Peanut Butter Fudge Bars

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Disclaimer: I don’t generally hold with the notion that there is such a thing as “bad” food, at least not the ones that nature created. As with most things in life, it is the extremes that will get you in trouble. A healthy diet is balanced, both in amounts and types of food, and pays attention to what our bodies require.

I also find that the quickest way to make a human being want something is to declare it off-limits. Unless dietary constraints based on health issues prevent you from eating sugar or fat, I don’t think there is anything wrong with indulging in a reasonable portion size of dessert. I love to bake, and I love to share what I bake, and I would have a hard time giving up either. Preparing food and feeding myself and others nurtures me, both body and soul, and that feels very right to me.

Okay, I felt the need to say all that first so that I can now quite contradictorily say these Peanut Butter Fudge Bars are BAD. They are so full of fat and sugar that whoever invented the recipe for the King Arthur Flour Baker’s Companion ought to blush. These cookie bars do happen to taste fantastic, in a rich, over-the-top sort of way, but that was not my real motivation for choosing them. Mainly, I made this recipe because I had two extra kiddos in the house who absolutely love chocolate and peanut butter in all its forms, and I had a surplus of white baking chips left over from the holidays.

I could pretend that the protein in the peanut butter somehow balances out the multiple sources of sugar, or take heart in the fact that I cut them into tiny servings. If it helps you sleep better at night, I could note that all four children who ate them are very healthy and spent hours playing outside every day during their visit. The truth is, I fell right off the balanced diet wagon into a pool of peanut butter frosting and white chocolate-studded fudge brownie. If you want to join me there, the recipe is below. (Don’t say I didn’t warn you. :)

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Peanut Butter Fudge Bars
makes 36 small bars

For crust:
1/4 c. unsalted butter (1/2 stick), softened
1/3 c. creamy peanut butter
3/4 c. granulated sugar
1/4 tsp. salt (not coarse)
1 tsp. vanilla bean paste or real vanilla extract
1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour (I use King Arthur)

For fudge filling:
3/4 c. semisweet chocolate chips
1/2 c. unsalted butter (1 stick), softened
1/2 tsp. salt (not coarse)
1/4 c. golden syrup or light corn syrup (read more about golden syrup here)
1 c. plus 2 Tbsp. granulated sugar
1 c. all-purpose flour
2 eggs
1/2 c. white chocolate chips

For frosting:
3/4 c. white chocolate chips
1/4 c. creamy peanut butter
1/4 tsp. salt (not coarse)
1/4 c. mini-chocolate chips to sprinkle on top (optional)

Oven 350F. First the crust: in medium mixing bowl, beat together butter and peanut butter with electric mixer until soft and creamy. Stir in the sugar, salt, and vanilla until thoroughly combined. Mix in the flour until you have a slightly dry, crumbly dough. Press the dough into a lightly greased 9″x13″ glass baking dish. (It helps to put a sheet of plastic wrap between your hands and the dough.) Bake 8-10 minutes, until lightly brown at the edges. Remove from oven, but leave oven turned on.

While the crust is baking, start on the filling. In a medium microwave-safe bowl, microwave the semi-sweet chocolate chips, butter, salt, and golden/corn syrup until chocolate is melted. Stop and stir with a silicone spatula after first minute, and then every 30 seconds afterward to prevent over-cooking. Stir in sugar and flour until mixed, then beat in the eggs one at a time until well-combined. Fold in white chocolate chips, then pour filling on to baked crust and bake for 22-24 minutes. The top will be shiny and set, but don’t overbake — you want to keep a fudgy texture.

While the bars bake the second time, make the frosting by melting the white chocolate chips in the microwave, then stir in the peanut butter and salt until creamy and smooth. Spread the frosting over the baked, warm cookie bars using a silicone spatula, then sprinkle with mini-chocolate chips if desired. (I mean, really, why hold back now?) Allow bars to cool completely before cutting, then cut into roughly 1-1/2″x2″ bars (six rows both directions).

