To contact us Click HERE
Really? So went the general direction of the narrative from one side during last night's debate. So much so, I lost sleep over it. Did I just step off of 2012 and step into the 1950s? Pre Roe v. Wade days were dark for women. Very dark. I remember the first "talk" I had with my mother on the subject of my responsibilities and rights as a woman. And it went something like this: Be careful. Be vigilant. And above all else, do not EVER walk into this house unmarried and pregnant. Period. And the story of her being left in an orphanage followed. One may assume given this history lesson, I might have different thoughts on the matter of birth control. One would be wrong to make such an assumption. And my mother would have been the first to tell you why.
I made a conscious decision to not have children. Thus, I took personal responsibility for ensuring I would not become a mother. Thankfully, I did not have to make this decision in a back alley somewhere. I met with our family physician instead. And nothing about my meeting with him was awkward. In adulthood, my option for maintaining my choice to eschew motherhood was never something I imagined might be at risk. It never once occurred to me that, in my lifetime, a movement would be underway to undo my say in this matter.
I have faith in our democracy. I have faith in both the women and men in congress to see that the right to make the choice never gets taken away.We do not live in a Utopian society where adults behave themselves All. The. Time. That's why there are protective measures in place to keep us from harming ourselves, or from harming others. In the ugliest parts of humanity there is an abominable force which causes some stronger types to prey on weaker types. These forces are referred to as rape and incest, and most often occur against women. And at its deepest moral indecency, the "women" may be as young as fourteen. As I've learned over the years this happens to be the age at which young women are most vulnerable to such an assault. I personally know this to be true.
Before any single human being thinks for one moment that they know what's best for women as it relates to "good moral behavior" and sees removing the option of birth control protection for women as prudent, they need first walk a mile in my shoes or a mile in the shoes of any number of young victims of date rape, uncle rape, father rape, neighbor rape and tell them why their birth control options are no longer on the table. Why corporations employing them cannot "in good conscience" provide the medical benefit of simple protection when women know first hand what being a victim feels like. We know first hand "just saying NO" isn't a guarantee of protection. And all this finger pointing, posturing and holier-than-thou, "Goodness gracious, why would a single woman ever allow herself to have a child and NOT be married and able to provide a decent life. . . a good moral life!" stuff is naive at best. Criminal at worst.
3 Ocak 2013 Perşembe
Vegan Red Velvet Cookies (My Best Friend: Thirty-Five Years And Counting And Why I'll Drop Everything To Be There)
To contact us Click HERE
The story of this cookie began last week when I received a phone call from my best friend. Sometimes you think life couldn't possibly hand you one more thing. And then it does. The time of the call (early) told me all I needed to know. Something terrible had happened. I'd barely said 'hello', was going down the list: Are the kids okay? Are you okay? Is your mom okay? Dad? Do you have the "C" word. . . what happened?! As it turned out, something horrible had happened. It involved her mother. Which in turn, involved me. Gayle would then travel a thousand miles in one afternoon. I'd see her in six hours. Then we'd travel another two hours to her mom.
This post will be about a bit more than this cookie. It has to. I was drawn to it by way of a tragedy. Like most things involving food and memories, I had to share more than just the food part in telling you about it. Jump to the recipe below if you are so inclined. But I have a story to tell.
During the crisis, Gayle and I were able to steal brief moments away for "nourishment". Which, given the town we were in did not include Whole Foods. I'll refrain from naming said town. Let me just say it is quite southern in nature. Quite. (At least for this girl's Yankee roots.) But I love the drawl and at times can be heard carrying one on myself. It just creeps in.
Were you able to raise her? Translation: Did she answer the phone?
I found myself back where I'd gone to high school. Back in the town where my mother drug my sister and I kicking and screaming. Back to where our mother would take her last breath. Just back. But it was here in this town I met my best friend, some thirty-five years ago.
We settled on The Bread Company (that's what we call it here in St. Louis--because even though the chain has gone "national"--locally, it will always be known as TBC) for lunch during breaks from the hospital. Gayle spotted them first. These cookies. These glorious little packages of red joy. They were the size of dinner plates! I thought I couldn't possibly eat one by myself. Certainly not something under normal circumstances one would eat by oneself. But these were not normal circumstances. We were in major stress mode. Gayle ordered two. Then I ordered mine. There was no sharing. We devoured them.
I cared not whether they were vegan. I was ravenous. We both were. (We both love to bake. Both love to cook.) I said, "I have to veganize these . . . as soon as I get home." On my trip back, I stopped by the store to pick up another cookie to go--one for Dr. Thyme, and for taste testing--just to be sure the food memory stayed with me. He loved them, too. And then I began telling him of all that had happened. The tragedy. The tears. The utter disbelief of it all. Of how fragile and swift life can be. How in one moment, all can be changed. Forever. And it has.
Apparently red velvet is making a come back. I couldn't be happier. One of my all time favorite red treats were Hostess Zingers (RIP Hostess). Red cake and coconut and creamy filling. What's not to love? So my partiality to red foods goes waaay back. And if you tsk-tsk the use of red food coloring for your eating pleasure, that's a shame. Because to my mind, it's the red food coloring that gives this cookie--and its cake namesake--an unmistakable yum factor. As for amounts--this cookie does not require a full bottle of red coloring. (The cake does.) I was able to to eek by with only 2 teaspoons. 
Heavenly. .JPG)
This is my best friend Gayle. We are in the parking lot of the hospital this past weekend. Both of us wanted a picture of the two of us for our phones. We acknowledged that given the stress, crying and "our age", sunglasses were in order. A moment of laughing was good for us. I sent a copy of it to my sister who said, "You guys look exactly like you always do. . . I've seen this picture a hundred times." And it's true.
She and I met at a horse barn where her father and my mother both stabled their horses. I was new to town, as was mom and my sister (who is a bit younger than I). Mom came home one day asking if I'd ever met Gayle. The only people I'd "met" were the neighbors, and kids in my classes (junior high--oh the horror)--and briefly at that because I was still super bitter over being uprooted at such a vulnerable age. (This was to be our mother's third husband. Yes. third. And not her last.) Basically, I hadn't branched out "socially" yet in our new home town. Apparently our mother had. More mentions of Gayle and her dad. Then one day, mom brought me to the stables (I grew up riding horses because our mother had an affinity for them). I finally met Gayle. We agreed to catch up some time at school. And that was all she wrote.
I'm not going to tell you we were attached at the hip. But we were. And as you might imagine in all these years, there have been ups and there have been downs. Moments of sheer joy. Moments of pure hell. Shared celebrations. Shared sorrow. Spans of time without one another. We are both women after all.
When my mom was in the hospital during her last few months, Gayle's mom was, too. I could barely stand watching my mom going through all her "stuff". My sister and I were taking turns nursing to her when we could. My mom adored Gayle. (They shared a kinship of sorts, Gayle was an only child, so was our mother.) When Gayle couldn't stand watching the poking and prodding her mother went through and I couldn't stand my mother's tests (and pain affiliated with them)--we'd switch. I'd go sit with her mom and stand along side for the tests and whatnot, and Gayle went to be with my mom and hang out with my sister. They were in different hospitals. . . at the same exact time. Ultimately, her mother got to leave the hospital. Ours did not.
But that was one of the many too-many-to-count memories. There is her father's role in my life as well. After her parents divorced, he would call for Gayle to visit him--she'd always drag me along. (Okay "drag" may be too strong a word-especially for that trip to Denver.) Then on and on life went with both her mother, her father, her aunts, uncles and usually at some point were Gayle and me. In and out of each other's lives so many times.
She called me once and asked if I wanted to go on a vacation together. . . again. I was never much for "traveling" vacations--my jobs in the past required me to be on the road entirely too much. I can't stand hotels to this day. But this time she wanted to do Memphis: Graceland. We did the whole nine yards. Bought the CDs. Bought the Elvis t-shirts. Wept at the grave site. The. Whole. Nine. Yards.
We stayed at the Peabody. Yes. We watched the ducks, too.
On a much earlier vacation--with her mother and her two children (now grown, both in college and amazing)--we all spent eight days on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. She took this picture of me. We both laughed about how Kennebunkport this looked. We called it "The Postcard from Dahling" shot. (And yes, I had to go brunette at least once in my life. I wanted people to take me more seriously. It was the only time in my life gentlemen stopped holding doors open for me. So I said "screw this" and went back to being a blonde.) 
She has always had something of an affinity for bikes and things that go varoom-varoom. (She gets that from her father. That's who took this photo.) She owns her own Harley. She will never get me on that damn bike. Okay?
I got home this weekend completely exhausted. I slept for thirteen hours straight. Then woke up and took a nap. I'm still emotionally spent. We all are. There is much to be done. More for Gayle and her family to manage through. I am praying for them all, and I am especially praying for her mom.
I told her over the phone last night that I'd come home determined to make that damn cookie vegan. Baking was a great salve. DH said he couldn't believe I'd even had the energy to bake. But I did. It somehow righted me. I can't wait for Gayle to try them. And my sister--who will be here in a few short weeks! Dr. Thyme gave them a big thumbs up. Gayle told me she went back for more cookies, took one up to the hospital yesterday and gave it to her mom. The nurses busted her. Hard to hide a giant red cookie in the sterile white backdrop of a hospital! But her mom loved them.
Vegan Red Velvet Cookies*Adapted from Great Cookies by Carole Waltermakes appx. 24 cookies
6 tablespoons unsalted vegetable margarine (at room temperature)6 tablespoons vegetable shortening (at room temperature)3/4 cup sugar1/4 cup molasses2 teaspoons red food coloring1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (*use the scoop and sweep method of measuring the flours)3/4 cup white whole wheat flour2 tablespoons baking cocoa (*I used Ghiradelli) 1 teaspoon baking soda1/4 teaspoon salt1 1/2 teaspoon Ener-G Egg Replacer mixed with 3 tablespoons water1/3 cup chopped pecans1/3 cup white chocolate chipsextra granulated sugar for rolling cookiesextra powdered sugar for rolling cookies
Preheat oven to 350. Line two cookies sheets with parchment paper. Place about 1/4 granulated sugar in a small bowl, and next to it, 1/4 cup powdered sugar. Set aside. In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until smooth. Add the molasses, egg replacer and then red food coloring. Mix until well blended. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flours, baking soda, salt and chocolate baking cocoa. Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet (in thirds)--mixing just until the dough begins to form clumps. Fold in the pecans and white chocolate chips. If the dough won't form a solid dough ball, add a teaspoon more water. Take a tablespoon of dough and roll it in the palm of your hands to form a small ball. Roll the ball in the granulated sugar first, then the powdered sugar. Place on cookie sheets spaced about 2 inches apart. Bake for 13 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool on trays for about three minutes, then remove to cookie rack to cool completely. Store in freezer for about two weeks. Or store in an airtight container for a week.
