Apple and Rhubarb Baked in a Pie

It was during my third hour of weeding that I said to myself, "And I thought this was a good idea because...why?" Not the weeding. No. That was simply part of "the sickness" as the Rooster refers to it.

That along with deciding now would be a good time to take down the cat house which had been sitting unused, out-of-sight since our kitty went up the Happy Hunting Grounds - God Rest his furry soul - a year ago.

That and deciding now would be a good time to clean out the crawl space under the house which held such relics as a Princess Palace tent, a puzzle alphabet mat and foam that was going to be used for window seats four moves ago. (Sad thing is our last move was 9 years ago. You do the math.)

No. All of those things were just symptoms of my "entertaining sickness." (aka The Crazy Projects Carrie Deems Necessary to Complete Before Hosting a Party at Her House Whether or Not the Effort Will Be Noticed.)

The cause was deciding to auction off "Cooking with Carrie" events months ago (as if I'm Rachael Ray for crying out loud) for various organizations to be held at my home during the month of April.

Now, here it was April and I was tired. The incessant gray weather wasn't helping my energy level. And the end of my to do list seemed...well, to never end.

I forced myself not to think too far in advance. To simply keep going. To check one thing off my list at a time.

Weeding - done
Wine glasses labeled - done
Groceries purchased - done
Heavenly little handmade chocolate bars tied with raffia - done

Rain boots on, clippers in one hand and bucket in the other, I headed into my backyard the day before the party. The sun miraculously came out adding a shimmer to the outside world as it reflected off the raindrops still clinging to the trees.

As I clipped the branches, my thoughts turned to my Mom. Everything about spring reminds me of her - the daffodils, the purple hyacinths, the different shades of green, the sweet cherry blossoms, the brighter days.

My Mom is beautiful. And yes, she's beautiful on the outside but what I'm really talking about is on the inside...where it counts.

She's a bit like spring herself. Just when you can't take another day of rain, there she is providing you with a much needed bit of color. And not in any loud, pomp and circumstance sort of way but subtly. Subtle in the way that when you are with her, she's fully present. She listens. Really listens. She gives you and your thoughts a feeling of importance. And you feel your spirits lifted after you've been with her.

I set the table with the "good" plates, the "good" glasses, the "good" silverware. I used the linen napkins, tablecloth and runner. And then, standing back to admire the table, I once again thought of my Mom. The way she always sets a beautiful table for us.

The ways she clips fresh flowers from her yard and thoughtfully places them on her table and around the house. The way she lights candles, turns on the music and brings us all together for a family dinner. Again, her seemingly quiet yet thoughtful gestures giving all of us a feeling of importance. We mean so much to her that she would take the time to create such a lovely setting for our meal.

Twenty minutes before my first party, I was ready for my guests. Cesaria Evora was playing in the background. The comforting aroma of candles burning warmed my house. The cherry tree branches were so beautiful inside my home that it didn't matter it had started to snow outside...in April.

And it was in that moment I realized why I had done all of this.

Because with this busy life I lead, I don't take the time to do this very often. To dress-up my home and invite people in. To share a meal. To spend a couple of hours getting to know new people. Learning more about friends I already cherish. Passing along what I know and love about cooking so they can go home and do the same for their families.

And hopefully, if only for an hour or two, I make them feel important. Extra cared-for.

At the end of my last party, as the last guest walked down the drive, I heard her kindly remark to no one in particular, "I feel like I've died and gone to heaven."

I smiled as I closed the door and said quietly, "Thank you Mom for teaching me how to do this."


...

Apple and Rhubarb Baked in a Pie
Inspired by Apple and Rhubarb Pandowdy, Rustic Fruit Desserts

When I set out to decide what to serve for dessert for my parties, I looked to what is in season and let me tell you, here in Oregon after 5 straight months of rain, there's not much...in season. A few apples still holding on, some citrus coming up from California and...rhubarb. So what does one do when she is left with only rhubarb to work with? She tries a bunch of rhubarb recipes. Interestingly, rhubarb also reminds me of my Mom. She always made a warm, rhubarb compote for us when I was growing up that we would spoon over vanilla ice cream. I always loved the way the tartness of the rhubarb and the creaminess of the ice cream mingled in my mouth but...not everyone is a rhubarb lover.

I ended up with two recipes that I found to be absolutely delicious but not overly "rhubarby." The Apple and Rhubarb Pie I have listed below and a Lemon Buttermilk Rhubarb Bundt Cake. I ended up serving the cake because it was easiest to prepare the day before and I didn't have to worry about reheating it or serving it with ice cream. I cannot recommend it enough but since the recipe isn't mine and I didn't "adapt" it even one eensy-teensy bit it wouldn't be right of me to post it on my blog. However, you can find the recipe in the book Rustic Fruit Desserts by Portland's own Julie Richardson and Cory Schreiber.

As for the pie, the recipe is below and I implore you to make it up and serve it warm with vanilla ice cream. Heaven.

Ingredients for the Crust
1 1/4 c all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp sugar
1/2 c (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1/8-1/4 c of ice water

Ingredients for the Filling
2 c rhubarb, diced (3-4 stalks)
5 c apples peeled, cored, sliced and quartered (4-5 baking apples)
juice from 1/2 a lemon (approx 1 tbsp)
1/2 c packed brown sugar
2 1/2 tbsp cornstarch
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp kosher salt
pinch of nutmeg

Vanilla Ice Cream


Directions

First make your crust. Don't be afraid. Very, very easy. You can do this with a simple pastry blender, your fingers or a food processor. I avoid hauling out my food processor if I can help it. I do not like to clean it but I love making crust in it.

Put your flour, salt and sugar in a medium bowl or the bowl of your food processor and mix until just combined. Add your butter to the flour mixture by cutting it in or processing it in your food processor. Process it just until the mixture starts to look crumbly. Slowly add in your water just until the dough starts to hold together. (Not more than 30 seconds if using your food processor.) Turn your dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Gather into a ball and then, flatten into a disk. Wrap in wax paper, place in a ziploc bag and put in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour. (I usually double all of my pie crust recipes and put half in the freezer where it can stay for up to 3 months. That way it's always handy if I need to make a little something sweet at the last minute.)

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees. Butter a 9-inch deep dish pie plate and set aside

Now, for your filling. I know I've said this before but if you plan on baking with apples you really must invest in an apple peeler. I bought this one last fall and it has made all the difference.

