For a long time, I’ve wanted to live in a city.

Two semesters in college have confirmed this. Sometimes I think Boston won me over just as much as the college tour. I see the parks as my quad, the neighborhoods as my library. When the sun dips, I love walking down the endless streets – light concentrates in the spaces between brick buildings, bathing the whole city in gold.

I like the way the sidewalks breathe at night. Even in the dark, people are everywhere, and insect wings glint under the streetlights. I love the way honking cars and buzzing neon signs become lullabies. In the morning, I wake up with the city. The bus exhales beneath my seat and happy smells waft out of the bakeries. Every day is new and full of possibility, of discovery and change. I feel alive.

My boyfriend I- isn’t like this. He appreciates the pizza parlors open until 2 am and enjoys late-night photography in Chinatown. But in the “real world,” he could never live somewhere with that many cars, with so many people.

He visited Seattle for the first time last week. I made sure we checked out downtown record shops and college student hangouts. But I-’s favorite things about Washington?

He loved driving east towards Fall City, where thick trees threaten to swallow the road. He’ll remember Snoqualmie Falls, the semi-decayed bridge we were too scared to cross, and the pie we ate at a tiny North Bend diner. He was impressed with rocky Mount Si and snow-capped Mount Rainier. And he liked our floating bridges.

He also liked my backyard. It’s large in proportion to our little house, wrapping around three edges of our home. One section is a grassy stretch, another features the stone path and garden Mom and Dad built two years ago, and the third area holds our herbs and vegetables.

There’s something magical about growing our own produce. Since our lettuce heads unfurled, I’ve eaten more salads than ever. We get on our knees to find the ripest strawberries, which are more tender and sweet than any grocery store berry. I like slicing them in half, pouring coconut milk over them, and sprinkling the top with raw oats. Food tastes better when it’s just picked, still sun warmed, still breathing.

Before we planted them in our garden, I’d never thought about red currants. Each berry is tiny, translucent, and unbelievably crimson. They’re a little sour and pop between your teeth. The morning every berry suddenly turned ripened, I picked currants until my fingertips and lips were perfumed red.

I have to admit that I don’t really know what to do with them. My mom and I picked every currant in a race against the birds, and now we have cups and cups of a fruit that remains a mystery to both of us. Our batch is a little too tart to eat raw but we don’t have any experience with cooking them. Mom simmered some into a syrup, and I swirled some into ice cream.

I dropped a tiny strawberry into the point of each cone (to seal the bottom.) The result? The last bite of ice cream cone includes a vanilla cream soaked berry. Amazing.

It takes a lot of currants to make not-so-much puree. I threw in a few of our strawberries to add sweetness, and some honey when strawberries weren’t enough. I layered the red berry puree with my favorite vanilla ice cream. The berries are so deep and vivid against the creamy white, freckled with black seeds, that I see galaxies and constellations in every scoop.

I spent an afternoon making gingersnap ice cream cones, and after an hour in the kitchen I was ready for fresh air. I went into the backyard to photograph them, and realized I didn’t want to go back in. The ice cream just tasted better outside. It made the berry swirl brighter and the vanilla more exotic, standing in the sun without a skyscraper or printed ad in sight.

I miss the bustle of living downtown, but I’ve learned something else. I want to eat like I’m tucked deep in the country. I don’t know how I’m going to make it work back in school, without soil or farm-fresh produce in sight.

For now, I’ll keep eating lunch outside, listening to the leaves rustle and feeling more alive than I have all summer.

This was my first time making ice cream cones! I made my own mold out of a semi-circle of cardboard, taped into a cone shape and wrapped in aluminum foil. The tuile batter is easy to make and pretty simple to bake. The hard part? Rolling them into cones.

The cookies were so hot when they came out of the oven, I could barely roll them around the mold. I tried wearing oven mitts, but really – you might as well not have fingers when they’re under that much fabric. In the end, I had some really tasty gingersnap cones that were completely open at the bottom. I dropped a tiny stemmed strawberry into the cone before topping with ice cream, and when I got to the last few bites, the vanilla cream soaked berry was magical.

Red Berry Swirl Ice Cream
Adapted from David Lebovitz
Makes a quart

Vanilla Ice Cream
1 cup (250ml) whole milk
A pinch of salt
3/4 cup (150g) sugar
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
2 cups (500ml) heavy cream
5 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Red Berry Swirl
8 oz red berries (I used 5 oz red currants, 3 oz strawberries)
1 1/2 tablespoons of honey (to taste, may be more or less)

First, make the vanilla ice cream. Heat the milk, salt, and sugar in a medium saucepan. (I waited until I saw the liquid steaming.) Scrape out the seeds of the vanilla bean with a paring knife and add to the milk, along with the bean pod. Cover, remove from heat, and let infuse for an hour.

