I resisted the urge to “style” my mess and actually my kitchen has seen much worse. Also, since I’m being very honest, I originally had two small images of my messy kitchen in this post but realized that that needed to be big. Breathe.

A friend encouraged me to take a picture of my messy kitchen for you all to see. We’re no longer friends. (That’s not true).

After the initial terror of the idea I started to see her point then finally came around to agree with her completely. There are a number of reasons why she was encouraging me to do this.

First of all she admitted to me her thoughts the first time she saw my kitchen.

“This is where she cooks everything?”

My kitchen has no pantry to store the assortment of flours and sugars I would like to keep. There isn’t an expansive island to knead doughs and gingerly work cold butter into flour. There is very little counter space and half of the space there is is taken up with coffee equipment. Priorities.

This isn’t me complaining. This is just how it is. Of course there are things I would like to have in a kitchen that I don’t have currently but this space works and I am grateful for it.

So my friend thought you should all see the space as well. More specifically the space in the state of disarray in which it is often found. Dishes from lunch that happened hours ago still sitting. Items that should be tucked away into the overcrowded cupboards clutter the countertop and take up much of the coveted space needed for mixing, rolling and sanity. She wanted you all to see a bit more of my reality. She wants you to know that my kitchen is small, it’s often a mess and also that the cake from my last post took three attempts one of which included me dribbling chocolate across my house because of a cake pan that had acquired holes which I hadn’t noticed until after I poured the liquid into the pan.

It’s not just her. I want you to know this too. I don’t put myself and my work onto this space to be elevated in any sort of way. My fear is that you would use any part of my life as you’ve imagined as an excuse to not create the recipes on the site or to create in general.

“She’s got time.” “She’s got space.” “She’s got three perfectly behaved children who clean for her, massage her feet and actually are the ones making the recipes on the site.”

I may have more time than some, I might also have less. I may have more space than some or I may have less. And well, the last one was just put there so I could laugh while I imagined that scene.

The truth is my day is always a series of choices. Right now I’m choosing not to clean the kitchen so that I can spend some time with you in this space. Also, I’m choosing to not do laundry when really now would be a perfect time because except for this fly buzzing around me, currently the house is quiet.

I’ve been asked numerous times, “how do you do it all?” I sort of love and hate that question. I love it for a brief moment because sometimes I can be grossly prideful. So the fact that I have somehow painted a picture of myself as having figured it all out seems pretty great. And then I think, that’s horrible. That poor young mother or person in the cubicle working long days thinks that I eat chocolate and frolic in the garden with my well-behaved children all day long.

I have been that young mother mindlessly peering into other people’s “lives”. With unrealistic brush strokes I painted a picture of their lives as some sort of idyllic reality that I wanted rather than the messy life that I was living. Logically I know that everyone’s reality includes some messes and really we don’t want to see that all the time but every once in awhile I think it’s refreshing to see the mess and humbling to share it.

That dim photo of items out of place – a chaotic mess of life and our reality is also there to fill in for the words that I can’t find yet. This space has been silent for longer than I normally allow but I haven’t been able to put myself here as my mind has been in the same state as my kitchen. Dark, cluttered and despondent.

The beauty of darkness is that it is often there where life’s most valuable lessons tend to hide. Because of the lack of light the lessons are hard to spot, but when you start to see them, that’s when joy becomes part of the suffering.

In the midst of this season of darkness I’m reminded of the power in vulnerability. A humbling lesson as I realized again and again that I can not battle this alone but what has come from that vulnerability is greater love, deeper respect and a refining of who I am.

When listening to Ruth Reichl speak last weekend at a conference I attended and spoke at, she was urging us to return to the home table and to invite people to join you there. Sharing a meal in a restaurant is a completely different experience than opening up your home to others. “When you invite someone into your home you become vulnerable.” She said. “You are saying this is who I am.”
She fears we’ve lost that kind of intimacy and we are not the better for it.

As with any sort of vulnerability, when I think to invite others into my space the wave of excuses hit with great force. “My home is too small. They’ll be uncomfortable. The kids will be too loud. I don’t have matching dishes. They’ll see the stains, the mess, the clutter.

They’ll know me in a way I’m not sure I’m ready to be known.”

It’s an exhausting work trying to hide oneself. A work that I don’t care to excel in. For the sake of greater love and for the hope of guiding someone else in their darkness I become vulnerable. It’s an act of faith. It’s removing the band-aid while the wound is still fresh trusting that the air will help in the process of healing.