The story of this cookie began last week when I received a phone call from my best friend. Sometimes you think life couldn't possibly hand you one more thing. And then it does. The time of the call (early) told me all I needed to know. Something terrible had happened. I'd barely said 'hello', was going down the list: Are the kids okay? Are you okay? Is your mom okay? Dad? Do you have the "C" word. . . what happened?! As it turned out, something horrible had happened. It involved her mother. Which in turn, involved me. Gayle would then travel a thousand miles in one afternoon. I'd see her in six hours. Then we'd travel another two hours to her mom.This post will be about a bit more than this cookie. It has to. I was drawn to it by way of a tragedy. Like most things involving food and memories, I had to share more than just the food part in telling you about it. Jump to the recipe below if you are so inclined. But I have a story to tell.
During the crisis, Gayle and I were able to steal brief moments away for "nourishment". Which, given the town we were in did not include Whole Foods. I'll refrain from naming said town. Let me just say it is quite southern in nature. Quite. (At least for this girl's Yankee roots.) But I love the drawl and at times can be heard carrying one on myself. It just creeps in.
Were you able to raise her? Translation: Did she answer the phone?
I found myself back where I'd gone to high school. Back in the town where my mother drug my sister and I kicking and screaming. Back to where our mother would take her last breath. Just back. But it was here in this town I met my best friend, some thirty-five years ago.
We settled on The Bread Company (that's what we call it here in St. Louis--because even though the chain has gone "national"--locally, it will always be known as TBC) for lunch during breaks from the hospital. Gayle spotted them first. These cookies. These glorious little packages of red joy. They were the size of dinner plates! I thought I couldn't possibly eat one by myself. Certainly not something under normal circumstances one would eat by oneself. But these were not normal circumstances. We were in major stress mode. Gayle ordered two. Then I ordered mine. There was no sharing. We devoured them.
I cared not whether they were vegan. I was ravenous. We both were. (We both love to bake. Both love to cook.) I said, "I have to veganize these . . . as soon as I get home." On my trip back, I stopped by the store to pick up another cookie to go--one for Dr. Thyme, and for taste testing--just to be sure the food memory stayed with me. He loved them, too. And then I began telling him of all that had happened. The tragedy. The tears. The utter disbelief of it all. Of how fragile and swift life can be. How in one moment, all can be changed. Forever. And it has.
Apparently red velvet is making a come back. I couldn't be happier. One of my all time favorite red treats were Hostess Zingers (RIP Hostess). Red cake and coconut and creamy filling. What's not to love? So my partiality to red foods goes waaay back. And if you tsk-tsk the use of red food coloring for your eating pleasure, that's a shame. Because to my mind, it's the red food coloring that gives this cookie--and its cake namesake--an unmistakable yum factor. As for amounts--this cookie does not require a full bottle of red coloring. (The cake does.) I was able to to eek by with only 2 teaspoons. Heavenly. This is my best friend Gayle. We are in the parking lot of the hospital this past weekend. Both of us wanted a picture of the two of us for our phones. We acknowledged that given the stress, crying and "our age", sunglasses were in order. A moment of laughing was good for us. I sent a copy of it to my sister who said, "You guys look exactly like you always do. . . I've seen this picture a hundred times." And it's true. She and I met at a horse barn where her father and my mother both stabled their horses. I was new to town, as was mom and my sister (who is a bit younger than I). Mom came home one day asking if I'd ever met Gayle. The only people I'd "met" were the neighbors, and kids in my classes (junior high--oh the horror)--and briefly at that because I was still super bitter over being uprooted at such a vulnerable age. (This was to be our mother's third husband. Yes. third. And not her last.) Basically, I hadn't branched out "socially" yet in our new home town. Apparently our mother had. More mentions of Gayle and her dad. Then one day, mom brought me to the stables (I grew up riding horses because our mother had an affinity for them). I finally met Gayle. We agreed to catch up some time at school. And that was all she wrote.
I'm not going to tell you we were attached at the hip. But we were. And as you might imagine in all these years, there have been ups and there have been downs. Moments of sheer joy. Moments of pure hell. Shared celebrations. Shared sorrow. Spans of time without one another. We are both women after all.
When my mom was in the hospital during her last few months, Gayle's mom was, too. I could barely stand watching my mom going through all her "stuff". My sister and I were taking turns nursing to her when we could. My mom adored Gayle. (They shared a kinship of sorts, Gayle was an only child, so was our mother.) When Gayle couldn't stand watching the poking and prodding her mother went through and I couldn't stand my mother's tests (and pain affiliated with them)--we'd switch. I'd go sit with her mom and stand along side for the tests and whatnot, and Gayle went to be with my mom and hang out with my sister. They were in different hospitals. . . at the same exact time. Ultimately, her mother got to leave the hospital. Ours did not.
But that was one of the many too-many-to-count memories. There is her father's role in my life as well. After her parents divorced, he would call for Gayle to visit him--she'd always drag me along. (Okay "drag" may be too strong a word-especially for that trip to Denver.) Then on and on life went with both her mother, her father, her aunts, uncles and usually at some point were Gayle and me. In and out of each other's lives so many times.
She called me once and asked if I wanted to go on a vacation together. . . again. I was never much for "traveling" vacations--my jobs in the past required me to be on the road entirely too much. I can't stand hotels to this day. But this time she wanted to do Memphis: Graceland. We did the whole nine yards. Bought the CDs. Bought the Elvis t-shirts. Wept at the grave site. The. Whole. Nine. Yards.We stayed at the Peabody. Yes. We watched the ducks, too.On a much earlier vacation--with her mother and her two children (now grown, both in college and amazing)--we all spent eight days on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. She took this picture of me. We both laughed about how Kennebunkport this looked. We called it "The Postcard from Dahling" shot. (And yes, I had to go brunette at least once in my life. I wanted people to take me more seriously. It was the only time in my life gentlemen stopped holding doors open for me. So I said "screw this" and went back to being a blonde.) She has always had something of an affinity for bikes and things that go varoom-varoom. (She gets that from her father. That's who took this photo.) She owns her own Harley. She will never get me on that damn bike. Okay?I got home this weekend completely exhausted. I slept for thirteen hours straight. Then woke up and took a nap. I'm still emotionally spent. We all are. There is much to be done. More for Gayle and her family to manage through. I am praying for them all, and I am especially praying for her mom.
I told her over the phone last night that I'd come home determined to make that damn cookie vegan. Baking was a great salve. DH said he couldn't believe I'd even had the energy to bake. But I did. It somehow righted me. I can't wait for Gayle to try them. And my sister--who will be here in a few short weeks! Dr. Thyme gave them a big thumbs up. Gayle told me she went back for more cookies, took one up to the hospital yesterday and gave it to her mom. The nurses busted her. Hard to hide a giant red cookie in the sterile white backdrop of a hospital! But her mom loved them.
Vegan Red Velvet Cookies*Adapted from Great Cookies by Carole Waltermakes appx. 24 cookies
6 tablespoons unsalted vegetable margarine (at room temperature)6 tablespoons vegetable shortening (at room temperature)3/4 cup sugar1/4 cup molasses2 teaspoons red food coloring1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (*use the scoop and sweep method of measuring the flours)3/4 cup white whole wheat flour2 tablespoons baking cocoa (*I used Ghiradelli) 1 teaspoon baking soda1/4 teaspoon salt1 1/2 teaspoon Ener-G Egg Replacer mixed with 3 tablespoons water1/3 cup chopped pecans1/3 cup white chocolate chipsextra granulated sugar for rolling cookiesextra powdered sugar for rolling cookies
Preheat oven to 350. Line two cookies sheets with parchment paper. Place about 1/4 granulated sugar in a small bowl, and next to it, 1/4 cup powdered sugar. Set aside. In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until smooth. Add the molasses, egg replacer and then red food coloring. Mix until well blended. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flours, baking soda, salt and chocolate baking cocoa. Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet (in thirds)--mixing just until the dough begins to form clumps. Fold in the pecans and white chocolate chips. If the dough won't form a solid dough ball, add a teaspoon more water. Take a tablespoon of dough and roll it in the palm of your hands to form a small ball. Roll the ball in the granulated sugar first, then the powdered sugar. Place on cookie sheets spaced about 2 inches apart. Bake for 13 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool on trays for about three minutes, then remove to cookie rack to cool completely. Store in freezer for about two weeks. Or store in an airtight container for a week.
Oma's Flourless Chocolate Torte
To contact us Click HERE
No matter what, I can always count on a tasty baked good when visiting with my Oma (grandmother).
From Viennese Crescents to Christmas Stollen, my Oma bakes all of the traditional Swiss favorites whenever family is around and this Flour-less Chocolate Torte is just one of those fabulous desserts that is an Oma classic.
Having grown up in Switzerland, baking and sweets just come with the territory for her and she is always more than willing to share with me the recipes for these delicious treats.She also happens to be one of my biggest supporters in all of my baking endeavors and I always look forward to making something of hers.
When it came time for one of the girls at the office to celebrate their birthday I knew this was the perfect cake for the occasion. She happens to eat a gluten free diet and because this cake is flour-less it just made sense. To make the cake extra special I topped it with a layer of whipped cream and chocolate covered strawberries.
Oma's Flour-less Chocolate CakeFills one 9-inch spring form panOven: 300 Bake time: 45 minutes
1 bag semi-sweet chocolate chips6 TBS butter1 cup sugar6 eggs, separated
Preheat oven to 300. Spray your spring form pan with cooking spray.In a microwave safe bowl (or over double boiler), melt chocolate chips and butter for about 2 minutes, checking every 30 seconds or so and mix until smooth.Separate egg whites in large glass bowl, reserving yolks in small bowl.Beat egg whites until stiff.Slowly add sugar and continue to beat until sugar is incorporated.Add egg yolks one at a time to chocolate/butter mixture, making sure each yolk is fully incorporated after every addition.Fold egg whites into chocolate mixture.Pour batter into prepared pan and transfer to oven for about 45-60 minutes.
*To check if this cake is done a toothpick should come out fairly clean, but this is a very dense and rich cake so it may not be perfectly clean. The best way to tell is if there is a good crust on the cake and the sides have begun to pull away from the pan.
Remove from oven and allow to cool completely before removing sides of pan.
