickly so batters don’t set.

With a small spatula or a table knife, gently swirl the two batters to create a marbled effect.

Bake until set, 40 to 45 minutes. Let cool in pan on a wire rack. Cut into 16 squares.

I found my sadness mingled with multiple reasons: sadness at Rob’s impending departure; sadness that my dear friend Cassie, who had been my Sunday morning church companion, recently moved to Spain; sadness that everywhere I looked, I saw couples even as I felt overwhelmed with loneliness.

It was a simple enough service. Rob walked us through his story, what brought him to his decision, and what would happen to our church community in this new and unexpected season. His voice, in its typical generosity and openness, was cloaked with tears and soon enough, I felt my own join in. My eyes welled up with tears and soon overflowed; I wept through most of the service.

At first, I felt silly. I don’t know Rob personally and wasn’t sure why I seemed to be taking this so intimately into my chest. As he spoke of the conviction he felt about this change in his life, I began to understand my tears.

This has been my story, too. I have lived that chapter. I too have looked fearfully into the face of a huge leap that God has asked me to take and shakily said “yes”. I too have looked potential failure in the eyes and jumped anyway, even when I knew there was a good chance I would end up on my face.

As I sat there, weeping, I felt so overwhelmed by God’s faithfulness that I nearly couldn’t breathe. This story of mine, not just in my recent season, but in them all, is a living testament to the redemptive rhythm of Jesus, to the constant love of a God whose faithfulness is so much bigger than I ever could have expected. I felt grateful for that love in a way that pounded through my bones and rendered me speechless.

In that moment, I felt deeply the blessing of my church community and the joy it is to be a part of the Mars Hill family. Even in our grief and flood of emotions, I could feel every person in that packed room of thousands bind together in love that lifted up Rob and his family; the love that is only possible because we truly believe that God is always with us and is always, always up to something.

As we sang the benediction, I found I could barely get the words out. I suddenly felt an arm wrap tightly around my shoulders and I looked to see the woman two seats down from me, someone I don’t know, embracing me, hard and fast. In that one small moment, I felt affirmed and allowed to be where I was: collapsed on my knees in front of the empty tomb, weeping with joy and gratefulness that the One who was inside had risen, just as He said; weeping that I am loved by One who keeps His promises. “Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.”

As I process through the myriad of emotions coursing through me this morning, I wish nothing but the fullness of God’s blessing and guidance to Rob and his family. We, the Mars Hill family, are here for you, believing in you, and will continue to write a story of redemption and transformation that Jesus showed us, empowers us to, and creates inside of us each day.

Grace and peace, brother.

[photo credit here]

What a good decision it is to force ourselves to stop sometimes.

I ventured outside, taking my fancy new gilded TOMS for a spin, to soak in and absorb all the fresh autumn awash in the air. Sunny blue skies and enough crispness for a scarf, today is a day bursting with blessing and grace. I love how colorfully God paints the world and, in turn, splashes color all over our days. As one who thrives and lives in the creative, I am continually inspired and awed by His unending imagination.

These days, I see it in the first leaves on the bright green grass, in the luscious and breathtaking dahilas from the market, and in the perfect freshness of apple cider. I’ve also come to appreciate it in the presence of beautifully designed things — I visited an estate sale last weekend and found a lamp and chair (only $8 for both! I love deals) that make my home feel that much more lovely and cozy. Along with gearing up to start my first knitting project of the season, I am awash in the colorful and created.

(I promise, I have other things in the works than endless ruminative entries with iPhone photos and my love letters to autumn. But for now, it’s what I can manage. )

What brings color to your life?

So here’s the last few weeks of my life, via some Instagram photos. With the onset of gorgeous early fall days, I’ve been awash in baking pumpkin swirl brownies, buying bunches of stunning dahlias at the farmer’s market, punking around with some of my favorite people, drinking homemade pumpkin spice lattes, experimenting with cheesecakes, wearing mukluks and being generally inspired and spun about by the loveliness of the season.

It’s that boot-strutting, scarf-wrapping, tea-sipping, candle-burning kind of weather and I just love it.

What is your favorite way to greet fall?

So I’ve had a bit of a thing this summer for two ingredients whose very names cause me to swoon.

Brown butter.
Bourbon.

An alliterative, dreamy pair. Whether in cookies, peach jam, or crispy treats, both add a bit of extra magic and love to whatever I make. It’s sort of like the swish in the skirt; regular skirts are comfortable and lovely, but when you wear a skirt that has a fuller fit that allows you to swish around, it just feels better.

The flavor of this gorgeous, silky pound cake goes against its very name; not heavy or greasy, it’s luscious and heady, imbued with a nutty aroma from the browned bits of butter and a light warmth from a hint of bourbon. I had to give away as much of this as possible the first time I made it, because I would have literally eaten the whole loaf in a matter of hours. It’s pound cake nirvana and the only requirement to achieve it is an hour of your time, a loaf pan, and a stick (or two) of butter.

Oh glory, oh glory. This cake would be lovely served with some of the last of the season’s peaches, lightly sauteed with some brown sugar and a sprinkle of ginger. Slice and devour, my friends. It’s oh so good.

Brown Butter Pound Cake
From Sassy Radish

2 1/4 sticks unsalted butter
2 cups sifted cake flour (not self-rising; sift before measuring)
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
4 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 tsp bourbon

Preheat oven to 325°F with rack in middle. Butter and lightly flour an 8 1/2- by 4 1/2-inch loaf pan. Heat butter in a 10-inch heavy skillet over medium heat until milk solids on bottom are a dark chocolate brown. Transfer to a shallow bowl and chill in freezer until just congealed, about 15 minutes.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. Beat together brown butter and sugars with an electric mixer until fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in vanilla and then the bourbon. At low speed, mix in flour mixture until just incorporated.

Transfer batter to pan, smoothing top, then rap pan on counter to settle batter. Bake until golden-brown and a wooden pick inserted into center comes out clean, 1 to 1 1/4 hours. Cool in pan 30 minutes, then invert cake onto a rack and cool completely, right side up, 1 hour.

Serves 8 people

I went nuts over birthdays when I was a kid — themes, elaborate cakes, pool parties, manicure dates with friends. I celebrated like it truly was a great achievement to have stayed alive for another 365 days. But as I’ve gotten older, the last few birthdays have been markedly quiet. I haven’t planned any kind of birthday event with my friends since college; usually, it’s a dinner with my family and that’s about it. I actually can’t even remember what I did last year. I think it involved watching “Anne of Avonlea” for the 1,000th time and going out for coffee.

This year, I had big plans that I was going to actually get up and do something to celebrate my next year. I wanted to throw a party, make a ton of cupcakes, jam to some tunes, wear a party dress, and generally get down and funky with my bad self. Then summer happened. And work. And my internship. And going out of town every weekend this month. And school starting.

And I forgot.
I forgot to plan a darn thing.

But here’s the thing: moreso than any other year I’ve been on this earth, I really feel like I want to celebrate not only my next year, but the one that is coming to a close. I find myself catching my breath all the time, hardly daring to believe that it’s me who gets to live this life I’m living right now. Do I really get to do these things every day? Do I really get to live in this place and walk alongside these people? Do I really get to be this happy? Does my life really get to be this good?

This past year, 26, has been a parallel journey of serious struggle and immense provision. I found myself in a new place, chasing a dream that was becoming my real life more and more each day, understanding and accepting the ways that God lovingly crafted me, and most importantly, learning what it is to really, honestly love that person who beamed back at me in the mirror each morning. Having come intimately face to face with my own faults and brokenness in the space of this last year, I feel the grace vibrating through each strand of my life because despite it all, there is just so much beauty there.