Set up an ice bath by placing a 2 quart bowl inside a large bowl partially filled with water and ice. Put a strainer on top of the smaller bowl and pour in the cream.

In another bowl, stir the egg yolks together. Reheat the milk until warmed, then gradually pour some hot milk into the yolks, constantly whisking to keep the eggs from scrambling. Once the yolks are warmed, scrape the yolks and milk back into the saucepan and cook over low heat. Stir constantly and scrape the bottom with a spatula until the mixture thickens into a custard that coats the back of the spatula.

Strain the custard into the heavy cream and stir the mixture until cooled. Add the vanilla extract and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled, preferably overnight.

Meanwhile, make the red berry puree. Combine the berries and honey in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir and mash with a spoon, bringing the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and continue to cook until the berries are soft, about 10-15 minutes.

Press the puree through a very fine sieve into a bowl. Press down to get all the juice out, leaving behind the seeds. Cool to room temperature and store in the fridge in an airtight container until ready to use. (It’ll keep this way about a week.)

When you’re ready to churn the ice cream, remove the vanilla bean from the custard and freeze in an ice cream maker. Pour a third of the churned ice cream into a container, smooth the top with a spatula. Spread 1/2 of the berry puree over the ice cream. Top with half the remaining custard. Smooth the top and spread the remaining berry puree over it. Finally spread the last of the custard over the puree.

Freeze the ice cream until solid. When you drag the ice cream scoop through the container, the layers of berry puree will swirl through.

Printer-Friendly Version – Red Berry Swirl Ice Cream

Gingersnap Cones
Just barely tweaked from David Lebovitz
Makes eight 6” cones

1/4 cup (60 ml) egg whites (about 2 large egg whites)
7 tablespoons + 1 teaspoon (90 g) sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp nutmeg
2/3 cup (90 g) flour
2 tablespoons (30 g) unsalted butter, melted
1 tablespoon mild molasses

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Combine the egg whites, sugar, and vanilla in a small bowl. Stir in the salt, spices, and half of the flour. Mix in the melted butter and molasses, then stir in the rest of the flour until smooth.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Use a small offset spatula to spread 2 level tablespoons of batter into a circle with a diameter of 6″ (15 cm). I traced the circles onto the underside of the parchment to get even circles, and I was able to bake two per sheet. The smoother and more even your rounds, the prettier your cones will look.

Bake one sheet (two cones) at a time. Start checking after 10 minutes, but depending on your oven, the baking time will be 10-15 minutes. The cookies will be golden brown throughout, with some lighter and darker spots.

Pull the sheet out of the oven and run a thin metal spatula under a circle to loosen the edges. Quickly flip it over and roll it around the cone shaped mold. Press the seam firmly against the counter to close the sides of the cone, and press the bottom together to pinch the point at the bottom. Let the cone cool slightly on the mold until it keeps its shape, then let it cool completely in a tall glass. Roll the other cone (if the cookie has cooled too much to roll, return the sheet to the oven for a minute.)

Continue to bake and roll cones with the remaining batter.

Printer-Friendly Version – Gingersnap Cones

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned so far second semester? Bundle up. Sometimes when I step outside it hurts to inhale, like the breath freezes in my lungs. Snow packs into the spaces between bricks.

The other morning I took an extra long, extra hot shower and found myself running late to class. I got dressed, swept up my books, and headed for the elevator. I didn’t give my towel-dried hair a second thought until I was on the sidewalk. I couldn’t have been outside longer than a few minutes, but when I got to the classroom, my skull was so cold it burned. My hair had frozen solid, waves of ice brushing against my cheeks.

When the temperature is in the single digits, I try not to leave my building. But between classes and shifts at the restaurant, I’m getting the full New England winter experience.

Way back in September, one of the things I immediately loved about Boston was its color palette. Seattle is splashed grey and green and blue, with chrome and glass and buildings that reflect the clouds. While it’s gorgeous and familiar, Massachusetts was a welcome change. Boston is all brick and gold and off-white, rich with history and equally beautiful. But four months later the cars and streets and trees are burdened with dirty snow, and that’s all I notice.

I walk to work with the same philosophy I have towards other unpleasant things – get it over with quickly. Salt crystals crackle beneath my boots every step of the way. Scarf, gloves, earmuffs, two coats and a pair of tights under my jeans… Every accessory means the longer it’ll take me to change into uniform once I get there.

When my shift ends long after midnight, the sidewalks are quiet and clear. Sometimes a fresh blanket of snow has fallen and untouched white stretches in all directions. The air is just as chilly before, but windless, and the street feels unreal. I’ve caught myself standing in the restaurant’s doorway, breathless, suddenly reminded why I love living here.

