Tag Archives: cake

Blessings with gingerbread and Flour.

food and cooking, the language, Theophany, , , , , , , , ,
Grandson who is now married.

By the time the book was ready to pick up at the library, I’d forgotten that I’d ever put it on hold; there must have been a good reason for me to look beyond the hugely generic title of Flour. Probably it was back before Christmas when I was still looking ahead, to Christmas baking, whereas now I’ve moved on.

Normally I am more drawn to provocative titles like Samarkand or Bravetart, two other cookbooks on my shelf at present, though I also have had plainer in my possession, such as The Onion Book, and Salt and Pepper — or was it Pepper and Salt? I gave that one away. The Moosewood Cookbook from my youth comes to mind, named after a restaurant, and Mollie Katzen followed it up with The Enchanted Broccoli Forest. I guess she had a knack for evocative names!

Before I leave the subject of Katzen, I have to tell you that one of her own three favorite cookbooks has an ambitious title: Honey from a Weed: Fasting and Feasting in Tuscany, Catalonia, the Cyclades, and Apulia, by Patience Gray. I definitely need to check my library to see if I can borrow that one; it has several words that arouse my imagination. Katzen’s latest published work has the lovely title, The Heart of the Plate ❤️

I did bring  Flour home, and leafed through its pages a bit. It turns out that the word is in this case a reference to a very specific thing, and place, the Flour Bakery that the author Joanne Chang owns in Boston. Chang graduated from Harvard with honors, and degrees in math and economics, and also studied astrophysics. But even while she was in college she was selling cookies to her classmates.

today’s flour

All these facts make me start wondering about different personalities and how they use language; I’m fairly certain no one whose mind works like mine would ever come up with such a name for a bakery or anything. Her more recent book is titled Flour, Too, which is even more puzzling. In spite of all this distracting analysis, a recipe for Deep Dark Spicy Gingerbread caught my eye, and I decided to make it to serve after my house blessing that was today.

It’s not as though I needed another gingerbread recipe. If you are fond this kind of cake you might explore the other versions I’ve written about here over the years, like the vegan Gingerbread Pear Bundt Cake and Wheatless Gingerbread; I’ve made chocolate chip gingerbread many times but evidently never shared it here.

For the house blessing, we began our prayer downstairs, not far from where I had displayed the air clay owl that my granddaughter Ivy made for me last year. This year someone made a clay sloth for me. Not long ago I was also given a sloth tree ornament. Is there something about me that makes the family think of sloths? Now the sloth has joined the owl, and what they mean together, I am still pondering.

Knowing while sleeping last night that I would bake a cake in the morning, attend my friend Gwen’s house blessing, and drive back here for my own — all that made me wake up earlier than ever, and I had the cake in the oven before 8 o’clock! I was not channeling my sloth friend today.

The cake was not that special. I think it had too much butter — a full cup for a 9×13 cake — which bogged it down; the gluten-free flour probably contributed to its heaviness, and it included a whole 12 oz jar of molasses. It was not as spicy as I expected considering the fresh ginger and lots of black pepper that went into it. If I make it again I will use half the butter, and more egg. And maybe try another sort of flour.

But it was easy to eat
with a dollop of whipped cream on top,
and I sent a big chunk home with my priest,
because it was his birthday.

From a neglected garden.

food and cooking, my garden, , , , , ,

In spite of my absence for various reasons, the garden continues to carry on valiantly its business of growing and changing by the hour. I love walking around and picking off a few dead flowers, or noticing seeds forming, even when I can’t give it the more thorough care it needs.

A couple of years ago I managed to transplant one of the vigorous Showy Milkweed plants (above) next to where the Narrow-Leaf Milkweeds grow. You can’t see the latter very well in the background, which is a good thing, because their leaves have mostly had the life sucked out of them by aphids and have turned black. But every spring, they come back stronger than ever.

Tatsoi greens and lobelia

The leafy green Tatsoi really took off in this pot where I stuck it in next to lobelia, and is begging to be thrown into a stir-fry a.s.a.p. Those I set out in the planter boxes are languishing; that soil must need amending.

The dwarf pomegrantes are mostly a fun member of the garden in that for most of the year have flowers, often with hummingbirds drinking from them; or foliage bright and beautiful catching one’s attention in spring and fall; and their darling fruits, that don’t get very large, and in this climate don’t get enough heat for their seeds to develop sweetness. But they are so cute right about now. This one is about an inch and a half in diameter.