My best friend recently told me, “You live a rich life and it’s only getting richer.” How true that is; I find such deep and lasting fulfillment in the life I have worked so hard to build for myself. Not just because I get to spend my days doing something I love, but because of the kind of life I have chosen to live: an honest one, true to who I am and to who He is. I have chosen to celebrate, to believe in the best, to hope, to dance, to cry, to wear cute shoes and fabulous sundresses, to eat salted caramel cupcakes, and take walks just to feel the wind blowing my skirt against my bare legs.

It is something to celebrate this life, this year.

So I am celebrating, starting tomorrow and looking forward through next week.

I am going to a hot room yoga class tomorrow morning, thanks to a gifted Groupon from my friend Jessica. I am going to go to the farmers’ market and eat fresh blueberries and maybe splurge on that really cute nightie at Target I’ve been eyeing.

On Monday, I will start my last semester of culinary school and be thankful that I get to be there, learning, even when those classes are the ones I saved until the end because I didn’t really want to take them. I will remember that it is honor that I get to choose what I do each day.

I will eat homemade enchiladas with my family on Thursday, toasting with cold champagne and making myself a Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake I actually get to eat (since usually, I make them for catered events and I have to bid them farewell without so much as a nibble).

I find it so strange that sometimes, people talk to me like my life is a conversation just waiting to start, mostly because I have chosen not to focus on dating or marriage throughout most of my 20s. While partly by choice and partly by fate, it has proven to be the best decision I have made yet. In these years, I have met someone far important than a man –  I have met myself. I have met the incredibly beautiful, intelligent, driven and compassionate person that I have the amazing privilege to be; the person that God gives me the grace and courage to be each day, even on days when I do a terrible job of it. I have met the person that has convinced me that waiting for the right man isn’t a result of pickiness or hard-headedness; it is a gift to myself, to believe I am worth waiting for, just as he is worth waiting for.

As I go along this path God guides me down, I have not wavered in my belief that some day, when I least expect it, I will brush shoulders with a kind and loving man, who has been gently guided down this same path, and it will be strangely, oddly, exactly right. It will seem strange that he hasn’t always been there and it will be worth every lonely night and holiday celebrated by myself. I hold no delusions that men or marriage fix anything or are ever anything even close to perfect; to love another person is to constantly come face to face with each other’s brokenness and your own; to be be willing to forgive, to set aside your own wants, to serve, to risk, to persevere, even when giving up sounds so much easier. Somehow, this man will love me, even when I am a pain in the butt and cry over burnt cookies and stay up till 3 in the morning our first night in a new house, because I can’t bear things being in boxes.

And we will celebrate, just like this week, with cold champagne and chocolate cake, toasting and smiling, knowing that there is more to celebrate in this life than I could have ever imagined on my 27th birthday.

So I’ve never been that into marshmallows.

I think the texture of raw (can you call them that?) marshmallows is weird and spongy and slightly too sticky for comfort. I used to eat them smeared with peanut butter as a kid, mostly because the peanut butter covered up the creepy marshmallow texture and they delivered the sugar shot-in-the-arm I was seeking. When it comes to hot cocoa, I always ask for whipped cream and overall, I could leave marshmallows in the cupboard indefinitely.

But in the summer, something changes.
Specifically, marshmallows change.
When speared on a stick and stuck in a campfire and roasted until  they are mostly burnt and almost, just almost, falling into the fire.

What began as thick and gummy becomes soft and melty and roasty-toasty and lush. To help along my conversion, I recently discovered that making homemade marshmallows really isn’t hard at all and they are leaps and bounds better than the stiff and chemical-laden marshmallows in the bag. So, as summer winds to a close, I think it is our human, American, Christian, culinarian duty to eat as many roasted marshmallows as possible. If they happen to meet up with chocolate and graham crackers on the way, all the better.

In the spirit of marshmallow reconciliation, I made this S’mores Pie for the 4th of July this year and happily spent the rest of the night scraping marshmallow bits off my face and licking my fingers. This pie, while beautiful to behold, is gloriously ooey-gooey, sticky, oozy goodness. It’s a little messy, sort of rough around the edges, a bit crumbly, and completely sexy for it. Trust me, you will want this pie all up in your facial business.

Celebrate these last few days of summer with this pie and, in January, when you are still finding bits of marshmallow in your hair, you can trim it out while sighing dreamily, “Hot damn, that was some pie.”

S’mores Pie
From Smitten Kitchen

For crust
5 tablespoons salted or unsalted butter, melted, plus additional for greasing
1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs (10 graham crackers; about 6 oz, pulsed in a food processor until finely ground)
2 tablespoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt (omitted if you use salted butter)

For chocolate cream filling
7 oz fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (not more than 70% cacao; not unsweetened), finely chopped
1 cup heavy cream
1 large egg, at room temperature for 30 minutes

For marshmallow topping
1 teaspoon unflavored gelatin (from a 1/4-oz package)
1/2 cup cold water
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup light corn syrup
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
Vegetable oil for greasing

Special equipment: a candy thermometer

Make graham cracker crust: Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350°F. Lightly butter pie 9- to 9 1/2-inch pie plate. Stir together all ingredients in a bowl and press evenly on bottom and up side of pie plate. Bake until crisp, 12 to 15 minutes, then cool on a rack to room temperature, about 45 minutes.

Make chocolate cream filling: Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350°F. Put chocolate in a large bowl. Bring cream just to a boil in a 1- to 1 1/2-quart heavy saucepan, then pour hot cream over chocolate. Let stand 1 minute, then gently whisk until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth. Gently whisk in egg and a pinch of salt until combined and pour into graham cracker crumb crust (crust will be about half full).

Cover edge of pie with a pie shield or foil and bake until filling is softly set and trembles slightly in center when gently shaken, about 25 minutes. Cool pie to room temperature on a rack (filling will firm as it cools), about 1 hour.

Make marshmallow topping: Sprinkle gelatin over 1/4 cup cold water in a large deep heatproof bowl and let stand until softened, about 1 minute.

Stir together sugar, corn syrup, a pinch of salt, and remaining 1/4 cup water in cleaned 1- to 1 1/4-quart heavy saucepan. Bring to a boil over moderate heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved, then boil until thermometer registers 260°F, about 6 minutes.

Begin beating water and gelatin mixture with an electric mixer at medium speed, then carefully pour in hot syrup in a slow stream, beating (avoid beaters and side of bowl). When all of syrup is added, increase speed to high and continue beating until mixture is tripled in volume and very thick, about 5 minutes. Add vanilla and beat until combined, then immediately spoon topping onto center of pie filling; it will slowly spread to cover top of pie. Chill, uncovered, 1 hour, then cover loosely with lightly oiled plastic wrap (oiled side down) and chill 3 hours more.

Brown topping: Preheat broiler. Transfer pie to a baking sheet. Cover edge of pie with pie shield or foil and broil 3 to 4 inches from heat, rotating pie as necessary, until marshmallow topping is golden brown, about 3 minutes. Cool pie on a rack 10 minutes. Slice pie with a large heavy knife dipped in hot water and then dried with a towel before cutting each slice.

Serves 6-8 people

Lots and lots of laughter.
Hikes through the woods.
Waking up to sunrises and campfire coffee.
Local wines, craft beers, and the time to enjoy them.
Lots of Taylor Swift (hey, don’t judge).
Silliness to the max.
Headlamp tomfoolery.
Pulled pork nachos and oh so many toasted homemade marshmallows.
Late night beach bonfires.
About a million jokes that ended with “That’s what she said!”
Toes in the lake and fingertips in the sand.
Beautiful, glorious, pure Michigan summer.

