Full, unvarnished disclosure here (and I think author Lucy Vaserfirer will understand): When I first received a request to review a new cookbook called Flavored Butters, I scoffed a little. I don’t do many book reviews period, and this one in particular seemed unlikely.

Because . . . butters? The entire cookbook is filled with recipes for different flavored butters? Someone call Paula Deen, am I right? Har har.

But then I looked through the cookbook. First, Vaserfirer’s gorgeous photos caught my eye. But secondly, as I browsed, I realized that there are a lot of things you can do with butter. It dawned on me: this is totally my kind of thing. These recipes aren’t for complete meals, but for key components that you could use to customize your food and build your own new recipes. That is so Willow Bird Baking! So, a little humbled, I jumped on board for a Flavored Butters blog tour!

I chose to use a very different kind of butter (cookie “butter,” which is like peanut butter except it’s made from speculoos cookies!) to make a cookie base for trying a couple of Vaserfirer’s flavored butter recipes. My cookie butter cookies came out soft and delicious, ready for a schmear of coffee butter and salted caramel butter.

The coffee butter was rich and indulgent and, to me, tasted like a breakfast treat. The salted caramel butter was butterier (to use a precise term), almost like a sweet butterscotch spread. Both were delicious — especially when schmeared on the still-warm cookie butter cookies! I imagine they’d be great on fresh maple or butterscotch scones. I have tons of ideas for the other butter recipes in the book, too! Flavored Butters retails at $12.95, and for me, it’s worth at least that much for the spark of inspiration alone. The 50 butter recipes are an added bonus.

Coffee Butter

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Recipe by: Lucy Vaserfirer, Flavored Butters
Yield: 8 servings

If a cup of coffee with your breakfast just isn’t enough, then spread this butter on your toast or scone.

Ingredients:
2 tablespoons turbinado sugar (I used demerera sugar; more on sugars)
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder

Directions:
Grind the turbinado sugar to a fine powder in a mortar and pestle or a spice mill (or the back of a spoon, in a pinch). Blend together the sugar, butter, and espresso powder in a medium-size bowl. Form into a log and refrigerate until firm before slicing and serving, or use another shaping method (see pages 16-17 in the book). Or smear on warm cookies, of course!

coffee butter and salted caramel butter

Salted Caramel Butter

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Recipe by: Adapted slightly from Lucy Vaserfirer, Flavored Butters
Yield: 8 servings

This creamy butter is such a treat that it shouldn’t be reserved for the breakfast table. Spread it on vanilla cupcakes or sandwich it between chocolate cookies.

Ingredients:
1⁄4 cup sugar
3 tablespoons water
1⁄4 cup heavy cream
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
1⁄4 teaspoon fleur de sel or other finishing sea salt, or to taste
1⁄8 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:
Combine the sugar and water in a small, heavy saucepan. Bring to a boil, brush down the sides of the pan with water, and boil until caramelized, 5 to 6 minutes. Once the sugar starts gaining some color, swirl for even cooking. The sugar will be fragrant and have a deep amber color when it is caramelized. Remove the pan from the heat, slowly stir in the cream until smooth (be careful — it will spatter), and let cool to room temperature.

Blend together the caramel, butter, salt, and vanilla in a medium-size bowl.

To use as a butter, form into a log and refrigerate until firm before slicing and serving, or use another shaping method (see pages 16-17 in the book).

To use as a buttercream frosting, let soften if needed and spread onto cooled baked goods, swirling decoratively.Or smear on warm cookies, of course!

The cookie butter cookies I used as a vessel for my flavored butters actually led to yet another review — this time not a cookbook review, but a cookie butter review! There are two major cookie butter camps: those who love Trader Joe’s Speculoos Cookie Butter Spread, and those who love Lotus’s Biscoff Spread.

I’m always looking out for you guys, so I conducted the very scientific experiment pictured below. I’ll spare you the rigorous and detailed methodology in favor of a quick summary: I took lots of bites of each cookie butter. Here are the results.

Trader Joe’s Crunchy Speculoos Cookie Butter: This cookie butter has more of a cinnamon and spice graham crackery flavor and was less crunchy.