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Hope

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I have had a creative, messy, rewarding week, although it wasn’t spent in the studio or kitchen. Instead of paint or cake batter, my preferred medium the last few days has been soil. It says something that I had to return my brand new pair of suede gardening gloves because I wore them to shreds in less than 24 hours. After all that hard work, our front yard is full of dozens of blooms and the rich, wet-forest smell of mulch. It looks neater and more loved than it has in years, and at this point, I’m sure our neighbors think we are about to put our house on the market. :)

But this flurry of activity is about something much more significant than curb appeal. It is a tangible, exciting picture of hope. The years of neglect our property suffered were born of a home so full of illness, complications, and coping that it would have been sheer folly to expend energy on something as trivial as pulling weeds. For many slow-motion months in a row, I survived from one moment of God’s grace to the next, through multiple hospitalizations and setbacks. I needed desperately to be assured that all that pain could legitimately be called growth, that it promised to bear fruit somehow. When catastrophic flooding in 2010 washed the last of our topsoil and mulch down the hill and into the Harpeth River, it was so metaphorically appropriate as to provoke disbelief. Upon encountering the same scenario in a novel, the reader would be warranted in grumbling, “Really? Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t we?”

That’s the hard, brilliant truth of this life: it comes on strong, in heaps and waves. Our trials don’t conveniently wait in line until the trouble before has been tidily resolved. There is much hope to be found in today, to be sure: my son’s exuberant teenage smile, full of braces and potential; the smell of Banana Chocolate Chip muffins baking; a homeschool math lesson finished without angst. But sometimes my soul needs a good power-washing, to have the doubts and fears blasted away by Something That Shouldn’t Be but is anyway.

All this playing in the dirt, raking and planting, planning and doing seemed impossible a few years ago. It certainly felt out of reach last summer, lying in an ICU bed without the strength to lift my own head. It never entered my small, unimaginative mind that my body would be restored to this extent. After four spinal fractures in two years and a suggested maximum lifting limit of ten pounds, here I am hauling around bags of garden soil and digging holes? Most people talk about back-breaking work, but back-broken work is an altogether different story. I am not pain-free, but I have mud under my fingernails and the promise of springtime. For me, that’s hope.

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Ginger-Vanilla Bean Cake with Sunset Oranges and Creme Fraiche

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I made this cake for the first time last year to celebrate a dear friend’s March birthday, and it was so yummy that I made it again two days later when we had friends over for dinner. When citrus season rolled in early this year, I knew exactly which recipe to reach for. This is one of those desserts that instantly conveys special occasion. It is so sunny and bright on both the plate and the palate, and I love the pops of gingery heat. Normally cake without frosting is frowned upon in my household (whereas frosting without cake seems to be accepted just fine), but the fruit and cream on top are a perfect, not-too-sweet foil to the moist, vanilla bean-flecked cake below.

The glazed fruit on top is made from equal parts blood oranges and their regular navel counterparts. Blood oranges sound a bit macabre, but the name is only a reference to the deep red of the pulp and juice. Blood oranges are more tender and juicy than regular oranges, and they have a floral finish that reminds me of the scent of orange blossoms. My favorites are the ones with segments that fade from pale orange to crimson, like a perfect, edible sunset.

I first encountered the idea of pairing oranges and creme fraiche as a cake topping in the culinary memoir A Homemade Life by blogger/author Molly Wizenberg, and then happily adapted it to include blood oranges. The ginger-vanilla bean cake is my own recipe, a lighter take on pound cake in texture, ratios, and labor involved. Don’t let the ingredient list discourage you: if blood oranges are not in season (it’s a small window from late February to late March), feel free to substitute tangerines, regular oranges, or any other citrus you like. If you cannot find creme fraiche, use all-natural sour cream sweetened with a drizzle of honey. This cake is like culinary springtime, minus all the bad weather. :)

