Scones and Jammies. Jammies and Scones.

Life is made up of moments, small pieces of glittering mica in a long stretch of gray cement. It would be wonderful if they came to us unsummoned, but particularly in lives as busy as the ones most of us lead now, that won't happen. We have to teach ourselves how to make room for them, to love them, and to live, really live."

Anna Quindlen - A Short Guide to a Happy Life

The gravity of the situation hit us when we realized that we only had 30 minutes to walk 16 New York City blocks, through the crowds of the St. Patrick's Day Parade while dragging a 5-year old by the hand. You see, our "travel stroller" was safe and sound back in our garage 3,000 miles away. I had failed to load it when we were whisked away by the airport shuttle in the early morning hours the day before. In my defense, we don't often use a stroller anymore but in this case...we were desperate and every painful block we walked at a turtle pace just upped the stress level. Finally, I picked him up and started running knowing that this little maneuver would cost me in the form of physical therapy bills in the future but I had to weigh that against the cost of the tickets for the Broadway show we were trying to make. Meanwhile, the older kids were "big-eyed" passing through the St. Paddy's Day revelers. An innocent, "What's wrong with these people?" question led to an out-of-breath discussion on what it means to have your stomach pumped and why. Stripping off coats, scarves, sweaters and dripping with perspiration, we plopped down in our seats in time for the lights to go down and for my five-year old to reach out in amazement and gently touch the elephant as he walked by.

We darted out of the taxi and dashed through the Columbus Circle vendors, trying to make sure we still had everybody in the chaos of the moment and trying to avoid being hit by the next oncoming taxi. We had left my sweetie and his "mini-me" back on Fifth Avenue, doing what they do best and enjoying their "Daddy/Daughter" time together. As the crowded street disappeared behind us, my sister-in-law and I took in the magnificent splendor of Vaux and Olmsted's envisioned oasis in this modern-day Rome. Not a leaf to be found on a single tree and yet, Central Park was dazzling in her winter garb. The boys couldn't believe their luck. After days of pounding the pavement. Of being told to "stay close", "hold my hand", "be careful"...here, there were acres of grass to run through. Monolithic rocks to climb. Playgrounds to be discovered. Snow cones to be eaten and even, new friends to be made. My sister-in-law and I simply sat there...together...soaking in the sun. Watching the boys and their unabashed joy of just being in the moment. Watching the way the sun glinted and sparkled off the surrounding buildings. Watching the silhouettes of the winter trees cast their long shadows across our path. Enjoying the humble entertainment of the many street performers. As the sun sank lower and lower behind the buildings, we glanced one last time at the hazy light settling over the park. Then, we turned away, reluctantly hailed a cab and headed "home" to meet the shoppers.

Knowing that, while I may have a million different thoughts swirling around in my head at any given time, the majority of them have to do with food and so, arriving in Connecticut, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law made sure I saw, felt, tasted, talked about and enjoyed...food. We dined at The River Tavern in charming Chester. We were treated to my brother-in-law's expert grilling skills which we have sorely missed. We moaned over the Chicken & Artichoke lasagna from the extremely popular Pasta Vita. We thoroughly enjoyed our pints of Samuel Adams at The Black Seal in darling, patriotic Essex. I met the woman behind White Gate Farm whose delicious organic products (especially her hot sauce) I've been enjoying since receiving a basketful for Christmas. And, I was treated to perhaps the best cup of clam chowder I have ever had at Tavern on Main in Westport...and coming from an Oregonian who is surrounded by restaurants touting "Best Clam Chowder," I don't give that compliment out lightly. But, when all is said and done, I believe that it was the morning I sat in my mother-in-law's kitchen. Still in my jammies. The kids and their cousins running around the 250-year old home. Mollie and Annie, our furry family members, wedging their golden retriever-selves under the table. And me, my sweetie, his Mom and his sister, sitting around the kitchen table. Drinking coffee. Tea. Enjoying Nanny's freshly baked scones, bananas sliced on the bias and the company of each other...that I cherish most. No rush to be anywhere. Talking about this and that. Talking as if no time at all had passed since they made the move back east almost three years ago. Just enjoying the simple act of being together...until the 5-year olds started throwing paper.

