Posts tagged ‘linkedin’
about 16 years ago, we welcomed a new member into our family fold. soft and adorable, we instantly fell madly in love with her.
we created a cozy little area in our dining room, where she could hang out during the day with her toys or catch a nap in her crate. 
early one Sunday morning, i noticed she wasn’t in her designated space. me: hey, is Winnie with you? Tootie: no, you mean she isn’t with… i ran around the corner into the living room to find her chomping on my Stickley coffee table with her tiny, razor-sharp teeth. yeah, the ones that left puncture wounds like a rattlesnake’s. and so, our adventures with Winnie, the English bull terrier, began.
we carted Winnie off to obedience training, where the trainer threw up her arms and said, she’s completely untrainable. and sent us to the back of the classroom to work independently. she oozed charm (when she felt like it). looking up with her little, almond-shaped eyes, she could implore nearly anyone to open the pantry to get her a little treat. oh yeah, Winnie was a consummate manipulator who was training us to do her bidding. and, admittedly, we let her wrap us around her little paw.
feisty and fearless, she could tunnel through a few feet of snow, bound across a mountain meadow (with me flying behind on the other end of her lead) and leap into the air, performing a dare-devilish spin. when professional life dictated relocation, Winnie was confidently at-the-ready:
- do you have my bed? √
- food? √
- toys? √
- can i sleep on the bed at the hotel? √ √
let’s go!!!!!
sure, she enjoyed her downtime. like when she’d grab a little snooze under a big shade tree or on the chaise lounge on the back deck.
most often, you could find her flopped upside down—all four feet dangling in the air—in one of her many comfy beds. a dedicated volunteer, she often offered to wedge herself between me and the kitchen counter in case she could lend a hand when i dropped a tidbit during dinner prep. sometimes she’d even let me give her a big hug (if i asked nicely and promised a Wet Noses biscuit in return).
it’s been a year since Winnie’s passing. i still walk over to where her dish once sat to give her a much-anticipated meal (she knew to the seeming second when breakfast, lunch and dinner should be served). i look longingly at the spot where she’d take the long, dream-filled naps of older dogs. she was our lovable, high-spirited diva. that perfect balance of angel dog and devil dog. playful. stubborn. sweet. outrageously funny. compliant, with a ‘tude.
Tom Springfield said and The Seekers sung it best:
i could search the whole world over
until my life is through
but i know i’ll never find another you.
wait for me in front of that heavenly pantry, pumpkin. miss you, love you always.
long before Dunkin’ Donuts’ seemingly complete domination of Boston (much like Seattle’s Starbuck’s on every corner), my dad and i would trek to our suburban Dunkin’ to pick up a dozen for our little family. what can i get you, the clerk would say. and dad would consistently reply, yeah, give me six lemon-filled. lemon doughnuts were mom’s favorite. i have no doubt that, given the opportunity, she would have eaten them every single day. they became my favorite, too (copycat), so dad made sure his girls had enough to go around.
mom and grandma
prior to the lemon curd shortage (an apparent byproduct of today’s less-than-generous approach to doughnut-making), mom was able to get a healthy portion of filling with nearly every bite. she’d look up at me, a little bit of powered sugar on the corners of her mouth, which she’d pat daintily with her napkin. giggle. then, consume the only remaining bite. delicious!, she’d proclaim.
like the very best attributes of a lemon—bright and zingy—mom exuded a warmth that others were drawn to. basked in. i can’t tell you how much i miss that sunshine. when she came to live with us in the latter part of her life, i’d occasionally trot home with lemon-filled doughnuts. sure, she enjoyed them. but never as much as when dad arrived triumphantly with a dozen under his arm.
to celebrate what would have been mom’s 92nd birthday, i’ve assembled a menu i think she would have liked:
brisket
a nice loaf of challah (best eva!)
brussel sprouts (simplified this recipe)
noodle kugle
meyer lemon hand pies (crust recipe)
here’s to you, little bird. it’s never as sunny without you here. sending you love and smooches. catch ya on the flip side.
