food

Baking and Memories

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This is the time of the year when I pay more attention to baking and making breads and pasties and pie. It is a winter time past time and it makes my little condo smell divine for a day or two. Lately I have been focused on a pecan pie recipe that I received from my daughter-in-law who is an excellent pie maker and shares my love of sweets.

I started this morning by tweaking my stash of recipes with the Karo syrup pecan pie recipe that I copied off of the world wide wait (that’s an old term – these days it is the Wha Wait What?). When I saved it to the correct folder on this laptop I found the following piece I wrote a while ago. It is a good memory of mine.

As I re-read the yellow bag story, I could hear Cheryl. At first, after she died, I was anxious that I would lose the ability to hear her voice. He works in mysterious ways. Gladly He helps me to hear her voice. (Sometimes, of course, being male, I do not want to hear it.) … on to the cookie story.

She’s Done it to Me

A couple years ago, when Cheryl was struggling physically more with Parkinson and her struggle with the dementia aspects of it was taking away her ability to follow simple directions, she coerced (maybe too strong of a word) me into helping her make cookies. I did not want to at the time.

Once or twice these were Snickerdoodles. And a couple other times we made chocolate chip cookies, the recipe is on the two pound bag of Nestle’s morsels. “You have to get the yellow bag!” she said to me once when I when I returned from the store by myself in the midst of the COVID pandemonium and price-shopped for supplies. “Those won’t work.” I was disheartened. I had purchased the store brand of chocolate chips. I argued my case for twenty-two milliseconds before realizing that there was no point in contesting the issue further. I returned to the store for the correct chips (“Morsels! It will say morsels on the bag. The bag is yellow.” She spoke to my back as I left.)

I can hear her voice. Little stories like this help me to recall her voice.

Yesterday, because I could avoid it no longer, I went to the grocery to restore my larder to its previous vigor. At the beginning my list had only two things, dried cranberries and raisins. Both of these I add to overnight oats which has become a new favorite breakfast treat. I have a pint Ball jar that is just the right size to contain a half cup of rolled oats, a cup of milk and whatever else I put in with those usually raisins or craisins some honey and chia seeds to set in the fridge overnight. I have also added at times cocoa powder, cinnamon, cardamon, vanilla or tahinni and used brown sugar instead of honey. This mixture goes well with my assembly of the coffee in the evening as well as drinking the coffee in the morning.

While putting all away I discovered that the bag of dried cranberries that I purchased would not fit into my quart jar I use to save dried fruit. Alas, some remained in the Ziploc bag that only zips most of the time. I left them on the counter to become a healthy evening snack near the apples and bananas.

After preparing some lunch I hunted for some sweetness to satisfy my heritage and hit upon spreading the Nutella look-alike I purchased at Aldi sometime in the past on a saltine cracker and sprinkling cranberries on top. That tuned out pretty good. (If you are not a believer, try it.) I realized that I was inventing a variety of cookie – biscuit or digestive to the Brits out there – and heard Cheryl say, “You could try making a chocolate cookie with stuff in it.” I blame Cheryl when I hear these inventive thoughts about cooking. She was not very inventive with ingredients but very inventive with technique.

I launched myself into search for a basic chocolate cookie that I could modify with extra ingredients. Below is the final product:

  • 2 C. all purpose flour
  • 2/3 C. powdered cocoa
  • 1 tsp. baking soda
  • ¼ tsp. salt
  • 1 ½ C. white sugar
  • 1 C. unsalted butter
  • 2 large eggs
  • 2 tsp. vanilla extract
  • 1 C. chocolate morsels (in the yellow bag)
  • 1 C. dried cranberries
  • ½ C. smashed walnuts (crushed in the bag but I smash them further)

I creamed the butter, eggs, vanilla and sugar for a bit. Whisked the flour, salt, soda and cocoa together in a separate bowl dry and then dumped them into my mixer. (I bought a new mixer.) After a bit of mixing I tried out my folding paddle and dumped in the rest of the ingredients.

