Recycled Christmas

This is an article I used when I was writing for the newspaper. My neices have requested this recipe, so I figured I would recycle the column. Merry Christmas!!!


Making Memories

It is hard to believe the holiday season is already in full swing. I swear we were still cleaning leaves in the yard just last week. It is such a busy season; the pace is fast and furious. I wish I could slow down and enjoy it, but there is just too much to do. Working in retail, the hours are extended and business picks up; the school is calling almost every day looking for subs, and I have been fighting a cold for three weeks now. We all overextend ourselves this time of year, it is hard not to. On the bright side, the house is decorated and I love turning on the tree and relaxing when I do find a moment.

Last week the kids and I decorated a gingerbread house. I always look forward to these projects because they seem so family oriented and festive. Soon after opening the box and mixing the frosting I begin having flashbacks to last year’s gingerbread house. I remember saying to myself that maybe we don’t need to do this every year after all. But it is too late now, I must follow through. Joe assembles the house and after it dries the decorating ensues. Alec has decided to forgo the offset spatula I have given him and opts for using his bare hands to spread frosting on the roof. I cringe and remind myself this is supposed to be fun. Kyle would rather eat the candy decorations than involve himself in decorating until he sees the ice cream cone tree I am making. I relinquish my tools and watch as he makes his own tree. The frosting won’t stick and clumps keep falling in his lap or the floor, where the dog is eagerly waiting to lap up the sugary blobs. Kyle’s tongue is green from all the frosting that he has eaten, even though I told him it wasn’t really frosting, but confectionary sugar and Crisco. The kids soon get bored and leave me with a half done house and a frosting covered kitchen. I finish the project alone, the whole time wishing I had just a fraction of Martha Stewart’s craftsmanship.

When I was growing up, right around Christmas my mother made sugar cookies and invited us in the kitchen to help decorate them. This was pretty much the only time we were involved in the kitchen as she was very particular about cleanliness. It was something I looked forward to and knew I would continue the tradition someday. What I didn’t realize was that it would become a cookie baking frenzy. Last year I made nine different kinds of cookies. I have several recipes that are must haves and then I add a few new ones every year. The one at the top of the list are Eggnog Logs which have become everyone’s favorite. It is requested at the Elliott family holiday gathering every year. Another is Joe’s grandmother, Mor-Mor’s, Swedish Butter cookies. She was a great baker and handed the recipe down to me along with her cookie press. When I make them I remember her stories and miss her terribly.

I begin by making the dough and wrap and label them for keeping in the fridge. When I have an entire day to spare, I put some Christmas music on and begin rolling, cutting, baking and decorating. The kids may join me in the frosting, but it inevitably turns out like the gingerbread house scenario. By the time I am done, my kitchen is covered in a layer of flour and crumbs. My back will ache and my feet are sore. I deliver the trays of sweets to my friends, family and work. When it is done, and the kitchen is clean, I will make myself eggnog with brandy and turn the lights on the tree and sit. I will reflect on special memories of holidays past and hope that I am making memories that someday my children will cherish.

Eggnog Logs



Prep time: 1 hour plus chilling and decorating
Baking time: 13-15 minutes per batch

Ingredients:

1 cup butter or margarine; softened
¾ cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon dark rum
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 large egg
3 cups flour

Frosting:

¼ cup butter or margarine softened
21/2 cups confectioners’ sugar, divided
1 teaspoon dark rum
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons heavy cream or milk

Nutmeg for garnish

Cookies:
Pre heat oven to 350F. Beat butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in rum, nutmeg, vanilla and egg. Stir in flour. Divide dough into 6 pieces; wrap and refrigerate at least 30 minutes. On a lightly floured surface, shape each piece into a ½ inch diameter rope. Cut into 3 inch logs. Arrange 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 13-15 minutes until lightly browned.

Frosting:
Beat butter, 2 cups confectioners’ sugar, rum and vanilla until smooth. Add cream; beat in remaining sugar if needed. I use a pastry bag and tip to frost, but if you don’t have one just spread with a knife and run a fork over to simulate bark. Sprinkle with nutmeg. Makes 5 dozen.

Starting Over....but where to begin?

When one door closes another one shall open is just a saying. It happens to have obvious connotations because in life things are always changing. That is one sure thing. Sometimes we look forward to changes, such as dealing with a difficult family situation. We keep telling ourselves that this too shall pass, and pray for it to happen quickly. Sometimes we are afraid of changes, such as losing a job you love and facing a crappy economy to find a new one.

