Date Night In: Take It Outside

Insert introduction about Ashley and her husband Gabe getting small, matching tattoos immediately after their wedding and then again to commemorate their tenth wedding anniversary. Roy and I plan to celebrate ten years of marriage this summer as well, but instead of a tattoo we’ll have a new baby. And then to actually celebrate we plan on going to Paris in the summer of 2018. Without children. With espresso and croissants and chocolate and wine. And cheese. And bread. And crepes…

This DNI came at a good time. I’ve found in pregnancy if I’m not getting enough iron I get nosebleeds. I had a dandy one a couple of days ago and started getting lightheaded on my daily walks, so knowing we’d be consuming a pound of high-quality beef seemed appropriate. And a nice ‘justification’ for spending $20 on .88 lbs of beef tenderloin. <gulp>

I thought this DNI would be pretty simple, relatively speaking. No salad, no homemade bread, no cocktail for me. I’ve made the dessert a dozen times already so nothing surprising there. It ended up being surprisingly frustrating and complicated.

Menu:

Kickin’ Kentucky Mule

Potato Chips with Fennel Coriander Salt

Roast Beef Tenderlois Sandwiches with Caramelized Onions, Horseradish Mayonaise, and Arugula

Salted Chocolate Chip Cookies

Let’s take this one item at a time in regards to preparation. The mule ended up being ginger ale, due to a lack of bourbon in the house and me not drinking. (Ginger ale was an alternative listed in the book, so we count it.) Owen helped me make ginger-lime syrup yesterday morning. He was quite helpful actually! He helped me put limes in the juicer, which took a long time since we needed over a dozen limes to reach a cup of fresh juice. He also helped me process 10 ounces of fresh ginger and stir in water and sugar. My new mini food processor ate that ginger for breakfast no problem. (Thank you KitchenAid!) 

The ingredients all came together nicely and I dipped my finger in for a taste…and almost threw up right there in the kitchen.

In normal life it didn’t taste bad. It was fine. But a wave of morning-sickness memories washed over me at that first drop. When I was pregnant with Owen I had a lot of nausea and a lot of well-meaning friends that suggested and brought me gingery things to take the edge off the icky. I’ve since enjoyed a little ginger in savory dishes but can’t say I’ve had anything especially sweet, and this triggered all of those real fun weeks of “please don’t make me eat or look at that.” The reminder was so strong I felt queasy for the next two hours!

Next up: slicing a single russet potato with a mandoline into “paper-thin slices 1/16 of an inch thick.” This is why we bought a mandoline. Well, it didn’t work so well. The potato refused to slice evenly across so I ended up with about 200 paper-thin half-renderings of “does that actually count as a potato slice?” I wanted to throw the tool across the kitchen after re-centering the potato a dozen times and experimenting with various techniques and angles to get an even slice. No dice. I was skeptical as to the outcome of such pathetic shards of potato.

Then I caramelized an onion. Ashley includes a mini essay on the virtues and definition of a true caramelization. I had read such sermons before. Apparently lay-chefs think you can heat up an onion for ten minutes and call it caramelized. But if you are a REAL cook it should take at least 45 minutes and up to several hours. I am rarely patient enough for such shenanigans, but the boys were napping and I had nowhere else to be. So I set my pan to a temperature so low I doubted it would even warm and checked it every ten minutes. Sure enough, in about an hour I had caramelized onions that were even and slightly crisp…almost like the French-fried onions that come in the can. Chalk up one success!

The fennel coriander salt was pretty easy. Lightly toasted a few spices and ground them up and mixed with salt. I feared for a minute that my spice grinder was broken, but I persisted and broke through its stubborn exterior. Hah!

The horseradish mayo sauce wasn’t executed to the best of my ability. I was confused as to what she meant by “prepared horseradish”. It obviously wasn’t just the plant, but did she mean jarred plant, or like Helmann’s horseradish sauce? I picked the sauce and I think that was the wrong choice. The sauce was OK, but it tasted mostly just like mayo. Roy said he was fine with it, but I wish I had gotten the authentic combination of ingredients.