Bake in a 350F (177C) – medium oven 8 to 10 minutes. This lump of cookie dough makes about 4 dozen if you use a teaspoon from your table wear set to scoop and spoon some on to an UNgreased cookie sheet like I did.

After 8 minutes on the timer, I rotated the cookie sheets in the oven and added 4 minutes to the time. This worked for me because I dislike (maybe hate) chewy soft cookies. There is something special about just the right crunch that makes me smile.

Cheryl! You turned me into a cookie recipe experimenter. It is all your fault. (Dammit.) I love you and you are right. These are good. The tricky part will be spreading them out in my eating habits. I have eaten three while writing this story. They go well with coffee.

I wonder which wine pairs well. Pinot Noir? Chardonnay?

A conundrum.

Carpe Diem.

I will miss her always. I promise to only buy chocolate chips in the yellow bag that say morsels on the bag. Yes, Dear. I love you and miss you on holidays like this. Be safe and well in heaven. (Yep, I teared up when I wrote this.)

Carpe the baking Diem

Cherry Tomatoes

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I came home last night with no more thoughts or inspiration other than remembering to put out the trash for the early morning pickup. Attached to the kitchen door of my condo was this ziplock bag of goodies fresh from our garden. My neighbor, Joe, had harvested our first two cherry tomatoes. (He kept one. Drat, But it is an endeavor for which he provides most if not all of the effort, so I celebrate that with him.)

I left it on the kitchen counter, put out the trash, read about Gilgamesh for awhile and went to bed. I had visited earlier with my son and my daughter-in-law and grandson Luke. I had not seen or talked to Luke for some time. (He is a long haul truck driver and spends a lot of time on the road.) Big gaps in time enable me to see how he has matured. Cruising the countryside in a big rig takes him to other places with new experiences. He is an intelligent mature man comfortable in his own skin. And I slept well.

I found this mature little tomato back this morning and celebrated its existence. I asked Copilot – a fun thingy on this laptop – to write an ode to this lowly tomato. It gave me this:

Ah, noble tomato, blushing on the vine,  
First jewel of summer, how proudly you shine!  
You rise from earth with unassuming grace,  
Green shoulders sun-kissed, red with pride of place.  

Not yet a bushel, just one brave lone flame,  
The garden’s herald, whispered in by rain.  
A promise in pulp, in seeds tightly curled,  
You carry the sun and scent of the world.  

Your skin so taut, like hope held in suspense—  
We wait for your fall with mouths, not pretense.  
For in your flesh lives warmth, both sweet and tart,  
A tangy hymn sung straight to the heart.  

Let poets chase roses that bloom and fade,  
I toast you instead, in salad or braid—  
Sliced on warm bread with salt like a spell,  
You speak in flavors no words dare to tell.  

So here’s to you, red comet on the stem,  
First of your kind, a botanical gem.  
The season begins when you ripen bold—  
A lowly fruit, and a miracle told.

Kind of corny. This sounds a little like Willy Shakesperson with his panties in a wad. But Copilot cannot understand whether it is talking about a fruit or a girl friend. It picked both. It swings both ways.

I decided to celebrate the tomatoes existence with breakfast. Scrambled eggs, toast, bacon and skillet potatoes which is the reason – I am certain of this – why God added fat to bacon. Potatoes and onions are much better fried up in the leftover bacon fat.

I know. I hear you. I am a very religious guy when it comes to observations like these. We all know that the good things come from God. He sent those animals with cloven hooves here to cook the potatoes. (Potatoes fried in beef tallow are pretty good also.) Amen to that!

I wrote a text to my neighbor, Joe, thanking him. I also reported that there only enough for a garnish,

Burp. Sorry.

Carpe (well fed) Diem.

