It's How You Get to ‘Mmmmm...’
In my life I have been extremely fortunate to have had some truly incredible friends. I can list them all by name and tell you in minute detail why they were so incredible if you want me to, but I don’t think you need me to do that. These amazing people have touched my life and my heart in ways I will undoubtedly never be capable of repaying.
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Sugar is a weakness of mine. While to you that might be a rather obvious statement, what with me being the creator of Sugar High Fridays, I don’t think I fully realized the whole truth until recently. You see, it was a closeted fetish all these years. One I harbored yet denied frequently, guiltily, shamefacedly…but vehemently.
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Once upon a time, seemingly in a completely different life, I was an early riser. I was one of those much dreaded “morning people” actually. I would be up before the alarm had a chance to wake me, out of the house at some strange, ungodly hour and rather enjoyed being the first to arrive at work. Weekend mornings I never slept in or (God forbid!) took naps in the afternoon. I can remember myself on Sunday mornings long-ago, up drinking coffee at around 6am, planning the comings and goings of the day that lay ahead.
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Mothers are notorious for making their children look dumb. They are truly exceptional at it, mostly because moms are smart and children are morons. It is when these children are dumb and stubborn that you get into trouble. I happened to be one of those (dumb and stubborn) children. Seriously, are you even remotely surprised?
When I was in grade school my mom taught me to make Nanaimo bars. They were my first dedicated foray into the world of baking; they were a recipe I could pull off a batch of without too much fuss and they always tasted delicious. I would tint the middle layer of icing pink for Valentine’s Day, green for St. Patrick’s Day and purple for Easter. Sometimes I even added sprinkles or flavours. They were just so amazingly delicious and completely versatile. I would take batches of them to school dances, fundraisers, birthdays, picnics and end-of-school parties. I managed to do this through almost to the end of high school without any problems arising… without feeling like a right idiot, at least. Everyone loved them.
One day I took them to a pot-luck dinner at a friend’s house when I was almost finished high school. I had chosen dessert because I knew I didn’t have a lot of time before the party and that these would be simple yet delicious. I whipped them up and took them, proud of my Nanaimo Bars and feeling very much the domestic goddess because of them, for the umpteenth time.
The hostess brought them out to the table and referred to them as (and I quote) “Jennifer’s Brownies”. No, hang on a second, she actually called them “Jennifer’s I-thought-you-said-you-were-bringing-Nanaimo-Bars-and-all-you-brought-are-these-weird-brownies-instead Brownies”. I looked at her, and rather rudely said “Those are Nanaimo bars, you moron”. She went stomping into her mother’s kitchen, to return toting a Canadian Living cookbook/bible that had a recipe for Nanaimo bars. Flashing me a holier-than-thou look she presented to the company at hand a recipe for REAL Nanaimo bars, which while similar were not what I had brought. Apparently Nanaimo Bars have coconut, graham wafers and almonds in them. And they are topped with semi-sweet chocolate rather than unsweetened.
I never spoke to that girl again after that night. I went straight home, cheeks aflame, and asked my mother why she would do such a horrible thing as to lie to me. Her response to my tears and theatrics was her usual arch of an auburn eyebrow, a shrug of the shoulders and a defiant “well, I prefer them my way”. Something, by the way, that I am sure to repeat verbatim when Leith runs home to tell me I made him look dumb in front of his friends (although if I know him he’ll be the one schooling me on what is right and wrong long before his friends get the opportunity to school him).
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I doubt that there is anyone out there who hasn’t heard about my over-active olfactory sense. Smells are such strong representatives of my most powerful memories that sometimes I find myself weeping over a whiff of a chilly autumn breeze or smiling maniacally after smelling my son’s sleep-warmed hair.
In fact, I just packed away a bunch of his way-too-small-for-him clothes and smelled each and every piece before folding it and packing it away in a box in his closet. I found myself in a puddle on the floor of his room with a yellow onesie pressed to my face, wishing he was still little enough to fit into it. Whoever said "they grow up so fast" was absolutely right, and I hate them for it.
But I digress…this is a food blog is it not?!
I think I have always had a maddening love affair with the smell of gingerbread. The molasses, the ginger, the cinnamon – their heady aromas beckon to me from the kitchen. It’s such a "homey" aroma that brings a smile to my face whenever I come across it. I have candles and room fresheners that smell like gingerbread but somehow they just don’t quite capture what real gingerbread smells like when it’s baking in the oven.