(Oh, and I plan on telling you all about S’mores Pie soon. It’s in the works.)

Early on Thursday morning, my House Church friends and I will jam two cars full of tents, roasting sticks, coolers, sunscreen, bathing suits and backpacks. We will gobble up freshly baked scones, crank up the cheesy guilty pleasure iPod playlist, and head north.

Four whole days of camping in Northern Michigan.

Four whole days of living, sleeping, eating, and breathing close to the earth, close to each other, closer to the this that settles somewhere deep inside your bones, saying “yes” over and over to the community of water, earth, sky and dear friends (and s’mores).

I love eating homemade marshmallows roasted over a crackling beach bonfire, watching the sun turn Lake Michigan indigo and coral red. I love staying up far too late, laughing and drinking beer and ruminating on life’s mysteries. I love rising before everyone else, early with the sun, to walk the woods, reading Wendell Berry, writing, and feeling a peace so deep that it seems to surround me like a haze. I love gazing up through the trees to a sky so thick with stars that we could gulp them down, feeling the hugeness of His divinity and love rushing down through my whole body, making me tremble with its ferocity.

I stopped by the bookstore after church today, wanting to pick up another volume of Wendell Berry’s poetry to take with me. His words are the voice I hear in my head as my feet feel the damp dirt underneath, as I watch the lake lap and laugh with its unruly waves, as I smell fresh coffee brewing over a campfire. I found this in the last volume of his I read and it feels right as I look forward to this coming weekend:

“…and it said, ‘Put your hands
into the earth. Live close
to the ground. Learn the darkness.
Gather round you all you love, name their names…”

[wendell berry, song for a year of catastrophe]

So I am a whole-grain ninja. I try to sneak whole grains into most things I make. A tablespoon of flax seed meal here, using part white whole wheat flour there…I want to keep people both well-fed with delicious baked goods as well as reasonably healthy.

Enter spelt flour.

I started using this when I received Kim Boyce’s Good to the Grain as a gift. It has a wonderful, mellow, slightly nutty flavor, and is an ancient, well-loved grain for a reason. Whenever I see recipes now with the word “spelt” in them, I immediately want to get to the kitchen, convinced they will somehow make me a healthier, more whole grained person.

Even when it’s in pizza. Or cake.
It’s whole grain. It’s healthy. It’s science (not really).

This pizza crust is a no-knead, no-rise crust made with ricotta cheese. I liked the chewy, softer texture and its slight sweetness marries gorgeously with the salty proscuitto, tart apples and fresh fennel. I added a little cheese to mine — a sweeter, mild cheese we make at the creamery called Phocus (you could also use something like Fontina or just mozzerella would be delicious).

If you use a pizza stone, make sure to cover your peel generously in cornmeal. I didn’t put enough on mine (I use the back of a cookie sheet because I am broke and in a tiny kitchen), so I just baked mine right on the sheet. I found this caused the bottom to be a little softer than I’d prefer. However, still delicious enough that my friend Amanda and I ate the whole thing.

Nothing gets between me and my whole grain pizza.
Nothing.

Spelt Pizza with Proscuitto, Apples and Fennel
Adapted slightly from Ancient Grains for Modern Meals, via The Kitchn

spelt crust
2 cups whole grain spelt flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 cup whole-milk ricotta cheese
1/4 cup whole milk
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 large egg
Coarse cornmeal, if using a pizza peel

toppings
1/3 cup sour cream
Sea salt, to taste
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 Granny Smith apple, halved, cored, and sliced very thinly
1 small fennel bulb, halved lengthwise, cored, and sliced very thinly
2 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch-wide strips
2/3 cup shredded cheese (see suggestions above)
Extra-virgin olive oil, for brushing the crust

Place the spelt flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar in a food processor and pulse for about 10 seconds. In a small bowl, combine the ricotta, milk, oil, and egg and beat with a fork until smooth. Pour the ricotta mixture across the top of the flour mixture and pulse, in 1-second intervals, just until a ball forms, 5 to 10 pulses. The dough will be fairly moist. (Note: Mine was very, very moist. I kneaded a little extra flour into mine, which helped.)

Transfer the dough to a well-floured work surface. Lightly flour your hands and briefly knead 5 to 7 turns to get a smooth yet slightly tacky dough. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and let sit at room temperature for 30 to 45 minutes to allow the bran in the flour to soften.

Meanwhile, place a baking stone on a rack on the bottom shelf and preheat oven to 425°F. Liberally sprinkle a pizza peel with coarse cornmeal. Combine the sour cream, a dash of sea salt, and 1/4 teaspoon of the pepper in a small bowl.

Unwrap the dough, transfer to a lightly floured work surface and cut into 2 pieces. Keep 1 piece covered with plastic wrap. The other piece can be used for another piece (refrigerate or freeze). Lightly flour your hands and briefly knead the other until smooth, 7 to 10 turns. Using a rolling pin, roll the dough into an elongated pizza, 11 by 8 inches and about 1/4 inch thick. Do this in stages, occasionally turning the dough over and rolling it out further, lightly flouring your work surface and the rolling pin each time. Place the dough on the pizza peel. Spread the sour cream topping across, leaving a 1/2-inch border. Cover with the apple slices, the fennel slices, the prosciutto, and sprinkle with cheese. Brush the border with oil.

Slide the dough onto the baking stone and bake until the fennel just starts to brown at the edges and the rim turns golden brown and starts to crisp—it should yield when pressed with a finger—about 15 minutes. Use a large spatula to lift the edges of the pizza so you can slide the peel underneath; carefully transfer the pizza to a wooden board. Cut with a sharp knife and serve at once.

Serves 2-3 people (as a main course)

We had a visit this weekend from my aunt and uncle and batch of cousins. Coming from a reasonably small family, it was a pleasant shock to the system to be immersed in the giggling and running about of my niece and my cousin’s two little girls. It was wonderful to hang laundry out to dry with my aunt, talk to my cousins about their future plans, hear about their jobs and their lives, and generally just enjoy being together.

I feel like “grateful” loses its meaning at some point, but there it is anyway.

Grateful, grateful, grateful.

For fresh berries, for my favorite wiggly blonde monkey, for Michigan summer sunsets on the lake, for fresh tart cherry pie, and for every single day I get the privilege to live this life.

May I see every moment as sacredly bound in worship and prayer to the God who loves me so.

So I’ve been wanting to share this recipe with you guys for a whole week. And WordPress must have something against delicious cherry desserts, because it hasn’t been letting me upload photos AT ALL. And seriously, what is a recipe without photos? I just can’t do it.

Anyway, the good news is that today it’s working, so today you get to feel French and make some clafoutis. “Clafoutis” is a fancy French way of saying “a dense fruit flan.” There’s custard. There’s fresh cherries. You bake. You sprinkle with sugar. You consume.

Tres belle, non?

I used Julia Child’s classic recipe and made only one small edit. Traditionally, the French leave the pits in their cherries when making this particular dessert. The story goes that it is usually eaten outside, during the summer, so that when you come upon a cherry pit, you can discreetly and delicately dispose of the pit into the surrounding foliage. Or you can have cherry pit spitting contests in your backyard. I support both options. I prefer this traditional French route for two reasons. First, because I am lazy and pitting cherries is the least amount of fun on earth. Second, the pits add an almond-esque flavor to the custard, which is just a lovely, elegant touch.

But mostly, I’m lazy. (However, in this instance, “lazy” translates to “cultured and French”, so it’s actually a win. I like that.)

