10 February 2013
04 February 2013
No doubt cake is good enough on its own. Cake needs no extra meaning or purpose. But I entertain myself trying to think of the ideal cake for the person, the occasion, and the message behind it. Like when we went to visit our friends J&J and their newborn baby Hazel. The cake had hazelnuts: because she is Hazel. Oregon Pears: for lasting friendship. Lemon zest: for good health. A small size to match her small size. A round shape to symbolize the cyclical nature of life. The perfect cake for a perfect little girl. Of course, I didn't think of it until after we met Hazel, so we ate it as Super Bowl cake instead.
28 January 2013
Sledding, you say? A little fresh air and some snow up my nose? Don't mind if I do! After a fabulous day yesterday of frolicking on the mountain, I am thinking of many happy snow adventures from my childhood: digging tunnels, making angels, and careening down the hillsides on our family toboggan. I remember waking up early on ski days, pulling on several layers of winter garb, piling into the wagon where the smell of Thermos coffee would carry us all the way to the slopes.
Now here I am with my daughter at the beginning of her own snow days. Last year she was just a bubbly baby and we would scooch her into the snow for a picture and the day was done. But now, now! She is ready to discover. Ready to play. She is not sure yet what to make of the cold, the wet, the excess clothing, but she sees the delight in all of us around her and she is ready to be delighted too. And what can add to our day? Homemade. nutmeg. scones. What a lovely feeling to offer up to your child the things that you love so much yourself.
23 January 2013
Maybe there are people out there who have an aversion bread, but they are not me. There's something special about a baked good and there's something about a baked good that makes me feel special. It is comfort that I can hold in my hand. And today I apparently needed a little cheer because I may have eaten this entire loaf. By myself.
20 January 2013
My daughter is one and a half. She is into babies and dogs and sign language and right now all she wants to do are the dishes. She drags her high chair across the room to the sink and climbs up to hold a cup, a spoon, a bowl under the water. She does this for hours. Seriously: hours. Maybe she watched too much Downton Abbey in her infancy.
While she works as scullion, I can focus on my baking. I wanted to say "focus on my breaducation," but I wouldn't do that to you. Our newfound friendship is too special to me to devalue it with silly wordplay. Anyway, I like to bake. Mostly cakes, but also breads. I prefer recipes that emphasize fruits or nuts or vegetables instead of sugar and frosting.
Today I made banana bread. There was dark rum involved and vanilla. And blueberries. And brown sugar. I don't know if there are rules about adding too many flavors to your breads, but I care not about breaking a rule or two if the end result is pleasant. And it was. And I baked it in a bundt pan because that's how I roll. Get it? Roll?