i lost my mom exactly three years ago. since little bird’s passing, the thanksgiving holiday (ever our family’s favorite) has become more of a time of reflection than of feastivity (yeah, not a typo). i stopped preparing that lengthy to-do list and detailed menu that served as the countdown to turkey time (in fact, turkey no longer makes an appearance at our table). i don’t strategize about what time the night before i need to prepare the brioche dough. or when i should bound out of bed the next morning, so the pecan rolls will be ready when everyone else rises for coffee and televised parades. what remains the same is the sense of gratitude i feel for having had her in my life.
both of my zingy girls (mom and Winnie, the adorable, devilish English bull terrier) are gone now. they each had
larger-than life personalities, equally huge hearts and generous spirits. more than once, i caught mom bending down and saying to Winnie, “you are one hot spud.” even in her twilight years, Winnie would respond with much tail-wagging, a few crisp barks of agreement and several speedy laps around the family room. then, of course, would demand a treat—and take a well-deserved snooze. they loved food, me and each other. maybe not exactly in that order.
little bird and Winnie had a zest for life. i’m dedicating this little number to my two, feisty, spicy gingers. until i see you again, keep each other company. love you to the moon and back…
Spicy Gingerbread
a recipe from flour by Joanne Chang
INGREDIENTS
2 sticks butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
3 tablespoons grated fresh ginger
2 eggs
3 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 1/2 cups unsulfured molasses
1 cup boiling water
1 teaspoon baking soda
DIRECTIONS
- preheat oven to 350°F.
- butter and flour a 9 x 13–inch pan.
- using a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy (2 – 3 minutes); scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl to make sure there are no lumps.
- in a small bowl, whisk together the grated ginger and eggs until blended.
- with the mixer on low speed, add the egg mixture, and beat until just combined.
- scrape the sides and bottom of bowl, then beat on medium speed for 20 – 30 seconds, until mixture is homogenous.
- in a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, salt, ground ginger, pepper, cinnamon and cloves; set aside.
- in another medium bowl, whisk together the molasses, boiling water, and baking soda.
- on the lowest mixer speed, add 1/3 of the flour mixture to the mixture already in the bowl, then beat until incorporated.
- pour in one half of the molasses mixture, and continue to mix at the lowest speed until combined; scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl.
- on the lowest mixer speed, add half of the remaining flour mixture, and beat until incorporated.
- add the remaining molasses mixture, and beat until incorporated.
- stop the mixer, and scrape the sides and bottom of the bowl.
- add the final flour mixture, and beat on low speed for about a minute.
- scrape the batter into the prepared pan.
- bake for 50 – 60 minutes, or until the top of the cake springs back when pressed lightly in the middle.
- let cool in pan on a wire rack.
serve with vanilla-bean whipped cream. let your dog lick the whipped cream off the whisk. give your mom the biggest, bestest piece.
yesterday, i went shopping. it’s something i do now only out of necessity. when mom (a.k.a. little bird) was alive, we went frequently. persistently. at times, ad nauseum. i had to force myself to remember that, to mom (who spent more than 25 years in upscale sales), retail felt like going home.
no matter where we shopped, she proactively sought out sales people in every store—as if they were family. most newbie retail associates tried to avoid her enthusiastic advances (and eye contact). but seasoned comrades, much to mom’s delight, engaged respectfully in conversations. and she took their parting words to come back again soon like invitations from dear friends.
my solo retail outing (mission: to replace ratty old sweaters with new, unratty counterparts) took a surprising turn. i found myself drawn—clearly by some mysterious, magnetic force—to a retail outlet and to a sweater nearly identical to one little bird used to wear religiously. yeah, ok, hers didn’t have a hoodie. and she didn’t wear mens’ sweaters, except for dad’s when she felt a little blue. and i have no intention of wearing a brooch on my sweater. but other than that, we could have been twins. i grabbed the sweater, hugged it tightly to my chest and grinned a big toothy one. even the newbie sales guy at the register seemed to feel the excitement of my discovery and pride in being part of a shiny, new-store family. i think mom would have liked him.
dominant genes: skinny legs, big feet
as the years go by, i catch myself sounding—and looking—just a little bit more like mom. a lilt in my voice (with only a hint of New England accent). a facial expression. a wicked-lame joke. an affinity for a handsome, black and white sweater. and i think (with some modicum of panic), i am becoming my mother. well, dear, the apples don’t fall far from the tree.
if you’re in the mood, crank up Glenn Miller’s rendition of People Like You and Me, get out the flour, and whip up a nicely moist apple cake (recipe just below).
mom would have liked it with a double-dollop of vanilla bean whipped cream. or maybe some vanilla ice cream. or both. from our gene pool: when it comes to dessert, always shoot the moon.
endnote: sincere thanks to those who’ve continued to stop by during this quiet time. losing our beloved Winnie on 17 February left my creative spirit squashed. appreciate your patience as i get my juju back.