Recently, I lost my job of eleven years that I had grown to love. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, since the hints of the possibility have been creeping up for years. Rumblings of Borders being less than stable turned to more concrete evidence as they closed some stores and tried to reorganize. I chose to be oblivious to the obvious and was certain the fate of my beloved store would be somehow miraculous. I even went on vacation, the first one without kids in 13 years. I knew the week I was gone was pivotal in the story of Borders, but really thought it was going to be a different ending. I came home from sunny California to my cafe closed. Gone. Forever. My customers, who I thought of as way more than customers, were now just people I would never see again.

The cafe that I thought of as my own was now being pilfered off to the highest bidder. Piece by piece I watched my life change and my future questioned. I know that it sounds like I am being dramatic, I am. I mean if you know me, I do tend toward the dramatic. But even though this job was "only part time", and the money was certainly not good, it defined a big part of my life. I was lucky to be allowed to work the hours that worked for me. When the kids were little, I worked a few nights so I could be home with them during the day. Then, when they were in school all day, I switched to days so I could be home at night with them. I didn't have to work weekends and they were flexible during the summer. I could go on and on about why I love this job, but I won't. I know I am not the only person who has made incredible friends through work. We were like a family.

So, as I stood at the register during the painful process of liquidation, it didn't escape me that all around me doors were opening. Hadn't I been thinking it was time to be a big girl and get a "real" job? Hadn't I been dreaming of opening my own business? It would seem that this is one of those cases that serendipity steps in. Why is it then, that I have no idea what direction to turn? I have so many ideas of what I want to do, but they conflict with the reality of what I should be doing, which also conflicts with the reality of the economy that may play the biggest role of all in this equation.

Do I follow my dream of opening a food truck where I can serve soup and sandwiches and fancy coffee drinks and sweets? Do I take the financial risk and do what I love? I know there are success stories about people who do this, but what about the people who risk it all and end in ruin? Do I look for a full time job that I most likely will not love, but provide a more stable financial future for my family? What would the kids do during the summer while I am at work? Do I continue on the path I have been following and hope to find a part time job that is as flexible as Borders?

Right now, I am in this juggling act with all of these possibilities floating around me and I am waiting to see which one makes the most sense. Let me know your ideas, how did you decide on your current path? If you had the choice, would you be doing what you are doing right now?

Mother's Day in the kitchen

My Mother's Day did not start out the way I expected. We used to have the tradition of taking my mother-in-law out for brunch on Mother's Day, but after years of long waits, mediocre food and antsy children, we decided to skip the restaurants on holidays. Instead, I would wake to the treat of my family in the kitchen making me my favorite, although difficult to make, breakfast of eggs benedict. This year, Joe was up first and the coffee was made, which is important, but the kids have reached the ages where sleeping in on weekends is more appealing than making breakfast on Mother's Day. It made me sad. Not because I was hungry, coffee is usually my breakfast of choice anyways, but because I loved the idea of the kids being excited about doing something special for me.

My teenager finally got up and begrudgingly made me a card. He stood by sulkily while I opened the gifts Joe and Kyle had gone shopping for before disappearing into his room to work on the homework I had asked him to do the day before so we could spend Mother's Day doing something fun. It made me cry. I know Mother's Day is not a real holiday. I kept repeating that to myself all day. It didn't help extinguish the searing pain of disappointment. Just one day, put aside the self-centeredness that teenagers seem to grow along with acne. Just one day- acknowledge all moms do to make life good.

I decided to take this wisdom and put it to use myself. Although I was unable to spend Mother's Day with my own mother, my mother-in-law was coming for dinner and I decided to make it special instead of take out easy. Joe and I took a drive to the Hilltop Steakhouse to pick up some nice steaks. I searched for new recipes and decided to make some Parker House Rolls and Lemon Pudding Cake.

The recipe for rolls used ounces for measurements instead of cups, like I am used to. The math seemed easy enough, but when the dough was more like cake batter than bread and didn't seem to change with the addition of more flour, I worried that they were going to be a disaster. I kept my head up and put the dough aside to rise and see what would happen. I started on the Lemon Pudding Cake. The recipe was simple and straight forward. I popped them in the oven and set the timer. The rolls dough was rising, things looked promising and my earlier feeling of hating Mother's Day was disappearing.

Joe had built a fire outside and when his mom get here, she joined him by the firepit. I started the Au Gratin Potatoes and custard sauce for the cakes, opened a bottle of Louise d’ Estrée Sparkling Red Wine, made Sonja a drink and joined them outside. The sun had come out and it was a beautiful afternoon.