Green lentils with arugula and asparagus
inspired from Plenty: Vibrant Recipes from London’s Ottolenghi
serves 4

The past several Sundays have found me at the Farmer’s Market with the sun beaming on my face and my smile radiating back. The offerings are still a bit slim but each week I faithfully return I am rewarded with a bit more abundance. Arugula and asparagus are always a must, beyond that it’s what else I can fit in my hands while still be able to manage the three littles. This recipe highlights the season so beautifully. It’s quick and easy and a perfect option to serve when opening up your home and sharing a meal.

1 cup green lentils
4 cups arugula
½ cup parsley
½ cup olive oil
1 garlic clove, peeled
1 Tb red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 bunch asparagus
salt and pepper
pecorino (or parmesan)
lemon wedges

Wash the lentils then simmer in a saucepan covered with plenty of water. Simmer until tender but not mushy – about 15 minutes. Drain any remaining water after cooking.

While the lentils cook put half the arugula, the parsley, oil, garlic, vinegar, lemon zest and a hearty pinch of salt and pepper in the bowl of a food processor or blender. Process until smooth. Taste and add more salt if needed or a squeeze of lemon.

Add this pesto to the warm lentils then set aside. Taste again and add salt if needed, most likely it will need it.

Roast or grill the asparagus until charred in places and cooked through. Cut into 1-2” inch pieces. (I cut off the woody part of the asparagus then toss with olive oil, salt and pepper then place on a hot grill pan for about 2-3 minutes per side).

Toss the asparagus and remaining arugula with the lentils. Top with plenty of shaved pecorino and serve with lemon wedges.

You can serve this dish warm or room temperature. A perfect, healthy spring dinner, I’d say.

With a title like that there is really nothing else that needs to be said.

In fact I feel sort of badly for writing anything at all knowing that the time you take to read these words is time you are not setting to the task of making this cake. But perhaps there are a few of you who are not already gathering the cocoa, butter and sugar just by the mere mention of “fudge”, “pudding” and “cake”.

It’s for those people that I speak of the union of cake, brownie and hot fudge that this single recipe manages to accomplish so well. For those who have yet to pre-heat the oven I will tell you its black as night appearance that informs you of its richness before a single bite is taken. The agressive scent of cocoa flees the oven just as the cake is done baking and the faint hint of coffee only helps to accentuate the intense chocolate.

What I find most endearing about this recipe is that it manages to cover most bases as far as cravings go. Of course it has chocolate well taken care of but for me even a simple chocolate craving is made complicated by my follow up question of texture. With this recipe you get a bit of crisp bite if you are quick enough to grab a corner piece, a thin layer of soft cake is tucked underneath which then gives way to a warm fudge sauce. All of that served over ice cream makes for one stunner of a sundae.

It’s hard for me to imagine that there is any need for further convincing. So I’ll leave it at that.

Hot Fudge Pudding Cake
adapted from Grandma and Cook’s Country

This recipe comes from my grandma’s archives. I love passing along recipes from her to my own family. With each dump of an ingredient and stir of the batter I’m reminded that grandma raised six wonderful children and lived to tell about it so surely I’ll survive raising three. Perhaps she, like me, used this cake on those desperate days to help pull through. 

1 cup flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ cup cocoa
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup brown sugar
½ cup milk
4 Tablespoons butter, melted
1 egg yolk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 Tablespoon instant espresso powder
1 cup hot water
½ cup chocolate chips
Pre-heat your oven to 350*
In a large bowl combine the flour, baking powder, ¼ cup cocoa, salt and ½ cup sugar. Whisk to combine. Stir in the milk, vanilla extract, egg yolk and melted butter. Spread into a buttered 9” square cake pan.

In a small bowl combine the remaining ½ cup brown sugar and ¼ cup cocoa. Whisk to break up clumps. Sprinkle the chocolate chips over the cake batter then sprinkle the cocoa powder and sugar mixture on top of that.

Combine the espresso powder with the hot water and pour all over the top but do not stir. Bake 35-40 minutes or until the edges of the cake feel baked but the middle still has a gentle jiggle as the sauce poured on top has now settled to the bottom to create a rich pudding. Brilliant, really.

Let cool in the pan for about 15-20 minutes before serving. Serve alongside whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

*Quick note:

I’m hosting a great giveaway and you have until next Monday, 4/30 to enter.

Okay, I’m done now. As always, thanks for being here.

Sometimes you take baby steps and sometimes you leap.