THEN I seared $20 worth of beef tenderloin. The entire kitchen spattered with oil (a kitchen I had just wiped down from top to bottom that morning) but we got every side nicely browned and popped into the oven for a short roast. I took it out at the very earliest time recommended to check the internal temperature. And it was 30 degrees over what it should have been. I almost cried. “Roy, did I just ruin $20 worth of meat?!?” We decided to trust that our sear kept it from being completely dried out. When I sliced it an hour later we were relieved to see that, while not medium-rare, it wasn’t shoe leather either. An authentic well-done with moisture and tenderness. Just right for a pregnant woman. Obviously this was my plan…

Other steps included making cookie dough. Thankfully, this is something I could do in my sleep. No problem. I also had to deep fry those horrendous slices of potato. Deep frying is something I’m slowly getting used to. The Dutch oven we purchased helps a lot, and dang it if those chips didn’t turn out all crispy and lovely. Frustrating to have to wait 20 minutes just for the oil to heat, but the frying process was speedy and efficient. The slices were so small that the oil never really dropped in temperature, so I didn’t have to wait between batches. Slight redeeming factor for a lengthy process that gives me new appreciation for growing up in the snack capital of the world (sending “I Heart U’s” to Utz and Snyders right now…your chips are just as good and save me hours of frustration).

Finally we ate all this food. And it was really good. The ginger ale wasn’t that bad—the seltzer helped dilute the super strong ginger and the lime came through a bit more after a rest in the fridge. The sandwich and chips went together really nicely, and we knew dessert would be awesome.

These are my favorite cookies in the world. 

They caused a Christian woman I know to exclaim, on mic, in front of 50 people that “you cannot understand the true power of the Holy Spirit until you’ve eaten one of these cookies.” And a Christian man to whisper to me, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but that is one DAMN good cookie.” The dark, high-quality chocolate, the trifecta of sugars that give a deep sweetness and slight crystallization to the texture, the flake salt on top. The soft height and chewy interior. They are perfection. These cookies make me look like I know what I’m doing in the kitchen. (Which, as most of this essay has proven, I really don’t.)

We usually eat them straight out of the oven, off the cooling rack, or snuck out of the container when we think no one is watching. But this particular batch were fresh, warm, and served up with French vanilla ice cream. And you know what? It was a damn good, Holy Spirit-filled dessert.

In spite of the challenges I don’t think we doubted that this food would taste good. It’s a roast beef sandwich, potato chips, soda, and cookies. Even if it’s not the best you’ve ever had it’s still going to be palatable. And this food was really very good. I’m not sure it was worth all the labor. The cookies, yes, but they don’t really take that long. I doubt I’ll ever make ginger ale again, or potato chips. I might try to make good roast beef again, but probably with a different cut of meat and definitely a different strategy to temperature. And real horseradish.

The arugula was really hard to find too.

"Through all the changes, big and small, we know that for as long as we can help it, there will be an us. We’ve got the tattoos spit-up and Eiffel Tower keychains to prove it.”

                -Ashley Rodriguez, NWS, p. 74

A weekend to remember

Occasionally you are given a gift so wonderful you have to record it for posterity. Such a gift happened to me this weekend (and is still happening).

Thursday night I was at a church choir rehearsal when my Fitbit buzzed, indicating I had a text. It was Roy, “So, what do you want to do tomorrow night? :D” I grabbed my phone and was informed that my mother in law had offered to take the boys for an overnight, giving us a full 24 hours to ourselves. Additionally, Roy would be gone on Saturday for most of the day, giving me a full 8 hours to MYSELF. You’ve never seen a more smiley Messiah alto in your life.

Friday night came, the boys were safely deposited, slightly damp, into the backseat of Mom’s car, excited for pizza and toys and Aunt Martha (even though I told them repeatedly she wouldn’t be there). I drove home in utter silence, shutting the radio off and listening to the rain drum on the windshield. I arrived home and began a nice dinner we could enjoy as a couple without distraction or complaint. Roast chicken in the oven, potatoes gently simmering on the stovetop, carrots brushed with coriander and sweet maple, ready to roast. I had Friends on my iPad, providing a familiar soundtrack to my stirring and chopping. The entire hour was completely therapeutic.

We ate in silence, appreciating every forkful at our leisure. Then we pondered half a dozen options as to how to spend our free evening. Poking around the mall won out (I can’t resist the allure of Williams and Sonoma) and we walked for two hours, skipping the Lego store and carousel and opting instead to browse the suit coats, professional attire, and kitchen gadgetry (because Williams and Sonoma). We were able to nab a quick ice cream right as everything shut down at 9:30 and swapped bites of chocolate next to the fountains. The two hours were completely therapeutic.