Homemade Whipped Cream1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream1/4 cup powdered sugar1 tsp vanilla
In a small bowl, beat whipping cream until soft peaks form. Add sugar and vanilla and continue to beat until stiff peaks are formed. If you have time, place in fridge for about 20 minutes to help stabilize.
Feel free to cover yours with a small layer of homemade whipped cream and chocolate covered strawberries or just serve with a small dusting of powdered sugar and ice cream!
Happy Baking!
No matter what, I can always count on a tasty baked good when visiting with my Oma (grandmother).
From Viennese Crescents to Christmas Stollen, my Oma bakes all of the traditional Swiss favorites whenever family is around and this Flour-less Chocolate Torte is just one of those fabulous desserts that is an Oma classic.
Having grown up in Switzerland, baking and sweets just come with the territory for her and she is always more than willing to share with me the recipes for these delicious treats.She also happens to be one of my biggest supporters in all of my baking endeavors and I always look forward to making something of hers.
When it came time for one of the girls at the office to celebrate their birthday I knew this was the perfect cake for the occasion. She happens to eat a gluten free diet and because this cake is flour-less it just made sense. To make the cake extra special I topped it with a layer of whipped cream and chocolate covered strawberries.
Oma's Flour-less Chocolate CakeFills one 9-inch spring form panOven: 300 Bake time: 45 minutes
1 bag semi-sweet chocolate chips6 TBS butter1 cup sugar6 eggs, separated
Preheat oven to 300. Spray your spring form pan with cooking spray.In a microwave safe bowl (or over double boiler), melt chocolate chips and butter for about 2 minutes, checking every 30 seconds or so and mix until smooth.Separate egg whites in large glass bowl, reserving yolks in small bowl.Beat egg whites until stiff.Slowly add sugar and continue to beat until sugar is incorporated.Add egg yolks one at a time to chocolate/butter mixture, making sure each yolk is fully incorporated after every addition.Fold egg whites into chocolate mixture.Pour batter into prepared pan and transfer to oven for about 45-60 minutes.
*To check if this cake is done a toothpick should come out fairly clean, but this is a very dense and rich cake so it may not be perfectly clean. The best way to tell is if there is a good crust on the cake and the sides have begun to pull away from the pan.
Remove from oven and allow to cool completely before removing sides of pan.
Homemade Whipped Cream1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream1/4 cup powdered sugar1 tsp vanilla
In a small bowl, beat whipping cream until soft peaks form. Add sugar and vanilla and continue to beat until stiff peaks are formed. If you have time, place in fridge for about 20 minutes to help stabilize.
Feel free to cover yours with a small layer of homemade whipped cream and chocolate covered strawberries or just serve with a small dusting of powdered sugar and ice cream!Happy Baking!
It's time to explain myself....
To contact us Click HERE
Do you want the good news or the bad news first?
Bad News: I'm not going to be blogging anymore. Let me explain myself...
Let's be honest, some of you have probably already given up on me, as I haven't updated in about a month and before that the posts were getting very sporadic.
I started this blog as a way to document and showcase my adventures through baking and although it's been fun, my life has started to take me in a different direction. Upon moving back to Northern Virginia, our schedules drastically changed- MM gets home late now leaving most of the cooking up to me and now that we're close to friends and family, our evenings and weekends are often dedicated to spending time with them.
Good News: I'm dedicating more time to cakes.
If you've followed my adventures, you know of my passion for baking and cake decorating. When we moved back closer to home I knew I wanted to try and take my cake business to the next level... so after lots of time and energy, selfless plugs, free advertising and great friends, I'm spending more and more time in the kitchen baking cakes for clients (paying clients!) It's been great so far and I'm very optimistic of what the future holds. All that being said, most of the time I used to spend concocting delicious creations for you all is now spent whipping up wonderful cakes.
Now time to get sappy...
Thank You.
I want to take a second and thank everyone that has followed or commented and been a part of this adventure throughout the past couple of years- it's been a great experience and I've met some awesome people along the way. The blogging world was definitely something that I never anticipated being a part of, but it was definitely fun and I felt like I was always learning something!
Please don't think of this as goodbye.. it's more like, See ya later! I'll still be around.. you're just going to have to use new ways to find me.
If you like me, you can always come by on facebook.. drop in and say "Hello!" Not to mention, you'll be able to keep up with what I am still doing in the kitchen.
Of course you can always take a peek at my cakes (or order one if you're in Northern VA-selfless plug): http://www.sweetsbye.com/
I just opened an etsy shop as well, so no matter where you are, you can indulge in a sweet!
And I'm going to be making more of an effort to tweet- @sweetebakes.. cake focused of course.
Well... I think that's all I got... Thanks for everything you wonderful wonderful people!!
As always, Happy Baking and Keep it Sweet!!
Bad News: I'm not going to be blogging anymore. Let me explain myself...
Let's be honest, some of you have probably already given up on me, as I haven't updated in about a month and before that the posts were getting very sporadic.
I started this blog as a way to document and showcase my adventures through baking and although it's been fun, my life has started to take me in a different direction. Upon moving back to Northern Virginia, our schedules drastically changed- MM gets home late now leaving most of the cooking up to me and now that we're close to friends and family, our evenings and weekends are often dedicated to spending time with them.
Good News: I'm dedicating more time to cakes.
If you've followed my adventures, you know of my passion for baking and cake decorating. When we moved back closer to home I knew I wanted to try and take my cake business to the next level... so after lots of time and energy, selfless plugs, free advertising and great friends, I'm spending more and more time in the kitchen baking cakes for clients (paying clients!) It's been great so far and I'm very optimistic of what the future holds. All that being said, most of the time I used to spend concocting delicious creations for you all is now spent whipping up wonderful cakes.
Now time to get sappy...
Thank You.
I want to take a second and thank everyone that has followed or commented and been a part of this adventure throughout the past couple of years- it's been a great experience and I've met some awesome people along the way. The blogging world was definitely something that I never anticipated being a part of, but it was definitely fun and I felt like I was always learning something!
Please don't think of this as goodbye.. it's more like, See ya later! I'll still be around.. you're just going to have to use new ways to find me.
If you like me, you can always come by on facebook.. drop in and say "Hello!" Not to mention, you'll be able to keep up with what I am still doing in the kitchen.
Of course you can always take a peek at my cakes (or order one if you're in Northern VA-selfless plug): http://www.sweetsbye.com/
I just opened an etsy shop as well, so no matter where you are, you can indulge in a sweet!
And I'm going to be making more of an effort to tweet- @sweetebakes.. cake focused of course.
Well... I think that's all I got... Thanks for everything you wonderful wonderful people!!
As always, Happy Baking and Keep it Sweet!!
Amanda's Sweet and Spicy Maple Chicken
To contact us Click HERE
I love my sister for many reasons...and this is one of them. She made this recipe with salmon, which I think would be equally delicios, my husband is just not a fan of fish. This has a ton of flavor, a punch of spice, and a hint of sweet! Its a perfect mix of all your taste sensations. AND it's easy:)
Amanda’s Sweet and Spicy Maple Chicken
Printable Version
2 chicken breasts, trimmed
1 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. chili powder
¼ tsp. cumin
½ tsp. brown sugar
1 tsp. salt
2 Tbs. maple syrup
Preheat oven to 350. Combine seasonings and rub chicken breasts on both sides. Place in a baking dish and bake for 15-20 minutes. The last 5 minutes, remove chicken from the oven and glaze with maple syrup. Serve.
Recipe from Amanda
Serves 2.
I love my sister for many reasons...and this is one of them. She made this recipe with salmon, which I think would be equally delicios, my husband is just not a fan of fish. This has a ton of flavor, a punch of spice, and a hint of sweet! Its a perfect mix of all your taste sensations. AND it's easy:)Amanda’s Sweet and Spicy Maple Chicken
Printable Version
2 chicken breasts, trimmed
1 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. chili powder
¼ tsp. cumin
½ tsp. brown sugar
1 tsp. salt
2 Tbs. maple syrup
Preheat oven to 350. Combine seasonings and rub chicken breasts on both sides. Place in a baking dish and bake for 15-20 minutes. The last 5 minutes, remove chicken from the oven and glaze with maple syrup. Serve.
Recipe from Amanda
Serves 2.
2 Ocak 2013 Çarşamba
Very Appley Apple Pie (paleo, gluten/sugar/dairy free!)
To contact us Click HERE
"Feels just like home" Apple Pie was my other title option. Or could I go with "Not your usual Apple Pie", but in fact, this pie in taste resembles the best and most home-made pies. Only trick is in the pie crust, 'coz you won't find any grain in that. Still you wonder, how does it taste then? Well, it has a thick, crispy pie crust, uniquely complementing the softness of the apples, but more on the sweet-almond side. This is the real deal without any grains at all.
This recipe is my Dear Mom's creation. Since I am originally from Hungary, which is in Central-Europe, we have our own, unique, traditional desserts. Our home-made apple pie is usually flat, with thin, buttery crust on top and bottom with a rather not too thick layer of shredded apples. It is usually heavily dusted with sugar (like it didn't have enough in the pie itself). Anyways, this is not like that. Nope. I was never very fond of that type anyway, 'coz I always had to gabble up at least 5 to get the hang of it. However this one is much better. It is not flat, it feels like it has 3 times more apple filling in it than the usual pies and the combo of the apples and cranberries make it a winner. Sweetness without how GI or added sugar.
Now just to tell you the whole story behind this pie, after switching to paleo diet, we said tearful (or not) good-byes to grains, and with that we forgot our usual, traditional recipes. Or at least I thought we forgot. I did, but my Mom didn't. (Moms never do, right?)So it happened on a cold winter night when I and my - now Husband, then - boyfriend, were still in university far away from my home, that after a long day of travelling home we were picked up by my Dad at half of the road. I was tired, I was cold, I had enough, I just wanted a hot shower in my home and a hot meal I felt I had earned. I just wanted to be home, to kick off my shoes, to warm up my toes, to wash my hands and inhale the sweet and savory smells of the cooking dinner. And of course I was hungry. As Hell!So it's not hard to imagine how I felt when my Dad presented us two huge pieces of apple pie, baked on that day fresh by my Mom. Haven't seen apple pie in at least two years and there you have two giant piece of it just when you need it the most. We jumped on it like our lives depended on it.
The appley-cinnamony smell filled the car and I felt at home in an instant. Mom knew exactly why she got the biggest hugs when we arrived. :)
From that day on, this pie for me is Caring, Home, Love.
Now, that I live even farther, here in Qatar, I started baking apple pie two weeks ago and I haven't stopped yet....
Click HERE for the RECIPE!