Nanny's Scrumptious Scones - Good with Jam. Better with Jammies

These scones are perfectly light and airy. Not the heavy dense ones that sit in your stomach like a hunk of cement. They are, of course, a natural choice for a leisurely breakfast on a Sunday morning but I have found they are equally as delicious as a late afternoon treat during the week whether you are at home or at work. And, keep in mind that scones aren't meant to be perfect. Don't worry if all the bits don't come together. Just do the best you can.

Ingredients:

2 c unbleached all-purpose flour

1 tbsp baking powder

3 tbsp sugar

1/2 tsp salt (table or kosher)

5 tbsp unsalted butter, chilled and cut into 1/4-inch pieces

1/2 c currants

1 tbsp orange zest, minced

1 c heavy cream

glaze:

1 tbsp heavy cream

1 tbsp sugar

Directions:

Place flour, baking powder, sugar and salt in large bowl. Whisk together.

Use your fingertips and quickly cut in butter until mixture resembles coarse meal, with a few, slightly larger butter lumps. Stir in currants and orange zest. Next, stir in heavy cream with a fork until dough begins to form, about 30 seconds.

Transfer dough and all dry, floury bits to countertop and knead dough by hand just until it comes together into a rough, slightly sticky ball, 5 to 10 seconds. (My ball wasn't sticky but it didn't seem to affect the outcome at all.) Press the dough down to form a thick, disk. An inch thick or so. Cut disk into 8 wedges. Place wedges on an ungreased baking sheet and chill about 15-20 minutes or while your oven is heating up.

Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 425 degrees.

After chilling, brush the tops of the scones with the remaining tbsp of heavy cream and then, lightly sprinkle them with sugar.

Bake until scone tops are light brown, 12 to 15 minutes. Cool on wire rack for at least 10 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature. They also freeze well. Enjoy.

PS: This is my first attempt at posting diptychs - two photographs side-by-side. If anyone notices that they are taking forever to load I would so appreciate it if you would let me know. Just leave a comment below, send me an email or ping me on Facebook. Thanks so much....

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

Une Petite Pomme: Ninth Street Espresso

I recently read an article in the New York Times regarding the availability of exquisite coffee in the city of her namesake. The article went on to say that New York City has lagged behind for years in the quality of coffee one can find within her city walls. Lagged behind places like Stumptown Coffee Roasters in Portland, OR and Blue Bottle Coffee in San Francisco. Of course, just the positive mention of Portland in the article made me puff up a little bit with pride. And, it also aroused my curiosity. What were these new "coffee bars" like? Do they really measure up to places like Stumptown and Spella Caffe?

As luck would have it, I found myself in the Big Apple last week for that oh-so-quick hiatus from school and work...spring vacation. As I've mentioned before, when we go on vacation our children have come to expect that they will be dragged around to some sort of "food venue." As we went "around the table" before we left on our trip and shared what we each would choose could we only choose one thing to do in New York City, I was met with only barely perceptible eye rolling when I announced that my choice was to visit Chelsea Market with a walk on The Highline afterwards. I had been dying to visit Chelsea Market which, as a bonus, just so happens to house Ninth Street Espresso. One of the esteemed coffee bars that made the top 10 list of the coffee article.

Housed in an old biscuit factory on 9th Avenue between 15th & 16th Streets, Chelsea Market is where you go to gawk and "window-shop" beautifully prepared, caught, baked, made, melted, mixed...food. You don't go there looking for "cheap-eats." At the risk of sounding cliche, I like to think of it as "Coffee at Chelsea" much in the same way one thinks of "Breakfast at Tiffany's." Smack dab in the middle of the cavernous, brick building, you'll find Ninth Street Espresso serving up their works of art. My sister-in-law and I bee-lined right up to the counter, ordered our respective drinks and waited to see if the hype was worth it. Upon first sip, (well, after photographing the beautiful design in my foam) both of us declared, "Wow! That is so good. Wow!" We both agreed that the foam on the top was perfectly steamed milk. Not too heavy. Not too frothy. And the taste...not a hint of bitterness. We savored our drinks as the children ran around creating a ruckus and begging for candy. After we'd thoroughly satiated our window-shopping appetite, we carefully carried our coffee outside and up. Up onto a long and narrow oasis that follows an old elevated train track through the meat-packing district. The Highline. A park for strolling. For gazing. For revitalizing. For enjoying an amazing cup of coffee.