Peel, core, slice and quarter your apples and put them in a large bowl. Dice up your rhubarb and add it to the bowl along with your lemon juice. Mix. In a smaller bowl, combine your brown sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Once those ingredients are mixed together, add the mixture to your apples and rhubarb. Using a large wooden spoon or your clean hands, combine the fruit with the sugar and spice mixture coating evenly.

Pour your filling into the prepared pie plate.

Take your dough out of the refrigerator and on a lightly floured surface, roll it out so it's about 1/2 wider than the circumference of your pie plate. Lay it over the top of your fruit and then, tuck it in down on the sides. If you still have crust that didn't tuck in you can roll it over on itself.

With a sharp knife, cut a few slits in the top of the crust to vent the steam as it bakes.

Put your pie on a cookie sheet (to catch any drips) and place in the oven for 20 minutes. Then, turn down the heat to 350 degrees and bake for another 25-30 minutes or until the crust is golden and the fruit is bubbly around the edges.

Simply looking at your masterpiece when you pull it from the oven should make you want to start humming, "Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye, apple and rhubarb baked in a pie" or at least, I did.

Let it cool for 30 minutes or so on a wire rack but serve it while it's still a bit warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Scrumptious....

After the initial serving, cover it with a kitchen towel leaving a few spoons in the dish. People will come by and "sneak" a bite or two in the wee hours of the night or early morning and before you know it, it will be gone.

Enjoy....


PS: A little side note, those of you in the Portland area near a TV on Wednesday, 4/20, can tune into AM Northwest on KATU Channel Two at 9:00 am where I'll be making this little Sixpence Pie with Helen or Dave.

...

Organizing Project

Still have not tackled the 6-year old's closet. Was distracted by cat house and crawl space as I indicated above. I did, however, clean out a large wicker basket full of magazine clippings I've collected over the years...as in 20 years. Interesting to see how different things caught my eye at different times of my life. And conversely, interesting to see the things I'm drawn to over and over again....shades of green and recipes with vegetables. Clearly I have a thing for green. Could be due to the fact that I reside in the rain forest we affectionately call Portlandia.

Goal for this week: To get the stuff I pulled out of the crawl space, out of my garage.



All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2011

A Fragrant Oatmeal with Cinnamon Apples to Enjoy During the Quiet Moments

"Well, we're in the midst of it." You hear yourself say to yourself with a sigh. Winter Break. Christmas Vacation. The "Holidays". And, you want to be that Mom. Really you do. You know, the one who is fun all the time. But you see, you have a "noise aversion". And with each day that draws Christmas nearer your children become that much more excitable. Louder. And you become that much more irritable. Cranky. But, you can't really be angry with them. No. Because they are truly just giddy with glee. And you want to feel their glee but all you feel is the pounding.

The pounding brought on by your sweet 13-year old daughter, who for no real apparent reason other than sheer joy, starts running through the house. And, at almost 5 feet 8 inches tall....bless her heart....well, those are loud footsteps. And of course, her brothers who adore her every move (especially the 11-year old) start following her, swinging over the furniture like chimpanzees. And then the 5-year old, who isn't quite as adept at the "swinging" as his older brother, gets stuck atop a chair and almost knocks over a snow globe as he tries to swing his leg around...a gigantic snow globe. (Never mind the fact that they are not even supposed to be "climbing on the furniture".) It's at that instant that you feel the stress level in your body move up a notch.

But somehow you keep moving forward. Stress and all. Checking things off your list. And you manage to get everyone into bed after which you collapse into yours and fall sound asleep. Only to wake up at 5:30am thinking about what you need to get done that day.

So, you quietly slip out from under the covers and head downstairs. You flick on the lights of the Christmas tree which sparkle against the windows and a still dark sky. You sit down at your worn kitchen table...the one that has stoically held up after years and years of "art" projects....with your cup of tea. In the background, your current favorite rendition of Silent Night is playing. Silent Night. Your favorite Christmas carol. The one you sing to your 5-year old every time you tuck him in. The one you used to sing to your older children until it was too awkward to tuck them in with a lullaby. And you enjoy the stillness of the moment.

It's not long before you hear a door open and then, the sound of lego pieces "clicking" against each other. The 5-year old is up. You rise from your seat and head into the kitchen. As you stand at the counter slicing apples and pears, you notice that the sky is starting to brighten. Your slices quietly saute in butter, brown sugar and cinnamon and your oatmeal gently gurgles next to them. Your two eldest slip down the stairs...awoken by the warm smells. They both have those sleepy eyes. You know the ones. Those eyes, no matter how old they get, are the same ones that looked at you when they were sleepy babies.

You call them over to the table and set down bowls of oatmeal topped with the cinnamon apples in front of them. Your husband kisses you on the cheek as he heads off to work and for just a moment, everyone is awake and everyone is calm.

And then, the sugar from the apples hits their systems and its back to swinging over the furniture but you tell yourself you can persevere through the chaos because you know tomorrow morning, a little slice of calm will be waiting for you.

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas...Happy Holidays...Season's Greetings! Wherever you are and whatever you may celebrate, I hope a little bit of silence finds you amidst the bustle of the holiday season.


I'll "see" you after we ring in 2011. Happy New Year!

Fragrant Oatmeal Topped with Spiced Apples

I love oatmeal. It's probably my favorite breakfast dish. I'm always trying to find ways to entice the kids to eat the homemade version as opposed to the kind that comes in a little packet. They LOVED this. If you don't like your oatmeal too "milky", you can always substitute water for the milk. I prefer that my oatmeal isn't too sugary but you can add more honey if you like yours fairly sweet. Also, you can substitute the apples with a good baking pear such as Bosc if you'd like.

Ingredients:
1 c milk
1/2 to 1 c water (less water equals a thicker oatmeal)
1 c rolled oats
A pinch of kosher salt
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 tsp honey
2 tbsp unsalted butter
2 baking apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced (Braeburn, Golden Delicious, Honeycrisp, etc.)
2 tbsp light brown sugar (I didn't pack mine down too tightly.)
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp ground allspice
1/8 tsp ground cloves

Optional: toasted walnut pieces

Directions:
In a medium saucepan over medium heat, bring your milk, water and salt to a boil. Stir in your oats and vanilla. Reduce heat and let simmer on very low heat 5-15 minutes depending on the consistency that you like your cereal. Stirring occasionally. Once it's done cooking, stir in your honey, remove from heat and set aside.