I woke up the next morning at 9:20AM. Only slightly embarrassed, I whipped up lemon ricotta pancakes with homemade lemon curd and raspberry jam. We ate, again, largely in silence, savoring the tart sweetness of a fancy brunch. Easy conversation was had over the pancakes and Roy's excellent coffee. He left at 11 and I...went back to bed. I half dozed, half watched Netflix until 1. The two hours were completely therapeutic.

Then I got up, took a long hot shower, ironed my clothes for the afternoon, and headed to Webster. I walked through Kohls, finding a pair of rain boots on sale (plus 20% discount and $5 off coupon…I heart Kohls). I looked for pretty yellow spatulas like what I had seen at W&S the night before, but alas, nothing even close. Anytime I find something in the precise shade of yellow as my mixer I dream of color-coordinating. Then I walked over to Target and meandered the aisles, looking at everything and nothing simultaneously. By 3PM I was in Core Life Eatery for a quick bite before church. The restaurant was largely empty, and I sat at a booth in silence, enjoying rice noodles, fresh vegetables, and steak gently steamed in broth. It was so stinking good. Each minute that passed brought a little more restoration to my mind, soul, and body. The two and a half hours were completely therapeutic.

And then I drove to church and led a peaceful Saturday service and welcomed my boys with open arms at the conclusion of the service. I was delighted to see them and they were equally excited to share their adventures with me. A change of location did us all a great deal of good.

This morning I am not at church, because we are going to a birthday party at 11AM. It’s my first Sunday off of church music since October. It is, once again, largely quiet in the house. Coffee is being sipped and I’m reminded of what Sabbath actually means. Chaos will rule once we arrive at the party I’m sure, and the introvert in us all will rear its ugly head, but maybe, just maybe, we have filled our tanks enough to get through the next stretch with more laughter and grace for ourselves and the world.

Thankful for this gift. If you helped facilitate it (Mom, Dad, Aunt Martha, Williams and Sonoma, Core Life Eatery, etc...) I am grateful in a way I can only truly express through the quiet shine in my eyes.

Photo Drop, 3/17

First tooth gone! Literally. It fell out sometime between Saturday night and Sunday after church. James had no idea when or where, and didn't seem particularly troubled by it. The Tooth Fairy was still gracious enough to make a visit.

"Take a picture of my teef DOO!"

Checking out the Harley Davidson exhibit at the Strong Museum.

Biggest wind storm in Rochester in 75 years. Gusts up to 80 mph! We were extremely fortunate not to lose power (or shingles) but most of Rochester was without electricity for several days--up to a week. The boys are watching a parade of power trucks that were sent from New Jersey to help get the city warm again.

Sometimes he's so silently handsome I can't help but snap a picture. It never does him complete justice.

This kid is never silently handsome. But handsome nonetheless.

http://cookieandkate.com/2017/roasted-mushrooms-with-herbed-quinoa/ My newest food blog to explore and experiment with. Healthy vegetarian recipes that require minimal "special" ingredients.

OK. Maybe occasionally silently handsome. This is after he threw up all over the couch and was forced to migrate to his "very own island" on the floor lest he spew again. Poor little fella. I suspect a flax allergy.

When you need to wrap a present for a girl and you only have boys.

I'm forever screenshot-ing recipes that pop up so I won't forget to give them a go or try to pick up a missing ingredient.

Waiting for Daddy to finish looking at suit jackets in the mall. The boys were happy to make "wishes" in the fountain and I was happy that they stayed dry.

My 12 year old slippers were held together by rubber bands and had started giving me splinters. Got these bad boys and anticipate they will last into my 40s. (Which is only a testament to the quality of the footwear...) It's like wearing a fluffy warm cloud around the house.

I love my Fitbit so much. But the pink plastic band that I use hasn't retained its color, even after a bath in the dishwasher. Maybe leather will last longer? #wishlist

My 5 year old came crying into the kitchen, accusing his brother of whacking him on the hand with wooden train track pieces. Said younger brother then came tailing behind like this. In case you ever wonder why it's hard to get upset at this kid. 