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Ginger-Vanilla Bean Cake with Sunset Oranges and Creme Fraiche
makes 12 generous portions

For cake:
3 eggs
1/3 c. milk
1/3 c. vanilla Greek yogurt
1 c. granulated sugar or vanilla sugar (see recipe notes here to make your own)
1 Tbsp. vanilla bean paste or real vanilla extract
2 c. cake flour (I use Swans Down brand)
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt, not coarse
1/2 c. unsalted butter (1 stick), softened
1/3 c. finely chopped crystallized ginger or baking ginger chips

For topping:
5 blood oranges
5 navel oranges
1/2 c. granulated sugar (less if using tangerines or very sweet oranges — blood oranges are more tart)
8 oz. creme fraiche

Oven 350F (325F if using dark nonstick pan). Grease 9″-round springform pan, place a parchment paper round in the bottom, then grease the parchment. (To make a parchment round, trace around the base of the pan on a sheet of parchment, then cut slightly inside the line.) In small bowl, whisk together eggs, milk, and yogurt and set aside. Put sugar, vanilla, cake flour, baking powder, and salt in large mixing bowl and whisk until combined. Cut softened butter into tablespoon-size pieces and cream into dry ingredients with electric mixer until thoroughly mixed. Add egg mixture and beat with electric mixer until batter is light, thick, and airy, about 3-5 minutes.

Stir in ginger bits with silicone spatula, then spread batter in prepared pan. Bake 30-40 minutes, until top is golden and toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool on rack 15 minutes, then release sides from pan and flip cake out on to cooling rack. Remove parchment round and turn cake right-side up. Allow to cool completely.

While the cake bakes, suprème the oranges. This involves slicing off the peel and pith and then cutting out the segments so that you have only the flesh without the membranes between each. (Here is a 30-second video by Chef Michael Symon demonstrating how.) This is the most labor-intensive part of the whole recipe, but it is so worth it. If you have never tried this technique before, start with the navel oranges, as they are easier to work with than the more tender, juicier blood oranges. Once you get into a rhythm, it goes faster, but it helps to have someone to talk with to pass the time. (Or a kind friend to do it for you — thanks, Jason!)

Place the segments in a medium saucepan, then squeeze all the juice out of the leftover membranes and add it to the segments. Add the granulated sugar and simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until sugar dissolves completely; the oranges should be warmed through and the juice slightly reduced. Do not allow to come to a rolling boil. Set glazed oranges aside to cool until not piping hot.

When ready to serve, slice the cake into twelve slices. Top each wedge with a spoonful of warm glazed oranges and juice, then drizzle with a tablespoon of creme fraiche. Store any leftover cake wrapped tightly and then placed in an airtight container. Oranges should be stored in the refrigerator, but can be re-warmed before serving.

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Gifts

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Growing up is hard. (I know this because, at age thirty-mumble, I am still in the midst of the process myself.) My precious teenage son has been feeling those growing pains mightily the last few months. He is a head taller than he was a year ago, but his physical growth has easily been outpaced by the changes required of his spirit, heart, and character. There is much more involved in the transition from boy to young man than buying longer jeans and beginning to care about how your hair looks.

We are both new at this: he’s never been fifteen before, and I’ve never parented a fifteen-year-old. Sometimes I have the advantage of others’ wisdom, gained from friends who are decorated veterans of the teen years, and from books on every subject of teen parenting: loving them and being loved by them; exploring their gifts and learning the challenges that are part of those gifts; setting appropriate boundaries and knowing when to bend so we don’t break. But just as often, I am making it up as I go along. I am treading carefully and prayerfully, encouraged by the company and guidance of my sweet husband, but I am absolutely winging it.

