Cutout Cookies, a Valentine's Tradition

There's a small, oak table in my kitchen. It's round and only seats four without additional leaves. It has carved legs and drop leaves on either side. One of these drop leaves is warped slightly upward, a sign of passing time and use. It makes this satisfying click when you pull up the leaf, as the metal locking mechanism slides into place. My kids sit at it to eat breakfast, or do school-work or watch me cook. 

But it used to be my great-grandparent's table. My mother's mother's mother used to have it in her kitchen, where she fed family and guests. A life lived around it. She died of Alzheimer's when I was young, a disease that ripped away her dignity and function. And the table became my mother's. 

Peanut Butter Icing

When the candles have been blown out, and the birthday song has been sung, the cake that my mother-in-law invariably cuts into is chocolate with peanut butter icing. Before meeting my husband, I had never had peanut butter icing, so I didn't know the deliciousness that awaited me as I sat at his family's kitchen table, casually extending my waiting plate. As I happily consumed my first slathered piece, and eyed up another, I understood why this cake had become a family favorite. Soft and billowy, with a subtle richness, the icing mingles with deep chocolate flavor, creating a marriage of flavors reminiscent of a peanut butter cup.

My husband kindly had another birthday this week. Kinder still, he requested his family's old stand-by. And as we polished off the last two pieces, I couldn't help but be thankful for family traditions. 

Carrot Cake

Is there an unspoken rule among children that they don't have to eat their dinner? Do they look knowingly across the table at one another, winking behind mom and dad's back before opening their mouths in a plaintive wail that can be heard three blocks away? Do they think it clever to play the "I'm full" card right before begging loudly for adult-sized bowls of ice cream? Sauce-soaked noodles  languish and turn cold, pushed around the plate with straggling bits of broccoli. Food they cannot possibly eat, you know. That is, until dessert is brought out. 

And then, all of the sudden, everyone has loads of room for cake. 

Sweet 'N Salties

I was fortunate enough, in college, to room with a kind, laid-back girl who was also a choco-holic. Even more fortunate, her family lived only twenty minutes from campus and she regularly came back to the dorm with treats to snack on. And better yet, sometimes we'd leave the cinder-block walls and same-old cafeteria food for the warm, inviting home of Papa and Momma J. 

And that's where I learned of these delicious, snackable "cookies." A pretzel bottom acts as a platform to hold the good stuff -- chocolate. It's the perfect mix of sweet and salty, all in one bite. They are seriously addicting. And while you probably shouldn't be passing these out to all those chubby-faced jack-o'lanterns and fairies tomorrow night (being "homemade" and all), surely it wouldn't hurt to have a bowl nearby to snack on yourself. Because if there's one thing Momma J. taught me, it's to always have chocolate on-hand. 

Lemon Bars

A cicada's loud rasp on the branch above, startles as it zips to nearby branch. Dappled sunlight plays capriciously on the brow of my little one, appearing and disappearing through maple leaves. Breeze riffles through fern-fingers and bent-over grasses and our chestnut hair. Splish-splashes of water, carefully poured from the spout of silver watering can, feeding thirsty thyme and spiraea. Snack-break for all. Little bars of sunshine, powdered in white, on the windowsill. Teeth sink in, through bright curd and buttery shortbread. A pungent tartness smarts slightly on the tongue. Big, dark eyes inquire for more. We both reach for another. A perfect day. 

Chocolate Pie

I'm not sure when my love of chocolate began. Perhaps it was when I began stealthily sneaking chocolate chips from the cupboard. Or maybe when my mom made chocolate pudding and we'd eat it hot out of the pot, burning our tongues, both unable to wait for it to cool. Or maybe it began when she made chocolate fudge and we'd scrape the leftovers from the pot with a tablespoon. But most certainly chocolate pie had something to do with my love of chocolate. 

It's a pie that my mom has made my whole life, a recipe her mother-in-law gave her. A homemade crust lining a glass pie plate, is poked with a fork and baked until just beginning to turn golden. The filling, a rich chocolate pudding is whipped up on the stove, turning thick as the cornstarch does its work. Later, some cream is whipped before the whole thing is assembled. Pudding into crust. Whipped cream atop the pudding. It's a beautiful medley of crunch, richness and sweetness. And the perfect dessert for the chocolate lover.

Strawberries for Strawberry Shortcake

Strawberry season always takes me by surprise in Pennsylvania. In central New York, where I grew up, the growing season is quite a bit later due to the area's reluctance to let go of winter. Berry season always started right around my birthday, toward the end of June, meaning that I almost always got a strawberry pie on my birthday instead of cake. But here in Philly, the season is on its way out the door by the time my special day rolls around and I almost always am scrambling to get to the berry patch in time to get my ten quarts of scarlet red fruit.  This year was no exception and we planned a quick trip to Lancaster to get the last bits of this year's bounty.