Every day I pick figs; the evening of my return from the mountains I gathered two dozen, and yesterday nineteen. Soon I hope to make that Autumn Fig Cake I told you about one time. And the Juliet grape tomato plant is prolific. I eat the tomatoes in the garden and in the kitchen, and took enough with me to the cabin that I could eat a few every day for ten days, and they were always sweet.

I harvested all but one of the little butternut squashes I grew this year, and planted some Sugar Ann snap peas in their place. Ideally those will start bearing about February, if the winter isn’t too cold and if I can keep the snails from devouring the plants between now and then.

My native sneezeweed is of the less showy sort, but it welcomed me when I returned from my mountain retreat with a particularly lovely array of blooms, not plain at all.

No doubt about it, my garden loves me, and forgives my neglect.
It makes me want to do better in the future.

Pretty aids to journaling and hospitality.

family, friends, tea, writing, , , , , ,

Last Christmas my daughter Pearl gave me these journals with hardback covers featuring photographs I’d taken and used on my blog. I’m sure she carefully chose from among the hundreds of possibilities, and settled on these exemplary and evocative representatives, of Grandchildren and Fruits From the Garden.

The larger one I’ve been using as a regular journal, and the smaller one as a sort of hospitality journal, to keep track of guests and events, menus and food preferences. I try to write down how various dishes I served were received, and for whom I cooked them, so that I don’t repeat too often.

That makes it sound like I cook for people a lot; I really don’t, but for that reason I tend to fall back on the same dishes, not being in the habit anymore of spending hours planning and executing menus featuring new items. But even if I’m only having a friend over for coffee, I want to remember beforehand if it is coffee, or rather tea she will like to drink.

Jean Edouard Vuillard – In the Garden

Last week a friend and I sat on the patio and drank cold tea from jugs I had made beforehand. They were actually infusions, to be precise; her late husband, a connoisseur of true tea, made with leaves of the tea plant, would have wanted us to use the right word. The options at hand were ginger, rooibos and chicory. And I served a version of the old favorite Wacky Cake, that contains no eggs or dairy, and typically does include cocoa, vinegar, and oil. I was amazed at how many reviewers had altered the original recipe to jazz it up. I took the advice of several cooks and added salt, almond extract, almond flour, and a swirl of almond butter baked in. It was pretty tasty! We each had two pieces with our infusions. I still need to write in my Hospitality Journal that C. likes ginger tea, and Wacky Cake.

A visit from Maggie and Pearl.

family, food and cooking, summer, , ,

I’m still enjoying the afterglow of having Pearl and her daughter Maggie here for a couple of days last week. Just we three, three generations, happy to be together, however briefly. I don’t think I mentioned at the time that Maggie came by herself for two nights last May; on her way home from college she stopped here.

This time they were headed back in the other direction. We shopped a little bit for things she’ll need in her dorm suite, and Maggie took her car for an oil change. We cooked a lot, and it is so fun to cook with helpers who go on to appreciate everything on the table. Other times, Pearl very wisely suggested sitting outdoors with our tea or whatever, and there is nothing like being in the garden with people I love.

One afternoon Maggie told us mysteriously that she was going to run a quick errand, and when she came back she was bringing three It’s It ice cream sandwiches. It seems these treats aren’t available except in California.

The weather was fairly warm, but Maggie and Pearl had come from a hotter and more humid Wisconsin, so no one was bothered much. We ate the goodies on the patio, at dusk. It typically cools off here even before the sun sets, so to be gifted a rare balmy evening, coordinated perfectly with our desire to sit out in the most leisurely way — that was the icing on the cake, or the ice cream between the oatmeal cookies.

There had been cake, too, which I’d baked beforehand in honor of both their birthdays, belatedly. I used a Lemon Buttermilk Sheet Cake recipe from America’s Test Kitchen, which I found on someone else’s site, and changed just a little bit. It used the zest and juice of three whole lemons, and was the best lemon cake I’ve ever eaten. I forgot to take a picture, and I sent the leftovers along with Maggie.

Maggie got the idea to make lavender lemonade: She used several lemons from my tree, and dried lavender flowers I had sitting on the kitchen counter. It was just the right amount of sugar, and the nicest accent of lavender — yum! I sent her back to school with a few more lemons, and a lavender plant in a pot, for her balcony. So it was a pretty lemony visit all around, with plenty of sweetness to bring out the flavor.

Joaquin Sorolla, My Wife and Daughters in the Garden