So, I guess the question you must be wondering though is how did this New York Times Top 10 Coffee Bar stack up against a place like Spella Caffe? Well, Ninth Street Espresso was good. Excellent, even. Top notch. No, doubt about it but I'm still placing my vote with Spella Caffe. The balance of flavors in the Spella Caffe coffee is hard to beat. Besides, there's no cross-continental flight. No jet lag. No 8am flights cancelled at 1am. No 7 hour lay-overs in SFO. Just a few things like that. But if you're in the Big Apple and have a hankering for a taste of home, I'd definitely recommend a cup of jo from those Ninth Street baristas. Or, if that's not working there's always Stumptown over on Broadway. Yes, "THE" Broadway.

Oh, and speaking of Spella, have you been yet? A dear, friend of mine called today to say that she went down to Spella Caffe and she agrees....the best. So, go on. Get your little tails down there. Tell the guys Carrie sent you. They'll be real nice to you and they may even create an extra special design on top just for you. I like those little designs. Kind of a sucker for them actually. Oh, and if you're waiting to try Spella Caffe until I set the "coffee & chocolate" date, I haven't forgotten. I will get that on the books just as soon as the 5-year old stops begging me over and over to watch time and time again the part where Plankton plays the piano in the Spongebob Band Geeks episode. I don't know about you but I simply cannot conduct any type of constructive decision making with Spongebob playing in the background. So as soon as this little nightmare "game" is over, I will get our rendezvous on the calendar.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

A Humble Yet Decadent Homemade Granola

The older kids are off to school and the house holds just the 4-year old and myself. I look at my To-Do list...at least 143 items long. Where do I even begin? I hadn't taken the time on Monday to organize the list into more manageable bits and now here it is mid-week..."sigh." My mind wanders to a recipe, darling Shannalee recently posted on her poignant blog, Food Loves Writing. Olive Oil Granola. Ever since my daughter made homemade granola last summer, I have been intrigued with making my own "cereal"...so to speak. Hers was so delicious and easy to make, it now seems silly to buy it. When I saw Shannalee's recipe, I knew I had to try it out as well.

When I feel overwhelmed by the tasks of life, I simply check out from them. I procrastinate. And, usually when I'm procrastinating, you'll find me cooking. So, instead of checking anything off my list, I hauled out the humble ingredients for the granola. I mixed them together and popped it all in the oven. Then, I called over to my littlest one who was quietly drawing at the kitchen table. "Let's go outside and check out the birds." Ever since my daughter studied birds in 6th grade and we hung some feeders to attract the winged-critters for her observation, I have become a bird watcher. I get a thrill out of watching the flocks of chickadees land in our branches. The red-crested woodpecker poke-poke-poking his beak into the suet. What exactly does that say about me...my bird watching that is...and should I be admitting it?"

So, there we sat, side-by-side, on the front porch gazing across the way at the birds. Enjoying the cherry blossoms and the wave of daffodils the deer have fortunately left alone. (Yes, the daffodils resulting from my crazy bulb planting last fall.) He in his Star Wars jammies and me in my jammies exercise clothes. The rich smells of cinnamon and cardamom wafting out through the door left ajar. I glance at his profile. No longer the toddler he once was. Those plump round cheeks are giving way to a more defined look. He says to me, "Do I get to go to school today?" "No, sweetie, not today." "I like school." "I know." We can feel it. The time is coming. Time for him to start elementary school. And, after 13 straight year of having a little buddy by my side, it's time for me to move onto the next stage. But, it's okay to want to hold onto this one a little longer, isn't it? I kiss the top of his head and go in to stir the granola. He follows behind me.