This recipe is my Dear Mom's creation. Since I am originally from Hungary, which is in Central-Europe, we have our own, unique, traditional desserts. Our home-made apple pie is usually flat, with thin, buttery crust on top and bottom with a rather not too thick layer of shredded apples. It is usually heavily dusted with sugar (like it didn't have enough in the pie itself). Anyways, this is not like that. Nope. I was never very fond of that type anyway, 'coz I always had to gabble up at least 5 to get the hang of it. However this one is much better. It is not flat, it feels like it has 3 times more apple filling in it than the usual pies and the combo of the apples and cranberries make it a winner. Sweetness without how GI or added sugar.
Now just to tell you the whole story behind this pie, after switching to paleo diet, we said tearful (or not) good-byes to grains, and with that we forgot our usual, traditional recipes. Or at least I thought we forgot. I did, but my Mom didn't. (Moms never do, right?)So it happened on a cold winter night when I and my - now Husband, then - boyfriend, were still in university far away from my home, that after a long day of travelling home we were picked up by my Dad at half of the road. I was tired, I was cold, I had enough, I just wanted a hot shower in my home and a hot meal I felt I had earned. I just wanted to be home, to kick off my shoes, to warm up my toes, to wash my hands and inhale the sweet and savory smells of the cooking dinner. And of course I was hungry. As Hell!So it's not hard to imagine how I felt when my Dad presented us two huge pieces of apple pie, baked on that day fresh by my Mom. Haven't seen apple pie in at least two years and there you have two giant piece of it just when you need it the most. We jumped on it like our lives depended on it.
The appley-cinnamony smell filled the car and I felt at home in an instant. Mom knew exactly why she got the biggest hugs when we arrived. :)
From that day on, this pie for me is Caring, Home, Love.
Now, that I live even farther, here in Qatar, I started baking apple pie two weeks ago and I haven't stopped yet....
Click HERE for the RECIPE!
Chocolate-Hazelnut Spread (paelo, vegan, gluten/sugar/dairy free)
To contact us Click HERE
It's not always as easy as it seems, moving to another country. Changing the way you live completely starting from your wardrobe to your pantry, starting up from the bottom. I have lived in the UK last year, and although it was a beautiful experience, it was a struggle too.
Now again, for the second time, having been moved to another country, to another continent, into another culture, I am having the same feeling. But let's not rush ahead. I am trying to strangle my thoughts as they are rushing ahead, always ahead of time, of me.
Changing the country you live in, from one day to another, arriving to another time zone, another, alien people surround you with their alien language, in the alien environment which, of course, is nothing like your home was before, after a certain amount of time you start to long for familiar things. (Even if you love being at your new place.)First one of them longings is usually food. Surprisingly even for you, you start to long for long forgotten tastes or some which you would have never guessed you could miss. Not to mention those flavors that you've always loved. You are in the real danger of sort of obsess about those.
Growing up Nutella was always my favorite. My Dad and I had a common adoration for it. We used to sneak up to the kitchen in our pajamas late at night, standing by the kitchen counter, sharing a jar of Nutella which we were finishing spoon by spoon. Sometimes we did spread it on a typical plain Hungarian so called "domestic cookie". We ate and talked, quietly, secretly. We were like two naughty kids, mischievous little devils snacking in the night, afraid of being caught. I love this memory and every time I would reach out for my fav choco-hazelnut spread, I think of my Dad.
In the presence we get use to habits which are just merely habits for us, we go on mechanically about our life, not realizing the special moments, but fortunately later on we are rewarded with the sweet realization and these moments fill our hearts with joy.
When we have switched to paleo diet (oh how many times you will see me starting a sentence with this!) I started checking the labels...and unfortunately I discovered how much sugar Nutella has (and whey powder too). "So this is why it made me break out!" - I thought. So I decided to make my very own chocolate-hazelnut spread. It was a hit at the first time. It is actually very easy and simple, it takes a little time thought but very much worth the effort.
No need to spread it on anything...just grab your spoon! :)
Click here for the recipe!
If you would like to try it with our special home-made cookies (which is the best pairing), stay tuned, it's coming soon!
It's not always as easy as it seems, moving to another country. Changing the way you live completely starting from your wardrobe to your pantry, starting up from the bottom. I have lived in the UK last year, and although it was a beautiful experience, it was a struggle too. Now again, for the second time, having been moved to another country, to another continent, into another culture, I am having the same feeling. But let's not rush ahead. I am trying to strangle my thoughts as they are rushing ahead, always ahead of time, of me.
Changing the country you live in, from one day to another, arriving to another time zone, another, alien people surround you with their alien language, in the alien environment which, of course, is nothing like your home was before, after a certain amount of time you start to long for familiar things. (Even if you love being at your new place.)First one of them longings is usually food. Surprisingly even for you, you start to long for long forgotten tastes or some which you would have never guessed you could miss. Not to mention those flavors that you've always loved. You are in the real danger of sort of obsess about those.
Growing up Nutella was always my favorite. My Dad and I had a common adoration for it. We used to sneak up to the kitchen in our pajamas late at night, standing by the kitchen counter, sharing a jar of Nutella which we were finishing spoon by spoon. Sometimes we did spread it on a typical plain Hungarian so called "domestic cookie". We ate and talked, quietly, secretly. We were like two naughty kids, mischievous little devils snacking in the night, afraid of being caught. I love this memory and every time I would reach out for my fav choco-hazelnut spread, I think of my Dad.
In the presence we get use to habits which are just merely habits for us, we go on mechanically about our life, not realizing the special moments, but fortunately later on we are rewarded with the sweet realization and these moments fill our hearts with joy.
When we have switched to paleo diet (oh how many times you will see me starting a sentence with this!) I started checking the labels...and unfortunately I discovered how much sugar Nutella has (and whey powder too). "So this is why it made me break out!" - I thought. So I decided to make my very own chocolate-hazelnut spread. It was a hit at the first time. It is actually very easy and simple, it takes a little time thought but very much worth the effort.
No need to spread it on anything...just grab your spoon! :)
 |
| See how creamy and dark? Real grown-up spread! |
 |
| The process of making the spread from the hazelnuts to the actual spread. |
If you would like to try it with our special home-made cookies (which is the best pairing), stay tuned, it's coming soon!Support
To contact us Click HERE
Dear Reader,
I hope you all enjoy my blog so far. I am trying to upload all my recipes (I have tons) as frequently as I can. Soon I am going to share my healing story with you (insulin, pcos, thyroid, skin etc.) and share some interesting views on this diet.
If you are liking me so far, please LIKE me on Facebook or Pin me to Pinterest.
Thank you for your support and kindness!
I hope you all enjoy my blog so far. I am trying to upload all my recipes (I have tons) as frequently as I can. Soon I am going to share my healing story with you (insulin, pcos, thyroid, skin etc.) and share some interesting views on this diet.
If you are liking me so far, please LIKE me on Facebook or Pin me to Pinterest.
Thank you for your support and kindness!
Chocolate-Honey Gingerbread Stars (Paleo;Grain/Sugar/Dairy free)
To contact us Click HERE
Cannot escape it. Christmas is vastly and steadily approaching, even here in Doha. We have just moved here on 1st November, and since my visa is not ready, there's no way we could go home for the holidays. Although heavy snowing, festive lights and baking and mulled wine would be waiting for us at home. Here, we still have over 20°C, constant sunshine and therefore constantly working air conditioning which hardly screams Christmas to us. Let's face it, we are not in the mood at all. Moreover I hardly doubt we are going to get in the mood, therefore I have a strong feeling that we will just "skip Xmas" this year. Is that even possible?
I am sitting here, writing this post and listening to the main Friday prayer from the nearest mosque. I am in short and a t-shirt, while in all my last Christmases up until now at this time I was wrapped in heavy blankets holding hot cocoa tight with Gingerbread cookies. Can I beat the summer feeling here?
These cookies are definitely the best way to try. Their sweet aroma fills the kitchen and the whole house and I am about to reach for my mug of real cocoa. Maybe this will work eventually. :)
Click here for the recipe!
Cannot escape it. Christmas is vastly and steadily approaching, even here in Doha. We have just moved here on 1st November, and since my visa is not ready, there's no way we could go home for the holidays. Although heavy snowing, festive lights and baking and mulled wine would be waiting for us at home. Here, we still have over 20°C, constant sunshine and therefore constantly working air conditioning which hardly screams Christmas to us. Let's face it, we are not in the mood at all. Moreover I hardly doubt we are going to get in the mood, therefore I have a strong feeling that we will just "skip Xmas" this year. Is that even possible?
I am sitting here, writing this post and listening to the main Friday prayer from the nearest mosque. I am in short and a t-shirt, while in all my last Christmases up until now at this time I was wrapped in heavy blankets holding hot cocoa tight with Gingerbread cookies. Can I beat the summer feeling here?
These cookies are definitely the best way to try. Their sweet aroma fills the kitchen and the whole house and I am about to reach for my mug of real cocoa. Maybe this will work eventually. :)
Click here for the recipe!
"Winter Enchantment" Biscotti (paleo; gluten/dairy/sugar free)
To contact us Click HERE
It is cloudy and rainy in Doha. I am told it is a mirage, as it is so rare, once in a while people have common prayers for rain. Oddly this rain and darkness is just the right mirage to set off my Christmas- or winter mood. I just love it when I am sitting under my soft white blanket, burning a vanilla scented candle and dipping some deliciously winter flavored (this definitely does exists) biscotti into my hot cocoa.
These biscotti (it is plural so I am hesitant to say biscottis) are 100% grain-, gluten- and dairy free, which makes it very healthy and consumable for many with food allergies. These babies are made with almond meal, warm spices, dried apricots and honey-roasted almonds. They are a huge fav on my Hungarian blog, and I hope they will keep their well-earned reputation here too. Enjoy!
Click here for the recipe!
It is cloudy and rainy in Doha. I am told it is a mirage, as it is so rare, once in a while people have common prayers for rain. Oddly this rain and darkness is just the right mirage to set off my Christmas- or winter mood. I just love it when I am sitting under my soft white blanket, burning a vanilla scented candle and dipping some deliciously winter flavored (this definitely does exists) biscotti into my hot cocoa.
These biscotti (it is plural so I am hesitant to say biscottis) are 100% grain-, gluten- and dairy free, which makes it very healthy and consumable for many with food allergies. These babies are made with almond meal, warm spices, dried apricots and honey-roasted almonds. They are a huge fav on my Hungarian blog, and I hope they will keep their well-earned reputation here too. Enjoy!
Click here for the recipe!