Some Men have not Eaten Quiche

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Real Men don’t Eat Quiche

Yesterday my nephew, Jeff, and his family came to visit. It was a spontaneous phone message in the dark of the movie theater. “I’m in town for a few days on business. Can we get together for breakfast or lunch?” He lives in California and I have not talked to him face to face since his wedding three years ago. I invited him to my little condo and spread the word to my kids. It was a wonderful spontaneous family gathering.

When I mentioned it to my neighbor Jane later she remarked, “Serendipitous!” Yes, it was.

I made a quiche out of some random components that I had in the refrigerator. Quiche and frittata are in the same category of use what you have, I think. And of the two I think quiche is better. It could be the pastry crust that is required for an excellent quiche. One can make a crustless quiche but that is just lazy and in that other country it is called frittata, so, go over the mountain and call your crustless quiche by the correct name.

Jeff told me that no one had ever made him a quiche before. (It made me feel good inside. I was proud of myself.) The title for this essay jumped into my head after they were all gone yesterday. It is from a satirical little book that I recently found was written in the 80s. (Wow, I am getting old. I thought it was written just a couple years ago.) I had almost said it to him when he said, this is pretty good.

This quiche was bacon, Italian sausage, broccoli and onions with sharp cheddar and mozzarella, eggs scrambled with a little sugar and buttermilk over a pie dough made with flour and butter and a little salt. It was good.

Sometimes us real men eat quiche and pronounce it to be good. The accompanying picture is AI’s version of real men eating quiche. You can tell they are real people because they are washing down their quiche and other green substances with lager. (Never mind the fact that they all have the same mother and they were all born within 15 seconds of each other.)

Beer and quiche, Could be the breakfast of champions.

Carpe the serendipitous Diem.

Not Perfect but Better

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“Not perfect but better than it was” is my new answer to the question, “How are you doing?”

A good friend told me recently (In my thoughts, I used the verb accused.), “You are good at thinking about what you are thinking about and communicating that…” I thought to myself, huh? I do not understand what that means. My second thought was, is that a good thing?

Maybe that is why I am here talking to the computer (me really) and maybe putting these thoughts on my little blog. Maybe I do think about things more deeply than others. Maybe I do not. Caring for someone every hour of everyday with a chronic disease which gets steadily worse has turned my attention to finding grace and meaning in the little things and simple things around me. I suppose that fits with Carpe Diem.

Carpe Diem is how I sign these blog posts. And these are more and more about me, which fits because Cheryl is no longer here. And down the rabbit hole of meditation and thoughts about life and where it is going and where it was before, I have fallen. Alas. I can consume much of the day thinking about it. I hope I am not mired in grief. I do not think so. I do think that I have a predisposition to helping others if I can. I suppose I learned that from my father. (Ahh! another stream of conscience.)

If you are not used to doing this thought process on your own (finding your space and place), seek out a support group, either face to face or on Facebook. It is helpful with whatever difficultly you are encountering. The anonymity of Facebook works for many. Talking person to person about a mutually experienced disease or issue works for others.

This will sound like a tangent but stay with me. I have a notepad I keep on the kitchen table that I use to take notes about various vegetables and other items that I cook for a meal. I roast many things in the oven because I find it a convenient way cook. And while the oven is cooking there is often a convenient fifteen minutes or so for a glass of wine. Alas, I have digressed. On this pad I note which combinations of ingredients seem to work for me, so that I can repeat them in the future if I desire. (Cooking for one can be a chore.)

My first note is; brussel sprouts / tomato / carrots / salt, pepper, toss with olive oil / roast all 375F ~ 20 mins. This is pretty cryptic but this is a combination of vegetables that I like roasted together. There are others. Trying to eat healthy is a personal goal. I quartered the tomato and roasted it along with the rest.

My second note is; What’s in that soup? And a list of ingredients that I put in the soup. Several days ago it was a list of ingredients for beef, vegetable, barley soup. Today’s soup is a butternut squash recipe modified from the Mind Diet cookbook. I used orange lentils (1C.) instead of tofu and not so much ginger. My scribble tells me what marsala curry powder is made from.