This can be served room temperature, warm or cold. I would recommend making it when you have enough people to finish the whole thing. I kept mine for a few days and even the next day, I didn’t find it appealing as leftovers. Then I sort of forgot about it and discovered it about four days later, harboring some kind of bright mold.

Don’t be like me.
Eat it all.
It’s fruit, it’s healthy.

As cherry season winds to a close, celebrate with this delicious French dessert. It’s deceptively impressive (you make it in a blender; it doesn’t get easier) and if you call it by its proper name (pronounced “cla-foo-tee”), you will impress people and win friends.

Also, you won’t have to pit cherries.
Bon appetit!

Cherry Clafoutis
From Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child

3 cups fresh sweet cherries
1 1/4 cups milk
2/3 granulated sugar, divided
3 eggs
1 tbsp. vanilla extract
1/8 tsp. salt
1/2 cup all purpose flour

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Place the milk, 1/3 cup sugar, eggs, vanilla extract, salt and flour in a blender or food processor (I used an immersion blender to great success) in the order they are listed. Cover and blend at high speed for 1 minute.

Pour a 1/4 inch layer of batter in a 7 to 8 cup lightly buttered fireproof baking dish and set over moderate heat for a minute or two, until a film of batter has set in the bottom of the dish. Remove from the heat. Spread the cherries and additional 1/3 cup sugar over the batter. Pour the remaining batter on top.

Bake on the middle rack for about an hour, until it is puffed and browned. An inserted skewer should come out clean. Sprinkle with powdered sugar before serving.

Serves 6 people

(Can we agree on this? I hope so. I’m a conflict avoider.)

These past weekends have been just chock-full of loveliness. The sun has been shining, the breezes blowing and I am…well, not tan, but certainly rosy-ish and freckled. I wanted to share a few little snaps and hopefully inject a little summer sunshine into the blogosphere.

An evening picnic with my friend Amanda, drinking strawberry-limoncello cocktails and eating cherry clafoutis and homemade pizza…

A night on the town, sporting my cutest summer dress, sipping wine by the water with my favorite Anglophile friend, Jettie…

I’m spending the day at the lake with my family tomorrow, which means I have a Raspberry-Yogurt Bundt Cake and some Vegan Double Chocolate Cookies to bake!

What is your favorite summer activity?

So let’s talk shortcake, shall we?

To be honest, growing up, my experience of shortcake mostly involved a box of Jiffy mix. The shortcakes, instead of being actually short-crumbed and melty, were more like glorified, chunky biscuits — thick and doughy, the sort you have to chomp on a little and soak with strawberry juices. I won’t complain; I ate plenty of them and have fond memories of summer evenings scented with vanilla ice cream and sugared strawberries.

But I had this dream of something more…

A shortcake to end all shortcakes.
A shortcake that brought a tear to the eye.
A shortcake that couldn’t be used to break a window in an emergency.

I tried a recipe or two last summer with “ehhh” results. Still too chompy and too dry. Then, on a hallowed day this summer, I came across this Smitten Kitchen recipe (I should just build an altar to Deb in my kitchen already) and was intrigued. I’d never heard of using hard-boiled egg yolks in a baking recipe. It sounded just crazy enough to be delicious.

And oh, was it ever. Light, crumbly shortcakes that were soft and delicious, but still sturdy enough to hold up under all the strawberries and cream.

But of course, being the foodie renegade I consider myself to be, I had to give it a twist, a tickle, something a bit sassy and unexpected; a different sort of feather in shortcake’s hat.

So I just added fresh basil right into the shortcake dough.
Baked it right in there.
100% great way to get your kitchen to smell like a bakery and garden all at the same time.
Butter and basil.
I mean, HELLO.

Draped with lightly macerated farm fresh strawberries, homemade whipped cream and a drizzle of reduced, syrupy balsamic vinegar, it’s just the tops. The tip tops. Make it for friends and family this Fourth of July weekend and let them fawn over you a little, marveling at your fabulous creativity and culinary prowess.

Go on. It feels so good.

Basil Shortcake with Strawberries
Shortcake recipe slightly adapted from Smitten Kitchen

1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
3 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon plus 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 hard-boiled egg yolks
1/8 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
6 large basil leaves
2/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon heavy cream

1/2 pound strawberries, washed, hulled and halved
2 tablespoons sugar

1 cup whipping cream, beaten to soft peaks
1 tablespoon powdered sugar

1/2 cup balsamic vinegar

In the bowl of a food processor, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, egg yolks, and salt. Pulse to combine. Roll up the basil leaves like a cigar and slice them into strips. Add the butter and fresh basil strips and pulse until the flour resembles coarse meal. Add 2/3 cup of cream and pulse until the dough comes together.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and gather into a shaggy mass. Knead a couple times to make it into a cohesive mass and then pat it into a rough circle about 6 to 7 inches in diameter, and 3/4 to 1-inch thick.

Using a sharp knife, cut the circle into 6 wedges and arrange on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Alternately, you can use a cookie cutter to make shapes of your choice. Chill for 20 minutes (and up to 2 hours).

Preheat oven to 350°F. Brush the tops of the shortcakes very lightly with heavy cream and sprinkle lightly with the coarse sugar. Bake until risen and golden brown, 18 to 20 minutes. Turn the pan around halfway through to ensure even cooking.

While the shortcakes are baking, toss the strawberries and sugar together in a bowl. Let stand several minutes.

Once the shortcakes are done, let them cool for 10 to 15 minutes. While they are cooling, whip the heavy cream and powdered sugar to soft peaks. Set aside. Pour the balsamic vinegar into a small saucepan and put over low heat, reducing it by half until it is syrupy, about 3 to 5 minutes. (If you over-reduce it like me, and it becomes really thick and sticky, heat it back up a little to salvage its drizzling capability. But don’t be like me.)

Place a shortcake on a plate, top with strawberries, a dollop of whipped cream, a drizzle of balsamic reduction and perhaps a fresh basil leaf to garnish.

Eat vigorously.

Needless to say, I’ve been jammin’…a lot. A lot, a lot.

I’m even jamming right now.

(Both in the fruit sense and in the Simon and Garfunkel sense…as much as a person can jam to S&G.)

So I promised a fun announcement concerning my jams and I won’t disappoint! As you know, I’ve been working at Lubbers Family Farm this summer, interning in their bread bakery and cheese creamery. The farm itself has a little store on their property for their customers who come for their raw milk share, eggs, and meat. This August, it will be opening to the public, stocking more local items, INCLUDING MY JAMS!

That’s right. I’m one step closer to becoming a household name — or at least, in sharing the bounty of delicious and creative jams. I will also be developing a chutney or two to go with their cheese, and possibly selling some granolas and other baked treats.

Am I excited, you ask. Um, I believe the correct answer is HECKS YEAH.

I am beyond grateful for the support I’ve received from everyone around me as I chase this delicious dream of mine. Frankly,  I am overwhelmed by it at times.

So, to all of you who have made their morning toast with my jam, eaten my cupcakes at your parties, told your friends, left an encouraging comment or simply walked into my home, exclaiming, “It smells so good in here!”, you are infinitely appreciated.

What have you been cooking this summer?

I stopped in at the Farmer’s Market this morning to pick up five more quarts of berries. (I’ve been keeping count — this makes 17 quarts of berries over the last three weeks. I have a problem.) Once I get home from my out-of-town catering gig this weekend with my sisters, I will be making another batch of Balsamic Strawberry Jam with Black Pepper. Oh, yum!

Speaking of jam, be on the edge of your seat for an exciting announcement concerning my little jars soon!

Have a gorgeous weekend, lovelies.