1 Ocak 2013 Salı
Diversions And Delusions (There Be Wool: Knitters Unite . . . And Colbert's Feet to Benefit)
To contact us Click HERE
It's officially summer. I'm officially ready for winter. So much so that I've begun my "winter knitting"--starting first with a beautiful cowl (the Honey cowl) in Kelly Green--for obvious reasons this color speaks to me. I love, love, love knitting this cowl. The textured pattern is both squishy and fluid--better yet--I can practically manage working it with my eyes closed. It's a simple and brilliant design. Who knew that a mere "wyif" and "p1" combination could create such a wonderful little experience. It does. It has.
Evenings I've been curled up in a chair sitting next to Dr. Thyme watching the entire two seasons of Downton Abbey with the honey cowl work in my lap. So happy. So content. We both loved DA. I've never considered myself a Masterpiece gal. Today, I would classify myself in "groupie" status. We are now working our way through another outstanding Masterpiece PBS/BBC production: Sherlock. Whoa. LOVE. IT. Who is that guy? He's perfect as Sherlock.
One night DH asked, "Are you going to work on my Christmas sweater, too?" To which I replied, "Seriously?" Of course my selfish knitting takes priority over ALL well-intended knitted gifts. I felt a pang of guilt over the matter. But this quickly passed.
And now, onto knitting. And some news of the very strange and absurd.
For those unaware, the art of knitting is under scrutiny. Big story. Big news. First a disclaimer. I am not an Olympic athlete. Nor do I pretend to be one when I knit. However, if you would like to spend a few minutes laughing yourself silly, might I direct you to the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard: Gawker covers this quite well. As does Mason-Dixon Knitting. At first when I read the Olympic Committee (yes, with capital letters, so you know this is for real) has taken umbrage with Ravelry and its many Ravelympic shenanigans (of the afghan, mitten, sock, hat, scarf, cardigan, and sweater sort)--I thought this was a very funny and clever joke. What better way to get a knitter's attention than to create a scandal! I love a good scandal, don't you? Sadly, this is real. The OC apparently finds our knitting "denigrates" the Olympics. For those knitters who have the the gall to knit while watching the Olympic games and partake in such groups via Ravelry . . . be aware, be very aware. You are now colluding. And as such, may find yourself in . . . well, in "violation." Please someone tell me this is not really happening. Please. I want to know when the jig is up. In the off chance this whole thing is REAL, (and my fear is that the letter and all its lawyer speak are), I will humbly submit to finally learning to knit real socks. Not the kind that are knit with two different colors of yarn on one needle so I can tell the difference, but honest-to-goodness, wearable socks. For humans. For maybe even Stephen Colbert. But I think knitting some for my husband would have to come first (right after I finish the man-sweater), then socks for Colbert. **UPDATE: The Olympic Committee has since issued an apology. Twice. If THAT doesn't tell you something about the power of knitting folk, well, I don't know what does. I still think I'd like to knit a pair of wearable socks. 
On a completely unrelated venture. We have this little groundhog residing in the back yard. He's the most adorable little thing I have ever seen. I spotted him out back before he had spotted me (they are quite skittish) and quickly but ever-so-quietly ran back inside for my camera. I call him a badger. They can be destructive little critters. But cute beyond words just the same. And as you can see, he is on the "outside" of the veggie patch. 
Here is the latest veggie patch update. It's bone dry out there. I don't water everyday. I try to stick to the rule--an inch of water per week. I want to encourage deep roots on the plants vs. shallow. But the parched ground and lack of water here is stressing everything. I feel sorry for the trees. We had such a beautiful spring. And now. . . this. I have tomatoes on nearly all my tomato plants. No blight or foliage diseases have appeared. . . yet. I attribute this miracle to the fact that the rain we so desperately need has kept nasty airborne mold spores from attacking my plants. While I am very concerned over the lack of rain we've had here (especially given that most annoying of holidays is approaching)--I'm grateful to have such healthy and disease-free plants at this stage of the game. There be rabbits. . . big time. So it looks like, "No Beans For Me". I refuse to stress out over this. They've gotta eat--if I were a rabbit, I'd eat my garden, too.
Veggie patch number two. Corn is up. Kale is up. (I've been juicing in the afternoons: two kale leaves, three carrots, an apple, some dates, celery and grapes--it's a delicious pick-me-up.) Other parts of the patch are "dormant" for now. I ripped up my pea vines last weekend and used my fresh peas in a curry. They were so tasty. I plan to plant a fall crop of peas--when the weather cools. A pain in the neck to shell--all one hundred or so of them, but totally worth it in the end. So while this little garden strip appears to be somewhat "bare" and pretty stark looking--every good gardener knows--you leave spaces open for the "next" crops. Just not sure what exactly that will be yet. This was a garden I had all tomatoes in last year. I rotated the tomatoes to the new beds and gave this one a tomato "break". It works wonders for the soil.
I have to share my pasta endeavor. This weekend I made homemade pasta and TRIED my hand at shaping tortellini. This is the result. Okay, so I won't be heading to Italy any time soon. But still. These were quite good. Here's what I did: I poured a cup of Bob's Red Mill Semolina flour on the kitchen counter, added 1/3 cup of water and a tablespoon of EVOO, and a pinch of salt, then dove in with my hands. No bowls. No food processor. So easy. After the dough came together into a nice little round ball (I sprinkled a bit of water over it as I kneaded the dough)--after all the stickiness subsided, I set the dough in an oiled bowl to rest for and hour, then got my pasta roller out and had a blast. The pasta was perfect. We LOVED it! I am getting quite good at homemade pasta if I don't say so myself.
And one last thing, because I really have been busy and never really know how or when to "edit" myself on my posts (I guess if you're a regular "visitor", you've figured that out by now).
My reading diversions are many. My Kindle seems to be attracting more and more books--our library just began offering e-book lending. More for my Kindle! I am nearly finished reading, "A Widow's Story" by Joyce Carol Oates. Loved this book. Loved. It. JCO, as she refers to herself, is by far one of my favorite authors. Ever. I've read nearly all her books. Blonde and The Falls--two of my most favorite books ever. This book, however, is a memoir about the sudden loss of her husband, Ray, and the ensuing days, weeks and months after dealing with the trauma of the event, coping with the grief, the solitude and the onslaught of well-intended acts of support with which she must contend. While JCO does share some darker moments of surviving after the loss of her husband--of navigating the friends, flowers (which will perhaps give you pause the next time you decide to send "flowers" to someone grieving), and many-sleepless nights, she also brilliantly and gracefully lets us into her soul. I felt privileged to read this and better for having done so.
And one other book I am heading into next right after the JCO memoir is a newbie: Bowling Avenue by Ann Shayne. You might know her from the Mason-Dixon Knitting blog. Bowling Avenue is Ann's new book. I have been reading Kay and Ann's blog for a l-o-n-g time. I love their blog. They've inspired many-a-knittin'-project in this house. As a fan of their blog, I thought it perfectly sensible I'd love Ann's new book. I read the first chapter as a sample and right away was hooked. If you go to Ann's page, you'll find a link there. I am always happy to help a knitting sister out. And, better yet, a writer-knitter sister.
Meanwhile, let the sock lessons begin. Any tips from fellow knitters--experts in all things socks--I'd totally welcome.
Evenings I've been curled up in a chair sitting next to Dr. Thyme watching the entire two seasons of Downton Abbey with the honey cowl work in my lap. So happy. So content. We both loved DA. I've never considered myself a Masterpiece gal. Today, I would classify myself in "groupie" status. We are now working our way through another outstanding Masterpiece PBS/BBC production: Sherlock. Whoa. LOVE. IT. Who is that guy? He's perfect as Sherlock.
One night DH asked, "Are you going to work on my Christmas sweater, too?" To which I replied, "Seriously?" Of course my selfish knitting takes priority over ALL well-intended knitted gifts. I felt a pang of guilt over the matter. But this quickly passed.
And now, onto knitting. And some news of the very strange and absurd.
For those unaware, the art of knitting is under scrutiny. Big story. Big news. First a disclaimer. I am not an Olympic athlete. Nor do I pretend to be one when I knit. However, if you would like to spend a few minutes laughing yourself silly, might I direct you to the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard: Gawker covers this quite well. As does Mason-Dixon Knitting. At first when I read the Olympic Committee (yes, with capital letters, so you know this is for real) has taken umbrage with Ravelry and its many Ravelympic shenanigans (of the afghan, mitten, sock, hat, scarf, cardigan, and sweater sort)--I thought this was a very funny and clever joke. What better way to get a knitter's attention than to create a scandal! I love a good scandal, don't you? Sadly, this is real. The OC apparently finds our knitting "denigrates" the Olympics. For those knitters who have the the gall to knit while watching the Olympic games and partake in such groups via Ravelry . . . be aware, be very aware. You are now colluding. And as such, may find yourself in . . . well, in "violation." Please someone tell me this is not really happening. Please. I want to know when the jig is up. In the off chance this whole thing is REAL, (and my fear is that the letter and all its lawyer speak are), I will humbly submit to finally learning to knit real socks. Not the kind that are knit with two different colors of yarn on one needle so I can tell the difference, but honest-to-goodness, wearable socks. For humans. For maybe even Stephen Colbert. But I think knitting some for my husband would have to come first (right after I finish the man-sweater), then socks for Colbert. **UPDATE: The Olympic Committee has since issued an apology. Twice. If THAT doesn't tell you something about the power of knitting folk, well, I don't know what does. I still think I'd like to knit a pair of wearable socks. 
On a completely unrelated venture. We have this little groundhog residing in the back yard. He's the most adorable little thing I have ever seen. I spotted him out back before he had spotted me (they are quite skittish) and quickly but ever-so-quietly ran back inside for my camera. I call him a badger. They can be destructive little critters. But cute beyond words just the same. And as you can see, he is on the "outside" of the veggie patch. 
Here is the latest veggie patch update. It's bone dry out there. I don't water everyday. I try to stick to the rule--an inch of water per week. I want to encourage deep roots on the plants vs. shallow. But the parched ground and lack of water here is stressing everything. I feel sorry for the trees. We had such a beautiful spring. And now. . . this. I have tomatoes on nearly all my tomato plants. No blight or foliage diseases have appeared. . . yet. I attribute this miracle to the fact that the rain we so desperately need has kept nasty airborne mold spores from attacking my plants. While I am very concerned over the lack of rain we've had here (especially given that most annoying of holidays is approaching)--I'm grateful to have such healthy and disease-free plants at this stage of the game. There be rabbits. . . big time. So it looks like, "No Beans For Me". I refuse to stress out over this. They've gotta eat--if I were a rabbit, I'd eat my garden, too.