My point is this: I have given myself the opportunity and place to note to myself about what is working. I do not feel the need to keep notes on what does not work in cooking a meal or in life. (Laments are not my style. I just throw away any leftovers… did he mean food or life? Yes.) It must be my personal reason for journaling and exposing my emotions to the blog-o-sphere.

I am not attempting to convince anyone of this method. I just know it works for me. I keep notes about what works for me when I am cooking. I keep notes about what works for me in life – my journal and this blog.

I rarely notice my own habits and attributes and other things that I do to help myself during the day. I used to have Cheryl to do that for me and it is, no doubt, another reason that I miss her so each day. (I know you are reading this , Cheryl, so there you have it.) It seems that I have others who do that for me also and I did not know they were there.

Others have told me that my words help them. If you are one of those, you are welcome. I only know that my writing helps me.

Look for grace where you can find it. (Cheryl often told me, there is grace in accepting help from others.) There is grace in simply being present for others.

Carpe Diem

Where are the Pasties?

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Fast Food lovers Unite!

Has anyone noticed or even thought about the sad state of fast food? The universe is full of burgers and fries. These are chips to the Brits out there. Why is that? Are fast foodies complacent? Why put up with that selection? Yes sometimes the burger is made from chicken and sometimes it is made with pork the other white meat and sometimes the burger is shaved or sliced instead of ground but it is still a burger. Where are the falafels? Where are the pitas? There are other fast foods folks. Where are the pasties? You thought I was stuck on middle eastern cuisine did you not? Pasties are a big deal with Cornish miners. Where are the shrimp tacos?

I am ranting. I struck out on a spontaneous couple of days away from any preconceived commitments to just be by myself today. In a conversation I had over several days decided to simply leave. I told my kids. I told a couple others that might wonder where I went. I told my niece who cleans for me every couple of weeks. I am gone this week – well most of it. I have digressed.

Traveling south on a main artery in the U. S. should bring one in contact with a vast selection of fast food choices. Nope. Just burgers and fries exist in the two hundred-ish miles I drove today. What a disappointment this was to me. I had planned to drive thru somewhere and snag something different. Fast foodies are complacent. Or asleep maybe.

Frisch’s, a local fast(ish) food chain is closing in an agonizingly slow fashion. An out-of-state crowd bought the restaurants and real estate and leased the real property back to the restaurant operators. Probably some percentage of the profits deal was put together. The pandemic pandemonium ensued and everyone operating on half a shoe string struggled to stay alive.

What doe that have to do with anything? What does that have to do with food choices on commercial goods arteries in the U. S.? Nothing except that I saw a billboard ad for Frisch’s as I was driving along and I thought I might stop there. That thought drifted into burgers which morphed into anything else but burgers which made me think about what comes with a burger/chicken/pork-patties, just fries. All are on a bun. Not rutabaga, not squash, not carrots, some places have sweet potato fries, and some places do have mushy onion paste rings but where is mustard greens? Where are rice cakes? Where are fried green tomatoes?

Why is it always a bun? What’s in that flour that buns are made of? I looked longingly for a burrito sign and was overwhelmed with burgers.

A pasty can contain anything but its usual form is beef stew in a pastry shell. This picture from the Daring Gourmet. I think I will try it when I get home. All I need now is skirt steak and a swede or two.

I long for carrots or rutabaga and now I am hungry.

Carpe Diem.

To Sit or Not to Sit

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To sit or not to sit that is the inaction.

That is the thought that jumped into my head as I pondered life’s choices and what we make of them when we make them.

The young man yesterday morning who in his zeal to get through the intersection on the Yellow traffic signal even though it was obvious that he had no chance of clearing the intersection before the Red because the service truck before him was also in the intersection blocking it chose to ignore his surroundings and become an asshat. (Was that judgmental of me? I chose to be judgmental just then.) I praised him for his eagerness to get his workplace twenty milliseconds faster as the rest of us became 20 minutes late while I waited to turn left through his driver-side door.

