Strawberry Pavlova, the Perfect Dessert to Celebrate a Milestone

"I'm thinking of signing him up for golf camp, basketball camp, a soccer camp and maybe some swimming," one of my well-meaning friends was saying to a group of us about a month ago. The conversation then lead to the fall, "Besides soccer, we're putting together a flag football team if anyone wants to do it."

The conversation continued and as I sat there listening, sipping my coffee, I thought about how different  I am now as a parent as opposed to when my daughter was younger.

She was in swim lessons at six-months-old. As a toddler, she had a regular "playgroup" that met weekly. She was in Gymboree classes...for years. She could write her name before she entered preschool and ride a bike and tie her shoes before she entered Kindergarten.

For my youngest, playgroup and Gymboree aren't even words in his vocabulary. As for some of the others, well, maybe I had been a little lackadaisical in teaching him some of those childhood milestones. So I said to my friends, "You know, I think you should count us out. We're still working on...some basics."

Later that day, I sat my Kindergartener down and said, "Guess what we're going to do this summer?"

"What?"

"You are going to have "Bike Camp with Mom," "Swim Camp with Mom," and "Tie-Your-Shoes Camp with Mom." We're going to start with Bike Camp. How does that sound?"

He was thrilled. Besides motherly guilt, I was feeling particularly motivated to get rid of the training wheels because I knew we'd be meeting up with his cousins at the beach for vacation soon and he just couldn't be shown up by his three-year-old cousin who could already ride a two-wheeler.

Day one of bike camp was held in our driveway. We worked on simply gliding. Then, I taught him how to use the kick-stand, how to use the brakes, how to start and then went on to the back-braker....holding onto the back of the bike as he "rode" it up and down the driveway. Luckily, before my back gave out, I was interrupted by my neighbor driving by. She stopped. And we chatted...on and on.

In the middle of our conversation, I decided to check on my little guy. As I turned around to look for him, there he was riding his bike out of the garage. On two-wheels. By himself.

I turned to my neighbor and said, "Sandbagger."

Then, I turned back to my guy and shouted, "Whoo! Hoo! You're riding your bike by yourself!!!"

With a huge smile on his face, he stopped the bike, put the kickstand down and took off his helmet. Then he said to me, "Can I go back in now?"

"But buddy, you just learned to ride your bike. That's so exciting. Don't you want to keep practicing?"

"Well, I was in the middle of a lego war when you called me out here." For crying out loud, his older brother would have been out here for hours practicing his new-found-skill if this had been him.

We continued our bike camp throughout the week, visiting various parks with tracks or trails and culminating with the park in our neighborhood whose trail travels over bridges, around a pond and up and down hills. He completed the required "two times around the pond" but he really just wanted to play on the playground with some friends who happened to be there.

To celebrate my little guy's "Completion of Bike Camp," that night I made a special dessert. Strawberry Pavlova...which he inhaled. As I watched him enjoy his dessert, I thought to myself how different my children are. How my middle guy was the kid who rode a two-wheeler at age three...because he wanted to. How my eldest could swim as a toddler and still is my fish...because she loves it.

And my little guy, well, apparently he takes on the mantra that the Rooster applies to handyman jobs from time to time, "It's not that I can't do it, it's just not how I choose to spend my time." (Although, let the record state that when the Rooster does choose to do handyman jobs, he does a mighty fine job.)

We'll see how swimming and shoe-tying go.....

Strawberry Pavlova
Inspired and adapted from The Reluctant Entertainer and MIX magazine

I am not a fancy dessert maker. Usually the pinnacle of my dessert making consists of ice cream with berries or every so often a pie but that's about it. However, I was intrigued to make this dessert when I read about it in my friend Sandy's book, The Reluctant Entertainer. And then a recent issue of our local food magazine MIX also had a recipe for it and considering that both the Rooster and I had brought home half-flats of Hood strawberries recently....well, I needed to find ways to use them up. Hood strawberries are truly the most delicious strawberry you will ever taste but...they don't last long.

Also, I made my pavlova with a sour cream filling because I don't like my desserts to be too sweet and trust me, it was plenty sweet...but if you're a whipped cream purist you could always substitute that for the filling.

Ingredients
Meringues
1/2 c egg whites (about 4) at room temperature
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
1 c granulated sugar
1 tbsp cornstarch
3/4 tsp cider vinegar or white vinegar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Filling
1 c sour cream or crème fraiche
1 tbsp granulated sugar
1/4 tsp vanilla extract


Berries
2 pints fresh strawberries (preferably Hoods if you can find them), hulled and sliced 1/4 inch thick
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp lemon juice


Directions
Meringues
Preheat oven to 250 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper and set aside.