The dessert was done 20 minutes early, the rolls went in and came out beatuifully (I do need work on the shaping), the potaotes were bubbly and the steaks were delish! Kyle made his own Easy Mac and Alec eventually joined us at the dinner table. I believe Sonja felt loved and special, which made me feel good. Maybe the idea of Mother's Day is lost on some teens, hopefully he will outgrow this stage and someday realize that making other people feel good makes you feel good too.

Lemon Pudding Cake with Fresh Mixed BerriesRecipe courtesy Tyler Florence, 2008

.Prep Time:25 minInactive Prep Time:--Cook Time:1 hr 0 minLevel:
IntermediateServes:
4 servings. Ingredients
•1 tablespoon unsalted butter
•2/3 cup superfine sugar
•2 eggs, separated
•2/3 cup reduced fat buttermilk
•2 tablespoons lemon juice
•1 tablespoon lemon zest
•1/4 cup all-purpose flour
•1/4 teaspoon salt
Garnish:
•1 cup fresh raspberries
•1 cup fresh blueberries
•1 cup fresh blackberries
•2 tablespoons confectioners' sugar
Directions
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Butter and lightly sugar 4 ramekins (about 1-cup size).

In a mixer, add egg yolks, buttermilk, lemon juice and lemon zest and beat until well combined. Reduce the speed to low and sift in flour, sugar and salt. Continue to mix until combined. Beat egg whites until you get stiff peaks then combine the 2 mixtures by gently folding them together, a little at a time. Divide evenly amongst ramekins then bake in a water bath - set ramekins in a roasting tray and fill with water halfway up the sides of the ramekins.

Bake for 60 minutes until the top springs back when gently pressed and the cakes have a nice golden brown color. Allow to cool slightly, then carefully invert onto a plate. Serve with fresh berries and dust with powdered sugar.


.Printed from FoodNetwork.com on Mon May 9 2011
© 2011 Television Food Network, G.P. All Rights Reserved


Parker House RollsRecipe courtesy Alton Brown, 2011

.Prep Time:40 minInactive Prep Time:1 hr 37 minCook Time:10 minLevel:
DifficultServes:
16 rolls.Ingredients
•Nonstick spray
•8 ounces warm whole milk (100 degrees F)
•2 1/4 ounces sugar (about 1/3 cup)
•1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon active dry yeast
•15 ounces all-purpose flour, plus extra for kneading
•2 egg yolks
•2 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
•4 ounces unsalted butter, 3 ounces at room temperature, 1 ounce chilled and cut into 16 small cubes
Directions
Spray a half sheet pan with nonstick spray and set aside.


Place the milk, sugar, yeast, flour, egg yolks, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Combine on low speed for 1 minute. Change the paddle attachment to the dough hook and rest the dough for 10 to 15 minutes.


Add 2 ounces of the room temperature butter and mix on low speed. Increase the speed to medium and mix until the dough pulls away from the sides of the bowl and you are able to gently pull the dough into a thin sheet that light will pass through, about 8 minutes.


Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and roll and shape with hands to form a large ball. Return dough to the bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and set aside in a warm, dry place to rise until doubled in size, about 1 hour.


Remove the dough from the bowl and roll into a 16 by 3-inch log. Use a bench knife to cut the dough into 1 3/4-ounce portions, about 16 rolls. Using your loosely cupped hand, roll each portion on the counter until they tighten into small balls. Working 1 at a time, use a rolling pin to roll each small ball into a 3-inch circle or oval. Use the side of your hand or a small dowel to make an indentation across the middle of the circle. Place a small pat of chilled butter into the center of the indentation, then fold in half and gently press to seal the edges. Place the rolls, top-side down, onto the prepared sheet pan, spacing them evenly. Melt the remaining 1 ounce butter and brush the tops of the rolls. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside in a warm, dry place to rise until doubled in size, 30 to 40 minutes.


Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.


Remove the plastic wrap and bake until the rolls reach an internal temperature of 200 degrees F, 8 to 10 minutes. Rotate the pan halfway through baking.


Remove the pan to a cooling rack and cool for 2 to 3 minutes before serving.


For Brown and Serve option:


Assemble rolls as above, but bake as follows.


Preheat the oven to 275 degrees F.


Bake until the outside of the rolls just begin to set but have not browned and the internal temperature is 185 degrees, about 30 minutes. Remove and cool on the pan for 10 minutes. After 10 minutes, remove the rolls from the pan and place on a cooling rack until they are room temperature, 30 to 40 minutes. Place the rolls in bags and freeze for up to 3 months.


To Finish:


Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Thaw the rolls for 60 to 90 minutes.


Spray a sheet pan with nonstick spray. Place the rolls on the prepared sheet pan and bake until the rolls reach an internal temperature of 200 degrees F. Rotate the pan halfway through baking, 10 to 12 minutes. Remove the pan to a cooling rack and cool for 2 to 3 minutes before serving.