Family Tree Apple Cake
based on a recipe from pinch of yum
INGREDIENTS
for the cake
2 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1/3 cup oil (i use sunflower)
1 egg
1 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups chopped apples (i used a mix of Queen Cox and Bramley; if you don’t have access to these, try a nice, tart Granny Smith)
for the topping
2/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons confectioners’ sugar
2/3 cup flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
6 tablespoons butter
DIRECTIONS
- preheat oven to 325°F.
- butter a 10-inch square pan. (if you don’t have this more unusual size [mine is a Emile Henry Urban Colors square baking dish], you could use a 9 x13-inch pan, but the cake wouldn’t be as lofty.)
- to make the topping, in a medium bowl, whisk the confectioners’ sugar, flour, cinnamon and cloves.
- using a pastry blender, cut in the butter (leaving some larger lumps) until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs; set aside.
- to make the cake, in a medium bowl, whisk flour, baking soda and salt.
- in the bowl of a stand mixer, with beater attachment, beat brown sugar and oil until combined.
- add egg, buttermilk and vanilla, and mix until throughly incorporated.
- add the dry ingredients and mix until combined.
- fold in the apples.
- scrape the batter into the prepared pan, spreading out evenly.
- sprinkle the topping evenly over the cake.
- bake cake until golden brown and a tester comes out free of wet batter, about 45 minutes.
- let cake cool in pan on rack, but it’s great served warm.
dominant genes: goofy w/beak
we’ve all been taking it kind of easy at our house this month. the temperature has been unseasonably cool and the sky gray. and that’s probably a good thing for Winnie, as she hasn’t been feeling particularly spritely. at nearly 15, her pace has slowed dramatically in contrast to when she lived in the mountains above Colorado Springs. now, those were some days.
back then, Winnie rarely slept in. she liked to hang out on the back deck, sniffing the crisp mountain air and, undoubtedly, all the native creatures who shared our property (with big cats nearby, Winnie never got to stay out on the deck too awfully long without human supervision). when she wasn’t surveying the outdoor scene, she spent her time wedged between me and the kitchen counter—every time i fixed a meal. another favorite pastime? sunning. if there was a patch of sunshine to be found in the house, Winnie would be in it. asleep on her back, with all four in the air.
a true-blue mountain dog, Winnie would hike valiantly by our sides (or pull so hard on her leash, she’d wear herself out). like that time on the Women’s Trail, when she laid down in the middle of the path and refused to go any further, forcing Tootie to carry her back to the car. Winnie’s sense of direction: as accurate as any GPS. like that time when she mysteriously got out of the yard, and got lost, and Lisa searched for and ultimately retrieved her from the home of a distant neighbor, who’d graciously corralled her. Winnie’s valor: unsurpassed. like that time we were instructed to evacuate during the Hayman fire, and she barked her butt off in the hotel room (and i was afraid we’d be ejected), until we put her up on the bed with us (don’t tell).
i always imagine when Winnie dreams (and her little feet are running in her sleep), she’s dreaming of her life as a Colorado mountain dog. my heart is there, too. with family and friends. with those who’ve lost their homes. and with the fire warriors, who tirelessly fight the good fight.
there’s an old farm field, a mile or so south of the town where we live. when it rains, large pools of water form in the middle of it. a frequent condition in nearly-always-drenched western Washington. i never thought there was anything extraordinary about that former pumpkin patch—until one dark night in November.
my sister, nieces and i were headed home from hospice, after a visit with my mom. along the stretch of highway between the hospital and the house, we drove with heavy hearts, in silence. suddenly, a great blue heron arose from the field, crossed in front of my windshield—lanky legs dangling in my line of vision—and headed west toward the sound. the next day, my mom passed away.