In a large mixing bowl, whisk together your egg whites and cream of tartar. Using an electric mixer, beat them together until foamy. On medium speed, add in your granulated sugar a tablespoon at a time. Increase your speed to high and continue beating for about 3 minutes or until stiff peaks form. Fold in your cornstarch, vinegar and vanilla extract and stir just until combined.


Spoon out six half-domes of meringue onto the cookie sheet. Using the back of your spoon, press gently down on the center of each one to make a shallow well. Bake for about one hour or until your meringues lift easily off the parchment.


Filling
While your meringues are cooking, prepare your filling. Whip your sour cream, 1 tbsp sugar and 1/4 tsp vanilla extract until thick. Then, put in the refrigerator while the meringues are finishing. You can make your filling in advance but it may need some gentle re-whisking if it sits for over an hour.


Strawberries
Put your sliced strawberries, 1 tsp sugar and 1 tsp lemon juice in a bowl. Mix together to combine and then set aside to macerate for 5-10 minutes or the duration of your meringue baking time.


When ready to serve, put each meringue on an individual plate. Spoon on some of the filling and then, top with the berries. Put out for your friends and family to "ooh and ahh" over and then....enjoy.


Yield: 6 individual dessert...quite large servings

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IMPORTANT MESSAGE: Just in case you didn't see this message on my last post, La Pomme de Portland is just about to get a new look. My friend and web designer Kirsten Hope has been helping me create this lovely new space. It is so pretty.

The time has come for us to do the site transfer. In order to do so, my website will be down for about a week starting July 3rd. I'm letting you know this for a couple of reasons.

1. I am crossing all fingers and toes that nothing will happen but there is a chance that in the transfer I may loose a few of my email subscribers' subscriptions. I apologize in advance for this. Should you not receive your regular emails from me after July 10th, you may need to go back onto my site and re-subscribe. My site address will remain the same: www.lapommedeportland.com

2. In case you want any recipes for Fourth of July, I encourage you to print them before July 3rd. :) Once the site transfer happens, all recipes, new and old, will be available again.

...

Fourth of July Menu
In case you're looking for ideas, here is my Fourth of July menu:

Cowboy Caviar
Cherry Tomato and Asparagus Summer Salad
Grilled Salmon with Cherry Tomato and Shallot compote
A Strawberry Tart


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Organizing Project
Just spent the past week, including...and I'm not kidding here...10 hours yesterday....organizing my yard. This included weeding, weeding and more weeding, planting 15 boxwood plants I bought on-sale on the one sunny day we had this past spring and filling my planter boxes with petunias I bought back in May in a fit of momentary excitement.



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

What's In Season? Strawberries by the Flat

Yes, yes, I realize that I brought your attention to the fact that strawberries were appearing at our local farmers market a week or so ago but let's be real....it's not possible to go to the farmers market every weekend...especially when I have no less than 5 lacrosse games staring me in the face. (And I don't even get the rules.)

So, when the hubs recently found flats of locally grown Oregon strawberries at his favorite grocery store, I rejoiced. And then the sweet man brought home not one...but two flats...so we've been eating strawberries. Lots of strawberries. Bowls and bowls of strawberries but hey, they're in season, they are oh so good and we love the hubs for bringing them home.

And even though we're still wearing down jackets and wool gloves here, each cheerful berry is a little hint that summer is not far off. We hope...


What would you do with bowls and bowls of strawberries?



Here's what I've done with them in the past here on La Pomme.

• Strawberry, Hazelnut and Goat Cheese Salad
• Strawberry Rhubarb Muffins
• A Strawberry Tart

And musings about those bright red berries

• At the Beginning...Hood Strawberries

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

What's In Season?

Only a quick trip to the Farmers Market was to be had this weekend...in-between dropping kids off at Lacrosse games and then, returning to watch said Lacrosse games.

I made the rounds, enjoyed the sights, the sounds, the smells.

I saw pints of snow peas with their feathery little blossoms still lying about.

I saw people headed to their cars carrying flats of strawberries for the first time this season.

But in the end, I left with only a box of cookies. And yet, it was a successful trip.

Sometimes it's just enough for me to make the loop under the blossoming canopy of trees. To stop and watch the street-corner musicians.

To feel like I left my little enclave and stepped out to see what the rest of the city is up to and somehow that makes the city feel smaller. More like a town. My town.

...


I know that some of you have shared with me that you have just recently started venturing out to your own farmers market and you felt a little overwhelmed. Here are some of my tips for navigating any farmers market.

1. Get your coffee BEFORE you arrive at the farmers market. The line for the market baristas is always one of the longest.

2. With coffee in hand, make a circle or a zig zag around your market without buying anything. Just take it all in.

3. On the second time around, make your purchases not worrying about whether this is the best vendor or this is the best price. You really can't go wrong with any local, in-season food.