.Printed from FoodNetwork.com on Mon May 9 2011
© 2011 Television Food Network, G.P. All Rights Reserved

My favorite New Food

Try not to be too shocked-I am writing about food again. Finally. I have been inspired by a simple, versatile food that has been right in front of me and yet never experienced. It is orzo pasta. A few months ago Joe and I were having dinner at Not Your Average Joe's and I ordered a lamb kabob dish that came with a side of orzo with goat cheese and spinach (I think). The lamb was fine, but the orzo wowed me. I was like, I could do this at home. I kind of get mad at myself for never thinking of it before.

So, the first time I tried it, I made it with chicken broth, fresh spinach, basil and Parmesan cheese. I could have eaten the whole pan. Actually, I might have. I wish the orzo was not a pasta, I wish it were a grain full of fiber and good for you, but it is not. However, you can certainly add in healthy things to make it a solid meal.

Tonight I came home from Zumba and the rest of the family had eaten leftovers. I wanted to eat healthy, after my junk food overload at the Red Sox two days before. I needed to get back on track. I have been trying to eat more fish and was craving seafood. I had some frozen shrimp on hand, so I decided to go with that. I start with about a tablespoon of butter in a saute pan. When the butter is melted I add in a cup of orzo and cook on medium for a few minutes and then add in a can of broth. I usually use chicken, but all I had was beef, so that is what I used. Bring it to a simmer and start chopping vegetables. I used a diced tomato, green pepper, frozen corn, spinach, cilantro, garlic, and shredded carrots. I ran the frozen shrimp under hot water for a few minutes and added that to the pan, then all of the vegetables. For seasoning, I used some Fiesta Seasoning from Tastefully Simple, but you could use any Cajun spice to taste. My orzo was obviously taking on a Spanish flare, so I added some black beans for good measure. To finish the dish, I added some Parmesan cheese and some shredded Mexican cheese. The entire dish takes only about 10 minutes to prepare.

So basically, you could take this idea and make it your own. I hope you try it and enjoy it as much as I did.

National Poetry Month

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am going to share some of my poetry. These are some of my favorites that I wrote back in college when I majored in writing.



Sleeping Beauty

By day she walks the streets
and even on the hottest days of summer
she wears a long black wool coat
and wrapped around her neck, a heavy scarf
that must have once been
a shade of white,
and a gray hat pulled down to her brow,
a seafarer braving a storm.

She stands on the corner of Congress Street
screaming of sin and evil.
Not preaching – – but an angry protest
to anyone who will listen.
She tells of hate – –
her hate of you,
a complete stranger.
She carries a Bible
tucked under her right arm
but never opens it,
clutching it's worn cover
as though ready
to use it any time.

But at night when she has finished
her bitter tirade,
she must sleep, as we all sleep.
And, if dreams that made
to rest our minds,
I hope dreams
are of Greek islands
and gentle Angels.


From the City


She left the city
to find truth
beyond skyscrapers
with shiny windows
reflecting the blurry image
the people rushing by,
somewhere beyond the limits
of subways
speeding through dark tunnels.
buried beneath the crowded streets.
She drove until she could no longer see
the tallest building on the horizon
looming in the rearview mirror.
She drove until she breathed fresh air
and the trees were not placed
on every corner,
but grew tall and thick
in forests.
She saw no people,
only signs of their existence
in lean-tos built
in a small clearings,
and clothes drying
on ropes tied between two trees.
She saw unfamiliar animals
walking gracefully through open fields.
From a hill,
she overlooked a pond,
the water still and glassy.
She ran down the hill
holding her arms out
to keep balance.
Sitting on a log,
she leaned over the calm water
like a portrait,
only she was smiling.



Homophobia

At your trial
the prosecution
uses the witnesses to show
you have no morals.

Your parents say
they think
they
did something wrong.

A fat woman stands
and says
there's nothin' a woman
can do for me
that a man can't.

A man wearing
tight Wranglers
proudly states
that all you need
is a good fuck.

A precher says
that AIDS
was sent
to kill
you off.

The jury frowns,
believing that
you are
unnatural-
the Bible says so.

Your only defense is
"I love her."

Mid life Crisis?

Life is funny. It really is. Not always laugh out loud funny, sometimes more the isn't it interesting funny. I have been doing a lot of contemplating lately and have come to some realizations that strike me as funny (in the odd sense of the word).