The walk home is so dark, it’s like a different set of streets. The blackness swallows up the lampposts, so the bulbous orange lights seem suspended in midair. Taxi headlights cut through the darkness in wide, white sweeps. I watch my breath curl into itself and dissolve up towards the sky, which is either greyed purple or orange thanks to light pollution.

Boston is painted with an entirely different color theme at 1 AM. And as I walked home last night, past leafless trees embossed with snow, I suddenly thought of semifreddo.

When the semifreddo is made, a quick custard folded with whipped cream, it’s marshmallowy and soft. But after an overnight freeze, it becomes an entirely different dessert, with the creamy richness of ice cream. And this semifreddo has a gorgeous color palette, too. The base is flavored with dry white wine and a hint of orange, the color of eggshells. Every slice is studded with vibrant dried cranberries and sharp crystalized ginger, like gems held up to the light.

I realize it’s still the dead of winter, but I’m one of those people who orders iced coffee and eats gelato all year. I can get home from work, clap my snow-packed boots together, and enjoy a cold fruit smoothie straight from the fridge. I’m one of the lucky people who happily makes semifreddo whenever the whim strikes. This dessert is unusual and beautiful, worth a hurried walk through the chill.

Ginger, Almond, and Dried Cranberry Semifreddo
Adapted from Bon Appetit
Makes a 9×5” “loaf”

8 large egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup dry white wine
2 tablespoons grated orange peel
2 3/4 cups chilled whipping cream
1/3 cup almonds, roughly chopped
1/3 cup dried cranberries, roughly chopped
1/4 cup minced crystallized ginger

Line a 9x5x3 inch metal loaf pan with plastic wrap, leaving a 3 inch overhang on all the sides.

In a medium metal bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, sugar, and white wine. Set the bowl over a saucepan of simmering water, making sure the bottom of the bowl does not touch the water. Whisk constantly until a candy thermometer registers 160 degrees F, about 5 minutes. Remove the bowl from heat and beat with an electric mixer until cool and thickened, about 5 minutes. Beat in the orange peel.

Whip the cream in a large bowl until peaks form. Add the egg mixture and gently fold together with a rubber spatula. Fold in the almonds, cranberries, and ginger. Transfer the mixture into the prepared pan. Fold the overhanging plastic wrap over the top so the semifreddo is completely covered. Freeze overnight.

When ready to serve, turn the semifreddo out onto a plate and peel off the plastic wrap. Let it stand 5 minutes to slightly soften, then serve in slices.

Printer-Friendly Version – Ginger, Almond, and Cranberry Semifreddo

I’ve missed this. I’m sitting on a Greyhound bus, long after sundown, and all I can hear is the quiet murmurings of other passengers and the soft clicks as I tap my keys. For the holidays, I’m heading to New York City, and then Pennsylvania, where my uncle and aunt and cousin live. It’s the first time in weeks I’ve had some quiet time to myself, without an assignment or shift or appointment. I’ve missed being able to sit alone with my thoughts and write.

Classes ended this afternoon, and it was unusually quiet on the floor today. Everyone was packing up, unplugging their lamps and emptying their fridges, stopping at every room down the hallway to say goodbye. We’re spreading out from California to Maine, retreating back to where we came from. It’s Thanksgiving break, and even though I’m not flying back to Seattle, it’s got me thinking about home.

I haven’t been in a bus or car in a long time. Back home I used to love, love, love driving alone at night – the way every turn of the car feels smooth and controlled, the open silence on the road, and the glittering pairs of lights in every direction, like cat eyes. Right now, in the dark, it’s easy to imagine I’m in Seattle. I look out the window and realize we’re on I-90, and that if we just kept driving west on this freeway until we hit the opposite coast, I’d be back.

It’s not that I’m homesick, because I’m truly not. There’s a soft spot in my heart for Seattle, but at the same time, home is in people, not places. Home is my mom, drinking jasmine tea on our patio. It’s my dad, who’s flying to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving. And it’s the people on my floor. I can feel myself falling for the incredible people I’ve met here, and as everyone moves out, I can feel bits of my home scattering across the country. I’m reluctant to leave them, even for a week.

But I see the details of my old life everywhere. It’s begun to rain in Boston, a damp downpour that feels like hot breath on your neck. It makes me think of how green the air smelled and how dark the pavement became in Seattle. Sometimes, in line at Starbucks, I forget where I am. Then I step outside and suddenly realize I’m far away… watching the trees exhale burnt orange and crimson, the kind of seasonal change I always said I wanted to experience.

The other night at the restaurant, I decided to make small talk with one of my tables. They said they were just visiting Boston, and that they’d flown in from – Seattle. We talked a little longer and discovered that we live in the same region. In fact, their daughter goes to my old middle school, is in my gifted program, and is learning from my old teachers. I’d have never known, if they hadn’t sat at this restaurant, at this time, in my section.