4. Realize that in the beginning your trips to the farmers market may take longer than you had expected but know that overtime, you will discover who your favorite vendors are, what you like to buy, who's offering the best prices and so on.

5. Also know that in the beginning you may tend to "over-buy" so dazzled by all of the amazing food. After a few trips, you'll have a better idea of what you'll actually be able to use before things start to go bad.

6. Take the time to search out a farmers market that makes you feel comfortable. I had tried out a few in the beginning but came to really love the downtown Portland market. I know just where to park. I love the trees. I have my favorite vendors but for other people, coming downtown and being amongst the crowds can be stressful. With farmers markets on practically every corner, search out one that you really love.

7. And know that sometimes it's okay to come away with simply a box of cookies or a little tart because there's more to the farmers market than just food.




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

Strawberries in a Salad and Siblings Who Skip

It snowed last year too: I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.  -Dylan Thomas, Welsh poet

"Mom, it's so embarrassing! Do you know what he does all day at school?"

"No, please tell me."

"He skips."

"Well, he's in kindergarten."

"Well, it's embarrassing. My WHOLE class was lined up to go into the gym and guess who came out of the bathroom and skipped past my WHOLE class and all the way down the hall?"

This eldest son of mine then proceeds to go through a litany of infractions committed by his younger brother. "He makes weird noises. He hums. He kicks my seat. He takes my Lego guys without asking. He follows me around at recess with his hands like binoculars. He barks at me with those stuffed dogs. And...he skips!"

I did not grow up with brothers. Brothers, plural, that is. I have a brother. My "little" brother. He had the distinct honor of providing me with a worthy subject on which to practice my mothering skills. And that was just it. I was more "Mommy Jr" to him than sibling rival. And so now, when confronted with this up-close sibling rival between brothers, I sometimes feel at a loss of what to do.

"Just stop it!! Stop it!!"

Hearing the screams and crying from the garage, I leave the kitchen (where I've been trying to make and eat a quick salad for lunch) and head out to investigate. Upon seeing me, the kindergartner cries out, pointing in the direction of his older brother, "He threw a basketball at my legs."

In defense the 5th grader shoots back, "Yeah well, I wasn't even doing anything and he did this to me." He then proceeds to put his thumbs in his ears, wiggle his fingers and stick out his tongue. Choking back a smile, I said to myself, "I thought they only did that on TV." But judging by the way the 6-year old was covering his guilty face with his arms, apparently my children do that as well.

Both boys looked at me as if to say some justice must be done. Not sure what to do, I thought back to a peace-making method my elder son's kindergarten teacher used to use and I enact my own version of it.

"Okay boys, come here. Closer. Face each other. Hold each other's hands."

"No."

"Hold each other's hands and look at each other."

The 11-year old rolls his eyes and begrudgingly grabs his brother's hands. The littler one opens his eyes wide like a zombie, grabs his brother's hands and then, proceeds to jump up and down, over and over, like a kangaroo.

"Now I want you to compliment each other. Say something kind about your brother."

This is not a new concept to them. During our family dinners on Sundays (when they actually happen) we take turns complimenting other family members. I can usually count on the 11-year old to come up with a little gem about his siblings.

"Come on guys. we're not leaving til you say something kind to each other."

"He's not holding my hand," cries out the little one.

"Stop jumping! That's so weird," the older one shoots back.

Finally, there is a moment of calm and a bit of silence. I can see the older brother gathering his thoughts and the littler one, no longer jumping but still wide-eyed, not knowing what to say.

"C'mon. Surely you can think of something," I say, looking at the older brother, hoping he'll set a good example.

"Okay, okay," says the older one as he gathers himself together. And then, looking deep into his little brother's eyes, he says with all sincerity, "Brother....your farts don't stink."

The little one's eyes grow even bigger, he starts jumping again and with a huge smile on his face, he fires back, "Yeah, well.....your poop doesn't stink!"

They both start cracking up. I try to stifle my smile, throw my hands up in defeat and head inside to finally eat my lunch, muttering, "Boys."

While I sit at the kitchen table enjoying the first of this season's strawberries, my eldest son walks through the kitchen and I say to him, "You know, you'll never be in school with him again...in your whole life. You two could grow up to be best of friends but it depends on how you treat each other now. You're going to miss having him around next year."

He continues walking past me but I can tell he's listening.

At the foot of the stairs, he says back to me, "I know I'll miss him."

And then further up the stairs, "But I won't miss the skipping!"

...


A Strawberry, Hazelnut, and Goat Cheese Salad Drizzled with a Bit of Balsamic Vinaigrette

I have been reading about pairing sweet, luscious strawberries with piquant balsamic vinegar for quite sometime now and I thought it would be fun to try them out in a salad together. Sprinkle on some tangy goat cheese and nutty hazelnuts and you've got a salad fit for a Queen....or at least fit to keep you seated long enough to ponder on the intricacies of sibling rivalry and what to do about it.