How-To: Pie Crust

I've been watching my mom make pie crust ever since I was a little girl. Cutting the fat into the flour, adding ice cold water, stirring with a fork. I would sit at the island and watch the rhythm of her arms rolling out the dough, always from the center outward. She transformed it from a squat disk into a beautiful sheet of thin pastry. It's an art that is best learned by watching and doing together, an old hand guiding yours as you learn the feel of the dough. My mom learned from her mother-in-law, my Grammy, who has made countless pies in her century of life. My mom taught my sister, who then taught me on a weekend of sister fun. 

Jack helps me sometimes, measuring flour or stirring the fork. Someday Emma will help too. Passing on the family tradition, over a century old. 

Blueberry Crumble

My Grandpa's GMC truck turns left, off of the smooth pavement and onto a worn gravel road. Grandpa and my Dad are up front, while Mom, Lace and I are somewhat squashed in the small backseat. Lace opens the back window and we stick our heads out, ever on the lookout for a stray moose, craning our necks to see into every bog that flies past or to peer studiously into the mud for fresh tracks. The tires fly over the sandy road, lined with bushy pines, white birch and the orange spray of my favorite wildflower, jewelweed. 

The road narrows and branches scratch mercilessly at the sides of the truck, leaves stripping off as they whip into the open window and then out again. My Grandpa slows way down as we come to a make-shift bridge--maybe two planks laid over a small gully or a culvert that is badly eroded and just barely passable. The truck rocks back and forth as it makes its way over several severe pot-holes, the road pock-marked with the lot of them. 

My Grandpa turns right, left, and then left again. It's a labyrinth of unending gravel road. An unceasing maze of scrub pine and bog. Sometimes we make our way through close forest, the trees hugging the road. Then we break free, into an open area where the trees have been logged off and it's nothing but mountains, rising tall on either side, covered in forest green with the marks of logging etched starkly onto its majestic sides. And once again I'm amazed that my Grandpa remembers how to get there. The place we go every year for berries. 

Magic Cookie Bars

Do you have a go-to recipe? A recipe that you love, that's easy to whip up and keep the ingredients on hand? Something that you can run to the cupboard for when someone comes over unexpectedly, or maybe you have a craving or you need to take a treat to that party? 

Magic Cookie Bars: our family's go-to recipe. My mom would make these on Sunday nights after church. We'd all be roaming the kitchen, opening the fridge multiple times and staring blankly at the contents. Then mom would mention these bars and we'd all perk up and go sit at the island until they came out of the oven. 

I think a similar recipe, with added butterscotch and white chocolate chips, is known as "Seven Layer Bars." However, in my family we call these magic cookie bars, probably because they magically disappear as soon as they are made! 

Broiler Cake

I've been reading a fascinating book recently called "Ratios: The Simple Codes Behind the Craft of Everyday Cooking". It's all about the science behind cooking; that what makes a popover different from a muffin or different from a crepe is just the ratio of flour to fat to sugar to eggs, etc. One of the things I've learned is that a basic sponge cake is not all that different from a pound cake. The ratios are the same (both are equal parts flour, fat, sugar and egg) but the difference lies in the order in which the ingredients are mixed. A pound cake starts by creaming together the eggs and butter while a sponge cake starts by beating the eggs and sugar. These methods give a sponge cake its light, airy texture and a pound cake its denser, richer texture. 

Broiler cake is a sponge cake. You start by beating the sugar into the eggs. This creates millions of tiny air bubbles in the batter which expand in the oven, making your cake rise impressively and leaving it full of tiny air pockets, like a sponge. However, my mom always called it a hot milk cake, due to scalding the milk before adding it. 

What makes this cake so special, beyond the delicious sponge, is the topping. You can use coconut or crushed pineapple, or nuts if you wish. Mixed together with butter, brown sugar and cream, the topping is spread over the hot, just-out-of-the-oven cake and then stuck under the broiler for a few, short minutes. The intense heat of the broiler causes the topping to boil, melting the sugars to create a carmelized crust that is brittle on top, but soft underneath, and punctuated throughout with coconut. 

The effect is wonderful. A sweet, moist cake that is light and airy, covered over in a richly, decadent topping of carmelized coconut. And it's easy to make, to boot. A perfect cake to wow your friends or family, or to just have a piece all to yourself while the kids are napping!

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip (or Raisin) Cookies

When it comes to baked goods, are you into raisins? Or chocolate chips? 

I'm a chocolate chipper, myself. 

I like raisins. Plain, by the hand. But can't say I'm a fan of them in my cookies. Give me ooey-gooey, chocolate any day. 

My mom started making these when I was in high school and they are one of my sister's favorites. They are pleasantly chewy due to the oats and they have just a hint of cinnamon. And the good thing about them is that they please both raisin and chocolate lovers. Just add whichever you prefer. 

Sour Cream Coffeecake

I don't remember ever going to an Easter egg hunt. I'm not sure why. Maybe we did and I just don't remember it. Or maybe it's because we lived way out in the country and there were no community egg hunts nearby. But whatever the reason, don't feel bad for me. I don't feel jipped. 