Veggie patch number two. Corn is up. Kale is up. (I've been juicing in the afternoons: two kale leaves, three carrots, an apple, some dates, celery and grapes--it's a delicious pick-me-up.) Other parts of the patch are "dormant" for now. I ripped up my pea vines last weekend and used my fresh peas in a curry. They were so tasty. I plan to plant a fall crop of peas--when the weather cools. A pain in the neck to shell--all one hundred or so of them, but totally worth it in the end. So while this little garden strip appears to be somewhat "bare" and pretty stark looking--every good gardener knows--you leave spaces open for the "next" crops. Just not sure what exactly that will be yet. This was a garden I had all tomatoes in last year. I rotated the tomatoes to the new beds and gave this one a tomato "break". It works wonders for the soil.
I have to share my pasta endeavor. This weekend I made homemade pasta and TRIED my hand at shaping tortellini. This is the result. Okay, so I won't be heading to Italy any time soon. But still. These were quite good. Here's what I did: I poured a cup of Bob's Red Mill Semolina flour on the kitchen counter, added 1/3 cup of water and a tablespoon of EVOO, and a pinch of salt, then dove in with my hands. No bowls. No food processor. So easy. After the dough came together into a nice little round ball (I sprinkled a bit of water over it as I kneaded the dough)--after all the stickiness subsided, I set the dough in an oiled bowl to rest for and hour, then got my pasta roller out and had a blast. The pasta was perfect. We LOVED it! I am getting quite good at homemade pasta if I don't say so myself. And one last thing, because I really have been busy and never really know how or when to "edit" myself on my posts (I guess if you're a regular "visitor", you've figured that out by now).
My reading diversions are many. My Kindle seems to be attracting more and more books--our library just began offering e-book lending. More for my Kindle! I am nearly finished reading, "A Widow's Story" by Joyce Carol Oates. Loved this book. Loved. It. JCO, as she refers to herself, is by far one of my favorite authors. Ever. I've read nearly all her books. Blonde and The Falls--two of my most favorite books ever. This book, however, is a memoir about the sudden loss of her husband, Ray, and the ensuing days, weeks and months after dealing with the trauma of the event, coping with the grief, the solitude and the onslaught of well-intended acts of support with which she must contend. While JCO does share some darker moments of surviving after the loss of her husband--of navigating the friends, flowers (which will perhaps give you pause the next time you decide to send "flowers" to someone grieving), and many-sleepless nights, she also brilliantly and gracefully lets us into her soul. I felt privileged to read this and better for having done so.
And one other book I am heading into next right after the JCO memoir is a newbie: Bowling Avenue by Ann Shayne. You might know her from the Mason-Dixon Knitting blog. Bowling Avenue is Ann's new book. I have been reading Kay and Ann's blog for a l-o-n-g time. I love their blog. They've inspired many-a-knittin'-project in this house. As a fan of their blog, I thought it perfectly sensible I'd love Ann's new book. I read the first chapter as a sample and right away was hooked. If you go to Ann's page, you'll find a link there. I am always happy to help a knitting sister out. And, better yet, a writer-knitter sister.
Meanwhile, let the sock lessons begin. Any tips from fellow knitters--experts in all things socks--I'd totally welcome.
Indian Spiced Quinoa Patties with Farmer's Market Corn Medley (OMG: It's Raining!)
To contact us Click HERE
I wanted to write about these quinoa patties we'd had for over a week now. But the heat had stifled my writerly self to the point of such despair that I'd contemplated shunning "The Blog" for the remainder of the season until my heart and mind could once again muster the strength to put into words food stuff and my ramblings. Then I had that chocolate moment last week and that sort of broke the spell. Thank. God.
We have rain. Finally! And not just a teaser-rain. A real honest-to-goodness gully washer. Deep. Breath. Hubby and I are sitting out in the screened-in porch, and I'm a bit "chilly" so am wearing a sweatshirt! A. Sweatshirt. I am giddy with excitement! Now, I know better than to think this will last. So I pray. . . fall then winter. Fall then winter. My mantra for today and all days from here to eternity.
Action shot: rain.
Action shot: hummingbird. How cool is that? (Okay it only took a hundred and fifty attempts, but still.)
The recipe for this lovely little quinoa patty can be had from one of two places. First from a wonderful new cookbook by a blogger I'd not heard of prior to stumbling across his collection of recipes--in the grocery store of all places: Herbivoracious by Michael Natkin. The book is gorgeous in its own right--photos that are cook-inspiring and real--as he states in the introduction: he took the food photos himself. (Being a blogger and one who deals mostly in foodie things--I totally respect that). The recipes offer a spin on amazing veggie dishes, many an exotic flavor and spice included to tempt you to want to get in the kitchen and COOK! Or you can go to Heidi Swanson's version of the quinoa patties at 101cookbooks. Either recipe will put you on the right track. I gleaned inspiration from both for mine. Ultimately, I settled on frying my patties in my cast iron skillet. More and more, my 10" Lodge skillet is my go-to pan. In fact, were I to be stuck on a deserted island and could only take one thing from my kitchen, I'd grab that cast iron skillet in a nanosecond. (Right after I pocketed some chocolate.)
As for the corn ensemble, you can see for yourself what direction I went with. I had just come from the farmer's market and had six ears of corn. I used two of the ears for this stir-fry of sorts. I relied on cumin, coriander, some turmeric, onions, garlic, scallions, squash, red potatoes, jalapenos, fresh oregano and thyme--all with the intended purpose of pushing the corn dish in the Indian flavor direction as I had with the quinoa patties. It worked beautifully. I then topped it off with some sliced fresh tomatoes from my garden and whisked up a vegan mayo/horseradish/lemon sauce for drizzling over the top. So very yummy.
The forecast is for a return to 100 degree days for the next four days. Hard to believe as I sit here in the cool rain. Typical St. Louis. But grateful nonetheless for the break we've been granted today.
I wanted to write about these quinoa patties we'd had for over a week now. But the heat had stifled my writerly self to the point of such despair that I'd contemplated shunning "The Blog" for the remainder of the season until my heart and mind could once again muster the strength to put into words food stuff and my ramblings. Then I had that chocolate moment last week and that sort of broke the spell. Thank. God.We have rain. Finally! And not just a teaser-rain. A real honest-to-goodness gully washer. Deep. Breath. Hubby and I are sitting out in the screened-in porch, and I'm a bit "chilly" so am wearing a sweatshirt! A. Sweatshirt. I am giddy with excitement! Now, I know better than to think this will last. So I pray. . . fall then winter. Fall then winter. My mantra for today and all days from here to eternity.
Action shot: rain.Action shot: hummingbird. How cool is that? (Okay it only took a hundred and fifty attempts, but still.) The recipe for this lovely little quinoa patty can be had from one of two places. First from a wonderful new cookbook by a blogger I'd not heard of prior to stumbling across his collection of recipes--in the grocery store of all places: Herbivoracious by Michael Natkin. The book is gorgeous in its own right--photos that are cook-inspiring and real--as he states in the introduction: he took the food photos himself. (Being a blogger and one who deals mostly in foodie things--I totally respect that). The recipes offer a spin on amazing veggie dishes, many an exotic flavor and spice included to tempt you to want to get in the kitchen and COOK! Or you can go to Heidi Swanson's version of the quinoa patties at 101cookbooks. Either recipe will put you on the right track. I gleaned inspiration from both for mine. Ultimately, I settled on frying my patties in my cast iron skillet. More and more, my 10" Lodge skillet is my go-to pan. In fact, were I to be stuck on a deserted island and could only take one thing from my kitchen, I'd grab that cast iron skillet in a nanosecond. (Right after I pocketed some chocolate.)
As for the corn ensemble, you can see for yourself what direction I went with. I had just come from the farmer's market and had six ears of corn. I used two of the ears for this stir-fry of sorts. I relied on cumin, coriander, some turmeric, onions, garlic, scallions, squash, red potatoes, jalapenos, fresh oregano and thyme--all with the intended purpose of pushing the corn dish in the Indian flavor direction as I had with the quinoa patties. It worked beautifully. I then topped it off with some sliced fresh tomatoes from my garden and whisked up a vegan mayo/horseradish/lemon sauce for drizzling over the top. So very yummy.
The forecast is for a return to 100 degree days for the next four days. Hard to believe as I sit here in the cool rain. Typical St. Louis. But grateful nonetheless for the break we've been granted today.
I'm a woman, I live in Missouri and I vote. . . Akin
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I've let two days pass. Thank god I live in a country where freedom of speech is granted, but never to be taken for granted.
I was appalled to open the paper and read yesterday's headline in the Post-Dispatch regarding the "legitimate rape" comment. No, let me restate that, I was trembling mad. I re-read the piece twice just to be sure I hadn't missed any detail.
What I cannot come to grips with is this: Republicans can't seem to release themselves from wanting to legislate a woman's body.
Get out of our bodies.
I make no apologies for being a woman. A strong woman. A woman who was always told by her mother to stand up for her rights. Don't ever be afraid. Don't ever allow intimidation influence your opinions. Stand tall.
I was a kid who aspired to be an attorney. In grade school, I took pen to paper to write a letter to President Gerald Ford expressing said hopes and--received a letter back! The local paper ran a column about my letter.
The world I was entering was slowly reckoning with the fact that women were no longer relegated to being second class citizens--submissive "types". My generation would have more choices than any female generation prior.
I don't need to elaborate or dredge up my own personal scars, or explain why I had such a visceral reaction to this unseemly comment. I simply need to vote. And I will. And because we live in a democracy and because other great women before me fought for this right, I will absolutely take the only action I can in the face of this insult.
As of my writing, an apology has been issued.
Apology not accepted.
I was appalled to open the paper and read yesterday's headline in the Post-Dispatch regarding the "legitimate rape" comment. No, let me restate that, I was trembling mad. I re-read the piece twice just to be sure I hadn't missed any detail.
What I cannot come to grips with is this: Republicans can't seem to release themselves from wanting to legislate a woman's body.
Get out of our bodies.
I make no apologies for being a woman. A strong woman. A woman who was always told by her mother to stand up for her rights. Don't ever be afraid. Don't ever allow intimidation influence your opinions. Stand tall.
I was a kid who aspired to be an attorney. In grade school, I took pen to paper to write a letter to President Gerald Ford expressing said hopes and--received a letter back! The local paper ran a column about my letter.
The world I was entering was slowly reckoning with the fact that women were no longer relegated to being second class citizens--submissive "types". My generation would have more choices than any female generation prior.