I also show in the the photos above a clay ramekin from the talented guys & gals over at Olympic Provisions. Last weekend at the Farmer Market, they had kindly given me a ramekin of their homemade rillette to try on the baguette I was carrying around in my bag. I had never, knowingly, tried rillette. If you're curious to learn more, here's a wonderful post by the über-talented Matt Wright describing how to make and how to eat pork rillette. Once I figured out that I should bring it to room temperature and mix it all together (as opposed to just scraping the cold fat off the top), I discovered a luscious, rich meaty spread, perfect on a little piece of bread. Thank you, Olympic Provisions!

Ingredients:
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp shallot, minced (optional)
pinch o' salt
2-3 tbsp olive oil
couple handfuls of baby greens
1/2 cup or so of sliced strawberries
a sprinkling of crumbled goat cheese (feta might be good too.)
a sprinkling of roasted hazelnuts (or walnuts, almonds, whatever nuts you have on hand and I don't mean your children)
freshly ground black pepper

Directions:
Combine your vinegar and shallots, if you're using shallots, in a small bowl and let rest for 5-10 minutes. If not using the shallots you can skip the "resting" part.

Add your salt and whisk together. Then slowly, while whisking, drizzle in your olive oil.

Place your baby greens on a plate. Top with the strawberries, the goat cheese and the nuts. Drizzle on the balsamic vinaigrette to your liking. Add a few cracks of black pepper and...voila!

A couple slices of bread with rillette (or butter...or just plain), a glass of sparkling water and with each mouthful of your delicious salad you'll be able to feel summer drawing near. I realize that that is near impossible for those of us in Portland seeing as we haven't even had a spring but, nonetheless, I suggest giving it a try. Enjoy....

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Organizing Project
Rien. Nada. Nichts. Nic. Niente.

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Question for You
I get approached, from time to time, by vendors offering me products and cooking supplies to giveaway to you kind people who read my musings. Some of them are a good fit (coffee, chocolate, kitchen gadgets, etc.,) others (Ugg knock-offs) not so much. I am headed to Atlanta next week for the BlogHer Food Conference where I will undoubtedly be hit-up for these kinds of "giveaways."  Because I try to be sensitive to the amount of email that lands in your in-box, especially those of you who are so incredibly generous to subscribe to La Pomme de Portland, I have hesitated doing too many of these.

But you tell me, "Would you like to have me do more giveaways...provided they are a good fit?"

You can let me know in the comments below or in an email or ping me on Facebook.

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A New Look
And speaking of comments, I realize my "commenter" is cr---- (rhymes with pappy)....and not that I want you to feel obligated to comment but if you felt inclined to do so, it's almost impossible.

Well right now, behind the scenes, La Pomme de Portland is getting a face-lift. Part of this face-lift will include an easier way to comment/ask questions as well as an easy way to print the recipes or subscribe by email or search for recipes. And most importantly, hopefully it will just be easier to read.

If any of you have ever thought, "I sure wish Carrie would...." or "Why doesn't this....work better on Carrie's site?" or "Has Carrie ever considered...?" or  "I would like Carrie to post more about ...."

Please, please, feel free to send me your thoughts.


Thank you so much for reading!! You kind, sweet souls, taking time to read La Pomme....it makes me weep!


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

Berries, Baguettes and La Pomme Live

I don't know about you but I have found that one of the beauties of summer is the lack of a schedule. No early morning alarms. No dinner on the table at exactly 6:30 pm every evening. No driving around town with clenched teeth trying to get small person #1 here and small person #2 there...on time for some activity or another.

However....this lack of schedule tends to result...in my case...in a lack of anything at all getting done. Random piles start to multiply around the house. Envelopes edged in pink or yellow start showing up in the mailbox. ("Oh yeah...the bills.") Good manners head right out the door as I fail to RSVP to anything. I practically stop reading my email. It's as if summer hits, and my mind just goes on vacation for two months. Just last night I was playing Scrabble with my daughter who reminded me at 9:30 pm at night that I had recited earlier in the day, "I promise, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye..." that I would play Scrabble with her before the clock struck midnight. "Sighing" I saddled up to the table to play the 9-tile version and my mind went blank. There on my rack was A, E, O, U and B, R, S, L and N and the best word I could come up with was BURL which my daughter highly questioned as even being a word. (Looking at those letters right now, I'm still having a hard time coming up with anything else. Please feel free to leave any suggestions for me down below in case I'm coerced into future games of late night  Scrabble while my mind is on strike. She'll never know...besides her mind is young and fresh. Mine is filled with cobwebs. It needs a little help.)