Since my own imperfection has long been established, it is no surprise that there are days when I mess up; I over-correct and underestimate, I raise my voice and don’t spend enough time on my knees. But I am trying my best to be present, to be thoughtful, to be unconditionally loving, to make the most of the fact that I am alive and able to do this because I recognize that is no small victory. And it is important to me that in the midst of all this correction and guidance, my firstborn remembers how very gifted and treasured he is. He has a set of grace-given talents and qualities that give him incredible potential, and I wanted to create something concrete that would remind him of those. The pages in this little art journal are the size of playing cards, but they are meant to communicate a big message.

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The envelope in the front contains a personal note to my son, letting him know how special he is to me and how much I appreciate him. It seemed only logical to embrace the growth theme with this art journal, so I used a lot of earth tones and nature imagery. The pages themselves are untreated canvas that I dry-brushed with acrylic paint before layering on rectangles of paper printed with trees, branches, and leaves.

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If there is one thing this journey to adulthood is about, it is embracing and understanding your imperfection. I tried to honor that in my design choices for the journal. I stayed away from perfect corners, hand-cutting the small squares of paper I used as decoration. I also left the edges of the canvas raw so they could fray with handling. (This is not meant as a subtle reference to my nerves, I promise.) I finished the pages by aging them unevenly with tea-colored ink and a little bit of sanding with fine grit sandpaper.

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In the future, I hope this mini-journal reminds my adult son of how those teen years turned out pretty well in the end. For now, I hope it shows him that even on the hardest days, in the midst of all this compromise and growth, it is my great privilege to be his mom.

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Island Devil’s Food Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting and Coconut Caramel Drizzle

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When my husband, Landon, was in kindergarten, someone’s mother brought a batch of coconut cupcakes to share with the class to celebrate her child’s birthday. Landon had never had coconut before, but he knew a thing or two about baked goods, and he positively drooled over the mounds of fluffy white frosting and clouds of coconut. When his turn came, he eagerly stuffed a bite in his mouth, and then proceeded to experience one of the biggest culinary disappointments of his little life. It seemed someone had accidentally switched out his precious cupcake with a mouthful of dry grass, possibly mixed with bits of shredded string. After he was done retching and spitting (I’m sure the mom and teacher just loved that), he was left with one resounding sentiment: I hate coconut.

Finally, three decades later, comes coconut’s redemption. This recipe was inspired by a bag of coconut flour I spied in the baking aisle at Whole Foods. Coconut flour is made of finely ground dried coconut, so it carries the fruit’s sweet aroma without the fibrous texture. Apparently, it also transforms fairly good cake into something so ridiculously moist that you feel the need to talk with your mouth full in order to urge others to eat it too: “Seriously, mmfff, you have got to try this!”

This recipe started life years ago as one from a King Arthur Flour catalogue, but it doesn’t bear much resemblance to the original now. Coconut flour requires extra liquid, so I figured I might as well stick with the theme and use coconut milk. I think the combination of the two is what is responsible for the tender, almost-melting texture — although frankly, after the first bite, you won’t really care. Their diminutive size and the tang of the cream cheese frosting make it a little more reasonable to finish the tops with a drizzle of caramel, in which I also substituted coconut milk for the regular old cow kind.

You would think something with coconut products present in triplicate would be absolutely redolent with its flavor, but somehow these cupcakes manage to come out only barely scented of the stuff. I did feel the need to nod to the coconut flour in the recipe name, but you really wouldn’t know it was there if I didn’t tell you. In other words, this is the perfect recipe for people conditioned by years of shredded coconut with the mouth-feel of lawn clippings. As an added plus, coconut flour has more fiber and vitamins than wheat flour, and it’s a great alternative for people who eat gluten-free. Something that tastes better than it should, transforms the food it’s in, and is good for you to boot: that’s the kind of culinary alchemy that keeps me happily inventing and baking. Now, seriously, mmmfff, you have got to try these… ;)

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Island Devil’s Food Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting and Coconut Caramel Drizzle
makes about 90 mini-cupcakes