I’m excited to spend time with my family, especially since I don’t frequently see my relatives on the east coast. I can’t begin to describe how excited I am to eat some real food. My college has been hosting Thanksgiving themed dinners, and somehow their canned cranberry jelly and paper-dry turkeys don’t do my favorite holiday justice.

And I’m ecstatic about getting some baking done.

Even though I have all my tools and supplies, and even an oven if I walk to another dorm, I haven’t had time to buy ingredients or spend time in a kitchen. It’s strange that people here are getting to know me without baking being a huge factor in my life. Maybe at the end of this weekend, I can bring a box of sweets back to my floor.

I’m thinking whoopie pies. I’ve met plenty of New Englanders here who are dead serious about the whoopie pie. Every time I hear someone get defensive about the dessert’s origin or characteristics, I can’t help but smile.

There aren’t a lot of whoopie pies on the west coast. Plenty of people don’t know what they are – just two soft cake-like cookies with some sort of filling sandwiched in between. While I’ve never had a “real” whoopie pie, I can tell you that these ones taste pretty incredible. Especially after a chill in the fridge, with a tall glass of cool milk, a scattering of crisp leaves at your feet and a friend at your side.

I made these pumpkin whoopie pies with chocolate cream cheese filling before I left for college, and they strike such a great balance of richness and spice. The pumpkin cookies are soft and tender, dense, dark with spices, like autumn in your mouth. As for the chocolate, I just can’t get enough, and the cream cheese filling adds a bittersweet tang to complement the cookie.

If I make these again this week, it’ll probably remind me like crazy of Seattle. I’m not sure yet if that’s a good or bad thing. Whatever the case, it’ll cheer up my floormates, and bring a little bit of one home to another.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The first time I made these, I thought the cookies came out a little too soft and tender, so I baked them another 10 minutes and they were great. I liked sneaking them out of the fridge, eating them chilled with cold milk.

Pumpkin Whoopie Pies with Chocolate Cream Cheese Filling
Adapted from Martha Stewart
Makes 2 dozen sandwich cookies

Whoopie Cookies
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup firmly packed dark-brown sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups pumpkin puree, chilled
1 large egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Dark Chocolate Cream Cheese Filling
1 cup powdered sugar
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, softened
4 ounces cream cheese, softened
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 tablespoon milk

To make the whoopie cookies: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and line two half sheets with parchment paper or silpat baking mats.

In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients: the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. In another large bowl, whisk together the dark brown sugar and the vegetable oil until well combined. Whisk in the pumpkin puree, then stir in the egg and the vanilla extract. Stir in the dry ingredients until just combined.

Drop the batter by the heaping tablespoon an inch apart on the baking sheets (I used a little ice cream scooper to get evenly sized whoopie pies.) Bake until the cookies just start to crack at the top and a toothpick comes out clean, about 15 minutes (mine took 20-25 minutes.) Let cool completely on the pan.

To make the dark chocolate cream cheese filling: Sift the powdered sugar and cocoa powder into a bowl and set aside. In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat the butter and cream cheese until very smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Beat in the powdered sugar and cocoa powder on low speed until incorporated, then mix in the vanilla extract and milk until smooth.

To assemble the whoopie pies: Spoon some filling into a piping bag fitted with a large round open tip. Pipe a dollop of filling onto the flat side of one whoopie cookie and top with another. Refrigerate cookies until ready to eat and keep in the refrigerator, covered with plastic wrap, for up to three days.

Printer-Friendly Version – Pumpkin Whoopie Pies with Chocolate Cream Cheese Filling

It’s August, and that means it’s blackberry season in the pacific northwest.

The blackberry bushes here are inescapable, weeds even. I pass the thorny plants growing along our neighborhood, behind my school, and against the sidewalks. We had some in our backyard when we first bought the house, until my mother hacked the branches away in a fit of determination. Every year, when I spot the fat berries hanging low on their vines, like clusters of black beads, it feels more like summer than anything.

I’ve been seeing them all month, but I haven’t been craving them… Until a few days ago. I was sitting at the dinner table, thumbing through the pile of cookbooks that live there permanently. It’s my habit when I’m bored. I flip back to the dessert section and try to make myself hungry. That day, I saw a marionberry tart, but for some reason it made me want blackberries.

Because they’re so expensive, I didn’t eat a lot of berries growing up. Even today, in my mind they’re exotic. Raspberries, blueberries, marionberries – they should be reserved for special occasions, like a birthday or celebration. But blackberries are so plentiful here, and so easy to get.

When I was in elementary school, my mom and I liked to visit a park by our old condo. I’d never seen so many blackberry bushes before. They towered high over my head like a maze, and the air between them seemed to buzz with insects and filtered sunlight and the sweetness of sugar. It all came back to me in a rush as I sat there with the cookbook in my hands.