Meanwhile, in a large non-stick pan, melt your butter. Add your apples, brown sugar, cinnamon, allspice and cloves. Saute, stirring occasionally, until your apples are tender, about 5 minutes.

Spoon your oatmeal evenly into four bowls. Top with your cinnamon apples and sprinkle with walnuts, if desired. Enjoy....

Yield: 4 small bowls of oatmeal or two large ones







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

Simple Little Ginger Crisps

If you'd like, cue up, Christmas Time is Here.....

I watched her walk toward me through the snow. Snow at least 2 feet deep. Deep by Portland standards. A steaming mug of tea precariously balanced in each hand. A few tense minutes later she successfully arrived at my front porch and handed me one of the mugs. We sat down in the weathered adirondack chairs. We chatted. My neighbor and I. We watched our children build their snowmen and engineer their sledding jumps. We enjoyed these cups of black tea with a pinch of cardamon and a smidge of milk. Something so seemingly simple and yet, she was sharing with me, the way her Persian mother makes tea for her. I was touched.

"Carrie," she said to me tapping me on my hip. "Are we going to have those drinks again?" I must have looked puzzled so my 6-year old neighbor continued. "Remember, the ones in the Santa cup? The ones with the sprinkles on top? Those drinks we had last year." "Oh...the egg nog." Every Christmas growing up, my Granny served her grandchildren egg nog in Santa cups, complete with a dash of nutmeg on top. Those mugs were eventually passed down to me. I continue the tradition. Nothing fancy. Egg nog bought from a store. A pinch of nutmeg. But always in the Santa cup. Last year, I had set out a round of egg nog for the neighbor kids as they decorated cookies. Such a simple thing. But, remembered.

With the hustle and bustle of getting ready for the holidays upon me, I struggled with what to feed my boys who were apparently "famished" from the long day at school. It had to be quick. It had to be mess-free. I grabbed the corn chips, a can of black beans, some grated sharp cheddar cheese. I quickly assembled some nachos, popped them in the microwave for 45 seconds and set them down for the boys with a scoop of salsa. A few hours later as I unpacked another box of Christmas decorations, my Kindergartner skips up to me and says, "Mom. I really like those nachos you make. I'm not just sayin' that. It's for real. I love 'em. Really. I'm not just sayin' that. I love beans. Really. This is for true. I'm not just sayin' it." And off he skippped.

We curled up on the couch. The winter sun was beaming through the window warming us. We each held a cup of peppermint tea. A plate of ginger crisps rested on the ottoman next to us. And she, my dear friend, talked. She, who just needed someone to listen. And somehow, that pretty little plate of cookies, took a sad moment and helped bring a little cheer. Nothing fancy. No elaborate frosting. No sprinkles or silver balls. Just a simple little cookie. But it was enough.

Sometimes, when I find myself at the height of holiday madness, embarking on yet another crazy project, I have to stop and ask, "Carrie, what are the bits and pieces of the holidays that people actually remember?"

Simple Little Ginger Crisps
Adapted from Cookie Cutter Ginger Crisps by Susan Branch

These really are so easy to make and they don't need any extra adornment. They are perfectly sweet as is. My favorite part about them is that they freeze really well. So, you could have a friend or two drop by unannounced over the holidays and before you panic as to what to set out for them to nibble on, you remember that you have Ginger Crisps in the freezer. By the time you've pulled some cookies out of the freezer, made everyone a cup of tea (or coffee would be good too) and set it all down in front of your guests, they are defrosted and ready to nibble. They are also nice alongside a little scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Ingredients:
1 c softened butter
1/2 c brown sugar, firmly packed
1/2 c sugar
1/3 c molasses
2/3 c light corn syrup
4 1/2 c flour (sifted if you have the time)
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp ginger
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp ground cloves

Directions:
Begin by creaming your butter and sugars until light. 3-4 minutes. Then, add your molasses and corn syrup and mix well. Next, mix in your cinnamon, ginger, salt, baking soda and cloves and combine well.  Finally, add your flour, little bits at a time, ensuring that it is all incorporated into your mix. When it is finished being mixed, the dough should have a smooth appearance.

Wrap your dough in parchment paper or plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator to chill for at least an hour.

When you are ready to bake, preheat your over to 350 degrees. Roll your dough out on a lightly floured surface to less than 1/8 inch thick. Cut with floured cutters. I personally like to choose just one shape - little gingerbread men, scalloped edges, snowflakes. There is something pleasing about the repetition of a single design. Bake on greased cookie sheet, or one lined with silpat, for 8 min. Cool and store in an airtight container or freeze them. Enjoy.

Yield: 3 dozen or so depending on the size of your cookie cutter

Calendar Update:

The calendars are IN!!

And, I have to say they look quite lovely. A huge thank you to all of you who have already placed orders. I'm so touched. Truly.

Out of the 200 we had printed up, I have about 16 left so if you were hoping to get one, email me or get your order placed on Etsy soon. They are $15.00 a piece.

If this is the first time you're "hearing" about these calendars, below is the link to the original blog post explaining the calendars as well as the link to my Etsy "store."

http://www.lapommedeportland.com/2010/12/2011-la-pomme-de-portland-calendar.html

http://www.etsy.com/listing/63516254/2011-food-photography-calendar

All orders leaving the Portland area have been shipped. East Coast and Mid-West orders were mailed Friday, 12/10. All Southwest and West coast orders were mailed Saturday, 12/11, as well as a few Portland area orders. Everyone else, I will contact you on Monday or Tuesday for the "pick-up" schedule.

One last note, after the original 50 I had listed on Etsy sold, I've only been able to list 3 at a time. And being the Etsy rookie I am, I can't figure out how to change that. So, if by chance you want more than 3 calendars, email me and we will work it out so you don't get charged twice for shipping.
Email: carrieminns (at) me (dot) com



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

A Provincial Sort of Apple Cake

I kept seeing it everywhere. This recipe for, "Dorie Greenspan's Apple Cake." Always referred to as a 4-word title. There it was in our local paper, tied to her book review on Amazon.com, traveling the virtual airways by Twitter, Facebook, Blogs. Hard bound and in print on page 432 of her new cookbook, Around My French Table. And even on AM Northwest, there was Dorie Greenspan making her Apple Cake. My curiosity was piqued...and as I've shared before, I'm not one to bake much.

