What a difference a week makes! Today, I came home from 3 days on Nantucket with my mom, where we shopped, biked, and ate/drank particularly well. Then, when we got back to Duxbury, I got to see my cousin, Jim, get married! And now I’m sitting on my couch, watching Stranger Things (don’t worry, Erik, I’m rewatching the first couple with my mom, not watching new ones), and tomorrow I still have another day to enjoy the sun! Now, everything hasn’t been all sunshine and daisies (though there were definitely a lot of both). If you were in the Boston …
I’ve been craving Pop Tarts since taking the ferry up to Alaska. They had them on the boat, but I couldn’t justify buying them, since we had plenty of snack food already. But it put the idea in my head, and every time I walk by them in the store I think about getting a box, before I remember I already have oatmeal at home. Finally, I decided the best way to be able to justify having Pop Tarts around would be to make them myself.
There really isn’t a whole lot better than baking a pie with fresh ingredients from a farmer’s market. You’re supporting local businesses. Everything is super ripe and perfect. You get to buy the ingredients outdoors. Even someone who doesn’t like pies or fruit-based desserts (that would be me) can appreciate how good it feels to do this. So when we were walking through the farmer’s market at Harvard and a vendor had both strawberries and rhubarb, I couldn’t just not buy them. And, as luck would have it, strawberry rhubarb is Erik’s favorite pie!
Happy Easter! After a wonderful day with family out in Duxbury, I’m still not quite ready to go back to school work, so blogging it is! This year’s Easter recipe evolved quite a bit from its original idea, and strangely went from more adventurous to more traditional, rather than vice versa. Every year, my mom and I think it will be a good idea to make some big and beautiful Easter dessert, and every year we all get too full on brunch to actually eat dessert, leaving full cakes untouched. This year, I wanted to be cognizant of that.
This weekend I decided to bake something exciting. I had the time. I had a book club (which meant it would disappear quickly). I hadn’t made a cake in far too long. Also, Cate made it a couple weeks ago and I got jealous. So I pulled out Ottolenghi’s Sweet cookbook and found the most colorful, interesting looking cake I could: Lemon Berry Stripe Cake.
I’m writing this post from my phone, sitting in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where I decided not to bring my laptop and the house decided not to have super consistent internet. Overall, this is a great feature, because it means I spend much more of my time hiking and biking and reading than looking at a screen. However, when it came time to blog, it did make it a little trickier.
I learned so many things yesterday. First, baking bread when your kitchen is over 80° is destined to be a disaster. Rather than rise up, the bread spreads out, and then you have flat sourdough, which is really only good to be cut up into crostini. Second, my apron has pockets, which means that when I discovered this and started storing my phone in one, I spent far too much time searching the counter for said phone whenever I needed to take a picture. Finally, there are some recipes that you just know how good the finished product will be …
This week, SMiLes by Meg was in Philadelphia! Often, new kitchens can be frustrating to bake in (largely because I firmly believe where I keep things are the only places where those things belong), but this weekend’s kitchen was a dream.
Yesterday was hot. The kind of hot where you either need to be at the beach in close proximity to the ocean or inside in the AC – no other options. And we were having a cookout.
Vacation baking can be difficult. You’re in a new place. Your kitchen lacks all of your favorite gadgets. You maybe kinda definitely would rather be lying out in the sun. All of these things are magnified when it’s spring break and you’ve dedicated the week to devouring as many books that don’t talk about the law as possible.