The Rule of Lines: The other line always moves faster.

  • 1st corollary: Switching lines (a choice) removes the delay in the queue you entered originally
  • 2nd corollary: Switching back (a second choice) much like Schrodinger’s cat screws it up for everyone.

Choices have consequences. Own them and learn from them.

All the time I am writing this and thinking about these I have stalled my original task I set for myself of going to the grocery store. Sometimes choices that need to be made are distasteful. Today for me that is pushing a grocery cart.

Cheryl taught me to make a list before entering the store. Mom just went to see what interested her. Her attraction to Sam’s Club was the idea that one could snack their way around the store. This idea was adopted by the Thriftway store that I would take her to when she had coerced me into doing it. I have found that Cheryl’s list method works well along side of Mom’s spontaneous want method for me.

It appears that I am fretting before doing. This attitude will keep one at home idling while the rest of the world moves on.

Carpe Diem.

Yesterday

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Two days ago I tripped over this recipe from the New York Times for an apple tahini tart. I wondered what tahini could possibly be. That thought led me down the rabbit hole of reading and cooking. It is my favorite sort of hole to fall into. I can be lost for hours.

Tahini is merely toasted sesame seeds and some oil. I found a recipe and method for making my own from scratch. When I was finished the product had the consistency of peanut butter and a similar albeit milder flavor. I should back up a bit. After reading the entire NYT recipe and how to create my own tahini, I looked through my larder. Low and behold I had everything except for apples. (Apples generally do not last long in my house.) Off to the store for more on Sunday morning I went.

I made the tahini on Saturday and refrigerated it overnight. On Sunday I made the pastry and placed it in the refrigerator as directed to rest a couple hours while I went to the grocery store to find apples. IGA had Pink Lady apples just as I had hoped for when reading the recipe. (I become ecstatic when I can find all the exact ingredients to make a new recipe the first time.)

When I made the tahini sauce by mixing the tahini with the other ingredients I covered it with a piece of waxed paper to keep out any small fliers that seem to appear when I bring in tomatoes from the small garden we have. I asked Cheryl (I could feel her nearby.) where did you put the rubber bands? I could use one to put around the top of this container of sauce. I found the Rubbermaid leftover tubful of rubber bands that I had recovered from her office several months ago and carried it from my office into the kitchen. When I opened it to find a suitable elastic band I found also a note from Cheryl.

A yellow post it note was wrapped around a flash-drive with the message “Sr. Pat” and a crossed out phone number. The flash-drive contained a video file that our grandson Max had put together some time ago. That video is a collection of early Christmas videos that his Dad made twenty years ago. I could not watch it all the way through until today when I could give myself time to react to the memories.

October is tomorrow and this is the time of year when Cheryl would start agitating to decorate for Christmas and I would resist (because I did not share her enthusiasm.) She sent me a message. “Christmas will be here before you know it!” she would say (and was saying this time.) I would argue that it is ONLY October. Thanksgiving has not happened yet! Today I argued that I had to finish this tart first!

This will be the first Christmas without her. I miss this discussion. I wonder how I will react to that fact in a few weeks. I wonder how I will react to the first Christmas without her in a few months.

Yesterday I put the flash-drive aside to finish assembling the the tart. Here is the end result.

I took it to my son’s house to consume after the football game. I will keep this recipe to do again with other fillings.