There are times when a task feels like a mountain and other times you jump over them like molehills.

There are mornings when getting out of bed seems impossible and others where you are so excited for the day you can’t sleep.

At times it rains and others when the sun warms your face casting a rosy tint to your cheeks.

Sometimes the words are plentiful and eloquent, other times they are bulky and incoherent.

There is a time to selflessly serve and a time to humbly ask for help.

There are seasons of planting and pruning and times when the harvest is fruitful.

The challenge lies in finding the purpose and joy in it all. Every season tucks away lessons and occasions for growing and bettering. It’s our duty to seek the truth whatever the season.

This is a lesson that I’m currently learning or I should say re-learning. I hold firmly to the truth that everything is made beautiful in its time. In this I find hope.

Then there are the days when you stop taking yourself too seriously and realize that a cocktail and a bit of retail therapy goes a long way. Which is why I’m here today.

This pleasantly pink brew is the perfect accessory for spring. A gentle touch of cinnamon and nutmeg blended with rum leans towards a tropical punch but the heady scent of mint wins out giving this cocktail the title of “mojito”. The rhubarb flavor isn’t overly intense but rather lends a floral sweetness that is too light for summer but perfect for the gentle warmth of spring.

Today I come bearing more than just a cocktail. I’ve recently been introduced to Noonday Collection – a company that carries a stunning array of jewelry, gifts and accessories with a bold mission behind the brand.

“Our passion at Noonday Collection is to connect you with the lives of artisans struggling for a better future while styling you along the way. Fashion and design are a vehicle for opportunity and change. You, too, can be a voice for the oppressed!”

image from noondaycollection.com

The products sold by Noonday Collection are created by artisans from around the world. The money goes to the artists and back to their community as well as helping to fund costly adoptions for loving families.

For one of my dear readers, Noonday Collection has offered to give a $50 gift card. If you’d like to enter just leave a comment below. To increase your chances become a fan on Facebook or give a follow on Twitter. Comment below and let me know if you have done either of those.

It is a joy to tell you about this great company and I hope you love their products and their mission as much as I do.

Now go make a cocktail and start shopping.

*I am hosting this contest because I believe in this company and am eager to share it with you all. I wasn’t given anything in return – well, except the excitement of being able to share it.

You have until noon on Monday 4/30/12 to enter . At which point I will randomly select a winner.

Rhubarb Mojito
makes 1 small cocktail

1 oz white rum
2 oz rhubarb syrup (recipe below)
5 (or so) mint leaves
1 Tablespoon lime juice
lime zest
nutmeg

In the bottom of a glass add a bit of nutmeg, lime zest, mint leaves and the lime juice. Using a muddler or the end of a wooden spoon muddle the ingredients. You want to really bruise and break up the mint leaves. Add the rum and syrup, give a light stir then top with ice. Garnish with mint and a thin slice of rhubarb.

Rhubarb Syrup
This is enough syrup to make plenty of cocktails. If alcohol isn’t for you a couple ounces of this syrup added to sparkling water and a squeeze of lime makes a delightful non-alcoholic version of this drink.

8 oz chopped rhubarb (2-3 small stalks)
1 cup sugar
2 cups water
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
½ vanilla bean (optional)

Combine all the ingredients in a small pot. Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer. Simmer for 5-7 minutes. Let cool completely.
Strain the ingredients. Reserve the rhubarb to top yogurt, ice cream or oatmeal.
The syrup will keep covered in the fridge for two weeks.

*This post was sponsored by ARM & HAMMER® Baking Soda, an ingredient and tool I use daily. The story and images are my own.

There are many secrets of the kitchen that are often not taught. Techniques and tricks that become inherently a part of those who work and live in the kitchen. We glide across our limited kitchen space employing numerous short cuts and skills that have been collected along the way like memories.

Lately I’ve been trying to become more aware of those subconscious tricks that I use in order to run my very small home kitchen more efficiently. In doing so I hope to do a better job of passing along such tricks.

Much of what I know about effective kitchen management I learned while working in a restaurant where pushing out over 250 desserts a night was not out of the ordinary. In order to perform such a task everything must be impeccably organized and everyone must follow the same plan. Every movement is calculated and every action is scrupulously examined to ensure that it is performed in the most efficient way possible.

But it’s the moments in which I recall a trick I picked up from my grandmothers or my mom that remind me of the real power of the kitchen. In those moments I feel a great sense of honor and duty in continuing the tradition and passing along skills in the kitchen to my children. I can’t help but think of how the future wives of my boys will thank me for showing my son’s how to finesse flakes out of a simple pie dough. And how my daughter’s husband will benefit from her lack of fear in the kitchen just as my husband has.