mom would have found it ironic that i believe she’s been channeled by a stunningly bright blue heron. blue was her least favorite color, an aversion that seemed totally irrational to me: i just don’t like it, she’d say emphatically. yeah, i don’t like beets, but there’s a darn good reason for that; they’re completely disgusting. it took me about 10 years to coerce her into even considering wearing blue jeans. but once she warmed up to the idea—and later in life—she rarely went out in anything else on her bottom half.
now, pink. pink was a color my mom could get behind. 
she gravitated toward all shades of pink equally. so for birthdays and holidays, i kept an eye out for pink gifts: handbags, hats, tank tops, fleece jackets, even candy (who could resist Godiva dark chocolate filled with raspberries??). whatever the season, whatever the reason, pink was in. to celebrate mom this year, i set out to make pink cupcakes loosely based on a revered childhood snack: Hostess Sno Balls. it seemed like a fitting tribute to my mom and to a now-struggling company whose treats had been the shining stars in my Twiggy lunchbox.
lesson learned: my skill sets lay in something less demanding than cupcake creation, like making pies. but i’m sharing the recipe here, for those of you who can hold on to a pastry bag and aren’t challenged by Pantone color-matching frosting. the cupcakes tasted great, but the all-natural food coloring i incorporated lost its rosy glow.
every time i drive by the old farm field, i watch for my blue heron. sometimes i see her there. like i did this mother’s day. i break into a smile and wave. and i get a little teary-eyed. but i was always kind of a sap, right, ma?
Not-So-Pretty in Pink Cupcakes
inspired by a Back in the Day Bakery recipe
a combination of chocolate cupcake and coconut frosting recipes from Joanne Chang’s flour cookbook (as i’ve said previously, an absolutely fabulous, gotta-have volume)
makes 12 moist dark chocolatey cupcakes
INGREDIENTS
for the cupcakes
2 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped
1/4 cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
1/3 cup water
1/2 cup whole organic milk
1 egg
1 egg yolk (save the egg white)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup organic all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
for the frosting
3/4 cups sugar
3 eggs whites (use the egg white saved from the batter recipe)
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter, at room temperature, cut into 2-inch chunks
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup coconut milk
for the topping
2 cups sweetened shredded coconut
DIRECTIONS
- place paper cupcake liners in a standard 12-cup muffin tin.
- in a medium-size heatproof bowl, combine the chocolate and the cocoa powder.
- in a small saucepan, combine the sugar, butter and water.
- over medium-high heat, whisk until the butter is melted and sugar dissolved, around 3 to 4 minutes.
- pour the hot butter mixture over the chocolate-cocoa, and whisk until the chocolate is completely melted, and the mixture is homogenous.
- then whisk the milk, egg, egg yolk and vanilla into the chocolate mixture, until thoroughly combined.
- in a small bowl, whisk the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.
- dump the flour mixture on top of the chocolate mixture, and whisk until the dry ingredients are completely incorporated into the chocolate mixture.
- let the batter sit at room temperature for at least an hour. or transfer to an airtight container, and store in the frig for up to three days.
- preheat the oven to 350F.
- spoon the batter into the prepared cups, dividing the batter evenly.
- bake on center rack of oven for 20 to 30 minutes, until the tops spring back.
- cool completely on a wire rack.
- to make the frosting, in a small heatproof bowl, whisk the sugar and egg whites to form a thick slurry.
- place the bowl over simmering water (should not touch the water) in a saucepan and heat, whisking occasionally, until the mixture is hot to the touch, around 6 to 8 minutes.
- remove the bowl from the heat, and scrape the mixture into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whip attachment.
- whip on medium-high speed for 6 to 8 minutes, or until the mixture becomes a light, white meringue, cool to the touch. (i whipped until soft peaks just began to form, which seemed to work.)
- on low speed, add the chunks of butter, a few at a time.
- increase the speed to medium, and mix for 4 to 5 minutes, or until the butter is completely incorporated; the mixture should look smooth and glossy. at first it looks as if it’s curdling, but don’t panic. just keep going until it smooths out.