Before giving it much thought, I tossed out the following statement to the virtual world by means of my La Pomme de Portland Facebook page, "Feeling a little sad to have missed Dorie Greenspan at the Heathman last night but went to Powell's today and bought her new cookbook, Around My French Table. If I make the apple cake, anyone want to come over and try it out with me?? I can't eat a whole cake by myself....seriously."

The response was a resounding, "Yes."

Then, I started to panic....a little. "I know it's Dorie Greenspan and all but what if I make the cake and it's not something I would want to serve to other people?" So, after finally making it to the liquor store for dark rum, I whipped up a trial run of Dorie's apple cake (which, by the way, is called Marie-Helene's Apple Cake in her cookbook.) And, as I pulled away the sides of my springform pan to admire the final product, I thought to myself, "This looks like a cake that Dorie Greenspan would make. It's petite, sophisticated, elegant. And the rum....wow!....you can't miss it." I sliced it up and passed around pieces to the family. I wondered, for just a moment, if I should be worried as I saw my 11-year old all wide-eyed going back for seconds. He, like me, who doesn't usually like baked goods.

The next morning, I carried slices next door, where my neighbor and I analyzed this final product over cups of coffee. I was curious what she thought.... she being a baker and all. Delicious, absolutely, but we couldn't help chuckling as we wondered if this was more of a "5 o' clock" cake. Of course, that didn't prevent us from eating each rum-laden bite.

After leaving my neighbor's, I came to the conclusion that this cake truly looked and tasted like something darling, sophisticated Dorie would serve to guests in her home. The cake reminded me of her...based on the brief amount of time I've spent around her. But for me, someone who spent her most formative years on an island in the Puget Sound, I needed something a little more provincial.

I hauled out my over-stuffed recipe box and whipped up an Apple Cake recipe I had copied down years ago. Too much oil. I pulled out cookbook after cookbook searching for Apple Cake recipes. Too many add-ins. I combed the internet for apple cake, apple bread, apple crumb cake, apple anything. Too much sugar. Finally, in a fit of frustration, using 4 or 5 different recipes as guides, I whipped up my own apple cake.

With Corinne Bailey Rae's rendition of "River" playing in the background and the first flakes of the season gently falling outside, I sat down with a slice of my apple cake. As I tasted that first spice-laden bite, I thought, "Yes. Now, this is something I would serve guests." A bit rustic but still pretty with the dusting of powdered sugar on top. I would serve it warm, with a cup of tea and possibly even a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side. Funny how even the food we set down for friends and family can say something about us.

And in the spirit of setting down food for family and friends, I wish you a most wonderful Thanksgiving wherever you may be, whatever you may be serving.

Apple Cake with a Provincial Flair

This cake isn't overly sweet which is how I like my baked goods but if you tend to go for cakes and cookies on the sweeter side you could add up to another cup of sugar. For the apples, I used a mixture of Honeycrisp and Granny Smith but any baking apple would work fine. Also, I didn't put any nuts in this cake since I have a kiddo with nut allergies but if you aren't in that same situation I'm begging you to put walnuts or pecans in yours. I just know it would be fantastic and would round out the flavors.

2 1/2 c flour
1 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 c butter, softened
1 c sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla
1/4 c applesauce
4 c apples, diced and peeled (approx 3-4 med apples)
Optional: 1 c chopped nuts, walnuts or pecans
Powdered sugar for dusting

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a Bundt pan and set aside.

In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt. Set aside

In a large bowl, cream together your butter and sugar. Add eggs, beating well after each addition. Stir in your vanilla and applesauce.

Slowly add your flour mixture to your butter mixture, bit by bit. Mix well to make sure all of the flour is absorbed. Fold in your apples (and your nuts). The mixture will seem to be heavy on the apples but not to worry.

Pour your mixture into your prepared Bundt pan and bake for one hour or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in pan on wire rack for 15 minutes. Then, invert onto rack and cool to room temperature. Once cool, sift a light dusting of powdered sugar onto the top.

Slice. Serve with a cup of tea and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side, should you desire. Enjoy.



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

Appetizers, Apples and Antics on AM Northwest

The past week has gone....I don't know where. It vaporized. I don't know about you, but I'm having trouble staying on top of things. Luckily, as I've mentioned before, my sweetie has already started the Christmas shopping.

Thanks to a gentle reminder by my thoughtful mother and father, I realized I never posted the video from last week's AM Northwest segment. So, this is for you, Mom and Dad...and anyone else who may have an interest in learning about homemade applesauce and a tantalizing appetizer all made with seasonal ingredients. And, one last note, should you decide to view the following video....after viewing it himself, my sweetie showered me with all of the appropriate accolades just like a good husband should (whether they are true or not) and then, off-handedly remarked, "Lots of sound effects going on in this one." What can I say? With the way my brain operates these days, it's a wonder I can even string a sentence together, so when I'm at a loss for the appropriate word, I fill in with sounds.


If you are unable to view the video above this line, click here to be taken directly to the website.

Hope you all have a safe and Happy Halloween!

And, hopefully you're not like me, with a mouth full of canker sores already from raiding the Halloween candy I've stashed away from the kids. Wish someone would stash it away from me!

Cheers,
Carrie

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

Pumpkin Pie to Mark Some Firsts...and Some Lasts.

"Mom! Mom! Wait for me!" His shoes slip ever so slightly on the gravel. His backpack, almost half his size, swings from side to side. Up the hill he scrambles. "Mom, wait! I have a treasure for you." In his tightly closed fist he holds four dandelions. All in various stages of blooming. He gallantly presents then to me, smiles and then, runs off to catch up with his older brother.

Not before long, he stops again. A twig. A heart shaped stone. A 3-leaf clover. Queen Anne's Lace. "Do you like when I give you treasures Mom?", he asks, this littlest one of mine. "I love when you give me treasures." And then, having asked hundreds of times before and already knowing the answer, the same answer I gave his brother before him, he asks again, "What do you do with the treasures?" "I tuck them in my pocket to keep them safe and then, when I'm missing you, I pull one out...and think of you." He smiles again. Pleased with his good deed, he runs off in search of more tiny treasures.

Not but 3 weeks ago, I dropped this littlest one of mine off for his first day of Kindergarten. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. A little happy. A little sad. While his older sister is always representative of firsts, he represents, lasts. Last diaper. Last binky. Last sippy cup. Last one to entertain all day. Last one to curl up on my lap. Last one to be at home with me. Last one to hold my hand.