A wise friend of mind once said that life is but a series of stages. She always seems so at peace with the passing of each stage and the introduction into each new one. I know that it's time. Time for what life brings me next but when you've been in one stage for so long it can be a bit daunting...wondering what's next. We carry little bowls of the sinfully delicious granola back outside. Fragrant and chewy but with a hint of crunch from the nuts. We sit down on the front steps just in time to see a squirrel making away with an entire suet block almost twice his size. "So, that's who's been clipping the rope to the feeder and making away with the food." And, I thought it had been the crows. We continue to sit there. Side-by-side. He and I. My littlest one and me. Watching the squirrel's progress. And, I try to be in the moment. Enjoying my procrastination, my little buddy...and every bit of my homemade granola.

Olive Oil Granola

Inspired by Shannalee and originally published in the New York Times

I love this granola. So, did all of my kids....well, except for the one allergic to nuts for obvious reasons. We mixed it with plain yogurt, drizzled with honey and topped with sliced bananas. I used the yogurt/granola mix as a dip for sliced apples for snack one day. We ate it straight out of hand. But probably the best way that my daughter and I enjoyed this granola was sprinkled over a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The bits of salt and spice mixed with the smooth, creamy vanilla...unbelievable. I think you need to go make this right now. Go ahead. Get going. And, let me know if you agree...about the granola and ice cream that is.

Ingredients:

3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats

1 cup chopped walnuts

1/2 cup chopped, slivered almonds

1 cup coconut flakes

3/4 cup pure maple syrup

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/2 cup packed light brown sugar

1 tsp kosher salt

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground cardamom

3/4 cup chopped, dried apricots (I would use raisins next time. Just my personal preference.)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. In a large bowl, combine all ingredients except apricots. (If using raisins, I would add them to the bowl at this point.) Mix to combine. Spread mixture on a rimmed baking sheet in an even layer. You can spread the mixture on top of parchment paper or a Silpat to make clean-up easier. Bake for 45 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes of so, until golden brown and well toasted.

Transfer granola to a large bowl and add apricots, tossing to combine. Enjoy.

Yield: About 9 cups.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

Une Petite Pomme: Spella Caffé

(Before reading the following sentence, please cue up your best British accent.)

I believe that I have stumbled upon, quite possibly, the finest latté I have ever had the privilege to drink.

Now, all that being said, I do not consider myself a coffee connoisseur per se but I do drink coffee...often...and I know what I like and what I like is the latté they create for me at Spella Caffé. I use the word "create" on purpose because the manner in which the baristas at Spella Caffé hand-pull their espresso shots is, quite honestly, an art form.

Wander down to SW 9th and Alder, Monday through Friday, 9a - 4p, and there on the corner, with the Italian flag proudly flying, is where you will find these creations being made. Most days you will be greeted by baristas, Chris Ryan and Tristan Roff, who clearly love what they do. I remarked to them that I have been enjoying their creations for quite some time now and I have yet to experience the bitter aftertaste that so often accompanies even the "best" espressos around. Chris explained to me that the Italian Rancilio machine they use is a manual, hand-pulled machine which makes the whole process of pulling shots a much more organic experience and allows for more control as opposed to a push-button machine. The timing is all in his head. He further explained that Spella Caffé owner, Andrea Spella, uses farm-direct Brazilian beans which he roasts right here in Portland. This past fall, always on the hunt for the best beans, he reaped his latest harvest from a place described as "Large Plateau of Iron" located between two extinct volcanoes. Talk about knowing exactly what you like...exactly what you want.

You can get your coffee to go and be on your merry way but what I recommend is to take some time for yourself. A longer lunch hour. A mental health day. Whatever. Enjoy this work of art from a real cup. Sit at one of their little outdoor tables and watch the colorful people that make up this fine city walk by. Glance over at the aspiring chefs on their break from "Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts." Have a conversation with the woman who is just sure that the jewelry store where she dropped off a ring to be repaired has closed its doors, taking her ring with it and if she finds out that this is in fact true, she is going to be "suing his ass." Once you have swallowed the last drop of your creamy, perfectly balanced latté (or the coffee drink of your choice), you'll have just enough time to stroll a couple blocks over to Powell's Books where you can become lost in the aisles of knowledge before returning to the schedule of your day...refreshed. (For those of you not from Portland, I am just sure that Powell's Books is on your list of "1,000 Places to See Before You Die" so when you do indeed come here to go to Powell's...now, you'll know where to get your coffee.)