Date Night In: All Over the Mediterranean

So we have 18 inches of snow…at least. With another 6ish due today, plus 40MPH winds all day. Rochester is shut down for yet another day after a hurricane-like wind storm last week and now the biggest snow storm of the year. Everybody’s been stuck at home, either by governmental decree or by necessity. (Who wants to go out and drive in 18 inches of snow? I can barely get out the garage door just to start shoveling my driveway.) Everybody, in this instance, means everybody but my husband, who is currently driving to a certain neighboring city which refused to cancel their educational concert this morning, despite the fact that all the schools are CLOSED. Don’t even get me started…

Today I *melted* and we’ve got Cars on as the snow blows. The boys are content for a big chunk of time and I can work on the DNI blog. They both assured me they wouldn’t be talking in Mater voices for the rest of the day, so we’ll see how that goes…

Is there anything cozier than Date Night In during a blizzard? I can’t think of many things that would top an evening in with your husband, kids bedded, with wonderful food to enjoy together. Last night only confirmed our suspicions.

This was Greek night. I told Roy we needed to listen to My Big Fat Greek Wedding soundtrack while we ate. We forgot in our hunger and haste, but it most definitely had the feel and flavors of a Greek feast. And it was entirely vegetarian as we had lamb! ;)

Menu:

Gordon’s Cup with Caraway

Fresh Carrot Salad

Mediterranean Lamb Tostadas

Stewed Apricots with Cardamom Yogurt and Marcona Almonds

We skipped the cocktail once again. I by necessity, Roy by choice. We plan on going back through some of the missed drinks after this pregnancy is over. But I’ll be honest and say I’m a little skeptical of gin with caraway syrup. Ashley’s surprised me many times, but herbs in drinks isn’t my preferred combo.

Roy had actually made the carrot salad before, using a few substitutions. Last night we had it exactly as written, with jalapeno and cilantro. I wasn’t overly impressed after I initially mixed it together, but it improved dramatically with a four hour rest between prep and dinner. It still wasn’t my favorite salad ever, but it was tasty and it definitely complemented the star of the show, the tostadas.

 

Can there ever be too much cilantro?

So it was kind of like eating a Greek taco? Nachos? We had toasted pita topped with seasoned lamb, all kinds of fresh veggies and herbs, and topped with feta and homemade Tzatziki. This date night in felt substantially healthier than any other so far. Way less salt, way more fresh veggies. (We calculated that we had 5 servings of fruits and veggies apiece just from dinner.) And zero heavy cream. Gotta be a first.

 

There are a lot of goodies buried under all the Tzatziki and lettuce too.

Which was OK, because we ate our weight in Greek yogurt instead. Between the Tzatziki and dessert we met our dairy quota no problem-o. :p

 

You can pick out mint, lamb, tomatoes, feta, and parsley a little more clearly here.

The dessert was sweet and spicy and justifiably healthy enough that I had the leftovers for breakfast this morning. ½ c of Greek yogurt mixed with ground cardamom and a drizzle of honey, topped with stewed apricots (broken down in white wine, vanilla, cinnamon, and honey). We forgot about the almonds, but they would definitely add a textural complexity and a bit of extra protein.

 

This photo probably doesn't do a whole lot for you, but that tiny bit of creamy yogurt peeking through makes me ready to create it all over again immediately.

It was nice to go to bed not as worried about getting up three times to guzzle water. (Although it feels like I’m up that many times to pee at this point anyway.) And I had no indigestion, even though we ate a LOT in volume. This was a pregnancy DNI win-win! I’ll definitely make the tostadas again and consider adding it into our normal routine of meals. It requires a decent bit of prep with chopping fresh veggies, but it’s tasty and healthy enough that it doesn’t feel so much like an indulgence. I suspect swapping ground turkey or beef for lamb and using similar seasonings would yield a less pricey, but everyday-acceptable protein as well.

Mediterranean food is not my favorite cuisine. It's probably not even in my top 5. (Here's looking at you French, Italian, Mexican, and anything from Asia.) That being said, this date night in menu was, in a word, refreshing. It lacked the carbs and cream and hit us instead with fresh herbs and aromatic spices. I didn't mind eating a cold salad in March during a blizzard. Not sure I can lavish more praise on it than that.

(That being said, we're rapidly approaching night 3 of this storm, which began late on Monday and is still blowing fiercely outside. So I made the chocolat chaud from last month for us to sip on tonight under blankets.)