Lotus Crunchy Biscoff Spread: This cookie butter has more of a honey graham crackery flavor, tasted more buttery, and was more crunchy.

The final result? Though I love both cookie butters and will demolish both jars with gusto, the Biscoff Spread has my heart.

Want to win a jar of your own? I’m giving a few jars away in order to “spread” the love. Use the form below the recipe to enter to win. (Unfortunately, I can only ship to the continental U.S.)

One year ago: Ten Willow Bird Coconut Recipes
Two years ago: Strawberry Cheesecake Stuffed Amaretto Cake Pops (on Pretzel Sticks!)
Three years ago: Toasted Almond Cake with Mascarpone Cream and Amarena Cherries

Before I say anything else, I have to make sure you understand that this post contains a recipe for a Flan Tres Leches Cake. Like, Flan and Tres Leches Cake in the same dessert (which turned out even more delicious than it sounds, if you can believe it.) Did you get that? Just checking.

Other than that, this post is about Buckle and my $600 leather couch, which was a hand-me-down from my sister because you guys know I’m a teacher, right? My furniture generally either comes from generous family members or Goodwill. Ikea is my splurge.

So owning a $600 leather couch was decidedly awesome.

“I was told there’d be cake.”

Buckle is also awesome. He’s a good cat. He’s sweet and fun. He looks and acts just like Milton from Office Space. I really couldn’t ask for anything more. Except, maybe, for him not to ruin my $600 leather couch.

Upon letting him out of his little cardboard carrier when we got home from the Humane Society, as a matter of fact, that was the one thing I was very clear to him about (well, that and not shredding the poodle): Please do not ruin my couch.

The first time I left Buckle alone, I was terrified he would decide my couch was a scratching post. But he met me at the door when I arrived home, purring and cuddly, and I didn’t find a single scratch. It was a kitty cat miracle.

As I left him alone more often and continued coming home to intact furniture, I think I got a little . . . overconfident.

Finally the weekend came where I needed to leave Buckle alone to visit Mike in Raleigh. I hired a petsitter to check in on him (Buckle, not Mike, although perhaps I should consider that), and everything seemed to go fine. I found a cheery note from her when I arrived home. But something just smelled a little off. I figured it was his litter box. Except that when I went to check, the door to his litter box closet was closed. So that couldn’t be it . . .

Wait. Closed.

The door to his litter box closet was closed.

Bless Buckle’s sweet kitty heart (which those of you who are Southern will be able to translate appropriately), he had apparently rubbed against his litter box closet door and closed it. With nowhere to potty, he had made the very best choice he could. You guessed it: to use the couch.

He couldn’t have used the carpet or, even better, the linoleum kitchen floor. It had to be the $600 leather couch.

If you’ve ever tried to deal with the uniquely pungent problem of a cat accident, you won’t be surprised that after a month or so of cleaning the cushions with every method known to humanity, the $600 leather couch ended up by the dumpster. All’s well that ends well, I guess: I received my tax refund, splurged on an Ikea couch and coffee table, and wedged a billion washcloths in Buckle’s litter box closet door so that it will never close again.

Buckle is helping me get used to the new furniture by using it as a jungle gym. One of my students actually asked me after the incident, “Are you going to take him back to the Humane Society?” But I’m happy to say that Buckle’s a part of my family now, flaws and all.

One year ago: Gooey Butter Strawberry Shortcake
Two years ago: Mini Doughnuts for Your Coffee Cup (a creative use for yeast dough scraps!)
Three years ago: Pasta Carbonara

This is a quick phototutorial of the Barefoot Contessa method for making quick, simple boiled eggs. They come out easy to peel with fluffy, bright yellow yolks. I eat boiled eggs all the time and loved her little tricks. I hope you do, too!

Here’s how it’s done:

Step 1: Place eggs in a saucepan of cold water on the stove. The water should just cover the eggs.

Step 2: Turn the heat to high and bring the water to a boil.

Step 3: When the water boils, immediately cover the pan and turn off the heat (leaving the pan where it is). Let the pan sit for 5 minutes.