I’m still here, in No-Internet-Yet-Because-I-Can’t-Afford-The-Router-Right-Now Land. I find myself again at a coffee shop, enjoying their free wireless and iced coffee with soymilk (inspired and excited for THIS RECIPE though, so I can start making iced coffee at home and savin’ my two dollahs).

The past week has been nuts and this week is promising to be equally eventful. Good-eventful, though. I had a catering gig last weekend for a lakeside cocktail party (4 dozen cupcakes!) and I’m catering a bridal shower with my sisters this weekend (120 mini whoopie pies in three flavors!). Between that, working, my internship, and my prolific jam-making, I haven’t had much time for recreational baking/photo-taking. Or blogging. Or sometimes showering. I’ve been rocking headscarves a lot lately, needless to say.

I also made 22 jars of two flavors of strawberry jam this weekend.

Well, originally 23. And then I accidentally dropped one right after it was done processing. And hadn’t sealed just yet. And it popped open, spilling boiling hot jam all over the floor…and my vintage tablecloth that was my grandma’s…and my legs. It was quite an experience. My ankle blisters will confirm my tale.

Outside of all the insanity in my own kitchen, my time at my new(ish) internship at Little Rooster Bread is going swimmingly. I realize I probably forgot to mention that when it happened — so hey guys, I found a new internship! Little Rooster is a great company that makes great bread using organic, local ingredients, some of which is found on the farm it’s located on. That’s right…I get to work on a farm. A REAL FREAKIN’ FARM. THIS EXCITES ME. THERE ARE COWS.

(I hope to take my camera out with me soon and take lots of photos. The cows are so cute. And a little smelly. But mostly cute.)

Anyway, I’m spending part of my time in the bakery, part of my time helping in the Cowslip Creamery on the farm, and a little time helping and learning in the garden. This past week, that consisted of talking about the wonder of Wendell Berry, how to best process canning jars, why planting clover around corn is a good natural mulch and many other little ins and outs of growing an all-organic, all-heirloom vegetable and fruit garden.

Did I mention this is the greatest internship? And I love it?

I trusted 100% that God was up to something unexpected when things fell through at Nantucket. My life experiences tell me that there is always, always a reason. And indeed there was. I am now in a business with a philosophy I can get behind, working with great people, learning way more about more than just bread. Who knew I would learn about making artisan cheese with raw milk? Or would get to garden and pet baby calves and get chased by geese?

Amazing.

I miss you guys, though. I miss writing and photo-posting. Hopefully I can afford to get my home internet up and running soon, so I can return to your collective loving cyber-embrace.

What is new for you?

[photo credit here and here]

It’s strawberry season — let one and all rejoice and be berry…err…merry!

Okay, bad joke. Sorry…thrilling things such as the first strawberries of the season turn me into the biggest kind of nerd. And in my nerding-out, I ate about a quart of strawberries in two days and then I made this cake.

It’s a strawberry summer cake.
What does that mean?
It means it’s basically strawberry shortcake, magic-wanded into a cake — a just-sweet-enough vanilla cake topped with a jammy coat of roasted strawberries. (Somehow, I believe a scoop of vanilla ice cream wouldn’t go wrong here, either.)

This was a big hit with my co-workers and is a perfect summery treat for a picnic or evening on the deck. Once strawberries are in season, I don’t think you can go wrong with doing basically anything with them. Shortcakes, cakes, ice creams, jams, compotes, or just eating them out of their little boxes until your fingertips are stained red. This cake originally included a partial use of barley flour, which I hear is excellent with berries, but sadly, I didn’t have any. So I used all all-purpose flour and it was perfectly tasty.

I have big strawberry jam aspirations this coming weekend, but for now, this cake was a good start.

Enjoy!

Strawberry Summer Cake
From Smitten Kitchen

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature, plus extra for cake pan
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 large egg
1/2 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 pound strawberries, hulled and halved

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter a 9-inch cake pan or a deep-dish pie plate.

Whisk flour, baking powder and salt together in a small bowl. In a larger bowl, beat butter and 1 cup sugar until pale and fluffy with an electric mixer, about 3 minutes. Mix in egg, milk and vanilla until just combined. Add dry mixture gradually, mixing until just smooth.

Pour into prepared pan. Arrange strawberries, cut side down, on top of batter, as closely as possible in a single layer (I was short on berries, so mine was a little spacier). Sprinkle remaining 2 tablespoons sugar over berries.

Bake cake for 10 minutes, then reduce oven temperature to 325°F and bake cake until golden brown and a tester comes out free of wet batter, about 50 minutes to 60 minutes. (Gooey strawberries on the tester are a given.) Let cool in pan on a rack. Cut into wedges. Serve with lightly whipped cream.

Do ahead: Cake can be stored at room temperature for up to 2 days, loosely covered.

Then my internet pooped out. (I’ve been, uh, conveniently “borrowing” it from neighbors the past two years. It finally stopped working this week. Karma, you win.)
Then it was 90 degrees outside and I was in an un-air-conditioned bakery for 9 hours.
Then I came home and showered and felt non-melted again.
Then I ate fresh farm strawberries for dinner and watched “Gilmore Girls.”
Then I met up with two beautiful friends and ate a really big ice cream cone.
It was coffee chocolate chunk ice cream. It was good.

Now I’m in a coffee shop, looking up Internet plans and drinking iced coffee.
(Coffee, coffee, coffee! I’ve been watching too much “Gilmore Girls.”)

There, you’re pretty much caught up on the last week of my life now. Once I get functioning internet again, hopefully, blogging will get back to normal.

For tonight, I’m going to plan the menu for my best friend’s special birthday dinner this weekend. It will include, among other taste delights, Jamie Oliver’s fried, ricotta-stuffed squash blossoms and some utterly divine brown butter bundt cake. Nom to the nom NOM.

What have you been up to?

And not much beats watering your plants and feeling the cool water drip onto your bare toes. (Especially when it’s 90° outside.) I may not have a garden, but me and my stoop are a pretty happy pair.

Thanks to a tip from my friend Amanda, I’ve become obsessed with iced green tea and fresh mint. Oh so refreshing whilst making jam. And any other time.

It turns out so lovely, doesn’t it?

What is making your heart happy right now?

I’ve lately become a bit attached to the magical alchemy that is brown butter. What was once simply just butter turns into the most amazing nutty, smoky, delicious flavor. It’s butter in a seductive guise. It’s butter in a lacy negligee. And the seemingly naughtiness tastes oh so good.

I have brown butter lust.
Lord, forgive me.

Have you ever browned butter before? I find I have to often explain what it is since (SURPRISE!) not everyone is a pastry nerd like me. You put the butter in a saucepan. You let it melt and it starts to bubble vigorously. You get nervous, thinking you are doing it wrong. You aren’t. Just let it bubble. After a few minutes, a lot of the water begins to evaporate out and the fat solids begin browning. You can smell it at this point. You smell the nuttiness and try not to lick the decadent-scented air. Give the pan a few swirls and once you see that the butter has achieved a fine, deep brown color (but not burnt!), immediately tip its contents into a nice bowl or large glass measuring cup. Use to your heart’s content.

Like in these cookies. I believe their full name was Brown Butter Toasted Coconut Chocolate Chip Cookies, but as I am lazy and saying that whole name is a lot of work each time you offer someone a cookie (if you are nice enough to share, that is), I just shortened it to Brown Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies. I came across these on Joy the Baker and after baking them and trying one, I wanted to fly to L.A. just to high five her.

But instead, I just ate another cookie and sighed happily.