Should you arrive at SW 9th & Alder on a day when the rain resembles a car wash, drive just a little further to SW 5th & Alder (520 SW Fifth Ave) where Spella Caffé has a tiny little indoor outpost and you can watch your creation being made...safe from the elements.

As I handed my empty coffee cup back to Chris and Tristan and reluctantly gave up my spot at the café table, Chris let me know that Spella Caffé is now serving up its works of art at Alma Chocolate on NE 28th Ave. & Davis, right off of Burnside. "Have you been there?" "Why no, I have not?" He went on to list off the accolades and praises being given to Alma Chocolate. "Enough said. I'm sold." Darn it all, I'm just going to have to go try out Alma Chocolate. Chocolate and coffee. What could be better? Anyone want to come with me?

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

One Last Fling with a Winter Greens Soup...Before Spring

Not much sleep was to be had on the transatlantic flight. And now, they had us staying in a little school on the outskirts of Lisbon, trying to indoctrinate us into the Portuguese culture for 48 hours, before meeting up with strangers who would be our family for the summer.

I have lived my entire life with different degrees of wanderlust. Possibly due to being brought up in a military family. Perhaps just my own genetic "tic." Wherever I am, I want to be somewhere else. Not that the place I am, isn't wonderful and lovely, it's just that I believe there are so many wonderful and lovely places out there and, well....I want to go see them. Experience them.

Being a parent now, I can only imagine how my mother must have felt when I would incessantly beg her, plead with her, practically sob to just let me go. To go and get on a plane bound for some far flung destination in the world for a year. I'm sure with much trepidation and fear, she finally relented to allowing her first-born child, as a high school junior, to board a plane headed for Portugal to live with strangers for the entire summer. All without cell phones or computers. Just faith that it would work out and I would be safe. I am eternally grateful to her for that summer.

I remember my first reaction to my student exchange placement of Portugal was, "Wait a minute! I said I didn't want to go to South America." Clearly, I hadn't been paying enough attention in social studies. But after that initial reaction, I studied my atlas and the picture of the family I would be living with for the summer to know exactly where I was going to be in the world and who was coming to get me. Our 48 hours of indoctrination was over and we had just finished our lunch which consisted of two types of soups: a puréed carrot soup and, the national dish of Portugal, which I referred to in my journal as "that awful grass soup." All 25 of us now stood in a line while the host families stood across from us in their own line. The counselors would call out the name of the exchange student and the families would run across the divide and embrace that person while the crowd cheered. It was all very exciting. I had already spotted my host family and wondered if they had seen me as well. I stood there, nervously waiting. Finally the counselor called out, "Carrie Cook!" But, before I could make a move, this other Carrie comes flying out of the line-up and runs to embrace my family. "But..wait...," I started to say not knowing what to do in all the confusion.

Luckily, my host family had been studying my picture as well and realized in a matter of minutes that this Carrie wasn't their Carrie. I sheepishly stepped out of the line-up with my hand up as they were trying to rectify the situation. My host family and I embraced...awkwardly and then, they took my hand in theirs (they were big hand holders) and made me a part of their family for the summer. And, I am eternally grateful for their generosity.

I spent the summer eating salted cod fish with potatoes and garbanzo beans. Barbecued sardines. Tiny little snails that we picked out of their shells with a pin. Moist, fruited and not-too-sweet Portuguese cakes. And, of course, the infamous grass soup. All these years later I have never been able to recreate these dishes...until recently. Out of nostalgia for the amazing food my host mother so lovingly prepared for me, I ordered David Leite's beautifully written and photographed cookbook, The New Portuguese Table. In there was the recipe for the "grass soup" which I have come to learn is officially called, "Caldo Verde" or "Green Soup" and is made with kale sliced "whisker-thin." (I wasn't too far off calling it grass soup, was I?) One of these days, I may work up the courage to make it and post it here for you but in the meantime, I was taken in by the more "uptown" version of the soup on the following page of the cookbook. I did, of course, make my own changes to it but it is still quite Portuguese.