"How was your first day of Kindergarten?" I had asked him when I picked him up. "Good.", he replied. "And what did you do?" Like a true boy, he responded, "I did recess and PE." Then, letting go of my hand, he ran off hollering, "Can I play on the playground?" Apparently taking the whole thing in stride. Not knowing that this "first" for him was a monumental "last" for me.

With backpacks stowed beneath the bench and lunch boxes emptied, I place a slice of pumpkin pie and a mug of warm chocolate milk down for each boy. Our annual fall ritual. Pumpkin pie to mark the beginning of October. The midst of fall. The countdown to the holidays. Eating pumpkin pie when it can truly be enjoyed. Savoured for the seasonal treat that it is. Not shoved in after a long, heavy meal.

I get up to clear my plate and I feel my throat catch as I glimpse the Queen Anne's Lace hanging out of my pocket. Myriad of "lasts" start flooding my mind....last pumpkin pie to mark the Kindergarten year, last one to ask me to come closer so he can whisper in my ear, last one to throw stones in the stream wishing for his kitty to come back...but then, I shake my head and tell myself, "Don't do this." Concentrate on the firsts.

First one to go to Kindergarten without tears. First one to make his own breakfast before the age of 10. First one to organize his own social life before Junior High. First one to watch PG-13 movies before the age of....6. First one to know that if the Lego store or Santa doesn't have it....eBay will. First one whose first day of Kindergarten marked my first day to reacquaint myself...with myself. Who am I now? What will I do now? Where will this new chapter in my life take me now? And that first...is kind of exciting.

Pumpkin Pie
Crust by Martha, Filling by Carrie

You probably have a "go to" recipe for Pumpkin Pie but in the off chance that you don't, keep this one handy for the upcoming holidays or like me, keep it handy to make one...just because. Every Thanksgiving, my daughter is in charge of pumpkin pie and a few years ago she and I did a pie bake-off to try-out different crusts....all butter, all shortening, half and half...and we decided that Martha Stewart's all-butter Pâte Brisée recipe was the best. Not only does it taste delicious but you can make it in advance which means less time in the kitchen on the big day. The filling recipe I've been using since the pre-kid San Francisco years. It was passed on to me by my friend, Karna, and I tinkered ever-so-slightly with her spice amounts to arrive at the recipe I use today. In terms of using real pumpkin versus canned pumpkin, I've done both and I feel that the difference in taste is barely perceptible so I say, keep it simple and use canned.

Martha's Perfect Pâte Brisée - Pie Dough Crust

The recipe that I've linked to is Martha's recipe for two 8-10 inch single-crust pies or one 8-10 inch double-crust pie but the one I like to use is her "Large Quantity" Pâte Brisée (1 and 1/2 times the "linked to" recipe) which gives me some playing room with the dough.

Ingredients:
3 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 1/2 tsp sugar
1 1/2 c chilled, unsalted butter (3 sticks), cut into cubes
1/2 to 3/4 c ice water

Now, the following directions are for making this dough in a food processor and as much as I don't care for washing a food processor, I highly recommend one for making this pie dough. That being said you could use a pastry cutter, two knives or your fingers but if I were you, I'd go with the food processor.

First, put your flour, salt and sugar in the bowl of the food processor and process for a few seconds to combine. Next, add you butter and process until the mixture resembles coarse meal, about 10 seconds. Then, with the machine running, add your water in a slow and steady stream through the feed tube, just until it starts to hold together. About 30 seconds max.

Even if there are a few bits that haven't been completely incorporated, go ahead and pour your dough out onto a lightly floured work surface. Quickly gather it into a large ball. Then, divide it in two. Flatten each  half into a rounded disk. Wrap in plastic wrap or wax paper and place in the refrigerator for an hour before using. You can also put the dough in a ziploc bag and then, put it in the freezer for up to a month. If you've frozen it, you can defrost it in the refrigerator overnight or by letting it stand at room temperature for an hour.

Right before mixing up your pie filling, roll out your dough on a lightly floured surface to about 13 inches in diameter and 1/8 inch thick or so. Gently place it on your pie plate. Using kitchen scissors, trim the dough so it hangs over the edge about 1/2 inch. Tuck that extra dough under the dough around the rim. Then using your thumb and pointer finger on one hand and your thumb on the other, push those fingers toward each other, crimping the dough, around the entire circumference.


Pumpkin Pie Filling

3 eggs
3/4 c sugar
1 1/2 c pumpkin or 1 15-oz can pumpkin (organic is fine to use)
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon (heaping is fine)
1/4 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp cloves
1 12-oz can evaporated milk

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees.

Beat the eggs, sugar, pumpkin and spices together. Then, blend in your milk. Pour your mixture into your waiting pie shell. I always put unbaked pie on a cookie sheet before putting it in the oven in case it spills over.

Bake at 450 degrees for 10 minutes and then at 350 degrees for 50 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.

Allow pie to cool completely before serving. I always serve my pumpkin pie with vanilla ice cream but keep on hand a can of whipping cream since my kids find it necessary to do the little squirty thing whenever we have pie. I also tend to serve this to my kids for breakfast. Pumpkin is a vegetable after all. Enjoy....

Yield: One pie



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

Home Cooked Apple Sauce for a Fall Weekend at Home

I was coming off of three glorious days and evenings spent with my dear sweet cousin, Michele, and her darling husband, Phil, who were visiting from the East Coast. I had taken them around to a sampling of my favorite "eateries" here in the Rose City. Some of my favorite window shopping haunts. I had prepared (what I hope were) scrumptious dinners. We had talked into the wee hours of the night catching up on anything and everything. With my cousin right by my side, we had arisen by 6:30 am each morning to prepare school lunches for the kiddos and send them on their way. We had ended the week wine tasting in the Yamhill Valley and sharing a final lunch at my "always upbeat" friend Kendall's restaurant, Farm to Fork. (Which, by the way, I highly recommend.) Right in the middle of Dundee, I hugged them both good-bye, sent them on to their next "West Coast" stop and steered the car north, with a bit of sadness, not knowing when I might see them again. Once home, I plopped down on the couch, put my feet up and promptly went to sleep...that is until the littlest one needed to be whisked off to soccer.