Tahini Apple Tart By Andy Baraghani Published in NYT website Sept. 16, 2024

For the dough
  • 1½ cups all-purpose flour, plus more as needed
  • 1 tablespoon sugar
  • 1¼ teaspoons kosher salt (such as Diamond Crystal)
  • ¾ cup/170 grams unsalted butter, cut into small cubes, chilled
  • Ice water, as needed
For the tahini spread
  • ⅓ cup tahini
  • 3 tablespoons sugar
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
  • 1 large egg
  • ¼ teaspoon kosher salt
Assembly and filling
  • 2 pounds crisp, tart apples such as Honeycrisp or Pink Lady (about 6 medium apples)
  • 1 tablespoon cider vinegar or lemon juice
  • 3 tablespoons sugar, plus more for sprinkling
  • 1 teaspoon ground cardamom
  • Heavy cream, for brushing
  • 1 to 2 tablespoons white sesame seeds
  • Vanilla ice cream, whipped cream or crème fraîche, for serving
  1. For the Dough: Whisk together the flour, sugar and salt in a large bowl. Dump in the cold butter and toss until coated in the flour mixture, separating any pieces that stick together. Use your fingers to smush and flatten each piece once.
  2. Drizzle ¼ cup ice water over the flour mixture. Repeatedly run your fingers through the mixture, as if rummaging through a drawer, until combined. The dough will start out looking dry then become very shaggy. Transfer to a clean work surface and use your palms to knead the dough together, forming a ball with no dry spots. You may need an additional tablespoon or two of ice water to help the dough come together, but even then it will be shaggy, not smooth or shiny.
  3. Wrap the dough with plastic wrap and use your hands to flatten it into a round disc about 1-inch thick. Chill for 2 hours or up to 3 days.
  4. Lightly dust a clean work surface with flour and roll out the dough, turning it to prevent it from sticking between rolls, into a 14-inch round. Gently gather both ends of the dough and transfer to a parchment-lined baking sheet. Refrigerate the dough while you make the sesame spread and apple filling.
  5. For the sesame spread: Whisk the tahini, sugar, butter, egg and salt together in a medium bowl until smooth. (You can make the sesame spread 5 days ahead; just bring to room temperature before using, so it spreads easily.) [Ask Cheryl where the rubber bands are located.]
  6. For the filling: Heat the oven to 375 degrees. Peel, core and thinly slice the apples (see Tip). Toss the apple slices, vinegar, sugar and the cardamom together in a large bowl until the sugar feels like it has dissolved.
  7. Remove the dough from the fridge and plop the sesame spread in the center. Use the back of a spoon to evenly distribute the sesame spread, leaving a 2-inch border. Arrange the apples on top in whatever manner you like. Fold the edges of the dough over the apples to form the crust, then brush the dough with heavy cream and sprinkle with sesame seeds and more sugar.
  8. Bake on the bottom rack for 40 to 50 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through, until the crust is deeply golden brown and the apples are tender. Let cool for 20 minutes before slicing and serving with the topping of your choice.

I often bake bread in a convection bake and I started this tart in a convection oven. I got used to doing this in our old house. The temperature is uniform in a convection oven. After the first twenty minutes or so I rotated the cookie sheet that I had put the tart onto. I also changed the oven setting to bake from convection bake. I gave it a few minutes over the allotted time. As you can see from the photo it needed perhaps a short time under the broiler to get that golden brown color. I chose not to burn it.

David and I both pronounced it excellent.

Carpe Diem.

Pizza Tuesday

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Sometimes You Can Be Surprised

There are special people in your life that unbeknownst to you are looking out for your welfare.

A wonderful thing happened to me last evening. A friend – I thought Cheryl’s friend – asked me in a text message if I was still going to a favorite pizza place on Tuesday evenings. I am not.

This was something that Cheryl and I started many years ago as a reason to have some time out of the house and enjoy each other’s company without the distraction of other things. We started the pizza tradition on a Friday night twenty or so years ago. Her Parkinson was non-existent. Our favorite pizza store at the time became very crowded on Friday and over time we tried different days until we landed on Tuesday for no other reason than it was not crowded on Tuesday. “Anything goes Pizza Tuesday” was born.

It is amusing as to how little family traditions are born. Our pizza Tuesday was born this way. On some Tuesdays we would try a different pizza store but it was always pizza. Sometimes Cheryl wanted a calzone. On those occasions I would get a hoagie sandwich. But Tuesday was sacrosanct and pepperoni was king. If it did not have pepperoni on it, it did not count as a pizza. It was merely flatbread with stuff on it.