Adventures in Baking: French Macarons

Today I embarked on a journey long-awaited. Melissa came over and we gave the dreaded French macaron a swing. Known as the toughest cookie to get right, macarons are not to be confused with the coconutty-condensed milk lumps our husbands love. No, this delicate monstrosity combines egg whites, almond meal, and powdered sugar in a very finicky process to create light, meringue-y, beautifully colored discs. You take two of them and pipe some kind of delicious filling and make what kind of looks like a pastel hamburger.

French macarons have a terrible reputation for going awry. I read a bunch of different articles and blog posts and was warned about sifting, weighing, stabilizers, egg-freshness, egg temperature, baking sheet covers, even humidity levels in the atmosphere. Quite honestly, it looked intimidating.

But, quite honestly, it wasn’t nearly as scary in real life! Melissa brought her wealth of baking knowledge, as well as piping bags and tips. I brought…well, two noisy small boys. Melissa also brought Uncle Lucas, who quickly held them in rapt attention with Hide and Seek and paper airplanes. (Let’s hope I make macarons better than I do paper airplanes…)

We had enough batter that we were able to play around a bit with variables, such as drying and baking times. Here is what we learned:

1.       Don’t sift almond meal in this.

Use a proper sifter. Melissa “sifted” for 15 minutes and it was just painful to watch grain by grain of almond meal fall through.

2.       Do weigh your ingredients. I’m not sure that macarons are as precise a science as it would seem, but we both know enough about baking to be aware that weighing ingredients leads to dramatically improved, consistent results.

3.       Do line your baking pans with silicone mats or parchment paper. We used both in different batches, and both were great for peeling off the baked macarons.

4.       It’s probably better to overwhip your egg whites than under. That being said, our batter was a little too thick. You can see from this picture that we don’t have the shiny flat tops we were aiming for. We suspect this is because the egg whites were too stiff. We wonder as well if we could have tempered this by stirring the batter a little bit more to take out a little extra air.

5.       Do use a decent amount of food coloring. I think we were aiming for a bit of a brighter pink, which we had in the batter, but the oven dulled. Add a drop or two beyond what you want and I think you’ll have it just about right.

6.       Do dry your discs before baking. Our rested for between 35-55 minutes, depending on the batch. It didn’t really matter in the outcome of the bakes.

7.       Don’t underbake your macarons. You want them dried out and firm. They won’t come off the sheet otherwise. We baked the first batch for 20 minutes at 300 degrees. The next two went in for 19 minutes. It didn’t make a noticeable difference. They’ll be super crisp initially, but once you add the filling they soften and get a little chew back again.

8.       Let your filling temper the sweetness of the cookie. The cookie itself has no flour, but lots of powdered sugar. It’s very, very sweet. We opted for a lemon curd/whipped cream filling, hoping the tang of the lemon would balance the sugar. It mostly worked!

We had a great time working on this project and I think I can speak for her that we will try again, either together or individually. And I can speak for myself and state categorically that I’ve consumed enough sugar for the entire weekend.

Date Night In: Renewal

Once upon a time, an increasingly long time ago, two young persons sat down to Valentine’s Day dinner. It was served on the floor of an attic studio on a slab of wood. The two individuals made cautious conversation as they dined on tinned chicken and dumplings, Swiss Miss hot cocoa, and peanut butter cookies made from an envelope. They were obviously smitten with each other, but the newness of their relationship and the outer pressures of The Most Romantic Holiday kept everything at arm’s length. The smell of old books mingled with the food and conversation.

Last night two persons celebrated their thirteenth Valentine’s Day dinner on the floor and ate off of a slab of wood. So many things the same, but so much changed. The couple was now in the living room of their own house, with two little boys asleep upstairs. There was absolutely nothing on the slab of wood that came from a can or envelope. There was hot cocoa, yes, but it was called chocolat chaud and only the finest Ghirardelli chocolate, whole milk, pure vanilla, and carefully whisked and strained cocoa powder and sugar contributed to its rich finish. The two were obviously smitten with each other, and thirteen years had softened the pressures of having to force romance. The conversation flowed easily. (And the smell of old books was relegated to the back room.)

Roy and I reminisced over a baker's dozen February 14ths over the makeshift wooden table. We couldn’t remember a single night where we had actually ventured out to a restaurant. We almost always shelve our celebration for another evening when reservations aren’t mandatory and there is the possibility of a bit of space. After a year plus of Date Nights In, our choice was easy this year. We will stay in and cook a remarkable dinner for ourselves, trusting Ashley to have created a menu that equaled or bettered anything we could find in the wider world. (For our budget anyway.)