So, I guess where I'm going with all of this, is to share with you that somehow, in between unpacking from one summer excursion and trying to get ready for a second summer excursion, I did manage to get myself down to AM Northwest last Wednesday....on-time...for a live segment highlighting my "French Toast for Lazy Summer Days." I have no idea how I pulled it together but I did and it didn't turn out too bad. I even laughed....I also almost burnt the French Toast on live TV but ah well....you can't have everything.

In the interest of full disclosure, I do have to share with you that while I was down at the KATU studios, my dear sister and all the boys (hers and mine) were curled up on the couch watching my spot unfurl live. (The teenager was still sleeping.) At the point in the segment where I comment on how much my children like "the buffet", my 10-year old turns to my sister and says with a deadpan face, "Actually, I don't really like the buffet. I just want someone to serve me up and bring me my plate." I hope you will all back me up when I tell his future wife, "I tried."


If you do not see a video screen above this line, click HERE to be taken directly to the AM Northwest site.

My next trip down to AM Northwest will be 9 am on August 18th. Deep summer by then. Who knows what kind of shape my mind will be in by then.


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

The Loveliest of Summer Days...Rain and All

Why Thursday was the loveliest of summer days....even without the sun.....

1. Not a single alarm clock was set in this house.

2. The "baby"...um, I mean the 5-year old...slept in until 8am.  I wanted to weep tears of joy.

3. The middle child arose at 10:00 am. The eldest at 11:00 am.

4. I found a use for the 2-day old baguette that had been bugging me as it sat on the counter, barely eaten.

5. We ate a sinfully delicious breakfast of french toast with fresh berries on top at 1pm. In our jammies.

6. I had the privilege to once again bask in the creative genius that is Pixar Animation Studios. And, when Andy drove off leaving Woody and his toys behind, I quietly cried but no one knew except my dear friend, Mara, who was sitting right next to me quietly crying as well. Our youngest ones on our laps. Our older ones in the row in front of us. The whole "growing up and leaving home" theme of Toy Story 3 hitting a little bit close to home for us.

7. I didn't have to cook dinner. I did, however, find myself hollering to get one of my chickens out from under the table, to another one to quit putting lemons in her brother's mouth and the whole thing culminated with the "baby" tossing a lime slice at his brother while standing across the table from him. Was the dinner in a restaurant worth it? Sure it was. No dishes. Good friends. We'll work on the manners later.

8. It rained so...I didn't have to water. Who am I to ask for sun every day? After all, I do live in Portland.

9. I put the "baby" to bed by reading him Chapter 1 of the very first Harry Potter book.

10. My sweetie arrived home safely after traveling around the country all week and made me laugh with stories about small cookies.

French Toast for Lazy Summer Days

When I was growing up this was one of the dishes in my regular repretoire. I loved it and made it often. I have always found that when I order french toast in a restaurant or follow someone else's recipe it usually ends up being too rich for me. My 10-year old and I have the same "rich food radar" and are very particular about how "saucey" or "syrupy" or "sugary" a dish ends up being. So, here's my rendition of the beloved french toast recipe which was given a big thumbs up by the 10-year old as well as the rest of my brood. I usually just eye-ball the ingredients so I've attempted here to put quantities on them but please feel free to adjust the spices to your liking.

Ingredients:
A day (or two) old baguette, sliced on the bias, about 12 slices
4 eggs
1/2 c milk
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
pinch of nutmeg

2 tbsp canola oil, at least

Toppings:
fresh berries
powdered sugar
pure maple syrup

Directions:
In a large bowl, whisk together your eggs, milk and vanilla until well blended. Then, whisk in the sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. Set aside.

Put a heavy-bottomed skillet on the stove to warm up. I use my cast iron skillet for this. While it's warming, put 3-4 slices of bread in your mix so they can start to soak up the egg mixture. Turn them over after a minute or so.

With your heat on medium, add your canola oil to your skillet and once it is heated put your first pieces of soaked bread onto your skillet. They should sizzle a bit. Cook until they develop a nice golden brown color on one side and then, flip to the other side. Adjust your heat if necessary. I find that it takes about 2 minutes per side.

While your first batch is cooking, whisk your egg mixture once again and then, add your next 3-4 slices. Continue with the cooking and soaking until all of your slices are done. You may need to add more canola oil to your skillet as you go along. The hot oil helps give the toast a nice "searing" so to speak.

With your toppings and your plates laid out, call the troops to come on into the kitchen and enjoy your creation. Happy Summer!