I don't need to elaborate or dredge up my own personal scars, or explain why I had such a visceral reaction to this unseemly comment. I simply need to vote. And I will. And because we live in a democracy and because other great women before me fought for this right, I will absolutely take the only action I can in the face of this insult.
As of my writing, an apology has been issued.
Apology not accepted.
"So For My Next Act, I'll Limit Women's Rights"
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Really? So went the general direction of the narrative from one side during last night's debate. So much so, I lost sleep over it. Did I just step off of 2012 and step into the 1950s? Pre Roe v. Wade days were dark for women. Very dark. I remember the first "talk" I had with my mother on the subject of my responsibilities and rights as a woman. And it went something like this: Be careful. Be vigilant. And above all else, do not EVER walk into this house unmarried and pregnant. Period. And the story of her being left in an orphanage followed. One may assume given this history lesson, I might have different thoughts on the matter of birth control. One would be wrong to make such an assumption. And my mother would have been the first to tell you why.
I made a conscious decision to not have children. Thus, I took personal responsibility for ensuring I would not become a mother. Thankfully, I did not have to make this decision in a back alley somewhere. I met with our family physician instead. And nothing about my meeting with him was awkward. In adulthood, my option for maintaining my choice to eschew motherhood was never something I imagined might be at risk. It never once occurred to me that, in my lifetime, a movement would be underway to undo my say in this matter.
I have faith in our democracy. I have faith in both the women and men in congress to see that the right to make the choice never gets taken away.We do not live in a Utopian society where adults behave themselves All. The. Time. That's why there are protective measures in place to keep us from harming ourselves, or from harming others. In the ugliest parts of humanity there is an abominable force which causes some stronger types to prey on weaker types. These forces are referred to as rape and incest, and most often occur against women. And at its deepest moral indecency, the "women" may be as young as fourteen. As I've learned over the years this happens to be the age at which young women are most vulnerable to such an assault. I personally know this to be true.
Before any single human being thinks for one moment that they know what's best for women as it relates to "good moral behavior" and sees removing the option of birth control protection for women as prudent, they need first walk a mile in my shoes or a mile in the shoes of any number of young victims of date rape, uncle rape, father rape, neighbor rape and tell them why their birth control options are no longer on the table. Why corporations employing them cannot "in good conscience" provide the medical benefit of simple protection when women know first hand what being a victim feels like. We know first hand "just saying NO" isn't a guarantee of protection. And all this finger pointing, posturing and holier-than-thou, "Goodness gracious, why would a single woman ever allow herself to have a child and NOT be married and able to provide a decent life. . . a good moral life!" stuff is naive at best. Criminal at worst.
I made a conscious decision to not have children. Thus, I took personal responsibility for ensuring I would not become a mother. Thankfully, I did not have to make this decision in a back alley somewhere. I met with our family physician instead. And nothing about my meeting with him was awkward. In adulthood, my option for maintaining my choice to eschew motherhood was never something I imagined might be at risk. It never once occurred to me that, in my lifetime, a movement would be underway to undo my say in this matter.
I have faith in our democracy. I have faith in both the women and men in congress to see that the right to make the choice never gets taken away.We do not live in a Utopian society where adults behave themselves All. The. Time. That's why there are protective measures in place to keep us from harming ourselves, or from harming others. In the ugliest parts of humanity there is an abominable force which causes some stronger types to prey on weaker types. These forces are referred to as rape and incest, and most often occur against women. And at its deepest moral indecency, the "women" may be as young as fourteen. As I've learned over the years this happens to be the age at which young women are most vulnerable to such an assault. I personally know this to be true.
Before any single human being thinks for one moment that they know what's best for women as it relates to "good moral behavior" and sees removing the option of birth control protection for women as prudent, they need first walk a mile in my shoes or a mile in the shoes of any number of young victims of date rape, uncle rape, father rape, neighbor rape and tell them why their birth control options are no longer on the table. Why corporations employing them cannot "in good conscience" provide the medical benefit of simple protection when women know first hand what being a victim feels like. We know first hand "just saying NO" isn't a guarantee of protection. And all this finger pointing, posturing and holier-than-thou, "Goodness gracious, why would a single woman ever allow herself to have a child and NOT be married and able to provide a decent life. . . a good moral life!" stuff is naive at best. Criminal at worst.
Vegan Red Velvet Cookies (My Best Friend: Thirty-Five Years And Counting And Why I'll Drop Everything To Be There)
To contact us Click HERE
The story of this cookie began last week when I received a phone call from my best friend. Sometimes you think life couldn't possibly hand you one more thing. And then it does. The time of the call (early) told me all I needed to know. Something terrible had happened. I'd barely said 'hello', was going down the list: Are the kids okay? Are you okay? Is your mom okay? Dad? Do you have the "C" word. . . what happened?! As it turned out, something horrible had happened. It involved her mother. Which in turn, involved me. Gayle would then travel a thousand miles in one afternoon. I'd see her in six hours. Then we'd travel another two hours to her mom.
This post will be about a bit more than this cookie. It has to. I was drawn to it by way of a tragedy. Like most things involving food and memories, I had to share more than just the food part in telling you about it. Jump to the recipe below if you are so inclined. But I have a story to tell.
During the crisis, Gayle and I were able to steal brief moments away for "nourishment". Which, given the town we were in did not include Whole Foods. I'll refrain from naming said town. Let me just say it is quite southern in nature. Quite. (At least for this girl's Yankee roots.) But I love the drawl and at times can be heard carrying one on myself. It just creeps in.
Were you able to raise her? Translation: Did she answer the phone?
I found myself back where I'd gone to high school. Back in the town where my mother drug my sister and I kicking and screaming. Back to where our mother would take her last breath. Just back. But it was here in this town I met my best friend, some thirty-five years ago.
We settled on The Bread Company (that's what we call it here in St. Louis--because even though the chain has gone "national"--locally, it will always be known as TBC) for lunch during breaks from the hospital. Gayle spotted them first. These cookies. These glorious little packages of red joy. They were the size of dinner plates! I thought I couldn't possibly eat one by myself. Certainly not something under normal circumstances one would eat by oneself. But these were not normal circumstances. We were in major stress mode. Gayle ordered two. Then I ordered mine. There was no sharing. We devoured them.
I cared not whether they were vegan. I was ravenous. We both were. (We both love to bake. Both love to cook.) I said, "I have to veganize these . . . as soon as I get home." On my trip back, I stopped by the store to pick up another cookie to go--one for Dr. Thyme, and for taste testing--just to be sure the food memory stayed with me. He loved them, too. And then I began telling him of all that had happened. The tragedy. The tears. The utter disbelief of it all. Of how fragile and swift life can be. How in one moment, all can be changed. Forever. And it has.Apparently red velvet is making a come back. I couldn't be happier. One of my all time favorite red treats were Hostess Zingers (RIP Hostess). Red cake and coconut and creamy filling. What's not to love? So my partiality to red foods goes waaay back. And if you tsk-tsk the use of red food coloring for your eating pleasure, that's a shame. Because to my mind, it's the red food coloring that gives this cookie--and its cake namesake--an unmistakable yum factor. As for amounts--this cookie does not require a full bottle of red coloring. (The cake does.) I was able to to eek by with only 2 teaspoons. Heavenly. This is my best friend Gayle. We are in the parking lot of the hospital this past weekend. Both of us wanted a picture of the two of us for our phones. We acknowledged that given the stress, crying and "our age", sunglasses were in order. A moment of laughing was good for us. I sent a copy of it to my sister who said, "You guys look exactly like you always do. . . I've seen this picture a hundred times." And it's true.
She and I met at a horse barn where her father and my mother both stabled their horses. I was new to town, as was mom and my sister (who is a bit younger than I). Mom came home one day asking if I'd ever met Gayle. The only people I'd "met" were the neighbors, and kids in my classes (junior high--oh the horror)--and briefly at that because I was still super bitter over being uprooted at such a vulnerable age. (This was to be our mother's third husband. Yes. third. And not her last.) Basically, I hadn't branched out "socially" yet in our new home town. Apparently our mother had. More mentions of Gayle and her dad. Then one day, mom brought me to the stables (I grew up riding horses because our mother had an affinity for them). I finally met Gayle. We agreed to catch up some time at school. And that was all she wrote.
I'm not going to tell you we were attached at the hip. But we were. And as you might imagine in all these years, there have been ups and there have been downs. Moments of sheer joy. Moments of pure hell. Shared celebrations. Shared sorrow. Spans of time without one another. We are both women after all.
When my mom was in the hospital during her last few months, Gayle's mom was, too. I could barely stand watching my mom going through all her "stuff". My sister and I were taking turns nursing to her when we could. My mom adored Gayle. (They shared a kinship of sorts, Gayle was an only child, so was our mother.) When Gayle couldn't stand watching the poking and prodding her mother went through and I couldn't stand my mother's tests (and pain affiliated with them)--we'd switch. I'd go sit with her mom and stand along side for the tests and whatnot, and Gayle went to be with my mom and hang out with my sister. They were in different hospitals. . . at the same exact time. Ultimately, her mother got to leave the hospital. Ours did not.
But that was one of the many too-many-to-count memories. There is her father's role in my life as well. After her parents divorced, he would call for Gayle to visit him--she'd always drag me along. (Okay "drag" may be too strong a word-especially for that trip to Denver.) Then on and on life went with both her mother, her father, her aunts, uncles and usually at some point were Gayle and me. In and out of each other's lives so many times.She called me once and asked if I wanted to go on a vacation together. . . again. I was never much for "traveling" vacations--my jobs in the past required me to be on the road entirely too much. I can't stand hotels to this day. But this time she wanted to do Memphis: Graceland. We did the whole nine yards. Bought the CDs. Bought the Elvis t-shirts. Wept at the grave site. The. Whole. Nine. Yards.We stayed at the Peabody. Yes. We watched the ducks, too.On a much earlier vacation--with her mother and her two children (now grown, both in college and amazing)--we all spent eight days on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. She took this picture of me. We both laughed about how Kennebunkport this looked. We called it "The Postcard from Dahling" shot. (And yes, I had to go brunette at least once in my life. I wanted people to take me more seriously. It was the only time in my life gentlemen stopped holding doors open for me. So I said "screw this" and went back to being a blonde.) She has always had something of an affinity for bikes and things that go varoom-varoom. (She gets that from her father. That's who took this photo.) She owns her own Harley. She will never get me on that damn bike. Okay?