In the kitchen of my childhood I could only reach the front burner but I didn’t let that stop me from “helping” with dinner. At the cusp of learning how to multi-task and just beginning to hone my skills in having the kitchen run like a well oiled machine, I neglected to stir the pot and directed my attention elsewhere. By the time I returned to the pan a deep layer had crusted to the bottom and the evidence of burnt on food was in the air. My mother noticed what was happening at the same time but rather than scolding my negligence she reached for the golden box with the muscular arm while at the same time teaching me one of those invaluable kitchen secrets.

She proceeded to boil the pot with a heavy dose of baking soda and by the end of the evening the pot contained no evidence of what was to be the first of many (many) kitchen mistakes.

Years later, while working in a high end restaurant, a similarly burnt food-crusted pan appeared on our station. Rather than whisk the pan away and let the dishwashers deal with the mess, I passed along the baking soda trick to my pastry chef and felt swollen with pride while doing so.

The ARM & HAMMER® Baking Soda box represents many of those tricks I learned at a young age. Imagine my delight when I was able to return the favor to my mom and share with her one of my favorite uses for this iconic ingredient. She was unfamiliar with the idea of adding a touch of baking soda instead of sugar, to tomato sauce for the purpose of reducing the acidity. I thought for a moment what that pan-burning little girl would think knowing that decades later she would have something to share with the woman who taught her how to move in the kitchen. She would be proud, I’m quite certain. Just don’t tell that little girl how many more pans she’ll burn in her kitchen career.

What are some of your favorite uses for baking soda in your kitchen? Share your tricks on beyondthebake.com for a chance to win.

I wanted to be the mom who had warm cookies waiting on the counter when they got home from school. They would bound through the door and race into the kitchen being lured in by the chocolate and caramelized sugar perfume. I would just be finishing wiping up the last of the flour from the counter as they told me about their day. Beyond that I hadn’t thought much about life as a mom before I was one.

Then suddenly it happened. Well, after 9 months (40 weeks and 3 days but who’s counting?) of heartburn, back aches, tiredness, nausea, stretch marks and those sweet little kicks that made me teary every time, I became a mom.

I didn’t enter this role gracefully. I fought its tendencies towards monotony, the constant need to be self-less and the days on end when finding time for a shower seemed less likely than winning the lottery.

Love. That part I had down. When my first born was six weeks old I remember holding him and sobbing, fearing that he would never understand how much I love him. I thought that maybe he could see it in my eyes as we exchanged a look. He made a sort of blink and nod that assured me he felt my love until I heard a rumble and realized our moment was misinterpreted as what was now a dirty diaper.

Parenting is something that oddly elicits advice when it’s not sought after. Nearly six years into this gig I find myself freely offering up my own bits and pieces here and there to people that most likely are rolling their eyes right in front of me without my noticing because I’m quite into my own moment of reflecting on parenting. I can’t help myself. Perhaps because it has been the hardest and yet the most wonderful thing I’ve ever done. Through parenting I’ve been revealed, exposed and refined. These little ones have the ability to teach me, shape me and instruct me. That’s the sort of thing that I can’t help but talk about.

As a very new mom I was doing the eye rolling at unsolicited advice. Especially the one about enjoying the time when they are so little, it goes so fast. I heard that one hundreds of times and each time I wanted to offer them my children so they could dispel their own myth about this being an enjoyable time. I wanted them to “enjoy” the sleepless nights, the insessent diapers, the endless pile of spit-up soaked laundry, the piercing whines, and the lack of quiet moments alone. I resented that comment as it immediately made me feel horribly guilty for not loving every moment of this gig. There must be something wrong with me, I thought, these days don’t feel fleeting they feel endless.

Waking in the middle of the night to soothe them back to sleep I would remind myself, “enjoy this” but I did not. I wanted to sleep. Of course there were and are thousands of moments that I wanted to seal and store up to open when they are grown. The feeling of a baby falling asleep in your arms, a three year old asking for “snuggles”, a five year old requesting a date with you and the joyful chorus of the three of them playing legos upstairs then eagerly bounding down the stairs to show me their creations. Those are the moments I will long for.