Returning an hour later with the littlest one chattering behind me, trying to explain that when he swings his arms round and round windmill style on the soccer field that that actually makes him run faster, I threw my keys on the counter and hollered out for my daughter, the only one who had been at home. I found her curled up in bed....at 6:30pm. As I approached, I could see the she was smiling and blinking back tears at the same time....a decidedly female trait. "What's up?" "Well...everyone is either at "the dance" or at the football game and since I don't have anyone to do anything with...I'm just here." Then she showed me a "text photo" of some friends at the football game with the message, "Hanging with my friends!" And some more tears slipped down her cheek. Since I don't always have the most patience in these situations, my first reaction was, "Oh for godsake's.....the drama. Trust me girlie, you have a lot more Friday nights to come in your life. So snap out of it." Then I thought, "Do these parents not teach their children any text messaging manners?!" But what I actually said was, "I'm so sorry sweetie. I know situations like these can feel a little lonely and I wish I could get in the car and take you down to that game...but I'm exhausted." And I spent the rest of the evening trying to relax while being completely riddled with guilt.

Saturday was absolutely glorious. One of those days in which you are grateful for every moment you are alive. The perfect fall day. The sun glittering. The weather in the mid-70s. The leaves just starting to turn. My sweetie and I kept saying to each other, "We don't want this day to end." When Sleeping Beauty finally arose, I could still feel her disappointment emanating through the air. I thought, "To appease my guilt, I should take her to the mall." But I've shared before how I feel about malls and no amount of parental guilt would get me there on that gorgeous day. I was going to the farmer's market. I called out a half-hearted, "Going to the farmer's market. Anyone want to come with me?" The boys all politely declined but to my surprise, my daughter said "Yes."

She was rather quiet on the way down, but when I asked her if there was anything she wanted at the market, she replied, "Two Tarts." Instead of our usual routine of hitting them last, I said, "Let's go there first." And instead of the usual box of one dozen delectables, I said, "Oh please, pick out two dozen." And my sweet girl started calling out her order, "Peanut butter creams, blackberry macarons, caramel chocolate brownies, lemon bars, hazelnut tassies, graham cracker cookies dipped in chocolate, carrot cake creams, chocolate chip cookies with sea salt and a Lil' Mama on top." When the boxes were handed over to her, I saw her smile.

Truly...like a light switch being flipped off...the next day's weather couldn't have been more different. Fog. Rain. Cold. Gray. Dark. I never got out of my pajama's. Craving those warm smells of autumn, I went about turning the Honeycrisp and Reine des Reinettes apples I purchased from the lovely lady at "Old World Apples" the day before, into applesauce. Memories of my Granny, who always made applesauce from her homegrown apples, flooded my mind. Her special touch was always to add cinnamon spice candies to her recipe which lent the final product a unique pink hue that we devoured. Leaving my concoction to slowly cook on the stove, I gently pulled my melancholy girl into the living room to curl up on the couch and watch, "Letters to Juliet" with me. While an enjoyable chick-flick, the director didn't leave much to the imagination and I heard my girl laugh when she realized she had completely predicted the entire outcome of the movie.

Monday morning, I offered to drive my girl to school. I don't like to do it. The whole rigamarole, there and back, ends up being an hour out of my morning but yesterday, I was genuine in my offer. Instead of insisting that we listen to my latest book on tape in the car, "Lost on Planet China", I suggested she play me her latest iTunes downloads, all of which were songs from the series premiere of Glee. When we pulled up, she leaned over to give me a big hug, gave me a sincere, "Thank you so much for taking me to school, Mom.", flashed me one of her beautiful smiles and then, headed into school with a skip. Just one skip...she is in 8th grade after all...but I saw it and I knew the weekend of heartache had come to an end. (Now, it could have been that she was simply adjusting her back-pack but I'm going with "the skip.") I could finally pull that "guilt monkey" off my back and toss him aside. Which I did. "She's taking the bus the rest of the week."

Home Cooked Apple Sauce for Fall
Adapted from Indulge, Fall 2010

One of my favorite places to turn for food inspiration is a little "free-of-charge" magazine put out quarterly by Zupan's Markets here in Portland, called Indulge. They always highlight seasonal food. There is always a lengthy article penned by Portland's own, Sara Perry, and complete with 3 or 4 of her recipes. I believe I turned down the corner of almost every page of this quarter's issue. One recipe, obviously, that caught my eye was a simple one for apple sauce. As I mentioned above, I used a mix of the apples I had purchased at the farmer's market, Honeycrisp and Reine des Reinettes, but you could use a mix of any apples you could find that are recommended for baking. Also, the amount of cinnamon called for does give this recipe a definite cinnamon flavor which my family loved but you could reduce the amount if you'd prefer just a hint. I do suggest you make a double batch of this. My brood inhaled this in one fell swoop and I had to make a second batch of it so I would have something to photograph...just for you.

Ingredients:
10 medium apples - Honeycrisp, McIntosh or other baking apples
3/4 c water
3 tbsp loosely packed brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tbsp lemon juice
a pinch of Kosher salt

Directions:
Start by peeling, coring and slicing your apples. I recently acquired a Victorio Apple Peeler which is a slick little contraption that makes this step of the recipe quite pleasurable. (My 11-year old is singing my praises since it also peels potatoes and he's always in charge of the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving.) Now, if you don't happen to have a handy dandy apple peeler, you can always get out a little paring knife, turn on some smooth music and go about it by hand. However you do it, make sure that once the apples are peeled, cored and sliced that you also cut them up into bite-sized chunks. Then, put them in a stock pot over medium-low heat along with your water, brown sugar, cinnamon, lemon juice and salt.

Over low heat, simmer the apples for 30-40 minutes, or until the apples are soft. At this point taste and adjust the seasonings if necessary. Now, my brood does not like chunky apple sauce so next, I took out my handy-dandy hand held blender and pureed my sauce into a smoother concoction. You may be okay with chunks and can forego this step. Warm or cold, it's scrumptious. Enjoy.


PS: I haven't tried this because I never have any left but apparently, this recipe freezes well.

PSS: Considering that it's apple season around here, I thought I might mention that for those of you in the Portland area, I'll be on AM Northwest tomorrow morning (Wednesday, September 29) Channel Two at 9 am making this Apple Crostata which, if I do say so myself, is to die for.

PSSS: I also want to mention that I slid right past the one year anniversary of the commencement of "La Pomme de Portland" without nary a raised eyebrow. Considering that I am never on-time for anything, let's just say, this was on purpose. I have a few little surprises up my sleeve that I will be presenting you in the coming month, you kind sweet souls, as a small way to express my deep gratitude for you taking time out of your busy, hectic lives to spent some here at "La Pomme." In other words, to say, "Thank you."