For the cake:
3/4 c. unsalted butter, softened (12 Tbsp. or 1 1/2 sticks)
1 c. demerara sugar (also called turbinado or raw sugar, see these recipe notes for more info)
3/4 c. granulated sugar
3/4 tsp. salt, not coarse
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. vanilla bean paste or real vanilla extract
2 tsp. espresso powder (optional, enhances the depth of the chocolate flavor)
1 c. all-purpose flour (I prefer King Arthur)
1 c. coconut flour
1 c. unsweetened cocoa powder
4 eggs
one 14 oz.-can coconut milk plus enough regular milk to equal 2 1/2 cups

For frosting:
8 oz. cream cheese, softened
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, softened (3/4 stick)
4 c. powdered sugar, sifted
1/2 tsp. salt, not coarse
1 tsp. vanilla bean paste or real vanilla extract
2 Tbsp. coconut milk or regular milk

For caramel:
1 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1/2 c. demerara sugar
1 c. coconut milk
1/2 tsp. salt, not coarse

Oven 350F. Use electric mixer to blend butter, demerara sugar, granulated sugar, salt, baking soda, vanilla, and espresso powder until light and fluffy, 5 or 6 minutes. Scrape the sides of the bowl with a silicone spatula once or twice to be sure it blends evenly. Meanwhile, in a medium mixing bowl, whisk together both types of flour and cocoa and set aside.

Add the can of coconut milk to a large measuring cup, then add regular milk until it totals 2 1/2 cups. Now whisk them together until evenly mixed. (The coconut milk always separates in the can. Don’t let this put you off, it’s just the water coming out of the thicker part of the fruit puree.) Add a third of the flour mixture to the cake batter, then mix well. Add half the milk, then mix again. Alternate this way until all ingredients are completed blended into a thick, fragrant batter.

Line a mini-muffin tin with paper liners, then put one teaspoon of batter in each cup. (I use a small ice-cream scoop for this.) Bake mini-cupcakes for 12-13 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with the faintest hint of moist crumbs. Let cool in pan for one minute, then transfer to baking rack to cool completely. Repeat as needed until all batter is baked, about four batches for my 24-cupcake pan.

While the cupcakes bake, make the caramel. Cook the butter, sugar, and salt in a small saucepan over medium heat, whisking constantly, until sugar melts (3-4 minutes). Carefully pour in the coconut milk — it will bubble and splash furiously, so be careful that you don’t get burned. Some of the melted sugar may solidify in the bottom of the pan or on the whisk. Every time I make caramel, this is the moment that I have doubts, but trust chemistry and soldier on. Keep stirring constantly as it simmers over low heat for seven minutes (use a timer, no skimping). The caramel will smooth and thicken. Turn off the heat, stir in the vanilla, and leave in the pan to cool.

While the caramel and cupcakes cool, it’s time for frosting. Put the butter, cream cheese, vanilla, and salt in a large mixing bowl and beat with an electric mixer until lighter and thoroughly mixed, 2-3 minutes. Add half the sifted powdered sugar and mix well. Add coconut milk, mix again, then last half of sugar. Mix until completely combined to a creamy spreading consistency.

Gently frost cooled cupcakes, leaving a bit of a well in the top where the caramel can pool. Drizzle the frosted cupcakes with cooled caramel, then top with chocolate sprinkles or toasted coconut shavings as desired. I made these small for three reasons: I love tiny baked goods; these are very rich; and smaller servings help my family better control portion size. It’s hard to walk away from half a regular-sized cupcake, but having one or two of the minis feels like plenty.

If you prefer a traditional-sized cupcake, I would estimate baking time at around 25 minutes, but start testing a few minutes before to be sure they don’t dry out. If you want to make this recipe gluten-free, use 2 cups coconut flour (instead of 1 c. coconut flour, 1 c. all-purpose) and add an additional 1 c. of either coconut milk or regular milk; bake and assemble as directed above.