It’s not that I don’t normally heed words of wisdom. Cozying up to the words of those who have traversed these waters before me is one of my favorite places to reside but I quickly realized that they have forgotten the details. There is a sort of amnesia that happens as the young years roll into older ones. The stench of dirty diapers no longer permeate their home leaving little trace of what actually was the reality of the days of raising young children.

I fear I’m now doing that very thing. I see someone with a baby and I run to it like a mosquito to a bright light. I swoon over the inflated cheeks and squeeze the pudgy thighs taking care not to completely freak out the baby and his sleep-deprived mother. I think when I compare baby’s thighs to sausages and how much I just want to eat them up they are indeed quite scared.

I look deeply into the mother’s eyes and speak of how I miss those baby days. I urge her to cherish these days as they pass too quickly. I long for that sweet baby scent as I inhale her baby. She doesn’t run but I’m sure she wants to.

Then I realize, I’ve done it. I have offered the advice that I so often heard and despised. The truth is I’m thrilled that we are getting a full night’s sleep. I love that I can have conversations with my 5 year old. That he desires to spend time with me and that he lets me into his reality. He offers up little glimpses into how he thinks and feels and I soak those in. My husband and I are thrilled to see them becoming more independent and in the process they are becoming little people – really awesome little people. We are sneaking in more and more moments of our own time and it feels magical. I should tell that mom this rather than inducing guilt.

We are better people having had those sleepless nights and having been forced to be incredibly selfless. There isn’t anything I would change but I want to be able to remember the challenge of it all. I felt so alone as a new mom. I felt horrible for not liking this roll as much as I thought I should. I wanted to quit my job but the career path of being a mom is one that you can’t leave. Those littles need you and whether you realize it at the time, you need them. It’s my desire to not instill in young mothers the guilt I felt when I was told to cherish those days. The reality is it’s tough work and if you don’t enjoy every moment of it you are still an incredible mom. We need to be okay with admitting our own hardships share them with those that are close to you so that we can encourage and support one another.

We women try so hard to do it all and fool everyone into thinking we have it all together when we would do better to serve one another by sharing our struggles. When I’ve done this I have found great freedom and help as often I am not the only one feeling this way. Not that I want others to struggle as I do but there is comfort in not being alone and we can work together to ease the burden.

When you aren’t a parent there is no way of knowing how hard and how joyful this journey will be. Figuring that out is part of the process. So many times I sat holding a screaming baby thinking, “how did I get here?” For better or worse. I had no idea what I was in for but I did know that there would be cookies. Warm cookies heavily laden with dark chocolate and molasses scented brown sugar. There is comfort in cookies. At some point in this parenting job I released the burden of trying to be the mom that I am not and relished in the mom that I am. Offering my children a warm plate of cookies every now and again – that I can do. I may not be the most patient mother but there will be cookies.

Caramel Chocolate Chunk Cookies

This recipe is an adaptation of one found in Grandma’s box. I added chocolate as I often do. You may leave it out and replace with nuts or coconut as Grandma suggests. Once baked my version is a close relative of the classic chocolate chip cookie. A bit sweeter and softer than my normal chocolate chip cookie and a subtle caramel and toffee flavor. One really can’t have too many chocolate chip cookie recipes. Also, if raw eggs don’t scare you please do yourself a favor and taste this dough – as if I needed to even suggest that, who doesn’t eat at least SOME cookie dough? The toffee flavor is most pronounced in this state.

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter

1 1/2 cups brown sugar

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

6-8 oz dark chocolate, chopped

In a small saucepan add the butter and brown sugar. Bring to a boil and simmer until the sugar has dissolved. Watch carefully as you don’t want to scorch the sugar.

Let this mixture cool slightly then add to a large mixing bowl and continue to cool for 20 minutes. Once cooled add the eggs and vanilla then stir to combine. Stir in the salt, flour and baking powder. With a few streaks of flour remaining add the chocolate. If the mixture is still warm some bits of the chocolate may melt. A little bit of melting is fine and sort of wonderful.

Place the bowl in the fridge and let chill for 30 minutes.

Pre-heat your oven to 350*

Line a sheet tray with parchment and set aside.

Scoop the batter into tablespoon-size rounds and place on the sheet tray. Bake for 12 minutes until golden around the rims. Let the cookies cool on the tray for five minutes while they settle into themselves creating a crackly crust.

Finish cooling on a wire rack.

** I have a fun announcement for you all! I have been nominated in the Saveur.com Best Food Blog Awards for Food Photography. Oh boy, I’m excited about this. The voting has begun and I am shamelessly asking for yours if you don’t mind. Thanks to all those who nominated! You deserve a cookie.