Adding chocolate to gingerbread has me rethinking the recipe my mother has been making since I was a child. The smell of the ginger ale/chocolate icing (who would have thought of that combination other than Nigella herself??) as it oozes into the nooks and crannies of the still warm chocolate gingerbread cake is wonderfully wicked.
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Chocolate has long been touted as a "cure-all" for any form of despair in my family. Need to experience feelings of love and adoration but don’t have a warm body to cuddle? Eat some chocolate. Have a bit of a headache that just won’t go away? Chocolate will, in most cases, cure it. Lying in a sick bed and need something to warm you up and make your day that much better? Grab some hot chocolate…or have someone bring you some (even better!). Need something to comfort you when you’re just feeling out-of-sorts? Grab something nice and soft and smooth like…you guessed it: CHOCOLATE. It’s the best thing to pick you up when you’re feeling…meh.
Deep breaths. Count to ten, Jennifer.
Well, as many people close to me are very well aware, I have been a bit meh lately (and for that, I wholeheartedly apologize). Too much to do, too little time to do it in and too many people asking me questions that I have honestly gotten to the point of not wanting to answer ("yes", "no" and "yes, I am sure" are my answers for now). November was a bad month for me emotionally, physically, mentally and intellectually. I couldn’t concentrate; I actually fainted once and hit my head on a table; my heart had its ups and downs; I did no exercise; hardly any walking and I ate crap, pretty much every day (in the forms of food and mistreatment).
Things are getting worse, please send chocolate.
So I enthusiastically welcome the month of December. It will be a month of peace and tranquility, of bliss and contentment. A month dedicated to serenity and of course, good food, great fun and much laughter and merriment. I will go to yoga, I will walk and walk and walk some more. I will smile and sing and dance. I might even sign up for a kickboxing class (I need to get my frustrations out somewhere). Life will indeed, be excellent.
To kick off the month-that-will-be-awesome, I decided to make a perfectly beautiful, deliciously tasty chocolate ganache tart. I added the raspberries for some gaiety and the white chocolate for some bling. What more could a girl want…really?
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My favourite book as a child was about a family of bears who wander through the woods behind their house. They venture between the rocks, around the lake and up Spook Hill, where they encounter an owl who howls loudly (mimicked extremely well by my father at the time). The bears turn tail and run all the way, down Spook Hill, back around the lake and between the rocks…home through the window to their bed in their well-lit, completely safe home. I’m not sure if it was the howling, the suspense or the running home that grabbed my attention, but something in that book did. It grabbed me and held onto me virtually every night for many years of my childhood.
Last night I was awakened by a similar howling, coming from Leith’s room. I slowly emerged from the warm, comfortable sleep in which I was indulging and lay there in the dark, wondering what the noise was. I heard another long howl and my feet immediately hit the floor. I wasn’t quite awake when I found myself beside Leith’s bed, gazing down at my loveable son who was crying his little heart out. I bundled him up in his blanket and sat down with him in my lap and rocked him back and forth, whispering to him over and over that he was going to be okay.
After a few minutes he had calmed down, was heavy and warm in my arms and ready to go back to his bed. I tucked him in, said good night and went back to my own room. After about two minutes the crying started again – not as loud or as determined as before but still plaintive and heart wrenching. He stopped on his own this time but I couldn’t sleep anymore so I got up, put on my slippers and padded to the kitchen.
What do you do at 3 am when you can’t get back to sleep? I don’t find that the old warm milk trick does anything for me. A nice hot cup of peppermint tea is more my speed…and something sweet on the side to fill my belly enough that I can get back to sleep. Luckily, I keep some tidbits in my freezer for just these occasions. Slices of dessert bread or cookie dough, in small packages, ready for the oven; awaiting me when I need them most. All I have to do is turn on the toaster oven, pop one of these little beauties in for a few minutes (about as long as it takes to boil water for a cup of tea). Soon I’m seated, wrapped in my ruby red chenille throw, sipping my tea and munching on something sweet.
It calmed my nerves and obviously Leith’s as well because he didn’t wake again over night. I am still not sure what it was that woke him in the first place. The howling noises I made while reading his favourite book over and over? Another cold? Missing his father? Who knows. But he slept – much like a baby – the rest of the night, as did I after having my small, sweet treat and a few sips of tea.