Yield: 12 slices, more or less

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

Strawberry Rhubarb Muffins....Bright Bits of Hope

Just as promised, the rain returned on Sunday. With my mind in a slight funk due to the lack of sunlight, I stood at the kitchen counter and stared out the window. Out at the flooded lawn and out at my sweetie, in the torrential downpour, hauling bag after bag of my unused potting soil to place along our driveway as makeshift sandbags. I glanced up toward the thicket of trees that just a few weeks ago, or so it seemed, had been bare and now were full and lush. Their leaves dripping with water...rain forest style. For a minute, I allowed my mind to wander. To think about the 7-year old boy who had vanished Friday morning from an elementary school just down the way from us. Was he out there in this weather? Lost? Trying to find a place to stay dry? For a brief second I imagined that the tables were turned and that was my child. Choking back the lump in my throat, I shook the unspeakable images from my mind and with a heavy heart, took out a recipe for strawberry and rhubarb muffins.

There isn't much in my children's lives that I can control. Of course, they don't know that yet or at least, not fully. But I do. I can't control the stock market, who decides to kill who, or environmental disasters. I can't always be there to protect them from harsh words from other children or whether they are chosen for this team or that. I can try my best to guide them but can't control whether they choose to always make the right decision for any given moment. I can't control the unspeakable situations that sometimes befall the lives of sweet, innocent children. I can, however, choose and manage what I feed them and even though that may seem simple or even old-fashioned, I believe that it's one of the greatest gifts that I can give them. What they eat affects their health, their well-being and it brings us together around a table...even for a few brief minutes...before they fly out the door.

I mixed my hood strawberries and my chopped up rhubarb in with the flour and egg mixture. Then, dropped a spoonful of batter into each little paper cup, popped them in the oven and set the timer. Heading out of the kitchen to tackle some chores while the muffins baked, my littlest one called after me, "Mom, my lego store is open. Come see what's for sale." Torn, I slowly walked over to where he was and sat down next to him. I listened to him rattle off this "fact" and that "fact" about his ships and knew he was simply making things up just to keep me there. I felt restless. Wanting to get back to what I felt I needed to be doing and yet, what if one day, he just wasn't there? And so, I sat and I listened and eventually his "sales pitch" was over and off he ran with a big, goofy grin on his face. "Bye, Mom."

Recently it seems, I've had many people saying to me, "You must spend hours in the kitchen." The truth is, I don't spend hours...well, except for the occasional rainy, Sunday afternoon where I'll tackle a new, fairly involved recipe simply because I find cooking relaxing...on a regular basis, I don't have hours. Our fast paced lives don't allow for hours but I do make it a point, most evenings, not all, to take a half-hour to an hour or so to cook for my family. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to have them sit down to a meal that is not only delicious but also, nourishing. I love that I can do that for them and the beauty of cooking is that it can be shared equally by men and women, boys and girls, young and old. I don't know. Perhaps it's my little way of supplying them each with a bit of certainty in this chaotic and unpredictable world.

Long after the strawberry and rhubarb muffins had been devoured and the day's activities put to rest, I found myself with my youngest one again...curled up on his bed, pulling him extra close to me, kissing the top of his head and breathing in his sweet smell. "Mom, let's read "The Tub People" again for stories." I opened the book and began, "The Tub People stood in a line all day on the edge of the bathtub." As I read him the story, I thought about how during times like these, when something so incredibly horrific happens, everything takes on new meaning, even seemingly innocent moments like story time. I managed to read, "The Tub Mother pressed her face to the grating. She looked and looked for her Tub Child. But she could not see him." But, I couldn't help my voice from cracking when I read, "Come home now," the grandmother whispered. I had to stop a minute to collect myself. My sweet little boy patiently waited...as if he knew. As if he knew that sometimes, you ache so deeply in places and for people...you never knew existed.


Please take a minute to look at the pictures and read the information about Kyron Horman, the sweet 7-year old boy who disappeared from Skyline Elementary School in Portland, Oregon, last Friday. With everyone looking, perhaps one of us will be able to find him and bring him home to his family. We can hope.


Strawberry Rhubarb Muffins
Recipe from the delightful SouleMama blog

I would put these muffins in the "morning bran muffin" category as opposed to the "decadent, almost cake-like, lemon poppyseed muffin" category. They're a little heartier than your average muffin but the bright bits of strawberry and rhubarb make them quite delightful and help to life the spirits.

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups unbleached flour
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp baking soda

1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup pure maple syrup
1 stick melted butter
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 tsp vanilla
optional: 1 tsp grated orange rind

1 cup chopped rhubarb
1 cup sliced strawberries

Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. Mix wet ingredients separately. Add wet to dry. Carefully stir in berries and rhubarb. Spoon into greased or paper lined muffin tins. Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes. Be careful not to over bake or the muffins will turn out dry. Enjoy straight from the oven while warm....a little bit of butter spread on a sliced muffin is quite tasty as well.