I got home this weekend completely exhausted. I slept for thirteen hours straight. Then woke up and took a nap. I'm still emotionally spent. We all are. There is much to be done. More for Gayle and her family to manage through. I am praying for them all, and I am especially praying for her mom.
I told her over the phone last night that I'd come home determined to make that damn cookie vegan. Baking was a great salve. DH said he couldn't believe I'd even had the energy to bake. But I did. It somehow righted me. I can't wait for Gayle to try them. And my sister--who will be here in a few short weeks! Dr. Thyme gave them a big thumbs up. Gayle told me she went back for more cookies, took one up to the hospital yesterday and gave it to her mom. The nurses busted her. Hard to hide a giant red cookie in the sterile white backdrop of a hospital! But her mom loved them.
Vegan Red Velvet Cookies*Adapted from Great Cookies by Carole Waltermakes appx. 24 cookies
6 tablespoons unsalted vegetable margarine (at room temperature)6 tablespoons vegetable shortening (at room temperature)3/4 cup sugar1/4 cup molasses2 teaspoons red food coloring1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (*use the scoop and sweep method of measuring the flours)3/4 cup white whole wheat flour2 tablespoons baking cocoa (*I used Ghiradelli) 1 teaspoon baking soda1/4 teaspoon salt1 1/2 teaspoon Ener-G Egg Replacer mixed with 3 tablespoons water1/3 cup chopped pecans1/3 cup white chocolate chipsextra granulated sugar for rolling cookiesextra powdered sugar for rolling cookies
Preheat oven to 350. Line two cookies sheets with parchment paper. Place about 1/4 granulated sugar in a small bowl, and next to it, 1/4 cup powdered sugar. Set aside. In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until smooth. Add the molasses, egg replacer and then red food coloring. Mix until well blended. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flours, baking soda, salt and chocolate baking cocoa. Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet (in thirds)--mixing just until the dough begins to form clumps. Fold in the pecans and white chocolate chips. If the dough won't form a solid dough ball, add a teaspoon more water. Take a tablespoon of dough and roll it in the palm of your hands to form a small ball. Roll the ball in the granulated sugar first, then the powdered sugar. Place on cookie sheets spaced about 2 inches apart. Bake for 13 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool on trays for about three minutes, then remove to cookie rack to cool completely. Store in freezer for about two weeks. Or store in an airtight container for a week.
The story of this cookie began last week when I received a phone call from my best friend. Sometimes you think life couldn't possibly hand you one more thing. And then it does. The time of the call (early) told me all I needed to know. Something terrible had happened. I'd barely said 'hello', was going down the list: Are the kids okay? Are you okay? Is your mom okay? Dad? Do you have the "C" word. . . what happened?! As it turned out, something horrible had happened. It involved her mother. Which in turn, involved me. Gayle would then travel a thousand miles in one afternoon. I'd see her in six hours. Then we'd travel another two hours to her mom.This post will be about a bit more than this cookie. It has to. I was drawn to it by way of a tragedy. Like most things involving food and memories, I had to share more than just the food part in telling you about it. Jump to the recipe below if you are so inclined. But I have a story to tell.
During the crisis, Gayle and I were able to steal brief moments away for "nourishment". Which, given the town we were in did not include Whole Foods. I'll refrain from naming said town. Let me just say it is quite southern in nature. Quite. (At least for this girl's Yankee roots.) But I love the drawl and at times can be heard carrying one on myself. It just creeps in.
Were you able to raise her? Translation: Did she answer the phone?
I found myself back where I'd gone to high school. Back in the town where my mother drug my sister and I kicking and screaming. Back to where our mother would take her last breath. Just back. But it was here in this town I met my best friend, some thirty-five years ago.
We settled on The Bread Company (that's what we call it here in St. Louis--because even though the chain has gone "national"--locally, it will always be known as TBC) for lunch during breaks from the hospital. Gayle spotted them first. These cookies. These glorious little packages of red joy. They were the size of dinner plates! I thought I couldn't possibly eat one by myself. Certainly not something under normal circumstances one would eat by oneself. But these were not normal circumstances. We were in major stress mode. Gayle ordered two. Then I ordered mine. There was no sharing. We devoured them.
I cared not whether they were vegan. I was ravenous. We both were. (We both love to bake. Both love to cook.) I said, "I have to veganize these . . . as soon as I get home." On my trip back, I stopped by the store to pick up another cookie to go--one for Dr. Thyme, and for taste testing--just to be sure the food memory stayed with me. He loved them, too. And then I began telling him of all that had happened. The tragedy. The tears. The utter disbelief of it all. Of how fragile and swift life can be. How in one moment, all can be changed. Forever. And it has.
Apparently red velvet is making a come back. I couldn't be happier. One of my all time favorite red treats were Hostess Zingers (RIP Hostess). Red cake and coconut and creamy filling. What's not to love? So my partiality to red foods goes waaay back. And if you tsk-tsk the use of red food coloring for your eating pleasure, that's a shame. Because to my mind, it's the red food coloring that gives this cookie--and its cake namesake--an unmistakable yum factor. As for amounts--this cookie does not require a full bottle of red coloring. (The cake does.) I was able to to eek by with only 2 teaspoons. Heavenly. This is my best friend Gayle. We are in the parking lot of the hospital this past weekend. Both of us wanted a picture of the two of us for our phones. We acknowledged that given the stress, crying and "our age", sunglasses were in order. A moment of laughing was good for us. I sent a copy of it to my sister who said, "You guys look exactly like you always do. . . I've seen this picture a hundred times." And it's true. She and I met at a horse barn where her father and my mother both stabled their horses. I was new to town, as was mom and my sister (who is a bit younger than I). Mom came home one day asking if I'd ever met Gayle. The only people I'd "met" were the neighbors, and kids in my classes (junior high--oh the horror)--and briefly at that because I was still super bitter over being uprooted at such a vulnerable age. (This was to be our mother's third husband. Yes. third. And not her last.) Basically, I hadn't branched out "socially" yet in our new home town. Apparently our mother had. More mentions of Gayle and her dad. Then one day, mom brought me to the stables (I grew up riding horses because our mother had an affinity for them). I finally met Gayle. We agreed to catch up some time at school. And that was all she wrote.
I'm not going to tell you we were attached at the hip. But we were. And as you might imagine in all these years, there have been ups and there have been downs. Moments of sheer joy. Moments of pure hell. Shared celebrations. Shared sorrow. Spans of time without one another. We are both women after all.
When my mom was in the hospital during her last few months, Gayle's mom was, too. I could barely stand watching my mom going through all her "stuff". My sister and I were taking turns nursing to her when we could. My mom adored Gayle. (They shared a kinship of sorts, Gayle was an only child, so was our mother.) When Gayle couldn't stand watching the poking and prodding her mother went through and I couldn't stand my mother's tests (and pain affiliated with them)--we'd switch. I'd go sit with her mom and stand along side for the tests and whatnot, and Gayle went to be with my mom and hang out with my sister. They were in different hospitals. . . at the same exact time. Ultimately, her mother got to leave the hospital. Ours did not.
But that was one of the many too-many-to-count memories. There is her father's role in my life as well. After her parents divorced, he would call for Gayle to visit him--she'd always drag me along. (Okay "drag" may be too strong a word-especially for that trip to Denver.) Then on and on life went with both her mother, her father, her aunts, uncles and usually at some point were Gayle and me. In and out of each other's lives so many times.
She called me once and asked if I wanted to go on a vacation together. . . again. I was never much for "traveling" vacations--my jobs in the past required me to be on the road entirely too much. I can't stand hotels to this day. But this time she wanted to do Memphis: Graceland. We did the whole nine yards. Bought the CDs. Bought the Elvis t-shirts. Wept at the grave site. The. Whole. Nine. Yards.We stayed at the Peabody. Yes. We watched the ducks, too.On a much earlier vacation--with her mother and her two children (now grown, both in college and amazing)--we all spent eight days on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. She took this picture of me. We both laughed about how Kennebunkport this looked. We called it "The Postcard from Dahling" shot. (And yes, I had to go brunette at least once in my life. I wanted people to take me more seriously. It was the only time in my life gentlemen stopped holding doors open for me. So I said "screw this" and went back to being a blonde.) She has always had something of an affinity for bikes and things that go varoom-varoom. (She gets that from her father. That's who took this photo.) She owns her own Harley. She will never get me on that damn bike. Okay?I got home this weekend completely exhausted. I slept for thirteen hours straight. Then woke up and took a nap. I'm still emotionally spent. We all are. There is much to be done. More for Gayle and her family to manage through. I am praying for them all, and I am especially praying for her mom.
I told her over the phone last night that I'd come home determined to make that damn cookie vegan. Baking was a great salve. DH said he couldn't believe I'd even had the energy to bake. But I did. It somehow righted me. I can't wait for Gayle to try them. And my sister--who will be here in a few short weeks! Dr. Thyme gave them a big thumbs up. Gayle told me she went back for more cookies, took one up to the hospital yesterday and gave it to her mom. The nurses busted her. Hard to hide a giant red cookie in the sterile white backdrop of a hospital! But her mom loved them.
Vegan Red Velvet Cookies*Adapted from Great Cookies by Carole Waltermakes appx. 24 cookies
6 tablespoons unsalted vegetable margarine (at room temperature)6 tablespoons vegetable shortening (at room temperature)3/4 cup sugar1/4 cup molasses2 teaspoons red food coloring1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (*use the scoop and sweep method of measuring the flours)3/4 cup white whole wheat flour2 tablespoons baking cocoa (*I used Ghiradelli) 1 teaspoon baking soda1/4 teaspoon salt1 1/2 teaspoon Ener-G Egg Replacer mixed with 3 tablespoons water1/3 cup chopped pecans1/3 cup white chocolate chipsextra granulated sugar for rolling cookiesextra powdered sugar for rolling cookies
Preheat oven to 350. Line two cookies sheets with parchment paper. Place about 1/4 granulated sugar in a small bowl, and next to it, 1/4 cup powdered sugar. Set aside. In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until smooth. Add the molasses, egg replacer and then red food coloring. Mix until well blended. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flours, baking soda, salt and chocolate baking cocoa. Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet (in thirds)--mixing just until the dough begins to form clumps. Fold in the pecans and white chocolate chips. If the dough won't form a solid dough ball, add a teaspoon more water. Take a tablespoon of dough and roll it in the palm of your hands to form a small ball. Roll the ball in the granulated sugar first, then the powdered sugar. Place on cookie sheets spaced about 2 inches apart. Bake for 13 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool on trays for about three minutes, then remove to cookie rack to cool completely. Store in freezer for about two weeks. Or store in an airtight container for a week.
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