Step 4: Transfer the eggs to a separate bowl to cool for 2 minutes. Run cold water over the eggs for a few seconds after they’ve cooled and then drain it off.

Step 5: Crack each egg on one side and then on the opposite side.

Step 6: Gently roll the egg back and forth to create a “web” of broken shell. This is going to allow you to use the membrane just under the shell to “lift” off the broken shell in large patches, making peeling easy as pie!

Step 7: Peel the egg.

Step 8: Salt, pepper, eat!

One year ago: Gooey Chocolate Skillet Cake Ice Cream Sundae
Two years ago: Chocolate Birds’ Nest Cupcake Toppers
Three years ago: Banana Coconut Cream Cakes

I had a second cookie for dessert tonight. I figured I deserved it after spending the better part of my week with some very energetic (albeit lovely) 7th graders. We just completed our annual overnight field trip with Inside Out in the mountains of North Carolina.

The trip in numbers:

3 days.

28 seventh graders.

4 hours in the bus round trip.

0 cell phones, video games, iPods, televisions, computers for the students.

over 55 hours spent all together, bonding as a class.

3 teachers, 3 camp counselors.

1 giant rock face to climb.

27 kids who climbed at least partway up.

about 27 kids who, upon turning around on the rock, said, “WHOA” at the view.

1 awesome rock climbing instructor who, apart from coaching each student, recited poetry for us.

1 time when I was forced to use a portable bathroom which, thank God, turned out to be one of the only clean and pleasant-smelling portable bathrooms in the universe. I wish I knew the company who cleaned it so I could write them a thank you letter. I’m not kidding.

4 gorgeous waterfalls, one of which thundered just above us as we stood on the rocks below and watched the rainbow in its spray.

1 opportunity to serve by cleaning up at the Carl Sandburg Home.

5 baby goats cuddled profusely at the dairy farm.

1 mama goat who, as it turns out, bites.

4 snakes seen in one day alone (today). Thankfully, they were seen from afar.

1 sluice in the same mountain stream where Katniss Everdeen swam.

hundreds of trees.

hundreds of bugs.

1 tsunami of bug spray in the girls’ cabin each morning.

about a dozen times when a student (or teacher) accidentally knocked over a chair in the dining hall.

7 meals eaten at camp, including 2 picnic lunches.

1 liter of food waste or less after the first meal.

0 liters of food waste at the last meal.

1 soaked camp counselor who fulfilled his agreement to jump in the lake if the kids had no food waste.

innumerable games and team challenges.

many kids who impressed me by communicating well, leading, or following wisely in said challenges.

3 student-created skits, including one with a doughnut-related crime and another with a pet chicken.

2 campfires.

1 round of awesome s’mores.

1 silly photo with my entire girls’ cabin in Princess Leia buns.

14 girls absolutely quiet by 10:30 each night. No word about the boys’ cabin, but I have faith in them (and their chaperone)!

2 cramped bathrooms behind one shower curtains that wasn’t quite wide enough to cover both.

14 girls making it “so public” when they were in one stall or the other so as to prevent ANY confusion.

0 shower conflicts. Did I mention 14 girls? My ladies were low-maintenance. Except for the mascara — but I promised I wouldn’t say a critical word about it, since I brought my own tube, too.

5+ morning dippers each day — if you aren’t sure what the “morning dip” is, think freezing water first thing in the morning.

1 very dramatic story by a campfire.

1 crawfish, 2 salamanders, 1 minnow, and 1 tiny bass caught for observation and released.

3 coke zeros smuggled into the cabin by a certain teacher who then found it difficult to scold the student who had smuggled in the chocolate truffles. And the one with the cheerios. And the one with the doughnuts. We’re a hungry bunch.

29 letters written to our future selves, which will be mailed to us next year!

1.5 dozen doughnuts consumed over 2 days.

1 very tired, proud teacher.

And for you? 2 cute pizza mushrooms with a ton of flavor, minus the carb count. Enjoy — while I take a nap!

What was your favorite school field trip? Answer here or join our Facebook discussion.