- add the vanilla, salt and coconut milk, and whip until the coconut milk is completely incorporated, and the frosting is smooth. you may need to scrape the bottom of the bowl in the process.
- remove the cupcakes from the muffin tin.
- hollow the center with an apple corer, going down a little shy of 1 inch.
- fit a pastry bag with a round tip, fill the bag, then pipe the frosting into the center of the cupcakes.
- if you’re brave and have the appropriate kind of food coloring, add to the remaining frosting until you’ve achieved the appropriate shade of pink.
- for prettier cupcakes, fit the pasty bag with a star tip, refill with the pink frosting, and decorate the cakes.
- alternatively, spread the frosting on the cupcakes with an icing spatula. (i employed this method as it made the cupcakes look more like Sno Balls.)
- place the shredded coconut in a small bowl.
- gently roll the frosted cupcakes in the shredded coconut.
when i was in high school, my dad and i acted out the same scene from our family play nearly every Friday night. he’d be sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. i’d walk in and put my hand on his shoulder. hey, dad. mom’s gonna be home in about an hour. what do you want to do for dinner? any other day of the week, he’d already have something simmering on the stove. but not on Friday. dad would look up at me over his reading glasses and say, as if it were an epiphany, how about getting a pizza? my lines: that’s a great idea! what kind should we get? dad’s line: well, your mother likes anchovies. seriously? my lines: that’s gross. let’s just get them on half. then one of us would move stage left, pick up the hand set of our avocado-colored wall phone (a chic complement to our major appliances) and dial Liberty Pizza.
to me, Liberty Pizza was the closest thing to pizza heaven in the galaxy. small and local, the staff took great pride in their craft and product. on Friday nights, Liberty’s was hopping. my dad would pull up in his VW, squeezing into any space that remotely resembled a parking spot; i’d run in to pickup our large Liberty’s special. to this day, my mouth waters just thinking about it. as an undergraduate home on holiday breaks, my parents would ask, well, where would you like to go out to eat first? they’d excitedly—and predictably—suggest very nice restaurants, where we could all dress up for a night out on the town (and i would strenuously object to wearing anything but jeans). but i’d just as enthusiastically and religiously reply, Liberty’s! faces fallen, but ever-supportive, the curtain would go up on an encore performance of the family pizza play.
over the many years my parents lived in our childhood home, visits meant having a least one delicious pie from Liberty Pizza. i’ve regularly experimented with pizza recipes, but all have paled in comparison to Liberty’s. until last Friday night, when i discovered the most wonderful, the most perfect pizza dough i’ve ever eaten. the texture: crispy on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside. i topped my first effort with scant amounts of whole-milk mozzarella and thin slices of red onion, Fresno peppers and Finocchiona salami. this week, as my next batch of dough is rising, i’m roasting garlic to use as my featured topping.
perhaps i was channeling my dad. or thinking back fondly on those dad and daughter runs to Liberty’s. as mom and i used to say (giggling and simultaneously), it was definitely serendipitous. i’m dedicating this post to my friend Mary-Ellen, whose love and appreciation for family, uplifting spirit and geographic proximity to Liberty Pizza command admiration, respect and a little green envy.
No-Knead Pizza Dough
based on a Jim Lahey recipe, published in bon appetit
makes two good-size, thicker pizza crusts (if you like your pizza crust thinner, divide the dough in thirds, rather than in half and stretch!)
this dough needs to ferment for 12 – 18 hours, so plan accordingly.
UPDATE – 13 April 2012: i’ve experimented with the pizza dough recipe several times and suggest a scant 3 1/2 cups flour to make the dough easier to wrangle. volume of flour lands between the quantity recommended in bon appetit and Jim Lahey’s My Pizza cookbook.
INGREDIENTS
3 1/2 (scant) cups all-purpose, organic flour, more for dusting
1⁄4 teaspoon active dry yeast
2 teaspoons sea salt
1 1⁄2 cups water
corn meal
olive oil
DIRECTIONS
- very lightly coat a medium-size bowl with olive oil; set aside.
- in the bowl of a stand mixer, hand-whisk the the flour, yeast and salt. alternatively, mix everything together for steps 2 and 3 in a large bowl with your hands or with a silicon spoon. just easier for me with the stand mixer.
