Garlic Potato Soup

 A few weeks ago, I made the eight-hour trek to my Alma Mater to spend a weekend with my college roommate, Amber. It's a weird thing, you know, stepping back in time. You think it's all going to be like it was before. Memories flood your mind as you walk the sidewalks that you walked thousands of times before, in another life. You see people and hear laughter that isn't there anymore. You attend a lecture, or see a professor and turn to the person next to you with an inside joke, but that person isn't there. You have this vague sense of being so familiar with a place, and yet no longer belonging. Attending a concert, walking through your department's building or making disparaging comments about the cafeteria are lonely affairs when the people that you shared those experiences with are no longer there.

Beef Hand Pies

Pot Roast is one of my favorite meals, but I always struggle with what to do with the leftovers. Redeeming leftovers so that cries of excitement greet your ears rather than groans of dread is always a challenge. Beef Orzo Stew or hash are always good options, but sometimes I get rather tired of reinventing my reinventions.

How To Make Cucumber Sandwiches

My dad grew up with a garden. Not a small patch of summer veggies, but a garden, that was bigger than a lot of the lawns here in Philadelphia. Delicate rows of peas and beans. Monstrous heads of cabbage and cauliflower. Tomatoes. Long, twisting vines of squash, pumpkin and cucumber with bright yellow flowers. The potatoes had a patch all to themselves.

And sweet peas. My Grammy always had sweet peas. 

Blueberry Pie

When I was a kid, going up to Maine to see my grandparents always involved food. Cucumbers straight from the garden doused with vinegar and seasoned with salt and pepper, molasses crinkles that dissolved into aromatic hints of spices in your mouth, dill pickles that Grammy and Grandpa had canned themselves ("146 quarts this year") and pies upon pies upon pies. Apple. Strawberry. Chocolate. Pumpkin. Mincemeat. Pecan. And Blueberry.

Ah, Blueberries. Just the very word makes my mouth water and sends memories flashing into my mind, each crowding the other for a prominent position. I would assume that in most homes blueberries are enjoyed a few times a year and then forgotten as the members move on to other foods and other seasons. But in my family, blueberries have a status equivalent to gold.

Pink Dressing

The air hangs thick in the summer. Cheerful bright mornings quickly dissolve into the oppressiveness of a muggy afternoon. The dog-days of summer sap the energy and strength from you, causing early-morning goals to remain stranded on your to-do list. Especially goals involving standing over a hot stove or leaving the oven on for hours at a time. The heavy humidity and laid-back feel of summer beg for the refreshing ease of a green salad.

Joei's Pasta Salad

Hot, summer days come with their own special fare. Many Americans spend these lazy, dog days grilling stacks of hamburgers, hot dogs or even steak, if they feel like splurging. Tables are laden with large tubs of juicy watermelon slices, piles of sweet corn-on-the-cob and various condiments. Anything cold, easy, or grilled makes the menu to ease the pain of cooking in the sweltering heat. Often a flag cake or other sweet treat graces the end of the table, a promise of something heavenly to top off already-bulging stomachs.

Birthday Pie (Strawberry)

Birthdays are always very nostalgic for me. I think of all of the things my family did to make my birthday special. Swedish pancakes for breakfast cards from dad with tally marks representing each year of my life, bringing out the "special plate" for the occasion, that surprise, kept-for-later present mom would pull out after all the other presents had been opened, and of course strawberry pie.

Most people have cake for their birthdays...and cakes are great, but when your birthday is smack-dab, right-in-the-middle of strawberry season, it's hard to pass up the opportunity to whip up a pie. Yesterday being my 25th birthday, I decided it was high time I tried to make a strawberry pie.

Early Morning Bread

It's the perfect morning to bake bread.

The high heat and humidity of the past few listless days is over and there is a fresh breeze coming through the open windows.

My yellow and white striped curtains are dancing with happy pleasure.

The robins are calling cheerily to each other amidst the canopy of verdant sycamores.

And my bread is steadily rising, basking in the early morning light. 

Penne in a Garlic-Cream Sauce

You can look in my fridge at any point in time and find cream. If cream is missing from my fridge, then you can find me making a quick trip to ShopRite to pick some up. Cream is about as essential to my fridge as milk is to anyone else's.

If I was on a desert island and could bring along one ingredient, I'd bring cream. Yes, I would.