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Paper plum blossoms

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Usually, surviving February merits a celebratory rush of energetic, brightly colored projects in the studio. But it has been so unseasonably warm and mild this winter, I don’t feel quite the same urgency about ushering in springtime. I wore shorts the last week of February, and the weather is already playing its April games, revolving between sunny 70’s and thunderstorms. Tornado season also seems to have arrived earlier, much to my children’s chagrin. (There are only so many times you can make a game out of doing your schoolwork in the downstairs hall closet by flashlight.)

However, the last few weeks have felt distinctly February when it comes to matters of the heart, and this paper craft seemed the perfect fit: hopeful, but fragile. The blooms and leaves are made from pieces of a coffee filter. I folded and watercolored the small shapes, then glued them in place on a tree branch. (That’s twice now our Bradford pear tree has done something useful — pretty sure that’s a record.)

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This is another project from Margaret Van Sicklen’s fantastic Modern Paper Crafts. Like the pleated paper bowl I made from the same book, this also required some complex paper folding and a delicate-but-determined touch. I found the leaves much simpler to make than the blossoms, but the instructions were clear and detailed enough to get me through it without frustration. And the nice thing about a paper craft with coffee filters is that your raw materials only cost a few cents, so it’s no great loss if (when) you have to start over.

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Watercoloring the blossoms and leaves also required a gentle hand, but I love the effect gained as the paint bleeds into the fibers of the filter. I used to make watercolor coffee filter art with my kids when they were little, so this was a sweet reminder of those early homeschool years. My son and daughter are more complicated creatures now, but we all still revel in doing art together.

In the end, that is what my plum blossoms speak to: fondness and nostalgia for a more innocent time, determination to get through winter’s challenges together, and growing hope for the future. I think that’s a pretty good way to end February.

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Just Granola

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Granola can be tricky. It is one of those foods that cries out to be made from scratch, but there are so many variations and ingredients out there. I have tried at least a dozen recipes over the years, but I never made any of them more than once. One version had so many seeds, I felt like I was at a bird feeder instead of the breakfast table; the next had enough sugar to qualify as dessert. Then there’s the whole food allergy issue, which leaves me without many dried fruit options. (Almost all dried fruit is sulphured, meaning sulfites are added to help with the preservation process. It’s not really very hard to decide between breathing and eating dried apricots, but it does limit my granola options pretty mightily.)

After so many granola misfires, I finally narrowed down my requirements. I don’t expect my granola to be a portable superfood, substantial enough to nourish me on a three-day hike. I don’t want a multi-tasker — I’m not planning to add it to anything except milk and yogurt. No flax, no wheat germ, no goji berries, no exotic spices. I want something simple, crunchy, toasted, a little sweet, a little salty… just granola.

I think I finally found my recipe this time. It’s from Brunch! by Gale Gand and Christie Matheson. To show you how serious I am, I resisted most of my usual recipe-fiddling ways. I only made two substitutions: dried cherries instead of dried cranberries and clementine juice instead of plain orange. I resolutely kept the door of the spice cabinet closed, and I even measured out my ingredients instead of eyeballing it. My self-restraint was amply rewarded with every simple, tasty bite.

I don’t judge, though. If you are of the fancy granola ilk, more power to you. This recipe could easily handle the addition of cinnamon, ginger, or cardamom, and you could substitute banana chips or raisins for the dried berries. If you crave more texture, try some sesame seeds or sunflower kernels with your chopped almonds. After it cools, add a big handful of chocolate or peanut butter chips, and you’ve got something a little more indulgent that would be a great topping for fruit crisp or ice cream.

To show you how accepting I am, I got a little extravagant with the photos and made a parfait with layers of granola, vanilla Greek yogurt, and orange blossom honey. But between you and me, I gave that one to my daughter to eat. I’ll take mine plain — just granola, please.