One year ago: Gooey Chocolate Skillet Cake Ice Cream Sundae
Two years ago: Chocolate Birds’ Nest Cupcake Toppers
Three years ago: Banana Coconut Cream Cakes

If you’re feeling bad, gather a roomful of 7th graders and pass out the Fruit Roll-Ups that have press-on tongue tattoos. In case you ever wondered: 7th graders are totally not too old for a good tongue tattoo.

These kids are so sweet and fun. I hope they’re just as sweet when they’re protected by a computer screen, shrouded in anonymity.

This comment stopped me in my tracks today on an online entertainment website: “Her voice sounds like screaming — it’s so annoying! I’ve never liked her! And she still looks like that even while working out twice a day?”

I had been scrolling through the comments of an article about a singer who just two years ago had tried to take her own life. She was now feeling happy, healthy, and back on track. In the article, the singer lit up about her kids, pilates, and other things that replenished her joie de vivre. It was a celebration. I was enjoying the sweet well wishes from her fans.

And then, like a punch to the gut: screaming . . . annoying . . . never liked her . . .

Listen, I don’t care what opinions you hold (unless they’re truly unacceptable: racism, sexism, a penchant for arson. You know.) You can like what singers you like. Detest each and every note of the singers you don’t like. That’s your business.

But stop being mean on the internet. No, really. STOP BEING MEAN ON THE INTERNET.

Remind yourself to THINK: Ask yourself, “Is it True, is it Helpful, does it Inspire, is it Necessary, is it Kind?” Sometimes we do have to say the hard stuff to help our friends, to stand up for what’s right. But that hateful comment that picked at everything from the singer’s voice to her weight was far from necessary. It was at best disrespectful and at worst, possibly destructive.

I know you’ll say: “Just don’t ever read the comments!” That’s my rule, too, but I break it far too often and always regret it. In fact, I can’t wait until online media outlets realize they shouldn’t include comment sections at all — that format inspires so much nastiness. Maybe comment sections provide an outlet for all the hateful, evil feelings we keep under wraps during our polite daily lives. The problem is that we don’t need to feed that part of ourselves, and doing so by venting on the internet is not without consequences.

Kim Kardashian might never see you talking about how you think that dress looks on her, but what do you gain by snarking about it?

And more importantly, what do you lose? What do the people that see your comment lose? Do they lose heart about what people think and won’t say to their face? Do they lose hope that people are really kind and good at heart? Do they lose confidence as they wonder what a stranger would say about how their own outfit looks today?

I always say that you can send positivity or negativity out into the world. Either way, you’re altering the balance. Maybe just the slightest bit — the weight of one snide remark in a comment section — but it counts. I know I’m not perfect, but I try. And I think it’s time for all of us to try a little harder. Will you?

* * *

And now a little online positivity for us all: stuffed mushrooms! I love the fluffy ricotta and rich tomato sauce layered into traditional lasagna, but don’t always need the carb count from the noodles. These stuffed mushrooms are filling, hearty, and delicious. Double the recipe for a quick and easy dinner.

What’s your “policy” for yourself about how you behave and chat online?

One year ago: Brownie-Bottom Coconut Chocolate Cream Cake
Two years ago: Banana Coconut Cream Easter Cupcakes
Three years ago: Coconut Cream Tart

I need the Care Bear Stare, no joke. The past couple of weeks have been rough, and I know the trouble I face is nothing compared to what others are going through around the world. I feel a little jaded.

I don’t have any fancy belly power (unless you count dessert-making), but I can compile any bits of joy into a salve of sorts: my list of things that make me hopeful. I hope it’s as helpful to you as it is to me.

Things That Make Me Hopeful

1. I ran out of toothpaste and toilet paper this week but miraculously found that I had more of both in the cabinet. This never happens.

2. One of my students has decided her passion is kindness, and she is currently trying to complete 101 Random Acts of Kindness. She’s blogging about it on her adorable blog.

3. Beautiful dishes. Rosanna sent me (for free) the gorgeous pink cake pedestal you see here to review, and now I kind of want to buy out the whole store. I can’t get enough of it. In fact, I don’t actually put pretty dishes like this away — I use them to decorate my living space.