Cream Puffs

Cream Puffs are one of those pastries that you look for at every dessert table. As you stand in line, peeking anxiously over the five shoulders in front of you, your eyes scan the table feverishly for those little puffs. There's the Cheesecake, in three different flavors. And then the chocolate-covered strawberries. The pink, frothy punch hails you from the end of the table. But where are the cream puffs and eclairs? Ah yes, a feeling of relief washes over you. There they are, squeezed in between the brownies and dirt pudding. And then you wait impatiently, smiling distractedly at those who pass by and give a word of greeting, until it's your turn to pile those scrumptious treats upon your dish. Don't these people know you're only here for the dessert?

Chicken Parmesan Roll-Ups

You know the sounds of a good meal. Cutlery clinking against porcelain plates. The thoughtful chewing of the first bite and the delighted sounds of a satisfied palate. For the interested cook, this melody is all that is needed to affirm the success of the meal.

Flopovers

I arose this morning, groggy-eyed, but excited about a yummy breakfast treat for Sunday morning. I was going to make popovers. It's a modest bread, requiring simple ingredients: flour, milk, eggs, butter and salt. Things seemed to be going well until I peeked into the oven to glimpse at what I hoped would be five golden balloons.

Popovers are supposed to overflow the pan in a giant, crusty-brown bubble. Their batter is supposed to double in volume, rising out of the pan to create that beautiful, hot-air balloon shape. Biting into a popover is supposed to reveal a surprise...there is nothing inside. Popovers are supposed to be an airy shell with a delicious eggy taste.

Supposed to. 

Mine didn't rise at all. 

There is no surprise inside. 

They look like hockey pucks. 

My popovers are a flop. 

Make-Ahead Cinnamon Rolls

Sundays are special. Not because I don't work on Sundays. Not because I get to spend time with my friends. And not necessarily because we go to church. No, Sundays are special because it is a day of rest. A day to stop, to turn from my independent, busy self and remember my needy, dependent self. A day to celebrate with the rest of the Adopted, that I have been given glorious, new life. A day to remember that the old has gone and the new has come, that my Savior has rescued and restored me.

This is why Sundays are special. I get to celebrate the Gospel with my brothers and sisters.

Easy Chocolate Pudding

My mom used to make boxed, chocolate pudding when I was a little girl. I can remember many times waiting for a fresh batch to cool. Most times we were too impatient to wait the four hours it took to really chill the pudding and we ended up eating it warm instead, blowing on steaming spoonfuls and sucking in air quickly when the too-hot pudding hit our tongues.

Whole Wheat Bread

The smell of baking bread is so enticing. It drifts through your home, inviting you to breathe deeply of its earthy scent. It beckons you to wander into the kitchen and tempts you to open the oven door to peek at its golden domes. After it's done baking, the bread sits smugly on your counter, nearly driving you crazy with its heady scent. You wait impatiently for it to cool, so you can slather a piece with creamy butter and enjoy its savory chew. Sometimes a bread is delicious enough for you to forsake the modern convenience of store-bought bread and decide to go back to the days of your pioneering forefathers where bread was baked fresh every Monday.

Oat Scones

It's been a blizzardy day. One of those days where the snow falls fast and thick, coming down at an alarming rate. One of those days where a glance out the window reveals huge, cotton-like flakes swirling from the heavens. The best thing to do on a day like today is to bake. Then you can sit by the window with your cozy throw in your lap and a deliciously warm treat in your hand. And you can laugh at the weather. The snow may pile, the wind may howl, the vehicles may disappear in an embankment of white, but you will stay comfortably snug and happy as you nibble on a homemade confection.

Scoop-and-Bake Dinner Rolls

I love dinner rolls. Hot from the oven, their soft-but-chewy texture and yeasty taste are sure to please. However, the hours of waiting for dough to rise followed by more waiting for rolls to rise is often too much for my busy schedule.

Aunt Jane's Peanut Butter Cake

Over Christmas, we went to be with my parents and sister in the home I grew up in. A hoar frost had just come through and as we climbed higher and higher into the hills, the scenery became increasingly frosted and white. It was so still and blazingly white, it seemed as if any breath of wind would shatter the landscape to pieces. Snow coated every tree and laced every branch. The road was simply a pathway of pure white, embanked with mounds of delightful, frozen stuff. I, of course, became increasingly excited as we rounded the corner and my childhood home came into view. I couldn't wait to see my family, to make delicious desserts together and to sit by the fire and laugh at the white weather falling outside.