Brown Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies
From Joy the Baker

1 c. (2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted and browned to about 3/4 cup butter
1 c. granulated sugar
3/4 c. brown sugar
1 TBSP pure vanilla extract
2 1/2 c. all-purpose flour (I used white whole wheat, which worked excellently, too)
3/4 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1/4 c. toasted unsweetened coconut
1 c. dark chocolate chips

Place a rack in the center and upper third of the oven and preheat to 350° F.  Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.  On one baking sheet, spread out shredded coconut.  Toast coconut for about 6 minutes, until browned and fragrant.  Remove from the oven, place in a small bowl and let cool.

Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat.  The butter will begin to foam and crackle. Once the crackling subsides, keep an eye on the butter.  The butter solids will begin to brown.  You’ll smell the butter as it browns.  Once well browned, immediately remove the butter from the flame and place in a small bowl.  Removing the butter from the pan will ensure that it doesn’t continue to cook and burn in the hot pan.  Allow the butter to cool for a few moments.

In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda and salt.  Set aside.

In the bowl of an electric stand mixer, fitted with a paddle attachment, measure granulated and brown sugar.  Add the brown butter and beat together, on medium speed, for about 2 minutes.  The sugar may still look grainy. No worries, it’s fine.

Add the egg and egg yolk and beat on medium speed for 2 minutes.  The mixture should become silky smooth.  Add  vanilla extract and beat.

With mixer on low speed, add the dry ingredients.  Beat until just incorporated.  Remove the bowl from the mixer and use a spatula to fold in the toasted coconut and chocolate chips.  Dough will be thick.

Cookies can be baked immediately, or the dough can be left in the refrigerator to chill for 30 minutes.

Spoon balls by the tablespoonful onto the prepared baking sheets (I’m a big fan of my 1 oz. spring-loaded scoop).  Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until golden brown but still slightly soft in the center.  Remove from the oven.  Allow the cookies to cool on the pan for 5 minutes, before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.

Store cookies in an airtight container.
Makes about 2 dozen cookies

And then Friday, I found out that I lost my internship.

The owner of the bakery, for some reason that wasn’t shared with me, decided he didn’t want interns this summer. After my paperwork for school was already filled out. And I had paid for the internship course. And had worked for a week. In the middle of the night. I received an embarrassed call from the manager to tell me the news, along with his apologies, and am now left trying to figure out what to do next.

And then on Saturday, my mother and I got into a car accident.

One more foot farther into the intersection and both of us could have been killed. We were heading through a green light in an intersection up the street from my sister Johanna’s house and were struck on the front left side by a truck going probably about 50 mph through a red light. Thank God, he struck us about a foot from my mother’s door and aside from being a little sore, both of us are fine. His truck flipped, landed on its cab hood, and somehow, miraculously, the guy crawled out and took off running. We later found out it wasn’t his car and that there were open alcohol bottles in the truck. I am so grateful that everyone is okay, but it shook me up.

So I went to my parents’ and made us a frittatta. Heading to the kitchen is all I know to do when things are shaken.

My mom joked me that we have to stop getting into these life-threatening situations together.

It made me think back to our first one — August 28, 1984. The night my mother went into labor with me, two and a half months before I was due. My mother doesn’t remember much of what happened that night or into the morning of August 29th, when I was brought into the world at 2 lbs. 4 oz. My father spent his time in the waiting room, trying to grapple with the fact that the doctors told him he may lose both his wife and unborn child and be left to raise two young daughters on his own. My sisters were only 6 and 4 and didn’t really understand what was going on. They weren’t allowed to see me until I was two months old, when I was finally able to exist outside of an incubator and tubes, and could go home.

Sometimes, as I am walking forward in this season in my life, “living out my dreams,” I need to be shaken by suffering. I need to be reminded of the fragility of life and the ways that pain shapes who we are. I need to be reminded that God is my lifesource and that His mercies for me are new every morning.

We have today. That’s all. That’s it.
Just today.

Fight for it.

It involved a lot, A LOT, of eating. In three days, we managed to eat dessert eight times. There were red velvet cupcakes, traffic-stopping vegetable curries, and blackberry mint juleps. There was Russian classical music in the Library of Congress and exactly two blisters from walking around Capital Hill in high heels. But mostly, there was a hefty amount of time with some of the friends I love best.

Also, I ate a grasshopper taco.

See?

It was very crunchy, salty and I was terrified to look too closely at it, for fear I would freak out. It was one of the bravest moments of my life.

Now that I’m back home, I started my internship yesterday at 3 a.m.. I walked off the plane a little after midnight and after two hours of sleep and some serious coffee intake, off I went. I just got home from my second day and am readying to catch a few winks. While the weird hours are a bit…weird…, the getting paid in cinnamon rolls, baguettes and some serious KNOWLEDGE is 100% awesome.

More delicious photos to come!
Enjoy your day!

I’m a fan of unlikely pairings, a champion for the slightly awkward of the food world. I jumped early onto the sea salt and caramel boat, I found herbs and chocolate together to be utterly divine and don’t even tell me that Nutella on kettle-cooked potato chips isn’t nirvana (I know, guilty pleasure snack).

These brownies are another one of my favorite unusual combinations –  beer and chocolate. More specifically, that dark, foamy, quintessentially Irish stout, Guinness. The barrel chest of this hearty brew gives a wonderful depth to these dense, damp brownies. This just may be my favorite brownie recipe and it has won over many converts. In fact, I just made 120 minis of these last night for a friend’s art reception.

I might have snuck one.
It was a corner piece.
No one likes those, anyway.

These aren’t your typical fudgy brownies; their texture is reminiscent of my favorite chocolate cake, though a bit more burly. Like the Irish, these Guinness brownies don’t screw around — they are rich, melting, sexy and just a little bit dangerous.

Basically, these brownies are the dessert version of this guy.

My gift to you, friends. Make brownies and be joyful.

Grace Neill’s Guinness Brownies
From The New Irish Table

4 eggs
3/4 c. granulated sugar
8 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
4 ounces white chocolate, chopped
6 tbsp. unsalted butter
3/4 c. all purpose flour
3/4 c. cocoa powder
1 1/4 c. Guinness stout

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Butter an 8×8″ pan.

In an electric mixer, combine the eggs and sugar. Beat until it is light and fluffy, about 2 to 3 minutes.

In a medium bowl set over a pan of simmering water, melt the bittersweet chocolate, white chocolate and butter, stirring until smooth. Remove from the heat, let it cool for 5 minutes, and beat into the egg mixture.

Sift the flour and cocoa together and beat into the chocolate mixture. Whisk in the Guinness. The batter should be thick and shiny.

Pour into the prepared pan and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until a skewer inserted in the center comes out almost clean. Remove from the oven and let cool on a wire rack.

Cut into squares and serve.

Serves 8 to 10

Cherry almond granola bars and big smiles for the first Farmer’s Market!

While Michigan doesn’t have much produce yet, we are certainly abundant in gorgeous flowers!

=

Sniff, sniff.

I love finding really good vintage deals. $4  — what a steal!

Also, I found a great deal on my most favorite item for the summer — a straw hat! A little Carrie Bradshaw, a little Anne of Green Gables, all fabulous! Hold onto your hearts, men of the Farmer’s Market! Baked goods and a sassy straw hat — you don’t stand a chance against the charm.

Somewhere, among all the cookies and scones and cakes and breads, I do eat vegetables. And as spring breezes in, it’s just about time for my favorite veggie treat of all: ASPARAGUS.