4. I locked myself out of my bedroom and somehow managed to pick the lock with a bobby pin. Profuse self-congratulating (and God-thanking, because I’m not totally delusional) ensued. Please call me MacGyver.

5. I was gifted two beautiful bouquets of flowers when I moved into my new apartment. They’ve long since died and dried out, but they’re still too gorgeous to dispose of. I decided one of them should make an appearance in the background of these photos.

6. My friend Jessie, a current senior at my alma mater, Davidson College, writes a beautiful blog, Eating Aarti. She’s about to move to Seattle and work at a crumpet shop, and I can’t really explain how happy that sounds to me.

7. Humans of New York.

8. Spring is here and to enjoy it, I walk to the gym each evening instead of driving. I’m going to buy a couple of plastic chairs and some ferns for my balcony and create a little outdoor workspace. I’ve been excited about doing this all winter, and now I finally can!

9. One of my students has been working very hard on an absolutely stunning short story. When he finished, I gave him a series of revision challenges, but he came up to me with a very serious look on his face. He said, “Ms. Ruble, I really don’t want to change my story. I really want it the way that I have it.” I read him a stirring passage from a novel and asked if he wouldn’t like to use a similar extended metaphor in his work and he said, “Maybe. I just feel like it will mess it up to change it.”

His resistance was clearly not due to laziness or a desire to be finished; he just loved his story and felt strongly about how he had arranged things. I had him make a copy so he could experiment on one without risking his perfect draft. And then I sat down and thought about how priceless it was that he was proud of his work.

10. Brave New Voices is a collection of organizations that support young poets. I’ve been clicking around on YouTube watching teams of these kids who are so passionate about being heard and so worth hearing. I cry every time I see this one.

11. Girl Scout cookies. Actually, I’m just going to say it. You’re going to act like I punched a kitten, but I’m going to say it anyway. I don’t really love Girl Scout cookies. Couldn’t the Girl Scouts sell cake? Or pizza or pad thai or something? But Girl Scout cookies nevertheless give me hope, because nothing can unite a group of people like pulling out 8 or so of those brightly colored boxes. Suddenly everyone’s all Do-si-doing and Samoaing in harmony.

This Samoa Monkey Bread will have a similar effect, but with a little more panache, perhaps. It’s a riff on regular monkey bread — which is already the bee’s knees — except that each nugget is stuffed with melty chocolate and the whole thing is covered in coconut with a ganache drizzle. I added an extra bowl of ganache for dipping and it did not go unappreciated. I’m not going to lie: it’s tedious tucking chocolate into each little dough ball, but it’s also beyond worth it. This is one of those “must make” recipes. And I hope it makes your “Things That Give Me Hope” list!

One year ago: Pure Insanity: Pumpkin Oatmeal Cake Ice Cream Sundae
Two years ago: Rich Ice Cream and Coffee Cheesecake
Three years ago: Chocolate Tart with Pretzels

I am very new to indoor cat ownership. Buckle has been with me for a little over a month now, and I’m only just now starting to “get” cats. As much as you can ever “get” cats, I should say. He’s quite the enigma.

Here are some things I’ve realized. And that you should have warned me about, you smug cat owners.

1. Cats are fluffy.

Yes, they are cute-fluffy, but they are also fur-tumbleweeds-on-all-surfaces, must-vacuum-all-the-time, why-is-there-cat-hair-in-my-mouth fluffy. I don’t think I’ve ever used up an entire lint roller in my life, but since Buckle got here, I’ve gone through two. I have to dust, vacuum, and wash all throws/rugs every weekend without fail or the creep of the cat dander will eventually cover me like an evil, carnivorous fur coat.

He also hates his furminator and tries to attack it. Good thing he loves the prickly hairbrush.

2. Cats are busybodies.

If you have cabinets, they need to know what’s in those cabinets. They don’t want a cursory glance. They want to get in those cabinets and roll around until they have fully explored the texture of the cabinet contents.

If you have some dinner, they need to smell that dinner. And paw at that dinner. And if at all possible (for instance, if you have gone to retrieve a forgotten napkin or fork), taste that dinner.