Still half asleep I instinctively rolled over to check the time, fumbling for my phone with my eyes still closed. My near slumber state was rudely interrupted as the numbers on my phone flashed 7:30 am.

In an instant the morning had begun. In a matter of 15 minutes we would have to feed three kids breakfast, find and pack a backpack, select the perfect snack for the day, dress, brush, wash, and put on shoes. If you are a parent you’ll know that sometimes just the act of putting on shoes takes 15 minutes.

Although we typically like to allow for more time in the morning this scenario is not unlike five of the seven days in our week. The topic of weekend breakfasts starts being discussed around Wednesday as we debate pancakes or waffles and what, if any, additions will be present. By Saturday morning we are all relieved to not have to rush through our morning routine.

The way this week has already begun I think it is going to take more than simple pancakes and waffles to ease us into the weekend. It seems this week needs to be capped with something over the top. Like perhaps two slices of thick cut Challah dipped in a French toast-like batter then spread with creamy Mascarpone, topped with pleasantly tart plumped dried apricots and in case that may not be enough, a fine grating of dark chocolate floats on top. Then maybe it’s capped with another piece of bread before hitting a hot gril. When the bread has cooked through and is crisp on top, the cheese has melted and the chocolate succumbs to the heat holding it all together a drift of powder sugar descends and finishes it off.

Yes, I think that would do the weekend quite nicely.

This post was made possible by Wisconsin Cheese. After getting spending way to much time drooling over all the inventive grilled cheese creations on their site we created a video with them (Gabe shot it – they edited) demonstrating how to make this sandwich. Watch it here then enter their contest with your favorite grilled cheese recipe.

Check out the other great grilled cheese recipes from Sara and Kelsey. Of course, leave it to me to add sweetness and chocolate to my grilled cheese. Typical.

Grilled Mascarpone cheese with Apricots and Chocolate

This decadent dish is similar to a stuffed french toast teetering the line of eat-with-your-hands or a fork. Either way it’s indulgent and decidedly delicious. Tart, lightly sweet, and showered in dark chocolate – a special way to welcome in those leisurely weekends.

Stewed Apricots

1 cup dried apricots
1 teaspoon orange zest
juice from one large orange
vanilla bean, split down the middle
½ cup water

Combine all the ingredients in a small sauce pan. Cover and let simmer for 10 minutes. Remove the cover and continue to simmer until most of the liquid is gone.
Use a wooden spoon to smash and break up the apricots just a bit.
Let cool for about 20 minutes, or until just warm.

Bread Dip

3 eggs
1 cup milk
½ teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 Tablespoon sugar
¼ teaspoon kosher salt

Whisk all the ingredients together in a shallow bowl or pie plate.

For the sandwich you’ll need:

1 loaf Challah or Brioche cut in 1” slices
1 8oz tub Mascarpone
I recipe stewed apricots
1 recipe bread dip
3 oz dark chocolate

.
Pre-heat an indoor grill or grill pan.
Quickly dip one slice of bread into the bread dip and let the excess drip off.
Add about 2 Tablespoons Mascarpone to the bread. Top with several pieces of stewed apricots and finish with finely shaved dark chocolate.
Top the sandwich with another piece of bread that has been quickly dipped in the bread dip.
Immediately grill until grill marks form, cheese and chocolate are melted and the bread is cooked through – about 5-7 minutes.
Slice, dust with powdered sugar and serve immediately.

For now I have a few images to show you (there are more, hundreds more). If you head over to the Seafood Spot you can read about some of our meals and adventures on the island. There will be much more to come.

It didn’t take long for us to learn that water taxi was our preferred method of travel. Given the option of hot taxi speeding through narrow and often barely-paved roads or brightly colored boat gliding through the turquoise Caribbean sea I will always choose the sea.

The waters surrounding the island are teeming with sea life. We tried our hand at fishing (deep-sea) with no luck but the many fisherman we ran into had boats filled with fresh fish. They must not have been sharing all their secrets.

This is an image I return to when the rain pelts our windows at home and the gray days seem never-ending. 

*Disclaimer: This trip was sponsored by High Liner Foods but all words, opinions, images are my own.

As the last of the plates were cleared grandma disappeared from the table. A moment later she returned carrying with her an aged tin box containing over 50 years of collected recipes. The lid no longer able to close as hundreds of  handwritten recipe cards and yellowed newspaper recipes packed tightly inside.