PSSSS: I realize that I'm a bit long-winded today, but my baby started Kindergarten two weeks ago (more on that later) and after 13 years of having an outlet for my incessant need to talk, albeit persons under the age of 5, I'm left rattling around this empty house wondering who to talk to. For better or for worse, you're the chosen one. Cheers!


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

Cinnamon-Apple Crostata & Tea, Of Course

Then he sat in his favorite chair, drank a cup of hot peppermint tea and ate a slice of bread with honey on it. The farmer felt very cozy and a bit tired.

"Dream Snow" by Eric Carle

I wish I could say to you, dear friend, that I spent my college years drinking coffee, or even tea, in a rather sophisticated manner at some off-beat coffee house and reading the "great works of literature" cover to cover. But, alas, that was not to be. No, I was the Coca-cola, Mountain Dew guzzling Cliff Note reader. (Although, now, I find myself going back and actually reading the "great works" to see what I missed out on.) The closest I came to sipping a hot beverage was the cinnamon spiced cider my mother always served us during the holidays.

After those proverbial years of intellectual development, two dear friends and I donned our back-packs and trekked across the great continent of Europe. First stop, England. There we sat in a feed-the-masses tourist trap charming little tea house in London. The white, ornate metal chairs. The red and white patterned table-cloth. The feeling that we were in a glass enclosed conservatory. Like something straight out of Mary Poppins. Actually, now that I think of it, there was something strangely similar between that little British establishment and Burt and Mary's tea time. But, nonetheless, we felt rawther upper-crust surveying our tea menu and preparing ourselves for the delight that was to come. It was as I was perusing this menu that I came to the realization that the only beverage they served at this "tea-house" was, in fact, tea. "Hmm. What shawll I do?" Now, this did not pose a problem for my much more cultured traveling companions who had, indeed, sipped coffee throughout college around a little table with the ever-present vawwse of white tulips. But they held my hand...ordered me some tea and when it came, showed me how to add a little milk, a little honey, a squeeze of lemon and I've never looked back.

Now, I possibly could be referred to as a "tea fanatic". Never without a mug of it in my hand. I start the morning out with my, of course, english breakfast tea complete with a splash of milk and a teardrop of honey. Later in the morning I find myself moving to a Morrocon Mint green tea or, depending on the day, an "Easy Now" stress relief tea. Late afternoon finds me sipping an Earl Grey and by the time evening arrives, I've moved onto peppermint. There's something comforting to me about tea. Perhaps it's the scent. Perhaps it's the way the hot liquid warms me. Or, maybe, it's the simplicity in the mug that I carry around. Such a humble vessel. Maybe it's because there's no filter or pot to clean. Or perhaps it's that I often find myself curled up on my sun-faded couch, book in one hand, tea in the other. Or, curled up on one end of that same couch, tea in one hand and a friend, a child, my mother or my guy curled up on the other. The two of us talking. (Well, my guy doesn't actually curl up but you know what I mean.) Just yesterday, I sat in my kitchen drinking a cup of tea with my father, reminiscing about a recent trip together and paying no heed to the stack of dishes in the sink. The tea gives me a reason to slow down. To sit down. To pay attention. To enjoy the quiet moments. To listen. To be present. To be able to say, "Let me finish my cup of tea...and then, I'll get to it."

I have this idea that I want my children to learn to enjoy a hot beverage - tea, cider, hot chocolate. I want to show them at least one way, in this frenetic life we live, of how to slow down. Sit down. Breathe. Whenever I ask, they always agree to a cup of tea. The eldest prefers the berry flavored teas, the middle one, peppermint and the littlest one, well, he wants Ovaltine "just warm, not hot". They don't often take but one or two sips but they smell it, they wrap their hands around the warm mug and they sit and talk with me.

This morning before sending them out the door into the frigid, below freezing temperatures, I fixed them each a mug of hot (as in scalding hot) chocolate and fed them a slice of Cinnamon-Apple Crostata straight from the oven. Truth be told...I never, let me repeat, NEVER, make them anything warm for breakfast except Quaker Instant Oatmeal but something compelled me to do it this morning. Maybe it was the cold temperatures. Maybe the holiday spirit seized me. Maybe it was our too short of weekend spent together. My not wanting it to end. Trying to keep it going. Maybe it was the guilt I felt for not having put up one Christmas decoration. Whatever it was, I managed to haul my "morning-challenged" body out of bed into the cold, darkness of the house. Our outside thermometer registered at 20 degrees.

With the cinnamon scent of the holidays swirling around them, they sat around that kitchen table, my three children, eating their rather novel breakfast. Sipping their hot drink. Warming up their bodies. Chatting about their school week, the weekend, Christmas. The whole scene was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. I almost shed a tear. "Ahh...the early morning hour had been worth this." And, I turned around to continue making their lunches. My back had been turned for not more than a second when I heard the oldest say, "Oh, baby, don't do that. That's where big brother breaks his pencils when he's frustrated with his homework." I look over and there's my littlest one licking his spilled hot chocolate off the table like a dog. The 10-year old then says in his most sinister, bad guy voice, "You ate lead. Now, you're gonna DIE!" Anticipating the tears that were sure to come from thinking he was about to die, I say, "No, no, you're not going to die but licking your hot chocolate off the table probably isn't a good idea. Come over here and get a paper towel." And, with that, the moment was over. But I had my 30-seconds, didn't I? Perhaps a glimpse of more to come? Each successive moment lasting a little longer? And, in a flurry of dishes being dropped into the sink, ("Gently! Don't break the dishes.") and the rustle of coats being put on, they were gone.

Cinnamon-Apple Crostata

Our grocery store is still brimming with those cheery Honeycrisp apples but my children's love for them is starting to wane. Here at the tail end of apple season, they are turning their noses up to the plates of sliced apples I place before them so....in an effort to mix-it-up, I decided to try this little crostata number. Generally, I'm not a huge, pastry gal, but done right, with a butter crust and not too much sugar...well, who can resist. And, since, I'm still experimenting with the whole wheat pastry flour I even managed to get a little of that in as well. I tried it once with all whole wheat pastry flour and the crust didn't hold together very well so, until further notice, I recommend the half and half route. And, if you're like me, which you probably aren't, your home is probably completely decked for the holidays, but once again, on the off-chance that you're like me without nary a bobble in sight, make this little cinnamon number and even if your house doesn't look like the holidays....it will smell like them.