So, as I chopped up my carrots, my kale, my garlic and listened to Grace Cathedral Hill playing quietly in the background, I thought about what it means to take someone into your home. To have essentially a stranger live with you. To prepare her food. Your kind of food and hoping that she'll like it. This teenager from America. I have the same feelings as I prepare food for my own family each night. Hoping they'll like it. Enjoy it. These children of mine. And maybe, this food I prepare, will hold some nostalgia for them...much like the Portuguese food did for me.

White Bean, Kale and Sausage Soup

Inspired by Azorean Kale, Sausage and Bean Soup or Sopa de Couve by David Leite

Now, let me be honest with you about two things. The first is that this soup is not a weeknight soup. There is simply too much chopping. It's best left to a Sunday afternoon when the sky is gray and you're feeling a little pensive and can let your thoughts ramble on as you gaze out the window and chop your vegetables. The second is that the first day I made this soup, I didn't like it. I have yet to truly embrace the "winter greens"...kale, collard and their cousins...but I had told myself that this was the winter I was going to try. Lo and behold, here it is almost spring, and I had yet to prepare one "winter greens" dish so when I stumbled onto this recipe, I knew this was it. Day One of making this soup, the kale was still rather coarse. Tough, even. But, by Day Two, the kale had softened. Was almost silky and had been infused with the flavors of the garlic and the spices. I couldn't stop eating it. I found it delcious. So, make it on a Sunday afternoon, enjoy it Monday night for dinner or pop it in a thermos for lunch on Monday and Tuesday. You won't be disappointed.

Ingredients:

1 lb. dried white cannellini beans (or 2 15-0z cans of cannellini beans)

2 tbsp olive oil

2 med yellow onions, coarsely chopped

4 garlic cloves, finely chopped

8 carrots, peeled, halved lengthwise and cut crosswise into 1/2 inch pieces OR 4 carrots sliced and 4 med white potatoes, cubed

5 cups chicken broth

2 qt water (1 qt if using canned beans)

1 (approx 3x2 inch) piece of Parmigiano-Reggiano rind

2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp black pepper (more if you like your soup spicy)

1 bay leaf (preferably Turkish)

1 tsp finely chopped fresh rosemary

1 lb chouriço, kielbasa, chicken or Italian sausage, sliced crosswise, 1/4 inch thick

1/2 lb kale (preferably lacinato), stems and center ribs removed and leaves coarsely chopped

Cover beans with water by 2 inches in a pot and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and let stand, uncovered for 1 hour. Drain beans in a colander and rinse. OR, if, unlike me, you happen to be on the ball, soak your beans overnight covered by 3 inches of water. (If using canned beans, skip this step.)

In a large pot, heat olive oil over low heat and then, stir in your onions and cook for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. While onions are cooking, chop up your garlic and carrots. Add the garlic to the pot and cook 1 minute. Stir in the carrots, and cook another 5 minutes. (You can chop up your kale while that's happening.) Add beans, broth, 1 quart water, cheese rind, salt, pepper, bay leaf and rosemary and simmer, uncovered, until beans are just tender, about 50 minutes. (30 minutes if using canned beans.)

While soup is simmering, brown sausage in a heavy skillet over moderate heat. Then, transfer to paper towels to drain.

Stir in kale, sausage, (potatoes, if using) and as much of remaining quart of water that is needed to cover your vegetables. Simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until kale (and potatoes) are tender, about 15 minutes.

Remove the bay leaf and cheese rind. Season with salt and pepper, if needed and ladle into soup bowls. (A little more grated parmesan cheese on top doesn't hurt either.) If heating up the next day, you may need to add a little water to thin the broth up a bit. Enjoy.

Yield: A huge pot full.

NOTE: I highly recommend buying big chunks of parmesan cheese and grating it yourself as opposed to buying the already grated kind at the grocery store which lacks the same nutty taste. Costco carries a nice big hunk that will last a long time. Whenever I use it for soups or pastas, I just set it out with a microplane grater and let each person grate his own amount on top. And the bonus is that when you've used up all of the cheese, you're left with the delicious rind. Cut it up into 3 inch pieces, or so, and pop them in the freezer. You'll have them at your fingertips for your next soup recipe.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010