I couldn’t get blackberries out of my mind. When I decide I want something, I just can’t avoid it. I mentioned the berries over and over to my parents. My mom said she remembered where the park was, so after breakfast we headed out. We were nearly there when my dad pulled the car onto a fence-lined stretch of gravel in a rare patch of shade.

“This isn’t the park,” I protested, but he pointed along the side of the road.

“They’re everywhere,” he said, pointing at the blackberry brambles twisting in and out of the barbed wire.

I was doubtful as I opened the trunk and passed out bowls to my parents. This didn’t seem as nostalgic and serene as my memories at the park. Even in the shade we couldn’t escape the hazy swelter of the afternoon sun, like hot breath on our backs. Spiders dangled from leaves and cars sped behind us in a whirr.

We spaced ourselves several meters apart from each other. I reached for the darkest, plumpest berries on the highest vines, straining on my tiptoes and stretching up. As gentle as I tried to be, they burst out of their skins when I dropped them into my bowl. Before long my hands were perfumed with juice, which stained the ridges of my fingerprints purple-red and smelled like August.

The whole way home, I breathed the fragrance in and dreamed of dessert.

And I got it. The blackberries are truly the star of this blackberry, peach, and ginger crumble.

The peaches are really delicious too. I like peaches, but I can’t say that I love them. I don’t think I’ve ever had a perfect peach, or even a really good one. The rest of my family has – every year my grandma wistfully describes fresh peach ice cream and lattice peach pie. Or better – fresh and still sun warmed, eaten off the tree. But me? I’m satisfied to cut them into rough chunks and toss them with berries in a crumble.

And the ginger was almost an afterthought, but such a good one. I loved dicing the crystallized ginger into tiny cubes, because it left big sugar crystals and the sharpness of ginger all over my cutting board. You only get a little in each bite, but you know it when you find it.

The original recipe calls this dessert a crisp, but I substituted some cream cheese into the oat topping. I had some leftover to use up, and the result was delicious. I could taste a subtle tang, and it made the topping a little soft and chewy. I’m not sure what makes a crumble a crumble, but somehow “crisp” didn’t seem right. All I know is that I shamelessly dug into whatever-you-call-it straight out of the pan, hot or chilled, for breakfast or for dessert in the warm twilight.

Blackberry, Peach, and Ginger Crumble
Inspired & Based on 101 Cookbooks
Makes an 8×8″ pan

Fruit Filling
1 1/2 pounds ripe peaches (about 3 large peaches)
8 oz (about 1 1/2 cups) fresh blackberries
1/4 cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
Zest of a tangerine
1/4 cup finely chopped crystallized ginger

Cream Cheese Oat Topping
3/4 cup rolled oats
3/4 cup flour
1/2 cup brown sugar
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
Big pinch of salt
1/3 cup butter, melted
1/3 cup cream cheese, room temperature

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and place a rack in the center.

Rinse all the fruit. Cut the peaches into bite-sized chunks. I quartered my peaches, and cut each quarter into 4 chunks. Set the blackberries and chopped peaches in a medium bowl.

In a small bowl, whisk together the sugar, cornstarch, orange zest, and chopped ginger. Sprinkle it over the fruit and gently toss to thoroughly combine. Transfer the fruit mixture to an 8×8″ baking pan.

To make the cream cheese oat topping, whisk together the oats, flour, sugar, and ground ginger. Stir in the butter with a fork, then stir in the cream cheese until a coarse, dough-like topping forms. Sprinkle it in chunks over the fruit in the pan.

Bake the crumble for 20-25 minutes, or until the topping is golden brown. I like it hot, warm, and (though my mother can’t believe it) straight from the refrigerator.

Printer-Friendly Version – Blackberry, Peach, and Ginger Crumble

As most college deadlines draw near (January 1st), the flurry of college applications is drawing to a close. One of the coolest things about this entire process has been watching my friends go through it – not because I like to watch them agonize over their essays or anxiously stress over early decision emails. No, I like seeing my friends pick out the colleges that are right for them based on their unique interests.

In middle school, we were generally the same. Some of us were more inclined towards English and social studies, whereas others were more talented in math and science (I knew right away that I was not a math or science person). But when it came down to it, we were interested in the same classes, depending on how cool or funny the teacher was.

But now, after four years of high school, we aren’t so similar anymore. Slowly, quietly, I’ve watched my friends develop their real joys and callings in life. I’ve seen their passions burst forth like the cherry blossoms in spring, and I’ve seen the unfiltered pleasure on their faces when they are doing something they love. And even though I don’t share their interests, I know exactly how they feel.

One of my friends, M-, is an amazing artist. She loves the beautiful, the romantic, the optimistic, and her art is visual poetry. She uses soft, bright colors and gentle swirls of paint to compose half-opened flowers, graceful ballerinas, and sweeping landscapes reminiscent of Thomas Kinkade.