For the next hour I sat at the table oblivious to the squeals of the children around me and the conversation that continued as I tucked into the recipes already making plans to copy dozens of them. I held that box and imagined all the dinners that came from its contents. The cards themselves stained from the food that fed my dad and his four siblings.

I was holding a treasure. I felt the great value of that box and was so honored that grandma had thought to show it to me.

“Why don’t you take it?” She said.

I sat still for a moment reveling in her offer. It didn’t take much of her insistence before I held the box tighter overjoyed at this gift.

One of the reasons this blog exists is to create a similar sort of collection for my family. Instead of a tin box studded with blue and orange flowers this site houses our recipes as a sort of memoir of our meals. I am so eager to interweave in these pages the recipes that my grandma deemed worthy of feeding her family and entertaining the people who she graciously opened her home to.

Within minutes of riffling through the cards I found a recipe for Rhubarb Cake. It is no secret that I revel in the arrival of Spring mainly for the sake of Rhubarb so I knew this cake would be the first recipe I’d try.

What I find particularly endearing about these recipes is that there is little more than a list of simple ingredients. The few words written to describe the process show an assumed knowledge that is quite lost in our generation. I find the missing details freeing and the reminder that baking wasn’t always such a fearful act that required scales and a degree in chemistry. My grandmother’s and my mother knew how to bake by the feel of the batter and the way the dough reacted to their touch.

I creamed the butter and sugar by hand just as I imagined grandma did. There is something I find quite romantic about relying solely on a wooden spoon to bring a batter together. As the brown sugar and butter lightened in color and my arm felt a bit of a burn from the mixing I tossed in the remaining ingredients and sent the cake into a hot oven.

What emerged was a dense cake studded with tart rhubarb and scented with cinnamon making it the perfect cake to transition from Winter to Spring. I used its hearty texture and the presence of a vegetable as an excuse to enjoy it for breakfast – twice. And with an afternoon cup of coffee it paired quite nicely as well.

Grandma was wise to tuck this one away and now thanks to her, I’ve done the same.

Rhubarb Cake

The simplicity of this cake makes it the perfect solution when a sudden urge to bake emerges. I made a few adjustments to the original recipe – enough to make it feel more me while still maintaining the feel of grandma. 

2 cups chopped (rough 1/2″) rhubarb

1/2 cup (not packed) brown sugar

1 stick (1/2 cup) butter, soft

1 cup (not packed) brown sugar

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup plain whole milk yogurt

3/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 cup semolina flour

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon baking soda

Butter and flour a 8 or 9″ (2″ high) round cake pan.

Pre-heat your oven to 350*

In a small bowl add the rhubarb and 1/2 cup brown sugar. Let that sit for 30 minutes.

In a large bowl cream the butter and 1 cup brown sugar until light. Add the egg and vanilla. Add the rhubarb mixture and yogurt. Stir well. In another bowl whisk together the dry ingredients then add it to the rest of the ingredients stirring well to combine.

Spread in your prepared pan and bake for 50- 60 minutes or until the middle of the cake springs back when lightly pressed.

Let cool in the pan for 5 minutes before removing from the pan and cooling completely on a wire rack.

Store well-covered for up to three days.

I stood at the kitchen counter chopping, roasting, baking and washing for most of the weekend stopping, momentarily, when the sun lured us outside. The only thing that could tear me away from the kitchen was the possibility of feeling the slightest bit of warmth from the sun as it reminded us that it indeed still exists.

Even though the calendar had declared the start of Spring sometime early last week while the snow continued to threaten, it was as the eggs boiled and I mixed in things like celery and capers with vibrant yolks that it began for me. And in between the hours in the kitchen when we found ourselves outside stretching our wintery legs and breathing in the air that “smelled like water” according to my 5 year-old, it hit me then too.

This sudden burst of inspiration led to not one type of deviled eggs but four. I dug through my pantry and refrigerator dreaming up ingredients that would easily lend themselves to being mashed with yolks and you know, I stopped at four varieties but could have easily continued.

A deviled egg is not unlike the perfect black dress with its versatility and ability to dress up and down. It may be a vintage recipe that gracesthe now yellowed pages of Betty Crocker but its adaptability makes it timeless.

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When inspiration strikes you must seize it, even if it means a glut of deviled eggs. Actually, especially if it means a glut of deviled eggs.

These recipes are suited to my taste but are easily adapted. Feel free to make them your own. I’d love to hear what you come up with!