I eat roasted asparagus like it’s crack. Drizzle on a little olive oil, some kosher salt and freshly cracked pepper, pop it in a 400° oven for about 10 minutes and I eat the little devils off the tray with my bare hands. It’s ecstasy. Pure, green, snappy, toasty ecstasy. It usually goes something like this…

…pick up asparagus off the tray, yell, “Damn, this is hot!”

…proceed to tip my head back and lower the asparagus all in one piece into my mouth like a fire-eater.

…dance around, make “mmmmm”ing noises that are inappropriately loud

…repeat until the whole tray is gone and I realize I forgot to eat the rest of my dinner

Anyway, after that flattering mental image you now have of me, let’s talk about this salad.  This salad is a way to incorporate the crack-like qualities of roasted asparagus into some protein and other fresh, springy flavors. If you find yourself like me, gobbling up all your asparagus stove-side before you get it to the table, may I suggest you make a little more asparagus than you need for the salad. You know, chef’s snack.

I made this salad for Easter and it was fresh and delicious; it’s one of those beautiful things that just gets better the longer it sits. I took it to work for a few days in a row for lunch and creeped out my co-workers as I kept offering them forkfuls. I just wanted to share this glorious flavor palate, but I think they probably weren’t down with sharing my fork (apparently, not everyone is excited enough about asparagus to look past communicable diseases).

I suggest making this salad the night before you plan on eating it; tossing the hot quinoa with the vinaigrette helps it really soak up all the delightful flavors.

Spring Quinoa Salad

1/2 lb. asparagus, trimmed
2 TBSP. extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1 c. quinoa
2 c. water
1/3 c. crumbled feta cheese
Zest of one lemon
2 TBSP. chopped fresh mint
Juice of 1 lemon
2 TBSP. white wine*
2 TBSP. white vinegar*
1/3 to 1/2 c. extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

*I used white wine and white vinegar because I didn’t have any white wine vinegar. If you have it, use 4 TBSP of the white white vinegar in place of the wine and vinegar combo.

Preheat the oven to 450°F. On a rimmed baking sheet, toss the asparagus with the olive oil, salt and pepper. Roast for 10 to 12 minutes until the spears are lightly caramelized on the bottom. Remove from the oven and transfer to a cutting board to cool. Once cool, cut them into 1-inch pieces and set aside.

Combine the quinoa and water in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil. Once it boils, reduce the heat to a simmer, cover the pan and let it cook for 10 to 15 minutes, until all the liquid is absorbed.

While the quinoa is cooking, assemble the feta, lemon zest, chopped mint and cooled asparagus in a large bowl and set aside. Whisk the lemon juice, white wine, vinegar and salt and pepper. Pour in the olive oil while whisking vigorously, until the dressing is emulsified.

Once the quinoa is cooked, while it’s still hot, scoop it into the bowl with the feta, lemon zest, mint and asparagus. Pour the dressing over and toss well. Chill overnight and serve either cold or room temperature.

How’s your day going?

Good? Good! (The grammar maniac in me keeps shouting, “Well! You mean’ well’!”)

So I’ve made an executive decision (’cause I can) to discontinue Fist Pump Tuesday. It’s fun, but let’s face it — I forget about it nearly every other week and my arms are a little tired from the pumping. I’m not meant for pumping. Maybe more dancing goofily around. But “Dancing Goofily Around Tuesday” sounds kind of stupid.

I still want to share things that make me happy though. And hear about what makes YOU happy.

So, friends, today, Joy the Baker is making me happy.

She’s kind of great. I kind of want to be her friend. I kind of have a really giant food blog crush on her. Despite a temporary hiccup with the Dulce de Leche Cupcakes recipe, my faith in her culinary prowess was regained when last week, I fell in love with these Vegan Chocolate Cookies. They actually caused my co-workers to start “mmmm”-ing in harmony. Like a barbershop quartet. It was very silly.

So today, I’m trying the Brown Butter Toasted Coconut Chocolate Chip Cookies recipe. I have high hopes.

What is making you smile today?

[photo credit to Miss Joy]

Once upon a time, when I lived across the pond, I did something kind of odd.

I’m one of those people that plans for my future in small ways, mostly so when “then” becomes “now“, I won’t feel so overwhelmed. When I see something I like, I’ll think, “Someday, when I get married or have children, I would like that or do that or read this.” So I pick it up, take it home and store it away for those proverbial rainy days.

I’ve been told this is weird.
Anyway, back to my story.

So I was in London shortly after arriving in the UK, puttering around the Tower of London with my friends. We wandered into the gift shop outside the Crown Jewels and I saw something that caught my eye: a tiara. Not a gaudy, prom queen-esque one (such as the one I was forced to wear by my sisters on my 21st birthday), but a delicate, subtle and classy one. I’ve never been much for princesses or tiaras, but I took an immediate liking to this one. I didn’t know what I would do with a tiara at that moment in my life, but I thought, “Someday, when I get married, it would be special to have something like that to wear, as a token of this part of my life.”

Since I had just arrived in the country and didn’t think it necessary to drop £40 on something I didn’t really need (or make my new friends think I was completely mad), I decided when I came back at the end of term with my parents, if it was still there, I would buy it.

Months passed and I forgot about the tiara. Then came May, when my parents came to visit and we headed down to London. As we walked through the Tower of London, I remembered my vow. When we eventually went into the gift shop, I looked up and there it was, waiting for me. So I bought it.

And it has sat in my closet for five years.
To be honest, I’m not the same person I was at 21 and have no desire to wear a tiara when I get married.
So I have no clue what it’s for now.
But I’ll figure it out.

I tell this story as a lead-in to this week’s recipe for Eton Mess — a traditional English dessert that was given a modern update by former Royal Chef Carolyn Robb and featured in the last issue of Where Women Cook. She noted it was a favorite of Prince William’s and as such, I knew I had to make it to celebrate the Royal Wedding.

As a hardcore Anglophile, I was admittedly totally swoony over the whole affair. I sniffed, my heart went pitter-pat, I spent more time on the Daily Mail website than I would like to admit. I know it’s overpriced and over-hyped and whatnot, but there was something so very sweet about it. The handsome prince, the beautiful “commoner”, the fairy tale wedding; but mostly, a celebration simply of two young people who love each other and represent that part of us that longs to find and celebrate the beauty of love and hope. Along with the DVR and my parents, we toasted Wills and Kate with this delicious dessert, which left us licking out our bowls in a not-so-dignified way. My mother wore my tiara and we enjoyed indulging that part of us that still believes in fairy tales.

So whether or not the Royal Wedding stirred your fairy tale fantasies, this delightful dessert will certainly tickle your fancy.

Cheers!

Eton Mess
From Carolyn Robb, via Where Women Cook

3 egg whites, at room temperature
3 oz. granulated sugar
3 oz. brown sugar
A few drops of vanilla extract

4 oz. raspberries
2 tbsp. confectioner’s sugar
1/4 tsp. lemon juice

8 oz. mixed berries (strawberries, raspberries, blueberries)
1 c. heavy cream
2 tbsp. confectioner’s sugar
1/2 c. marscarpone cheese
Handful of very finely chopped fresh mint
A few extra mint leaves for garnish
Confectioner’s sugar for dusting

Preheat the oven to 325°F. Line two baking trays with parchment paper.

In a clean, dry bowl, whisk the egg whites to a stiff peak stage; they should be glossy and stand in firm peaks. Add the granulated and brown sugar gradually, whisking for about 5 minutes, until the mixture is thick and glossy and stands on its own. Add the vanilla extract.

Using a piping bag and a medium star tip, pipe the mixture into small meringues. (If you prefer not to pipe, you could easily use two spoons and make small mounds.) Bake for about an hour, till they are light brown, crisp and firm; they should lift easily off the paper. Once they are done baking, turn the oven off and let the meringues remain inside to dry out further.