Isn't it funny how if you choose a point in your past life and try to think of what at that point in your life you would have expected your now present life to be like, it has no resemblance to the life you are actually living. In my teenage mind, I suppose I would have pictured myself married with children at this point, but that is where the resemblance ends. I can't say whether I pictured it better or worse, just different. Because really, how much of being a wife and mother does a teen comprehend? Fast forward a few years and my 25 year old self, a newlywed and mother to an infant, I knew I would someday be the mother to that infant as a teen but didn't picture it like this.

Do you think that if we were able to accurately envision what our future holds we would continue on, or freeze in our tracks?

Isn't it funny how we may look in the mirror every day and see the same face, so the gradual changes don't appear as glaring discrepancies. Can you even picture your elderly self? How does it even happen? You look in the mirror every day and one day your skin is no longer firm and smooth, your hair no longer lush and shiny. You see an old picture of your partner and forget they ever looked so young. We forget the sweet voices of our toddlers as they deepen through the years. If videos and photographs didn't exist would we have an accurate memory of these precious images?

Isn't it funny how life can change on a dime? One day your are healthy and then next fighting for your life? You can be down on your luck, standing in the unemployment line and win the lottery. The thing is, we never know. We do the best we can to ensure our health and secure our future but ultimately it is not always in our control.

It probably sounds like I am going through a mid-life crisis. Maybe I am. Mid-life being the perfect time to look forward and backwards and contemplate. Mid-life being the perfect time to pause and soak in the wisdom life has given us before moving forward to whatever life will present.

Recycling

I haven't written in a while. My husband has found that he is able to get more work done when he is using every computer in the house simultaneously. Thus, my time for being creative is spend being annoyed and waiting patiently (not really) for Joe to get his new laptop so that I can write when the mood strikes. In the meantime, I am going to cheat and post some of the newspaper columns that I wrote during my brief, but satisfying, stint as a published writer. I hope you enjoy.

The Joy of Cooking

I stand in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open, arms laden with my favorite ingredients: sun dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, pesto, fresh parmesan. My mind creates flavor combinations that instantly cause my mouth to salivate. I search the vegetable drawer to see what is on hand. Fresh, thin, green asparagus –oh I am in heaven. I stop for a moment to consider the others I am feeding. Joe, my husband, would rather have a meaty tomato sauce with sausage and meatballs. Actually, he would probably even prefer Spaghetti O’s. Alec, who is 12, loves artichokes but not so much the asparagus. It is too late to reconsider; my mind is already made up. They will just have to deal with my taste for tonight.

The sauce begins with olive oil and sausage. These are not just ordinary sausage, but special ordered from Sausage Heaven located in New Hampshire. You can’t even compare these to any they have in the local grocery store. You won’t find any indistinguishable hard lumps in these. Cheddar garlic is my choice for tonight and the smell is amazing. When the sausage is gently browned, I toss in the vegetables and add some white wine and pesto. The smell begins to engulf the kitchen and then enters Kyle, my eight year old.

“Whatcha making for me?” he says, peering into the pan.

He asks this question every night, fearing that there won’t be a plain carbohydrate in sight. Kyle is one of those children who won’t eat anything. He has a plain palate and desperate fear of trying anything new. He is also extremely stubborn. We have consulted his pediatrician, who assures us that children will not starve themselves. I believe Kyle would starve before eating anything that has a trace of color.

We have tried everything. First we tried making him sit at the table until he ate his dinner. Then it became just sit there until you try it. He would sit at the table, in the dark, until it was time to go to bed before he would even put one taste on his lips. We have tried bribery, trickery, begging, and loss of privileges. We even tried Dr. Phil’s suggestion of giving him the same plate of food over and over until he eats it. Think about that. If they aren’t willing to try it when it is fresh and looks good, what makes him think they will eat it when it is three days old and dried up? Seriously.

Alec emerges from his video game induced coma to see what smells so good. He is quick to note that I have used artichokes and believing he is unnoticed begins to sneak them into his mouth. He would continue this practice if I didn’t tell him to leave some for the rest of us. I mean me.

“Mom, what am I going to eat?” Kyle persists.

“I don’t know, Kyle. What are you going to eat?” I sigh, adding pasta to a bubbling pot. Relieved to see there is in fact something he will eat being prepared, Kyle grabs a fist of the uncooked spaghetti and munches while waiting for the rest to cook. I add the fresh parmesan to the sauce and set the table.

Joe comes home from work just as I add some pasta to the sauce, making sure to leave some plain for Kyle.

“Good timing,” I say. “Dinner is ready.”

“Oh,” he says. “I’m not really hungry. I just had Japanese at a late lunch meeting.”

At this moment I am very happy I had to open a bottle of wine to make the sauce. Pouring myself a glass, I sit down and savor a meal I made for myself, which rarely happens these days.