As Cheryl’s disease progressed I kept up our outings for pizza. I invited our good friend and neighbor to come with us. I invited other friends and family. Some nights we had a crowd. Some nights it was Cheryl and me. During the pandemic pandemonium I carried out from our favorite pizza store and we ate around our dining table with our neighbors.

I kept this going for longer than was probably necessary. The last few times we went on a Tuesday evening Cheryl had little mobility and I would push her around in her transfer chair.

But I have digressed a bit. When Mary Jo texted me and asked about pizza Tuesday, I asked her what did she have in mind. After a few exchanges we settled on a time and she and her husband would pick me up. Two days ago, Cheryl had been mostly sleeping away the day as a result of all her activity on Monday. After our chat with Dr. Y she had three visitors in succession. That sort of thing tires her out. Sundowner Syndrome is annoying to deal with in winter but Showtime which she is still able to muster up for an hour or so just plain wipes her out. So on Tuesday she mainly slept. And on Tuesday I went to the bar with Gary and Mary Jo.

Help from Many Others

Two women have been a great deal of help to me over the past couple of years are Cindy and Linda. Both are cousins-in-law. Cindy is married to Cheryl’s cousin. Linda was married to my cousin Frank. Frank is gone from this Earth. Both asked how they could help me spontaneously without me asking for them to help. Men are not good at asking for help of any kind, especially me. Cindy recognized that first and volunteered to come and sit with Cheryl for a couple hours once a week while I went to ride my bike and got some exercise. Linda did a similar thing. I was able to twist her arm to get her to sit with Cheryl while I attended a seminar on caregiving a couple years ago. They will always be front and center in my mind when I think of people who have helped me the most as Cheryl’s cognition deteriorated.

If I look with different eyes I find myself surrounded by caring and kind people just like Cheryl is surrounded by caring and kind people at Bridgeway Pointe. Sometimes you just do not know who will step in to help.

Carpe Diem.

Turnovers

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As in turn over a new leaf or turn over you are snoring? Nope these are turnovers made with croissant dough, egg wash and, in this case, cherry pie filling left over from another project.

In my father’s family there was this undertone at family gatherings that one should eat dessert first because as we all know, “One cannot predict the time or place of one’s death.” That is for the big man upstairs.Recently I rediscovered my copy of “Baking with Julia” a cookbook in the same vein as her old shows where she demonstrates how to do things. This book is dedicated to bread and pastries. I tend to wander off and experiment with variations on a theme.

About two weeks ago feeling full of ennui I decided to follow the croissant dough recipe and make croissants. Buttery flaky pastry dough has been a mystery for me. I have made bread for many years and each time I do I am amazed at two things; why I continue to buy store bread from commercial bakeries and how long the commercial bakery bread will last while I am eating up the last of the loaf I previously baked.

Following Julia’s explicit detail I mixed up a simple sweet dough and placed it into the fridge overnight. With it I beat up a pound of butter (18 oz. actually) with some flour and shaped it into an oval shape about an inch think and placed it in the fridge overnight. This was a two day activity. Not as big of a time commitment as making sourdough but much more demanding physically and definitely more satisfying mentally.

The croissants tasted great but had no great beauty to them. I used part of the dough to create a fruit pocket style coffee cake but the dough was wrong for that. Danish dough is better for the fruit pocket.

The last of the dough I used to make turnovers. These are great. I rolled the last of the dough out into a 12 inch by 12 inch square, cut it into quarters and folded the dough over a glop of cherry pie filling. I glued the dough together with some egg wash and pressed the edges down with a fork. All are painted with egg wash before going into a 350 degree oven for 15 minutes. When they came out I drizzled them with Virginia Bakery roll icing which is just confectioners sugar with more sugar and a little water. These are good. I will do them again.

Carpe Diem, but do not forget to eat dessert first.