When I look at her work I can’t turn away. Her paintings seem to fill me with liquid sunshine from my shoes up, they’re so light and dreamy. The beauty and inspiration on her canvas reflects what a beautiful and inspiring person she herself is. Every work of art is a confession, and every confession is exhilarating to see.

Another one of my good friends, C-, has found that he was meant to play the cello. Although he was technically “late” to the music scene, not starting when he was very young, his gift is undeniable. C-’s dedication is astounding – some days he goes to orchestra during school, attends two cello lessons outside of class, plays at a symphony in the evenings, and then practices again upon arriving home.

As I don’t play an instrument myself, my ear is untrained and naive. But when I hear him play, even if I cannot recognize the composer or identify any incorrect notes, I can feel the emotion. It runs up my spine in slow, deliberate waves, totally at the command of his bow. He closes his eyes when he plays, and I have a feeling the music envelopes him completely – mind, body, and spirit. [It was he I made the Cello Birthday Cake for.]

I could go on and on. The talents of my friends would fill up not one, but many long winded posts. My friend M- is a skilled badminton player, A- makes gorgeous dresses out of trash bags (as well as art of all mediums), K- is passionate about math (MIT, congratulations!), and E- finds peace when she runs.

I guess it’s not hard to conclude what I’ve found my greatest enjoyment to be too – baking, of course. While I could never work on a piece of art for hours, or play a musical piece over and over until callouses formed on my fingertips, I can spend an entire afternoon in the kitchen. As a matter of fact, it took days and hours of work even with help (thanks, E-!) to complete this Gingerbread Igloo for the Daring Bakers.

But it was a labor of love – from cutting out every one of the individual gingerbread bricks, to making 3 pourable fondants because they all failed, to piping out the pine trees. And I don’t know how many of my friends could stand doing that.

But for me, the best things about these passions my friends and I have developed is this: they do not solely define us. I don’t want to walk around school being called “The Baker” without any more dimension to me. I have dreams and ambitions that go beyond the kitchen, even though a piece of my heart will always rest between the KitchenAid and the sugar bin. I am a writer, a poet, a photographer, a thinker.

M- is not simply the artist. She is considering a career in medicine, she leads the school through student government, and she likes working with the school district. And C-, though he plans to go to music school, plays frisbee and can’t deny his interest in chess and cross country.

I love that we have found something that helps us discover and understand who we are, something that brings happiness and relaxation. But I am also grateful for how rounded and open-minded my friends are. They are multifaceted and flexible, and I can’t wait to see how far they all go in college and in life.

The December 2009 Daring Bakers’ challenge was brought to you by Anna of Very Small Anna and Y of Lemonpi. They chose to challenge Daring Bakers’ everywhere to bake and assemble a gingerbread house from scratch. They chose recipes from Good Housekeeping and from The Great Scandinavian Baking Book as the challenge recipes.

To make the igloo, I baked a lot of small rectangular “bricks” from the gingerbread. I used a bowl as a guide as I assembled it, and used royal icing to cement it. I used poured fondant to coat the top of the igloo, and sprinkled it with powdered sugar, shredded coconut, and blue sugar for “snow.” I made a sled from candy canes and a gingerbread square, and a fire pit of chocolate graham crackers with a swedish fish roasting on top.

As many of the Daring Bakers admitted, this recipe was not very tasty. I don’t plan on eating the igloo or any of the decorations (except, perhaps, the snow.) My dad and I agreed that the gingerbread tasted like pasty graham crackers, and after a few bites we pronounced it disgusting.

On the other hand, my mom adored this recipe. Too often she finds desserts too sweet and too rich, and she thought the gingerbread was a great snack. She ended up eating all of the leftover bricks.

And since I give credit where credit is due – the gingerbread igloo was my dad’s interpretation of the gingerbread house challenge. But I’m the one who carried it out! :) The trees, which drew much praise from my parents, was probably the easiest part. You simply pipe very extended stars on to ice cream cones. You can see the full steps on Sweetopia, the blog of the very creative and talented Marian.

Here are the instructions as given on the Daring Baker site. Since I didn’t particularly like it, I’m not providing a printable version, or a recipe for the poured fondant. If anyone really wants instructions on the igloo, leave a comment and I’ll go back and put it in.

Scandinavian Gingerbread (Pepparkakstuga)
From The Great Scandinavian Baking Book by Beatrice Ojakangas

1 cup butter, room temperature [226g]
1 cup brown sugar, well packed [220g]
2 tablespoons cinnamon
4 teaspoons ground ginger
3 teaspoons ground cloves
2 teaspoons baking soda
½ cup boiling water
5 cups all-purpose flour [875g]

1. In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar until blended. Add the cinnamon, ginger and cloves. Mix the baking soda with the boiling water and add to the dough along with the flour. Mix to make a stiff dough. If necessary add more water, a tablespoon at a time. Chill 2 hours or overnight.