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Oftentimes even the simplest of fares can convey a sense of comfort, a feeling of joy and add a certain amount of contentment to your day. Merely the smell of something baking in the oven, a hint of nutmeg or the tang of ginger is all you need to make you feel warm and placated after a long day of rain and chilly wind beating against the windows of your home. In fact, the scent of baking is supposed to enhance the beauty of your surroundings to such a degree that most realtors insist that you perfume your home surreptitiously with cinnamon, orange, vanilla or apple when you are showcasing it to perspective buyers.
These smells are, to some people, aphrodisiacal. The aromas of vanilla and cinnamon, as perfumes, have proven themselves over and over again in so many contexts over the years. Women, men and children stop me in the halls at work and insist that I must have cookies in my pockets (and every so often I do). I got into a car with a friend recently and she told me I smelled like Cocoa-Puffs (personally I think she might have been a bit "koo-koo for cocoa puffs"). My old boss used to search my desk drawers when I was at work, assured that there had to be piles of Rice Krispie Squares hidden in there somewhere.
These sweet, slightly musky scents have never had an adverse effect on anyone I’ve met and I don’t even really notice them anymore until someone else points them out to me. I also don’t wear vanilla or cinnamon perfumes, but rather oils, which have no alcohol base to it; making it much more subtle and less annoying than regular perfume (I am actually allergic to regular perfume).
Blending cinnamon and vanilla in proper quantities in desserts is something I love to do. You get the bite of the cinnamon and then the long, smooth slow sweetness of the vanilla. It’s like the perfect kiss.
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Growing up I was terminally shy. I hid in my mother’s or father’s arms, even around family and close family friends. I stammered and stuttered and tried over and over to edge myself into society. It never took and I spent most of my younger years simply not talking.
Once I started cooking and eating the way that I do, somehow I became much more of a social person. Years ago you would have been hard-pressed to drag me out for a glass of wine, a bite to eat or a cup of coffee, unless you were the closest of friends or family. Even then it took a great deal of negotiations, imploring, insisting, pleading and whining on your part…if you were indeed up to it, and considered me worth it.
I’m not sure why that was, or why I’m so different now. My personality hasn’t changed drastically since then and I don’t think I’m much more interesting or approachable now than I was then. In fact there are aspects of my personality that are more closed off and difficult than before and my schedule is more compressed with a job, a small child, an away-all-the-time husband.
All that aside I am a huge fan of "going for coffee". I like to drink coffee as much as anyone, but I like to go for coffee even more. And if the chosen coffee spot happens to have good sweet side dishes then all the better. A very good friend of mine introduced me to this coffee and gelato cafe near where I work a few summers ago, and we went there often. The first time I went I had their caramel apple coffee cake and fell madly in love with it. I found myself craving it more and more until one day, without warning, the shop closed. No "moved" sign, no chance of reopening. It was gone. Since that day I have been searching for a recipe that would attempt to compare. Finally when I couldn’t find one that quite worked, I came up with one myself that is amazing.
AND…mine is actually better than theirs. This leads me to think, who needs friends when they can bake like this?
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Oftentimes even the simplest of fares can convey a sense of comfort, a feeling of joy and a certain amount of contentment to your day. Just the smell of something baking in the oven, a hint of cinnamon or the tang of ginger or the warmth of gooey, flavourful chocolate is all you need to make you feel warm and placated after a long day of rain and chilly wind beating against the windows of your home.
Blending aromatic ingredients into lusciously dense desserts brings a smile to my face. Nibbling on said sweets the next morning with a hot cup of coffee by my hand makes for the perfect start to a cold, blustery, busy day that has no early end in sight.
Perhaps you can create your own magical and delicious desserts by entering this contest … and perhaps I can get you inspired with a little quiz right now, that comes with a prize.