- with the dough hook attachment in place, add the water and mix until the dough comes together. it will be extremely sticky and seem, well, unseemly for dough. be careful not to overwork it.
- gather the dough and place in the oiled bowl.
- cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let rest for 12 – 18 hours at a room temperature of 72°.
- when the dough’s surface is covered with bubbles (mine had large and small) and it has doubled in bulk, transfer it to a lightly floured work surface; sprinkle the top of the dough with flour.
- gently shape the dough into a rectangle.
- divide the dough in half; keep one half of the dough covered with plastic wrap, until you’re ready to work with it.
- take one half of the dough and fold each of the four corners into the center.
- with the seam side down, gently form into a ball, and dust with flour.
- repeat with the other half of the dough.
- cover each ball with plastic wrap and let rest at room temperature (72°) for 1 – 2 hours.
- while the dough is rising, preheat oven to 475°.
- sprinkle a large baking sheet lightly with corn meal; set aside.
- very gently shape one of the balls into a 12-inch disc, preserving as many of the bubbles as possible.
- place the dough on the baking sheet and stretch into desired shape. the dough will likely be more abstract/oblong than round.
- drizzle olive oil lightly over dough, then cover with the toppings of your choice.
- bake until bottom and top are golden brown, around 15 minutes.
- repeat with remaining dough.
yesterday, i received a catalog in the mail, its cover splashed with a single photo of dark purple lilacs. i thought the arrival of that catalog could not have been more perfect. closing my eyes, i could almost smell the unmistakable fragrance, as real as it was in my childhood backyard.
1927 family portrait: mom, grandma and grandpa
my mom adored her lilacs. she maintained three huge, stately bushes in our suburban heaven. every spring, when the lilacs bloomed, i found her near them. hovering and, what i perceived as, hugging them (well, i said, that’s what it looked like to me). let’s just say we were both elated to stand in the bushes’ presence.
mom would strategically clip lilacs from each cherished bush, and we’d inhale their sweetness as we carried them into the house. choosing just the right vase, she’d skillfully arrange them. then, stand back with a tilted head to assess her handiwork. finally, she’d look back at me and say, what do you think? i’d enthusiastically nod my head in approval. yay!
today marks what would have been my mom’s 90th birthday. even as a writer, i’m at a loss to articulate how much i miss her. what i can say is that my memories of her and of our adventures together are even more vivid, more deeply etched as the days go by. yeah, that could just be my advancing age, but that’s another story entirely.
so, here’s to you, little bird. may today—and every day—be carefree. i expect you and daddy will be gliding across that dance floor tonight. love you forever.
after a recent, merciless pummeling of snow, it felt like an appropriate time to pass on some ideas for blizzard fare.
i live in the lowlands of the Pacific Northwest. so, you may be wondering if i’m truly qualified to give this sort of advice. simply put, yes. transplanted from New England and later in life, from the Colorado mountains, i can confidently say i’m not only casually familiar with the white stuff, we’re intimate.
a million years before i learned to drive, had to go to work, or really had a care in the world, i adored winter weather. when brutal Nor’easters blew in and dumped multitudinous foots of snow, i was elated.
with dad, before i told my mother she could no longer choose my clothes
it meant my dad could stay home and dedicate himself to pulling us around on our sled. before he could proceed with the entertainment, however, he would need to shovel. a lot.
at 6’ 2”, my dad towered over us. with agility and strength, he shoveled and tossed the weighty snow on either side of our driveway; the piles seemed to dwarf even him. after a while, dad had created a big enough heap for me to build an elegantly appointed snow cave.
climbing onto a giant snow bank, i enthusiastically started to dig. soon, the entry took shape, and i moved to carve out a living area. i snuggled inside my new quarters, pulling my knees to my chest. supremely satisfied with my expert craftsmanship, i basked in the snow cave’s blue aura. when my little sister asked if she could come in, she was met with a resounding no. when my mother came out with a mug of hot chocolate and a cheese sandwich, she was met with a resounding yes, please. (after lunch, i invited my sister to hunker down in the cave with me, but clearly only after i asserted claim to my icy domain.)