2. Cut patterns for the house, making patterns for the roof, front walls, gabled walls, chimney and door out of cardboard.

3. Roll the dough out on a large, ungreased baking sheet and place the patterns on the dough. Mark off the various pieces with a knife, but leave the pieces in place.

4. [I rolled out the dough on a floured bench, roughly 1/8 inch thick (which allows for fact that the dough puffs a little when baked), cut required shapes and transferred these to the baking sheet. Any scraps I saved and rerolled at the end.]

5. Preheat the oven to 375′F (190′C). Bake for 12 to 15 minutes until the cookie dough feels firm. After baking, again place the pattern on top of the gingerbread and trim the shapes, cutting the edges with a straight-edged knife. Leave to cool on the baking sheet.

Royal Icing

1 large egg white
3 cups (330g) powdered sugar
1 teaspoon white vinegar
1 teaspoon almond extract

Beat all ingredients until smooth, adding the powdered sugar gradually to get the desired consistency. Pipe on pieces and allow to dry before assembling. If you aren’t using it all at once you can keep it in a small bowl, loosely covered with a damp towel for a few hours until ready to use. You may have to beat it slightly to get it an even consistency if the top sets up a bit. Piped on the house, this will set up hard over time.

Hey all! I hope you guys had a wonderful and relaxing Thanksgiving!

Up until a few years ago, Halloween was my favorite holiday. It was nice to have a Thanksgiving break and some good food, but I wasn’t really involved in the whole process. My grandpa, who was a great cook, always made the meal. My dad would watch the football game while my mom and grandma talked. And me? I didn’t really have any Thanksgiving traditions at all, besides always having a second helping of mashed potatoes and gravy.

This year, though, marks the second year where I’ve helped prepare the meal. Last year, newly interested in cooking, I wanted to be a part of the entire dinner. With some help from my dad, I basted the turkey, simmered the cranberry sauce, mashed the sweet potatoes and wilted the spinach. I also made dessert, a pumpkin pie that survived everything, including the death of my oven halfway through baking. This year, in spite of college applications and a time-consuming internship, I knew I wanted to do it all over again.

A couple of things made it back to the menu. Last year’s turkey came out so perfectly I swore it was beginner’s luck, but I still reached for Martha Stewart’s recipe again. I also made these Vanilla Mashed Sweet Potatoes from 101 Cookbooks, which were popular across the entire table a year ago. I also searched half an hour to find last year’s cranberry sauce, made with ruby port and tangerine juice. But for dessert, I decided to tackle something completely new. I envisioned an Autumn S’more – made with cinnamon-sweetened graham crackers and springy pumpkin marshmallows.

We spent Thanksgiving at a friend’s house, equipped with a bigger kitchen, a bigger dining area, and prettier dining ware. The table was beautifully set, and there was so much color that every plate seemed a mini feast. Mom’s three-leaf-clover rolls were passed around the table first, followed by dark green and maroon Swiss chard. Sparkling cranberry apple cider glimmered like garnets in the glasses, matching the ruby-red cranberry sauce. The sweet potatoes were a creamy pale yellow, and the glazed carrots brought bright orange to the table. With the fancy plates and faceted cups of wine, it felt like Thanksgiving dinner from a magazine.

Not everyone could stomach dessert, and the night ended soon after dinner. We packed all our equipment, ingredients, and leftovers into our car and drove back home, drowsy and stuffed.

As can be expected from a family of foodies, we talked about the meal afterward. We discussed the merits of the Swiss chard and described how tender, juicy, and succulent the turkey came out. Dad explained why he didn’t care for the sweet potato dish that I adored, and Mom praised how beautifully the cranberry sauce came out. We like food, and we wanted to share it with each other.

Tonight, my parents started up a campfire in the fire pit we built two years ago. Remembering the mostly-forgotten dessert, I grabbed the graham crackers and marshmallows. Dad found a perfect stick, sturdy and straight, and roasted a marshmallow across the flames. He pulled it off the stick with his teeth and chewed. “It tastes awesome, right?” I was mostly kidding. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to pull out the proper words to describe the taste and texture. Finally, a smile on his face, he agreed: “They’re just awesome.”

For all my descriptive words, these marshmallows escape description. I can’t properly convey how fantastic they were. On their own they were lighter than air, with a bouncier, fresher texture than store-bought marshmallows. The pumpkin was subtle and the flavor was prominently spiced. I cooked a few with the flames from my stove, and they toasted and oozed beautifully, but there is no comparison to roasting them on a branch over a flickering fire. The outside crisps and bubbles burnt gold, while the inside becomes creamy, gooey, and pumpkin-y. With chocolate and a crisp graham cracker, they were irresistable.