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Almond Granola
makes about seven cups

1/2 c. honey
1/2 c. real maple syrup (not corn-based pancake syrup)
1/4 c. fresh-squeezed orange juice
3 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 tsp. almond extract
4 c. old-fashioned rolled oats (not instant or quick cook)
3/4 c. unsweetened shredded coconut (preferably unsulphured)
1 c. chopped almonds
1 tsp. sea salt
1 c. sweetened dried cherries or cranberries

Oven 325F. Combine honey, maple syrup, orange juice, butter, and almond extract in a saucepan and heat over medium heat until butter melts and ingredients come to a boil. Immediately reduce heat and simmer for about five minutes, stirring often, until mixture is slightly thickened.

Meanwhile, mix oats, coconut, almonds, and salt in a large mixing bowl. Pour the hot honey mixture over the oats and stir well to coat thoroughly, then spread evenly on a parchment-lined, rimmed baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes, stirring once. Add dried fruit, stir to combine, then bake for 20 minutes more, stirring a few more times to be sure granola browns evenly. Remove from oven and let cool completely. Break into smaller pieces and store in airtight container for up to two weeks. Can also be frozen for up to a month.

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Storms

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Is anyone else having one of those days? Actually, I think I’m having one of those weeks, the “when it rains it pours” kind that make me want to yell in frustration or stomp my feet, quite possibly both at the same time. For my family and those dearest to us, there have been more challenges than usual lately — many of them the wail-prompting, tear-stirring variety. These are not training-wheels sorts of days, these are all about wobbling and swerving while we try to keep our balance.

I spend a lot of time on this blog talking about things like yummy cheesecake brownies and delicate origami flowers, caramels from scratch and handmade valentines, and I really love making all of it. Creating keeps me aware and joyful, and it nourishes my body and mind. But I just want to be sure I am clear that these things are not born of a frivolous, unhurried life. My bookshelf holds dozens of beautiful art books, but right now I’m reading Boundaries with Teens; my calendar holds the promise of lunch with friends this weekend, but it also has appointments with the dentist and pediatric cardiologist. For me, cooking and crafting are ways of celebrating both the plenty and the drought and the lessons I learn from both.

I made the watercolor sketch above because it says what my words cannot manage right now. The corner of it tore when I ripped it from my sketchbook, and I think that feels just right, too. No matter the frustration or obstacles today might bring, whether these hours feel overwhelmingly full or acutely empty, I am prayerfully hopeful for you and me. With that in mind, I have my next few posts planned about lovely things like almond granola parfaits and collages with cork and batik fabric. I am enjoying my time preparing them, and I am excited to share what I’m doing with you, even when times are not simple for either of us.

Pear and Marzipan Pastries

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I am a little bit obsessed with brunch lately. Brunch has a lot going for it, to my mind. As a confirmed night owl, I am all for breakfast at noon, and inviting people over for brunch feels so much more do-able than homemade waffles for a crowd at 8 AM. Brunch is casual enough to remove the pressure associated with such portentous words as “dinner party,” yet it is still event enough to merit a few new recipes.

For me, brunch is about balance: breakfast and lunch, savory and sweet. This recipe is the perfect brunch candidate in the sweet category. The combination of buttery pastry, tender pears, and the richness of almond paste was inspired by a recipe from Gale Gand’s cookbook Brunch!. If you are joining me on the brunch bandwagon, her recipes are a good companion to have along for the ride. The one caveat might be that she has been an acclaimed pastry chef for so long, she’s a teensy bit out of touch with how things operate in a regular kitchen. (God bless her, it’s not her fault she hasn’t purchased puff pastry from a store in twenty years.)