If they hear a noise, see you pick something up, detect a motion in their peripheral vision, or just have a weird hunch, immediate and thorough investigation is essential.

What’s this? Cake? What’s cake? I’m going to need to investigate that…

3. Cats are terrifying.

Every now and then Buckle will go bat-you-know-what-crazy for no apparent reason, dive through the house, tackle an utterly-terrified Byrd, jump on three or four separate pieces of furniture, knock something over, and then hide under the buffet.

During this time, I close my eyes tightly and hope nothing expensive is in his path.

4. Cats sleep a lot. In weird places.

I emailed my friend Jamie shortly after Buckle came home just to make sure he wasn’t sick: “Are cats supposed to sleep, like, 20 hours a day?” Apparently, yes.

Buckle’s favorite spot to sleep is on my bright orange tray, using The Wednesday Chef’s amazing book, My Berlin Kitchen, as a pillow. He’s got good taste in literature, I’ll admit, but there are fluffy pillows and blankets all over the room. And he chooses to sleep squished into a too-small tray with the corner of a book digging into his side. I don’t get it.

5. Cats are worth it.

Worth the fur, worth the terror, worth the furniture cleaning (We had an incident. Don’t get me started.) I’m already forgetting what it was like without Buckle here at home with us. As I punctuated that last sentence, he just stretched out and curled into an even more absurd position in his little book tray, as if to underscore my point. He’s a big sweet baby, and I’m glad he’s mine.

* * *

Buckle’s already given his furry “thumbs up” to this cake — he tried his best to reach it during the photo shoot. I love all coconut cakes, and have tried this one and this one. Both were amazing in their own ways, but I knew it was time to Frankenstein together the ultimate coconut cake. And this is it.

This cake combines the perfect white cake from The Way the Cookie Crumbles‘s careful experiments, an insane coconut pastry cream filling from Zoë Bakes, a thick coconut syrup drizzled onto each layer to keep it moist, and a buttery coconut Swiss meringue buttercream to top it all off. It’s a time consuming recipe, but if you’re as crazy about coconut as I am, it’s worth it.

My sweet friend Mara and I were both gunning to make this ultimate treat, so we teamed up to present it to you two different ways! Go see her version of this masterpiece at What’s For Dinner? I love her version so much — not only is it an awesome coconut cake, but it tells a story!

One year ago: Savory Sweet Potato & Chorizo “Cinnamon Rolls”
Two years ago: April Fool’s Day Cupfakes
Three years ago: Lemon Blueberry Cheesecake Squares with Shortbread Crust

There are the stories I don’t want to tell, and then there are the stories I haven’t been able to tell. Probably some of the most important stories.

Namely, the stories about Ranson.

Ranson was the first school that I taught at: a poorly run, urban middle school with a low-income and historically low-achieving population. I came in as a promising, energetic new teacher determined (pigheadedly and presumptuously, I’d say) to change the entire world.

Throughout the year I did effect change — on a smaller scale than I’d originally hoped. I raised students’ mastery and reading comprehension, but also became aware that when a kid had no breakfast, or when a kid’s dad was in prison, or when a kid was being raised by a saint of an aunt who had to work back-to-back 12-hour shifts at the hospital just to feed and clothe him . . . well, there was much more of the world that needed changing than I had first anticipated.

Anyway, I still can’t tell every story. I can’t tell most stories. But today I realized that I’m ready to tell you about Darius. Maybe over afternoon tea?

It cracks me up that Darius left the most indelible mark on my memory, because I pegged him as trouble within a week of starting school. First off, he was loud. Not just chattery, but LOUD. He involuntarily projected every remark, making my cinderblock science classroom sound like a cathedral reverberating with bells and song.

He also struggled to manage his emotions. Certain triggers made it even harder. For instance, that boy loved his mama. I can remember trying to talk him down in the middle of the cafeteria after someone had inadvertently insulted her. He was near tears with frustration. Suspension, expulsion — none of it meant a thing to him if he could defend her. What did cause a visible change in his demeanor was when I asked, “What would she want you to do right now, Darius? What would make her proud?”