snow cave architect-in-training
if you’re out there building a snow cave or manuvering down some hill on your flying saucer, treat yourself to something hot and hearty, because there will undoubtedly be a lot more playing to do. always have a napkin close by to daintily dab the corners of your mouth. and never use metal utensils.
snow cave sausage hand pies
a variation on recipes from Alton Brown, and in pie by Angela Boggiano
INGREDIENTS
for the crust
1/2 pound (two sticks) of good-quality butter, very cold, chopped
1/8 cup of sugar
3/4 tsp spoon salt
1/2 cup (or more if needed) ice water
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
for the sausage
2 pounds ground pork
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 teaspoons freshly ground pepper (i use Williams-Sonoma five-pepper blend)
1 1/2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh sage leaves
2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh thyme leaves
1/2 teaspoon finely chopped fresh rosemary leaves
1 tablespoon light brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1/2 teaspoon marjoram
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
for the filling
1 pound sausage (from above)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 medium-size onions
1 tablespoon wholegrain mustard
1 teaspoon finely chopped thyme leaves
1 medium tart apple, cored and chopped (i use Bramley or Granny Smith)
3 tablespoons creme fraiche or sour cream
salt and pepper
one egg, lightly beaten
DIRECTIONS
- whisk together the dry ingredients for the crust.
- with a pastry blender, combine the dry ingredients with the cold, chopped butter; be careful not to overwork.
- combine the ice water and vinegar; slowly add to the butter mixture by hand, being careful not to overwork.
- divide the pie dough into two discs, wrap in plastic and chill for at least one hour.
- combine all of the sausage ingredients and mix together well by hand; set aside 1 pound for the hand pies (i freeze the remainder or immediately make into sausage patties.)
- in a medium skillet over medium-low heat, heat the olive oil.
- add the onions and cook until the onions caramelize.
- in a large skillet, brown the sausage, breaking up into small pieces until completely cooked.
- in a large bowl, combine the sausage, onions, mustard, thyme, apples and creme fraiche.
- season with salt and pepper, then mix well and let cool.
- preheat the oven to 375.
- roll out one of the dough discs, as if you were making a standard 9-inch pie crust.
- cut 7-inch rounds of dough out of the larger disc (i use a small plate as a stencil.)
- brush the edges of the small round with the egg wash.
- place 2 or so tablespoons of the cooled filling in the middle of the the round.
- fold over the round to form a half-moon, then press the edges together to seal.
- crimp the edge with a fork to further seal the deal.
- place the hand pie on a large rimmed baking sheet and cut several slashes in the top of the pie to vent.
- brush the pie with the egg wash.
- repeat the process until all the dough has been used. (pies should be placed around an inch apart.)
- bake until the pies are golden brown, about 20 minutes.
serve with roasted apple sauce, cheesy mashed potatoes and a green vegetable of choice (if you’re so inclined).
after a year, i still can’t believe my mom is gone. it just feels like she’s back in New England, and we’ll be seeing each other again soon.
i spent this weekend doing those things we enjoyed together. with Tootie in tow, we began our journey at a local nursery, progressed to mom’s favorite shopping mall and stores, grabbed a bite of Asian fusion. we bought the ingredients to make her favorite meals: my top-secret chile recipe, lamb rib chops with roasted herb fingerlings and bacon-laden brussel sprouts, perfect northwest mac and cheese. i cooked all of it, and we raised our glasses to toast her.
the truth is, in the year since mom’s passing, there have been more downs than ups (reminds me of the Upson Downs schtick in Auntie Mame, which we watched countless times). sometimes i call her to let her know i’m on the way home. sometimes i make way too much food. sometimes i just stand in her room, breathing in the essence that lingers in the air. always, i set a place for her at the table.
i’ve found solace and joy in shaping pie dough and in tweaking new baked-goods’ recipes. i remember how mom’s face would light up with an adorable expression when she tasted something she thought was mmmmm (translation: yummy). the very last thing i baked for mom elicited that kind of enthusiasm: a cinnamon roll based on a brioche recipe from Joanne Chang, Flour Bakery + Cafe.