Yield: A dozen or so


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

A Strawberry Tart to Simulate Summer

"Well, think of it this way....at least the kids don't have spring fever. They're still willing to go to school." my dear friend Jayne said to me as a way to put a positive spin on our weather situation. She had a point. The kids don't have spring fever because we haven't had a spring. At this point I believe we've surpassed the famous 40 days and 40 nights. Here we are at the beginning of June and this is what I woke up to yesterday morning.....

(Do you see how blurry that tree is in the foreground? That's because the wind was blowing it around so hard my camera was unable to get it in focus. Gads...)

I hung up the phone and told myself no more whining. Nevermind that I haven't even planted my vegetable garden yet. Too soggy. Nevermind that I actually had to use an umbrella yesterday. Unheard of by northwest natives except in extreme weather circumstances. Nevermind that my grass is at least 6 inches tall because I haven't been able to mow it due to the fact that it is currently a lake bed and I don't even know if my push mower works on grass that tall. "Sigh." Even if the weather isn't telling of it, the fact that strawberries, blueberries and sweet, scrumptious cantaloupe are showing up in the markets tells me that somewhere...the sun is shining. So, I tried to wrap my arms around that thought. I took my butter out of the fridge. My flour and vanilla out of the pantry. And went to work creating the quintessential summer dessert....a strawberry tart. I was grateful to have a reason to focus on that cheery little concoction.

At 5 o'clock I changed out of my daily uniform of black athletic wear and red baseball hat and took the time to actually run a brush through my hair. I slapped on my black wrap dress (yes, yes, THE black wrap dress.) Pulled on some boots. (No amount of positive thinking could overcome the fact that the weather outside was definitely not indicative of strappy sandals.) Kissed my sweetie good-bye and headed off for an evening with the girls.

And sometimes, that's all we need, isn't it? A little change of scenery. A little change of thoughts. The company of friends. A chance to mingle with the girls. A glass of white wine. Some delectable finger food. A good chick flick. And, of course, a round of desserts...decadent chocolate souffles, heavenly cheesecake, a summery strawberry tart. All topped off with a flute of champagne and good conversation. I drove home feeling quite...effervescent. (And no, it wasn't from the bubbles.)

This morning when I woke up....the sun was out. She's gone now....but she was there...if only for a few minutes. And her appearance, although ever so brief...helped.


A Summery Strawberry Tart
Adapted from Tartelettes Aux Fraises, Chocolate and Zucchini

I have to say that this tart is so cheery, I dare anyone not to smile while looking at it, no matter how dreary our weather is here in Portland. I snagged this recipe out of darling Clotilde Dusoulier's cookbook, Chocolate and Zucchini, which also happens to be the same name as her delightful food blog. Since I shared half of this tart with my dear friends last night, my children have been fighting over every morsel of what was left all day. The fighting is over now. The tart...devoured. Although, I may have to whip up another one tomorrow for two reasons. One: I didn't get a big enough piece. Two: I bought my first flat of Hood strawberries today. "They'rrre heerre!!!" You haven't had a strawberry until you have had a Hood strawberry and I simply cannot imagine the status to which this little tart will rise once the Hoods are gracing her delicate, buttery crust. So, without further ado, the recipe....

Ingredients:

Pâte Sablée or The Crust
1/3 c sugar
1 cup plus 2 tbsp all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp fine sea salt
7 tbsp chilled, unsalted butter, diced
1 to 2 tbsp cold milk

Crème Pâtissière or The Pastry Cream
1 large egg
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 tbsp sugar
2 tbsp cornstarch
1/2 c milk

2-3 cups fresh strawberries, washed, dried and sliced lengthwise (a pint or two)

Directions:
Grease the bottom of a 10-inch tart pan with butter.

Start by making the crust. Combine the sugar, flour and salt in a food processor. Add the butter and process in short pulses, until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add a tablespoon of milk and process again, in short pulses, until the milk is absorbed. The dough should still be crumbly, but it should clump if you gently squeeze a handful in your hand. If it doesn't, add a little more milk, teaspoon by teaspoon, and give the dough a few more pulses, until it reaches the desired consistency. (You can also do this entire "step" with a wire pastry blender and your fingertips.)

Pour the mixture into the prepared tart pan and spread it evenly over the bottom. Using the heels of your hands and your fingers, press down on the dough to form a thin layer, covering the surface of the pan and creating a rim all around. Don't worry if the dough feels a little dry...this is normal. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes or up to a day.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Bake your crust for 12 to 14 minutes or until golden. Remove from oven and let cool.