A few thoughts on perfect hard boiled eggs:

These eggs were placed in a pan of cold water that was then brought to a boil. Immediately when the water came to a rolling boiling I turned off the heat and set a 12 minute timer. Then they were submerged in an ice bath until cool. 

Alternatively you can bake the eggs in a 325* over for 30 minutes. Chill in ice water until cool.

Beet Pickled Eggs with Fennel

2 cups water
1 cup distilled vinegar
3 small beets, washed and sliced
1 shallot, roughly chopped
2 teaspoons sugar
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
1 teaspoon salt

6 hard boiled eggs, peeled

Combine all the ingredients except for the eggs in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil then simmer on low for 10 minutes.
Let the brine cool slightly before adding the hard boiled eggs. If the eggs are not fully submerged use the beet slices to help weigh them down.

Let marinate for at least one hour in the fridge.

When the eggs are done bathing in beets remove from the brine and carefully slice in half. Remove the yolks and mix with 2 tablespoons mayonnaise, 2 teaspoons dijon, ¼ teaspoon toasted and ground fennel seeds and a touch of salt and pepper. Taste and adjust seasonings to your liking.

Pipe or spoon filling back into the eggs then garnish with fennel fronds or Italian parsley.

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Preserved Lemon

inspired by Mourad: New Moroccan

6 hard boiled eggs
3-4 Tablespoons plain yogurt
½ teaspoon minced preserved lemon
pinch salt and white pepper
Mix the yolks with the above ingredients. Taste and adjust seasonings before filling the eggs and garnishing with fresh mint.

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Sour Cream and Tabasco

6 hard boiled eggs
3-4 Tablespoons sour cream
Tabasco
salt and pepper

Mix the yolks with the above ingredients. Taste and adjust seasonings before filling the eggs and garnishing with fresh chives.

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Celery and Capers

6 hard boiled eggs
2-3 Tablespoons mayonnaise
1 ½ teaspoons dijon
2 Tablespoons finely chopped celery
2 teaspoons capers

Mix the yolks with the above ingredients. Taste and adjust seasonings before filling the eggs and garnishing with celery leaves and capers.

Because there are some mornings that call for donut holes.

Like a morning when friends come over to learn more about coffee knowing that we, or more accurately, my husband, knows a thing or two about it and that we have eight, or so, brewing methods.

Or when the sun appears for the first time since the calendar declared, “it’s SPRING!” And although it feels more like Winter than Spring, deep down you sense it’s coming and begin to arrange the rhubarb baking schedule and direct your thoughts towards asparagus and away from earthy root vegetables.

A morning when the kids play contentedly around you and the google calendar reminds you that you have an entire day with nothing to do but simply be present.

Or one that finds you urging your slow moving 5 year old to hurry up as the clock ticks on seemingly mocking your tardiness and you glance to the counter spying a few leftover donut holes from the day before.

Then there is a morning when you sit alone with your feet perched on a tattered grizzly bear foot rest and the silence is interrupted from the crackling of a fireplace and the soft crashing of rolling waves. When you write at a leisurely pace and linger over cookbooks, dreaming of recipe ideas and menus, realizing that you are doing exactly what you were created for and taking that in as the incredible gift that it is.

These are the mornings for donut holes.

Brown Butter Donut Holes

5 Tablespoons butter

1 cup (8 1/2 oz) milk (I use whole)

1 egg

1 1/2 cups (10 oz) all-purpose flour

1/2 cup (3 oz) whole wheat flour

2 Tablespoons (1 oz) brown sugar

1 1/2 Tablespoons baking powder

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

oil for frying

For dipping:

1/2 cup white sugar

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

In a small saucepan add the butter. Bring to a boil and cook until the milk solids present in the butter turn a nutty brown color. Carefully swirl the pan so you can periodically check the color of the butter. Immediately take it off the heat when you smell a fragrant nuttiness and the butter is golden.

Whisk the dry ingredients together in a medium bowl. Combine the milk and the egg in a small bowl and whisk to break up the egg. Stir the milk, egg and browned butter into the dry ingredients being careful not to overmix.

Heat 2-3″ of oil in a deep sauce pan. Once the oil has reached 360* carefully drop a tablespoon size mounds of dough into the oil. Fry a few at a time watching the oil temperature making sure it stays around 360*. Fry until deep golden, about 2-3 minutes. Carefully move the donuts around in the oil for even frying.

Combine the sugar and cinnamon in a bowl. Add the warm donuts to the cinnamon and sugar and roll around until well coated. Serve immediately.