mom and i had seen Boston-based Chef Chang on an episode of Food Network‘s Throwdown (her sticky buns whooped Bobby Flay’s, btw). mom was thrilled that Chang’s bakery was in Bean Town. i was thrilled with the anticipation of exploring an amazing sticky bun recipe. i immediately placed an order for Chang’s soon-to-be printed cookbook. (if you’re looking for a well-written, conversational baking book, with delicious fare, flour is definitely it. would highly recommend as a must-have.)
as part of my homage to mom (who at 80-plus still remembered her high school French), you’ll find the recipe for little bird cinnamon rolls here.
today, might head down to Pike Place Market, grab some chai at Starbuck’s original storefront, and pick up a rhubarb or white chocolate and cherry piroshky. wherever i go, i’ll be missing you, little bird.
little bird cinnamon rolls
makes 8 healthy-size rolls
INGREDIENTS
for the dough (based on Joanne Chang’s basic brioche)
2 1/4 cups organic all-purpose flour
2 1/4 cups bread flour
3 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon salt
1/2 cup cold water
5 eggs
1 cup plus 6 tablespoons euro butter, at room temperature, cut into 12 pieces
for the filling
3/4 cup dark brown sugar
3/4 cup granulated sugar
8 tablespoons cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
pinch of salt
2 1/2 tablespoons melted butter
1/2 tablespoon melted butter
1/3 cup dried currants (optional)
for the frosting
8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
4 tablespoons honey (modify this based on your desired sweetness level)
1 teaspoon vanilla paste (or vanilla extract)
DIRECTIONS
- butter a large bowl; set aside.
- in the bowl of a stand mixer, add the all-purpose flour, bread flour, yeast, sugar, salt, water and eggs.
- using the dough hook, beat the ingredients on low speed, until they come together, around 5 minutes. (scrape down the sides of the bowl, as needed.)
- after the dough has come together, continue to beat for another 4 minutes; the dough will be dry/stiff.
- on low speed, add the butter one piece at a time; make sure the butter has been incorporated into the dough, before you add another piece.
- once all the butter has been added, beat on low for 10 minutes, until all the butter has become one with the dough.
- after the butter is thoroughly incorporated, beat on medium speed for another 15 minutes, until the dough is soft and shiny. this takes a while, so be patient and vigilant; it will happen.
- with the dough in its now-smooth and shiny state, beat on medium-high for 1 minute, until the dough, when tested, stretches and can give a little.
- gather up the dough and place in the large bowl.
- cover with plastic wrap (so it’s touching the surface of the dough).
- place in the fridge for 6 hours or overnight to proof. (i do the latter, then get up in the morning and move to the next step, so we have fresh rolls for breakfast.)
- butter a 9 x 13-inch baking dish; set aside.
- in a medium bowl, mix the dark brown sugar, granulated sugar, cinnamon, cloves, salt and 2 1/2 tablespoons butter, until it becomes a sort of paste; set aside.
- on a floured work surface, roll out the dough into a 12 x 16-inch rectangle, 1/4-inch thick.
- with a brush (i use silicon), spread the 1/2 tablespoon butter over the surface of the dough.
- evenly spread the filling paste over the entire surface of the dough, pressing down gently with your hand.
- sprinkle on the currants, if using, then press in gently.
- beginning with the short side of the dough, roll tightly to create a spiral with the filling.
- pinch very gently to seal the log.
- even the ends of the dough log, by trimming with a bench scraper.
- cut log into 8 even pieces, around 1 1/2 inches wide.
- evenly space the rolls in the baking dish, and cover with plastic wrap.
- let the dough rise in a warm place for around 2 hours or until they’re touching and puffy.
- preheat oven to 350F.
- bake the rolls on the middle rack until golden brown (this takes only 22 minutes in my oven), around 30 minutes.
- while the rolls are baking, prepare the frosting.
- with a hand mixer fitted with a beater attachment, mix the cream cheese until it’s fluffy.
- add the honey and vanilla paste, and continue to beat until smooth and completely incorporated; set aside.
- let the rolls cool in the baking dish for 20 minutes (so the frosting doesn’t completely melt, when you spread it on).
- spread the frosting over the tops of the rolls.
serve with a good cup of coffee (or tea, of course). crank up the Ink Spots Java Jive, and kick back. coming at you, ma, Air Mail Special. love you always.
littlebirdbaking.com 