Next, prepare your pastry cream. In a medium mixing bowl, whisk together the egg, vanilla and sugar. Whisk in the cornstarch and set aside. In a medium saucepan, bring the milk to a simmer over medium heat. As soon as the milk simmers, pour it into the egg mixture, whisk vigorously until blended and pour the mixture back into the saucepan. Return the saucepan to low heat and whisk for 30 seconds as it thickens. (Be careful not to venture much past the 30 seconds or your pastry cream will turn to sugary scrambled egg.) At this point you can either spoon the pastry cream into your cooled crust, level with a spoon and let cool completely on the counter, about an hour. OR You can transfer the cream into an airtight container and refrigerate for up to a day, bringing it to room temperature before using.

Arrange your strawberries over the pastry cream in a circular pattern. Clotilde recommends starting from the center and working your way out. I couldn't seem to make that work so I started from the far edges and worked my way in. Serve immediately or cover and refrigerate for up to 8 hours. Bring to room temperature before serving. Eat and enjoy.....

Yield: One 10-inch tart, 6-8 pieces depending how large you slice them.



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

At the beginning...Hood strawberries

The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have in my possession a half-flat of sweet, fragile, succulent little red dynamos. One hand grips the outside of the box while the other side of the box rests precariously against my waist. The waist that I am sticking out as if with child, so desperate I am not to spill my precious load. My other hand, my free hand, is not really free at all. It is laden down with other purchases - a pound of slender yet crisp French green beans, shitake mushrooms I plan to sauté up later with a bit of butter and a sprinkling of sea salt, a large, bulbous spring onion that will probably find its way into a soup and of course, a baker's dozen of bite sized treats from Two Tarts. The smell from the flat is heady, intoxicating. Steadying myself, I glance around quickly. A second's worth of panic ripples through my body until I have laid eyes on each child. Okay, they are here. They were not swallowed up by the crowd. Without a free hand to hold another's, I hear myself calling out, "Careful." "Watch for cars." "Stay by Mommy." "Can one of you hold his hand?" The farther we get from the farmer's market, the more the throngs have dissipated. I can relax a bit. The excitement of my purchase growing. I can't wait to get home.

While some couples choose to spend their alone time hitting flea markets or independent film releases, my sweetie and I go to farmer's markets and grocery stores. Instead of Sunday drives, we drag our children around to see food. Smell food. Taste food. When we hit the road, whether here or abroad, the first place we visit is the local grocery store or an outdoor market, should we be so lucky to find one. We can't wait to see what they have to offer in that little corner of the world. The dazzling colors and cornucopia of scents puts us on a high that you can liken to a preschooler on Christmas morning. On a recent trip to that grand dame of cities, Paris, I dragged my hot, tired (in need of a bathroom) children to the Marché du Président Wilson. I simply had to see Joël Thiébault’s infamous Cœur de Bœuf tomatoes in person. I did not buy any, though, as I had no way of carrying the large orbs so as to prevent their delicate skin from splitting as we traipsed around the city. Just seeing them and smelling them was enough.

Safely to the car, I herd the children into our mode of transportation. I take one last glance at the purchases I’ve laid in the back, hoping they won’t spill. I drive off slow and steady. The warm, sweet smell immediately fills the whole of the car silencing everyone in a sort of reverence as we make our way home.

I have had it in my head for quite some time this idea that we're on the cusp of a food revolution. Although, revolution is quite a loaded word. Maybe it should be referred to as a food epiphany. A food revelation. A food manifesto, perhaps. I believe that everyone, at some level, realizes that our current relationship with food is toxic. Unhealthy. Just plain bad. But I can feel it. Smell it even. The tide is turning and personally, I find it fascinating. Thrilling even, to be here "rediscovering" what brought us together in the first place. Us and food. Back to the beginning of our relationship when it wasn't so cluttered with words like, hormones and transfat and antioxidants. When it was simply, "Pick. Eat. Enjoy."

Some celebrate the first day of yachting season, baseball season, the holiday season...my sweetie sends me text messages with photos attached to announce the opening of Hood season. Hood, as in, Hood strawberries. Those tiny little bundles of flavor whose early summer season is ever so fleeting. Those luscious, finger-staining berries grown clinging to vines up, down and around the arch created by the Willamette Valley and the Columbia Gorge. For three or four weeks, we buy them by the flat and promptly devour them. Every year we say we're going to buy extras and freeze them. A way to enjoy a little of summer in the depths of winter but somehow they never make it into the freezer.

I pull into the driveway. The children hop out and scatter. Anxiously walking around to the back, I flip open the trunk and pull out the precious, undisturbed berries. I holler out to my sweetie, "We're home!" I carefully place the load on the counter. Phew! My arms are weary but the berries are safe. Without nary a reference to maltodextrin or calories or any number of omegas, we stand around the flat, pluck off the little green caps, pop the berries into our mouths and swoon. So simple. So unassuming. So uncluttered. And, again, I can feel it. The tide. It's turning.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009