Because we did get Easter baskets. Easter Sunday would find my mom sneaking quietly into our room to deposit two white, woven baskets, filled to the brim with green, plastic grass hiding all sorts of sugary treats beneath. I know, pretty standard. But the best part of the Easter basket was the gigantic, solid, white chocolate, Easter bunny nestled on top. None of that hollow, milk chocolate variety from the convenience store that tastes slightly of plastic. 

It was so special. And it delighted my little girl's heart. I would save that Easter bunny as long as I possibly could, sneaking a small bite every time I came in my room. Nibbling the ears off first. Then the head and tail. And then bit by bit, the rest of the bunny's solid, chocolatey self would disappear. 

The bunny was the best part of the basket and I would have been seriously offended if my mom had switched out my white chocolate rabbit for a milk chocolate one. Not because I don't like milk chocolate, but because I wanted to be just like my daddy. He always got a mini white chocolate on Easter, not preferring milk chocolate, and so I had to have the same. 

Sugar Cookies or "Manna"

This was one of the first recipes I tried as a newly married woman. I remember my husband taking his first bite. His eyes lit up and he nodded his head vigorously when I asked them if they were good. After consuming the better part of a dozen, he decided they were now one of his favorite cookies. He has called them "manna" ever since. 

Sugar cookies can be quite disappointing. They spread too thin, creating dark brown edges that are too crisp and taste burned. It's hard to get them off the sheet in one piece and often half the cookie, and your patience, is left behind in the process. 

I love this recipe because it creates a delicate cookie that is decidedly soft in the center (as long as you don't overbake). The use of parchment paper geniously keeps the cookies from spreading too thin and from glueing themselves to your cookie sheet. The texture is light and almost cake-like. The cookies are sweet, as sugar cookies should be and go lovely with a tall glass of milk. Maybe not quite "the dew of heaven," but pretty, pretty close!

Peanut Butter Fudge

Some things just never seem to change, especially at Christmastime. Traditions passed down and revisited, season after season. Childhood memories turning into adult ones, as you teach your own children about the things you treasure.

Going to my grandparents in Maine for Christmas was rich in these traditions. The Fraser fir, wired to the wall and decorated with old glass balls, colored lights, and homemade ornaments bearing grandchildren's faces beaming among the branches. The vintage, light-up star, slightly battered, but cheerfully gracing the top of the tree. 

Jam Thumbprints

These cookies always remind me of my sister. She doesn't have much of a sweet tooth (I must have gotten the bulk of that gene) and doesn't care a whole lot for most cakes and cookies. But she loves these jam thumbprints, so called for the indentation you make with your thumb to create a spot for a bit of jam. She makes them every year at Christmas. 

They are dense little cookies, almost like shortbread, encrusted with chopped pecans and ornamented with a lovely spot of bright, red jam. The cookie itself isn't terribly sweet, but the jam gives it that little punch of sugar that balances everything out. 

Devil's Food Cake with Glossy Chocolate Icing

Monday was my little Jack's second birthday. I've decided that I love birthdays. How fun is it to spend a whole day remembering and celebrating the little life that follows you around all year? A year full of learning and growing, making messes and cleaning them up, butting heads and asking for forgiveness, some tears and many smiles. 

We spent the day simply. Blueberry pancakes for breakfast, cake and presents when Daddy got home.  My mom was here as well which made it extra special. 

Speaking of cake, while I love baking, I don't consider myself a crafty, decorate-cakes-to-look-like-elmo kind of person. BUT when I saw this cake on Facebook, I couldn't resist. 

My Jack loves trucks. We will be in the kitchen and the faint rumble of the garbage truck sounds in the background. Jack will perk up, say "Tuck" and go running for the front window. We will be in the car, passing semi's on the highway and I hear from the backseat, "Tuck! Tuck!" He will spend the bulk of his day pushing mini trucks and tractor trailers around the room, parking them just so. We spend our bedtime hours reading Construction Alphabet and Little Blue Truck. 

So there wasn't even a small hesitation. Construction cake was it.

Pumpkin Pie

"Pie is part of the family."

This is what my husband said when I asked him to describe the role of pie in my family. 

We cracked up laughing because it's so true. It would not be Thanksgiving or Christmas without many assortments of pie. It would not be my birthday without a strawberry pie. It would not be a trip home without a showing of one or two pies. 

Pumpkin Sheet Cake

I really enjoyed Halloween last year. My family didn't do much with the holiday growing up. We lived way out in the country and I only remember someone coming to the door for candy once! But last year was Jack's first Halloween, and one of our first in our new home. My sister was living with us at the time and she was really the impetus behind getting Jack dressed up. We decided on a lumberjack costume, dressing him up in a flannel shirt, carhartts, a beanie hat and an axe made out of a toilet paper tube and tin foil. And to complete the look, a scruffy little beard fashioned out of mascara on my sweet ten-month old's face. 

He was so cute. 

Molasses Crinkles

There's nothing better than getting something in the mail from someone you love. Whether it's a letter, flowers to cheer a dreary day or a homemade treat when you're far away, it's nice to be remembered. 

This seemed to be especially true when I was in college. Package notifications always brought out expectant smiles and quickened my pace to the student center.