As you know, I have a love for all things "flavorsome". So much so that I named both my cats after words found in the kitchen. If you are the fifth one to email me with the names of both of my cats you will win a gift basket (pictured at the side) the following helpful products:
- $50.00 CDN worth of Pillsbury Product Coupons
- The Complete Guide to a Clean House (The MollyMaid Cleaning Handbook)
- Pillsbury oven mitts and apron
- Pillsbury Doughboy doll
- Pillsbury Doughboy desk clock
- Pillsbury Totebag
Friends are amazing – long term friends, short term friends, friends you see only at work, friends you see once a year, friends of the family, friends who live close, friends who live far. “Friend” is one word that is really indefinable – it can expand or contract to cover any number of different people in your life at one time or another.
I generally tell people that I don’t have a lot of friends – life is easier that way, really. I don’t feel obligated to help a bunch of people move or to invite a whole lot of people over for brunch or even feel as though I have to talk to a myriad of friends on the phone or communicate with them via email. I have just enough friends – some whom I almost never see and some who I see on a regular basis. Some with whom I have a great deal in common and have known for what seems like forever and some who I am only still just getting to know. All of them are important in different ways and each of them offers me something that I can’t get from anyone else…whether they know it or not.
One friend who I don’t know quite as well as I would like is Kat. I know a lot about her and her life and her husband and her son, Max – pretty much all through her blog. But as far as friendships go, the two of us haven’t even scratched the surface yet, although I have a feeling we will in time.
Recently, Kat’s son Max was diagnosed with Autism, and when I first found out it was a complete shock. Max is only two months older than Leith…so you do the math I was doing in my own head. I know quite a bit about the Autistic Spectrum; I’ve met kids with the diagnosis and worked closely with them and their parents. That next week I searched my own still non-speaking child’s face for signs I had been hoping would not appear in any child. I was over-reacting and Leith soon after started speaking (I think he was saving his speech until he knew he could really irritate us with “WHY” and “CUZ” and “NO” and “BANANA CAKE WITH CHOCOLATE CHIPS”) and there were no other remote signs. But Max didn’t get better. Max got worse.
Kat and her husband have ridden the storm with him and he is thankfully doing quite well now. Kat, on the other hand, is up to her armpits in legal mumbo-jumbo trying to get funding for her sweet child to have treatment for his diagnosis.
A few Christmases ago, Kat and I decided to do a “sweets exchange” with each other. My decadent Peppermint Bark for her tantalizing Cranberry Almond Bark (shown above). I have to say it was one of the nicest gifts I received that year and I savored each and every one of those delicious cranberry almond chocolate shards. Friends can indeed come in handy – especially friends like Kat.
Right now Kat needs some support…and couldn’t we all at one point or another? So if you want to support a friend, please go to Mabel’s Label’s and vote for Fickle Feline 2.0 (voting closes Feb 23rd at noon) to send this amazing mom of an autistic boy to Chicago so that she can continue to advocate for funding for Autism through her blog.
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I woke up this morning on the wrong side of the bed. I stomped to the shower, scrubbed my scalp raw while grumbling about how decent people don’t get up before the sunrise everyday and glowered at my red, dampened reflection in the mirror. Tempted to drape myself in black, I donned a pink cashmere turtleneck at the last second in an attempt to cheer myself up.
It didn’t take.
I got to work, slammed a few drawers, stomped around haphazardly for a while and tossed some papers on my desk. I wandered into my co-worker’s office and snarled "I’m in an awful mood today". And turned to go. I hadn’t been looking for justification or for encouragement or even a bright response. I had just needed to tell someone that today was not going to be my day.
Apparently this week is one of the most depressing of the entire year (how is it that we are already depressed when the year has hardly begun??). Something about how winter is still looming infinitely in front of us, we’ve already failed our New Year’s resolutions and Christmas debts are piling up.
I think for me it has more to do with the fact that I get up long before the sun has breached the horizon and don’t tend to get home from work until it has sunk beyond the horizon. I forget what it feels like to feel the sun on my cheeks and how it feels to need to wear the sunglasses that have hibernated at the bottom of my bag.
So I try to cook "sunlight" into my foods. I cook with fruits and vegetables that remind me of the warmer days of spring, summer and even the early fall. Apples, peaches, pears, berries all play featured roles in my desserts while squash, vine-ripened and sun-dried tomatoes and roasted corn headline in my main courses. I think eating fresh fruits and vegetables helps me keep my head from clouding over when the forecast calls for frigid temperatures and little or no sun.
After eating one piece of this apple coffee cake I felt much better. It cheered me up, filled up my stomach and set my brain on the right track for the rest of the day.
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