This Date Night In was extremely sensory. You could hear the loaf of artisan bread crackling within itself as it cooled on the countertop. The cheese sizzled in the cast iron skillet as we dipped in meat, vegetables, fruit, and the most incredible tiny French pickles I’ve ever tasted over and over. The purple potatoes were as surprisingly royal on the inside as their skins and the red salami met the bright green of a Granny Smith apple. The flavor combinations were seemingly endless and we were granted enough food and time to try them all. We ate with forks and with fingers. Despite the best preventative measures there were little chocolate moustaches to wipe away. It was wonderful.

Here are some pictures.

 

This is Walnut Bread. But in reality it is a no-knead loaf that tastes more like bread from a real bakery than anything I've ever made. The secret is to bake it in a cast iron Dutch oven with the lid on to trap the steam and create a crackly, chewy crust. We borrowed a Dutch oven for the occasion but were so won over that I ordered our own this morning.

Salade Verte with Hazelnut Vinaigrette. Basically butter lettuce with a homemade dressing.

A fine red wine salami.

Grainy mustard and chunks of walnut bread.

Butter and Shallot Poached Potatoes.

Cornichons. Tastes a bit like a cross between a pickle and an olive. A staple on any pickle tray under my purview from now now.

Apple, cornichons, potatoes. It's worth noting that we were so hungry and distracted by the skillet of melted Raclette that we forgot entirely to take a picture of it. Rest assured, it was beautiful at every level. 

Chocolat chaud. Like our cutesy little V Day mugs? Roy threatened to throw these out a couple of weeks ago and I'm glad we held out. Not the best picture, but it was, most definitely, the best hot chocolate.

I will never stop dating you. There may not always be a fried chicken sandwich, beef tenderloin cooked to a pink perfection, creamy panna cotta topped with tangy roasted fruit or even a homemade soda spiked with bourbon, but there will always be me, you, and time without distraction.

                The main message remains the same: for as long as I’m alive, I will wake up every morning and say yes to you. Sometimes I will do it with a great joy pounding in my heart, ad other times I will do it because of the promise we made so long ago. Regardless, I will continue to choose you over and over again.

                -Ashley Rodriguez, DNI p. 269

Pictorial update

The “special snack” James chose for his recent sleepover with best friend Alexa. They had both been religiously eating their vegetables without complaining in order to earn this special occasion. The sleepover was not at our house, but from all accounts went swimmingly. They did: sleep in a tent in the basement, play with Legos, run around uproariously, stay up until 10PM talking, eat “peanut butter puffs” for breakfast. They did not: watch the movie we sent along, eat pizza for supper (at least James didn’t), or have any tantrums due to exhaustion. Well, not during the sleepover anyway…

The boys reading the latest stack of library books. Owen looks like a tropical bird with his hair sticking up like this. I was unable to get a blur-free picture due to the excited turning of pages.

The book that made me cry three times in Barnes and Noble just skimming through it. Was promptly purchased via Amazon for $10 cheaper and I’m positively engrossed. So many doubts and frustrations lately regarding the church and how it relates to the world at large. Rachel Held Evans freely admits that she hasn’t figured it all out, but she gives voice to the questions I’m asking and is exploring them boldly and without fear. I’m happily tagging along for the ride.

Now that the first trimester is a thing of the past I want desserts again. These brownies are my strongest argument against boxed brownies, which I freely admit are almost always better than the average baker’s homemade version. Add a perfectly creamy, barely sweetened, salted peanut butter frosting and WELL.

The next wish, because there’s always a next wish. Doesn’t have to be Le Creuset because, well, that would destroy our Parisian adventure budget for the foreseeable future. Doesn’t have to be (probably shouldn’t be) white. But a cast-iron, enameled Dutch oven that I can stew, braise, and bake in. Consider it an investment. Please and thanks. 

The other book that I read in Barnes and Noble and bought on Amazon for half price. A textbook for bakers, which is thrilling for somebody who still doesn’t understand thoroughly why batches of bread vary from bake to bake. Currently testing a cookie recipe…I’ll keep you posted.

Like his mother, Owen is recently showing a propensity for needing WEIGHT on him. Being tucked down by cushions, pillows, and blankets has been his preferred hideaway all morning. It’s certainly been a quiet, peaceful morning at that.