I cared so much because it was easy to see that Darius was a fabulous kid. He was smart. He was an incredibly talented dancer. He was hilarious — oh my gosh, I can’t even describe how funny he was. I ran a tight ship in terms of classroom management, and he was about the only kid who could make me just fall out LAUGHING. He also had a deep well of empathy and concern for others — things you didn’t always see at Ranson, because some kids seemed to have learned to hide the tender personality traits that made them vulnerable. But Darius wore his heart on his sleeve.

I still remember Darius asking every day when I was going to let his mom, who was a hair stylist, do my hair. I never got around to it, and now I regret it. It would’ve meant a lot to him.

I know I’m supposed to make this a happy story, but it isn’t.

To be blunt and a little crude, it pisses me off that Darius had to go to a substandard school and that didn’t get a shot at a snazzy education. It pisses me off to think of this kid struggling to find a job and keep his life on track now, at 19 years old: trying to climb out of a socioeconomic level and a neighborhood he was born into through no fault of his own. When I googled him to write this entry, just to see if maybe a Facebook page would pop up where I could send him a message of encouragement, I found his mugshot — arrested for stealing ground beef, spaghetti noodles, a pack of beer, and some candy.

Oh MAN it pisses me off when other people aren’t similarly pissed off by this! When they throw up their hands and suggest perhaps people should just work harder instead of revising how our nation deals with poverty. Oh man! It’s because they don’t know Darius, the 14-year-old kid I knew, who hadn’t made those “bad choices” we always speak of yet, whose mom worked so hard for him, who worked just as hard as any 14-year-old kid does, who could’ve been helped.

Indeed, I can picture a different history: Darius here at my little project-based school set on a lush, green campus. I know he’d have worked dance into every nook of the curriculum. I know he’d have had the students in stitches each day with his witty remarks. I know he would’ve worked hard to make his mom proud. He would’ve performed in plays and he would’ve loved art and music class. I can picture that kid heading off to Juilliard in New York City and eventually wowing audiences on Broadway. I’m not being generous, here. That’s who he was. That’s who he should be.

Sitting in my anger and stewing like a chicken won’t help (and what a nasty, bitter stock it’d produce.) In the long term, idealistic Ms. Ruble who wanted to change the world will never be able to stop trying. I want the school systems to be small and creatively managed. I want teaching to be a prestigious profession where extremely qualified people are hired and then compensated well and treated like professionals. I want school systems to bus kids around and balance school populations. I want a full-out multi-front assault on poverty that provides people immediate assistance, addresses education issues (for adults and children), provides job training, focuses on creating jobs, addresses drug and alcohol abuse, provides appropriate basic healthcare for all people, effectively treats mental illness. I get it: I’m talking about huge things in this flippant, simplistic way. It’s harder than that. I get it. But that’s what I want.

And in the short term, that idealistic Ms. Ruble knows that Darius himself has an indomitable spirit, and that he can overcome tremendous odds. I just know it. Or at least that’s what I have to hope. And I want him to know that about himself.

For now, I think we need to have a little rest with a pot of hot tea, maybe with sugar sprinkled in and some cream for good measure. And a fluffy almond scone or three would not go unappreciated. Afternoon tea party for the world? Maybe I’m still oversimplifying a bit, but that might go a long way toward inspiring world peace and prosperity.

These scones are quick and easy to throw together, but they do make your world a brighter place. They’re fluffy, tall, buttery, and boast a sweet almond glaze and a crunch from the sugar sprinkled on top. Smear them with clotted (also called Devon) cream if you can find it at a fancy grocery store; otherwise, you can whip some mascarpone cheese or cream cheese and use it instead. Add a smear of raspberry jam for perfection.

What’s your pie-in-the-sky idealist dream for your world or community right now? (Other than lots of scones, which is a given.)

One year ago: Chocolatey Red Velvet Pull-Apart Bread with Cream Cheese Glaze
Two years ago: Deep Fried Cake Batter Cookie Dough
Three years ago: A&P Spanish Bar Cake