I have no problem changing ingredients and ratios as I see fit, though; hence the recipe below, which I adjusted in several ways to tame the cloying sweetness of the original. Although a natural for breakfast, these charming little pastry parcels also make an indulgent dessert for a weeknight supper. They take very little time to put together, the most arduous task being peeling and coring a couple of pears. You can use marzipan and almond paste interchangeably here, depending on your preference and pantry. (See the Chewy Almond Macaroon recipe notes for more about both.) I also wouldn’t be opposed to finishing with a drizzle of creme fraiche — but then, would I ever? :)

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Pear and Marzipan Pastries
makes six

14 oz. all-butter puff pastry (one sheet, thawed overnight in refrigerator if frozen)
4 oz. marzipan or almond paste (I use Odense)
1/4 c. cream cheese, softened
2 Tbsp. sour cream (preferably all-natural)
1/4 c. cinnamon sugar (I make mine in batches of 1/2 c. granulated sugar + 1 Tbsp. ground cinnamon)
1 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1/4 tsp. salt
2 ripe pears, peeled, cored, and sliced into about 18 wedges
a dash of freshly grated nutmeg
1 egg
coarse sugar (optional)

Oven 425F. Cut the puff pastry sheet into six squares of about equal size and arrange on parchment-lined baking sheet. Slice the marzipan into six equal portions, then shape each portion into a disc about 2″ wide and 1/2″ thick, and place one disc in the center of each pastry square. In a small mixing bowl, thoroughly whisk together cream cheese, sour cream, lemon juice, salt, and 3 tablespoons of the cinnamon sugar. Place a generous dollop on top of each marzipan round. Top the cream on each pastry with three overlapping wedges of pear, then sprinkle the tops of the pears with the remaining 1 tablespoon of cinnamon sugar and a sprinkling of freshly grated nutmeg.

Carefully gather the four corners of each pastry together at the top and twist them together to form a little parcel with a pastry topknot in the center. (Be sure to press the corners together well enough that they won’t come apart during baking.) Beat the egg in a small bowl, then brush the tops of each pastry lightly with the egg wash. Sprinkle on coarse sugar if desired, then bake for 25-30 minutes, until pastries are puffed and golden. Transfer immediately to cooling rack and allow to cool before eating.

These are fantastic warm from the oven or room temperature. They don’t reheat well, however, so eat them within a day of baking. (That’s not meant as a challenge. ;)

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Pleated paper bowl

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While most people window-shop for clothes or browse the electronics aisle, I stare at racks of art paper. Our local Paper Source store has a dozen rainbow rows of handmade papers, with patterns ranging from candy-colored stripes to watercolor waves. Just the sight of all those deckled edges is enough to make me want to squeal a little. :)

When they stocked some gorgeous new handmade Lokta, I knew it merited a special project. Lokta is a paper made in Nepal from the bark of the Lokta bush, and the strength of the fibers combined with the light weight mean it folds beautifully. There is also something undeniably romantic about folding paper that was crafted in the heights of the Himalayas. I chose a sheet printed with delicate butter yellow and white chrysanthemums on gold stems, layered over a pale aqua background.

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I wanted a project that would really showcase the paper, and my mind immediately went to the piece featured on the cover of Modern Paper Crafts, one of my favorite additions to my art book collection last year. The title features sections on folding, scoring, cutting, pleating, and recycling paper, and this pleated paper bowl was one of the highlights for me.

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I like to practice intricate paper crafts on more pedestrian paper before I attempt the real thing. Because a lot of this project was about perfecting the pleating technique, it made sense to take the time for a dry run and get my hands used to the folding and scoring motions. I made my test bowl from some Alice in Wonderland scrapbooking paper, twice the size of the final 6″-square Lokta bowl I had planned.

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If you examine the underside of the paper, you can see how the base and sides are formed. It required a lot of precise folding, but after one of those weeks that tested me both emotionally and physically, it was a joy to put on some ridiculously upbeat music and lose myself for a focused, rewarding half hour. Forming the final shape took some time, and I am definitely glad I tried it first before attempting it on more expensive, one-of-a-kind paper.

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Other than doubling the Lokta so both sides would be patterned, the second bowl was just a smaller version of the first. It went a little faster at the final stages because I knew what to expect and I was so excited to see the finished product. It made me excited to try out a few other projects that I have had my eye on from the same book. I think I saw a piece of paper with clouds and cranes that would work perfectly… ;)

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(Modern Paper Crafts; STC Craft: 2011; ISBN 1584798661)