To make the raspberry sauce, place the raspberries, confectioner’s sugar and lemon juice in a small pan. Cook just until the raspberries are soft and beginning to fall apart. Whiz it up using an immersion blender or in a food processor, then strain through a metal sieve to remove all the seeds. (This works best if you use the back of a large spoon and work the pulp through the strainer.) You should end up with about a 1/2 cup of puree. Set aside.

Wash and dry the mixed berries. Alternately, if you’re like me and fresh berries aren’t in season in your area yet, you can use thawed frozen berries. They aren’t as pretty, but they taste better than the watery, overgrown fresh berries from the store. Whip the cream until thick, then add the sugar, marscarpone and chopped mint, whipping until just combined.

Assemble the desserts in either one large bowl or in individual glasses. Layer up the fruit and cream alternately with the meringues and a drizzle of the raspberry puree, finishing with cream. Garnish with fresh mint and a quick dusting of powdered sugar. A treat fit for a princess (as you can clearly see below…)!

Makes 4 servings

Enjoy these snaps from my Easter with my dear foodie family. Pickled veggies, cheeses, deviled egg salad with avocado and bacon, dijon chicken salad, whole wheat blueberry banana muffins, homemade Peeps and more! And of course, like any good aunt, a zillion pictures of my favorite Easter bunny.

Welcome to the newest evolution of what was Nosh Friday and is now “From my Table.” As I have historically had issues getting my weekly recipe posts up each Friday, I thought changing up the name might help give me a little leeway and perhaps inspire me with a fresh perspective on just what I am trying to do with sharing these recipes with you. It’s a part of a blog spring overhaul, as far as looks go, and I am excited for this newest incarnation. Enjoy and let me know any thoughts you might have!

Despite my great love for things like butter and whipped cream, I have been making a conscious effort towards using more whole grains, natural sweeteners and other healthier alternatives in my baking. I hang firm on the conviction that dessert should be enjoyed, not feared, and that it also has a lot of say outside of plain white flour and sugar. Finding new ways to make traditional desserts a little kinder will hopefully not only inspire people to savor new flavors in their desserts, but encourage more people to view sweets as something you can sensibly include in a diet that looks to eat healthier.

To many, “healthier” translates to tasteless, dry and capital “b” BO-RING. I get this. I’ve experienced this. Someone’s good intentions turn into cookies and cakes that taste like cardboard and leave you and your sweet tooth anything but satisfied. Well, hang on to your apron strings, all ye naysayers. This cake will blow those assumptions out of the water…and then some!

Made with a combination of spelt and white whole wheat flours, studded with rosemary and bittersweet chocolate chunks, and made deliciously rich with the good fats of olive oil and the tang of buttermilk, this cake proves that whole grain is sexy. Adapted slightly from a recipe found in Kim Boyce’s wonderful cookbook, Good to the Grain, this cake starred in a family spring (indoor) picnic last weekend. Even my generally picky brother-in-law requested seconds which, in our family, is a litmus test of a generally successful recipe. Its rich crumb isn’t too light or too dense and it pairs beautifully with the chunks of deep, bittersweet chocolate. The earthy aromas of the spelt and whole wheat flours brought out the piney taste of the rosemary, an unlikely but absolutely fabulous addition to this dessert.

I loved this cake and would absolutely make it again…and again…and again. While the original recipe calls to use a 9 1/2 inch fluted tart pan, I am going to recommend a regular 9 inch cake pan. My tart pan overflowed a bit and while trimming the edges off of the finished cake provided me with an excellent snack, I think skipping that step would be preferable in the future.

Enjoy the wonderfully earthy smells and tastes of this oh-so-sassy cake this Earth Day (and every day)!

Olive Oil Cake
Adapted slightly from Good to the Grain

3/4 c. spelt flour
1 1/2 c. white whole wheat flour
3/4 c. granulated sugar
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. kosher salt
3 eggs, preferably organic
1 c. olive oil
3/4 c. buttermilk
1 1/2 tbsp. fresh rosemary, finely chopped
5 ounces bittersweet chocolate (about 70% cacao), cut into roughly 1/2 inch pieces

Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 350°F. Rub a 9 inch cake pan with olive oil and set aside.

Sift the dry ingredients into a large bowl, pouring back into the bowl any bits of grain or other ingredients that may remain in the sifter, and set aside. In a large bowl, whisk the eggs thoroughly. Add the olive oil, buttermilk and rosemary and whisk again. Using a spatula, fold the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients, gently mixing until just combined. Stir in the chocolate.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, spreading it evenly and smoothing the top. Bake for about 40 minutes, or until the top is domed, golden brown and darker around the edges, and a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean.

The cake can be eaten warm or cool from the pan, or cooled, wrapped tightly in plastic and kept for up to 2 days.

We could only believe in You because You have lived in us — in our mangled world, in our aching pain, in all our hurting humanity.

You alone are the God for us — because You alone are the God who has been one of us.

You felt what we feel, You touched the death that we know, You came to us as Immanuel: God with us.

-Ann Voskamp

My friend Kelly posted this on Facebook and it really touched me on today, this Good Friday. What a oddly appropriate name for a day that is at once so horrible and so necessarily a step towards the deepest of goods. Thinking of the absolute torment of the Cross, yet knowing that it is only through that suffering that we come to Grace; the Grace that gives life, that restores life, that IS life. I wander in this grief and let it move me and disturb me, as I look towards the third morning, a time to let grace cover the grief. Perhaps it doesn’t take it away but it makes it bearable. If there is anything I have learned about the Cross in the past year of my life, it is that. Grace doesn’t erase; it strengthens, it builds up, it provides a foundation that I can’t find in any other place.

Pondering on this joint Good Friday and Earth Day, I take a moment to think on the fullness of what it is to be human: powered and formed by Spirit and sustained and fed by Earth. We need both, we must care for both, we begin and end with both.

Jesus came in human form, I believe, because He understood and represented that fullness. He made the Earth and called it good; He made us in His own image and called us good. In all the brokenness of the world, He is redeeming us day by day, all of His Creation.

What are your thoughts today?

[image credit here]

Pump, pump it up! Here’s what’s getting my feathers ruffled this week:

1. Gwyneth Talks Duck — I listened to this today during work and, as much as I would like to dislike Miss Paltrow for being nearly perfect at everything (seriously!), I was impressed by her sincere words and passion for good food around a family’s kitchen table. Give it a read or a listen!

2. Easter Basket, Easter Basket, What Do You Hold? — This past week at school, our class made “showpiece” Easter baskets to show at our school’s graduation and at the school’s restaurant. My friend Holly and I worked on making a rustic, vintage-inspired Easter basket, made entirely out of dead dough (a basic, crafting dough made from several types of flour, spices for color and a sugar syrup). We worked really hard on this and I am pretty proud of the results! Check it out!

3. Foodie Brides, Hear Hear! — While I’m not in the market for a wedding, I have a handful of friends who are and one of them, Lindsey, sent this my way. I absolutely love the use of artichokes, herbs and even carrots in these bouquets. If you’re getting married sometime in the near future and are looking for a different way to approach doing flowers, give this a gander!

What is making you smile this week?

Not nearly as much fun.

So I am studying for that. Well, trying to study.
And by studying, I mean doing stuff like this:

I found this quote in the latest issue of Where Women Cook and loved it. So I designed this fun little number that I will eventually frame and hang in my kitchen.

Okay, I should probably study now.

What do you do when you are avoiding something you’re supposed to be doing?