Ingredients:

For the pastry:

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1 tsp sugar

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 pound (1 stick) cold, unsalted butter, diced

1 - 2 tbsp ice water

For the filling:

1 1/2 lbs Honeycrisp apple (3 med-lg apples)

1/4 tsp grated orange zest (optional)

1/8 c all-purpose flour

1 tbsp sugar

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

pinch of nutmeg

2 tbsp cold, unsalted butter

For the pastry:

Place the flour, sugar and salt in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Pulse a few times to combine. Add butter and process until the mixture resembles coarse meal, 8 to 10 seconds.

With machine running, add ice water in a slow, steady stream through feed tube. Pulse until dough holds together without being wet or sticky; be careful not to process more than 30 seconds. Turn the dough onto a floured surface and form into a disk. Wrap with plastic or parchment paper and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to a day.

For the filling:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Peel, core and cut the apples into thin, wedges. Set aside.

Combine the flour, sugar, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg (and orange zest if you chose to use it) in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture is crumbly. Pour into a bowl and rub it with your fingers until it starts holding together. And, if you happened to make your dough ahead of time and you don't want to get your food processor out again, you can do all of this with your fingers or a pastry cutter. 

Roll your dough out to an 11-inch circle on a lightly floured surface. Transfer it to a baking sheet that is lined with parchment paper. Cover the crostata dough with the apple slices leaving a 1 1/2 inch border or so. Gently fold the border over the apples to enclose the dough, pleating it to make a circle.

Bake the crostata for 35-40 minutes, until the crust is golden and the apples are tender. Allow to cool. Serve warm or at room temperature. With tea, of course.

PS: Recently I have been trying out the new line of Smith Tea from Steven Smith of Stash and Tazo tea fame. No. 47 Bungalow is particularly delightful.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009

"Do-It-Yourself" Granola

You have appeared to my life,

Feel like I'll never be the same.

Like a Star by Corinne Bailey Rae

With a great whoosh of air, I watch as the navy and white striped sheet flutters to the ground. For a brief moment, I am transported back to its glory days. Back to the first apartment I shared with my sweetie where this simple sheet rested prominently on our bed. The same apartment where our cat, Bruce, a mere kitten at the time decided to skydive off our third floor balcony without a parachute, quickly using up one of his lives. The same apartment where I decided to can salsa for Christmas gifts, using a recipe I'd never tried nor had I bothered to really taste during the creating. The salsa did not become a tradition. Perhaps it was the Worcestershire sauce.

Another gust of air and this time it's a Florentine marbled design in peaches, soft blues and pale pink. I can see the bed in my college room where this sheet started out, fresh and new. I can see it in its final place of honor. A guest bed. Twin. Of the Bedknobs and Broomstick variety. The guest room in that little walk-up in Noe Valley. The very place where I threw a 30th Birthday party for my sweetie while simultaneously suffering from the flu. The same party that included a particularly distinguished guest, that being the chef and owner of our San Francisco neighborhood's very own Italian restaurant. When a metallic smell started emanating from the oven, it was he who discovered that I had failed to remove the plastic protector from underneath my brand new pizza stones before using them. He quickly pulled the noxious pizzas from the oven as a trail of hot plastic oozed behind him like pulled taffy.

A flash of pink and white check and it's my daughter's first bedroom. Ballet pink. Baby dolls and handmade cradles. Dress-up clothes and a kitchen. Fish sticks, peas and applesauce. The swath of material softly falls to the ground and takes up its place next to the others. Together they make up my painting quilt, of sorts, protecting the floor as I rhythmically cover up the ballet pink with each stroke of the brush.

I know that at some point in your 30s, there is a bridge that is crossed. The one where you leave your painting days behind and instead, hire out that sort of job but let me say a few words in favor of "do-it-yourself" painting. For starters, it's cathartic. Relaxing. The mesmerizing sound of the brush against the wall. And, painting is very deliberate. It can't be rushed. You have to slow down. Be careful. Don't splatter. You find yourself left alone with your thoughts. Painting gives you a moment to pause. To consider that the daughter who once wrapped herself in every shade of pink imaginable is no longer that little girl. No, she is somewhere between the woman she will become and the adolescent that she is. And with each stroke of the brush you recognize that she is growing up. Her walls are becoming a creamy white. And while there is some tug at your heart, knowing that the little girl will never be again, you can't help but be excited for what lay ahead. With each passing day, you are able to shed little bits of your role as parent. Knowing that one day, should you do your job well, you will shed enough of the parent role, to be her friend. And so, you say good-bye to the ballet pink and the subtle chain of daisies you stenciled round the room all those years ago.

I pick-up my cup of hot, chamomile/mint tea. I gaze outside at the gray skies and 64-degree weather. Not an uncommon summer day in Portland but one that my "Phoenix-habitating" brother would consider to be straight out of mid-winter. I reach down to the ramekin of granola I've been munching on all morning. I can't think of a more delightful painting snack. Oats, bits of almonds & walnuts, raisins, cinnamon, a pinch of salt and a dollop of maple syrup all roasted to perfection. And, I pause to consider that while I had been taping off the trim in the early morning hours, my almost teenage daughter had been roasting up this delectable concoction. The very one that I munch on now. And there's another reason to be in favor of "do-it-yourself" painting. When you tell the kids that you will be unavailable for the day due to the painting project. That they will be in charge of their own snacks. Their own meals. And that they will make sure the baby gets fed. They take you seriously. And you become the happy benefactor of their independent ways.

The sky has grown dark. The granola's long since gone. I gaze around at my work. The pink has disappeared. "Not bad." The creamy white my daughter picked out looks fresh. New. I turn out the light, wrap my hands around my cup of tea and head down the hallway.

"Do-It-Yourself" Granola

(Adapted from Elle's Nutty Granola, Foodnetwork.com)

3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats (I prefer Bob's Red Mill)

1/2 cup walnuts

1/2 cup almonds

1/4 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 cup real maple syrup

1/2 cup raisins

Preheat your oven to 300 degrees. Mix all of the ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. Spray a cookie sheet with cooking spray or as my daughter did, just rub a little butter over it. Pour the granola mixture onto the sheet and spread it out evenly. Roast in the oven for 30 minutes. Smell, taste, enjoy.

Originally written: August 7, 2009

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009