As it turns out, I’ll remember one of the nicest Thanksgivings I had not by the fancy meal and the pretty decorations. Instead, I’ll remember my mom, dad, and I sitting around the fire in lawn chairs in the pitch black. I’ll remember my mother’s stunned face as she tried the first marshmallow tentatively, then practically lunged for another one, ending up with molten pumpkin marshmallow all over her chin. I’ll remember my dad trying to describe how awesome the marshmallows were, how the pumpkin flavor was really elevated after roasting, and how the texture could only be described as perfect.

I’ll remember jumping into the car on a whim to rush and buy hot dogs, just so we could stay outside a little longer. We kept adding logs to the fire, each thick piece of wood sending up sparks that swirled up like fireflies. And we stuffed ourselves with so many marshmallows that our fingers grew sticky, and each of us had developed a unique toasting style over the course of the evening.

And after everything, I think I may have created a new family tradition after all. :)

Please, please make these. I can’t say enough how wonderful they were.

I found a recipe for marshmallows that didn’t involve egg whites, since I have bad luck with recipes that call for hot liquid to be poured into beaten eggs (think classic buttercream.) Instead, this recipe couldn’t have been easier, just a matter of turning on your mixer. The one issue? The marshmallows were incredibly sticky. They broke two of my rubber spatulas as I tried to transfer them to the pan. I accidentally stuck my finger in, and as I pulled it out, a floss-like strand stayed glued to my hand no matter what.

A slight challenge, maybe. Hilarious, very. I’ll make a video when I make these again, because it was too funny to miss. But after I folded in the pumpkin puree, the sticky marshmallows became much easier to handle. And in the end, it was worth it.

The graham crackers were also a success, though I slightly overbaked mine and they came out extra crispy. Still, they had a nice flavor and I wouldn’t change a thing. I made 2″ squares to make a more manageable s’more, and the size was perfect. Everyone’s oven is different, so watch the time, and I found that the thinner the cracker was rolled, the better.

Graham Crackers
Adapted from Nancy Silverton via Smitten Kitchen
Makes 48 two inch squares

2 1/2 cups plus 2 tablespoons (375 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour (can swap 1/2 cup for whole wheat flour, or 1 cup for whole wheat pastry flour)
1 cup (176 grams) dark brown sugar, lightly packed
1 teaspoon (6 grams) baking soda
3/4 teaspoon kosher or coarse sea salt (4 grams)
7 tablespoons (3 1/2 ounces or 100 grams) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch cubes and frozen
1/3 cup (114 grams) mild-flavored honey, such as clover
5 tablespoons (77 grams) milk, full-fat is best
2 tablespoons (27 grams) pure vanilla extract

Optional Topping (I left this out)
3 tablespoons (43 grams) granulated sugar
1 teaspoon (5 grams) ground cinnamon

Pulse the flour, brown sugar, baking soda, and salt in a food processor to incorporate. Add the butter and pulse on and off on and off until the mixture is the consistency of a coarse meal. In a small bowl, whisk together the honey, milk, and vanilla extract. Add to the flour mixture and pulse on and off a few times or mix on low until the soft, sticky dough barely comes together. Lay out a large piece of plastic wrap and dust it lightly with flour, then turn the dough out onto it and pat it into a rectangle about 1-inch thick. Wrap it, then chill it until firm, about 2 hours or overnight. Meanwhile, prepare the topping, if using, by combining the sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl and setting aside.

Divide the dough in half and return one half to the refrigerator. Sift an even layer of flour onto the work surface and roll the dough into a long rectangle about 1/8 inch thick (thinner is better). The dough will be sticky, so flour as necessary. Cut the dough into 2″ squares using a fluted cookie cutter or rolling cutter.

Place the crackers on one or two parchment-lined baking sheets and sprinkle with the topping. Chill 15 to 20 minutes in the freezer. Repeat with the second batch of dough. Finally, gather any scraps together into a ball, chill until firm, and re-roll.

Adjust the oven rack to the upper and lower positions and preheat the oven to 350°F. Prick the crackers with a fork or wooden skewer, then bake 15 – 20 minutes, or until golden brown, rotating the pans halfway through. The cracker will not seem completely firm, but will harden as it cools. You might want to test out a few crackers to see what time works best for you.

Pumpkin Spice Marshmallows
Adapted from Cooking for Engineers
Makes a 9″x13″ pan, about 40 large marshmallows

3 envelopes of unsweetened, unflavored gelatin (3 tbsp or 21 g)
1/2 cup (118 g) cold water
2 cups (400 g) sugar
2/3 cup (240 g) corn syrup (I used light corn syrup)
1/4 cup (60 g) water
1/4 tsp salt
1 tbsp (13 g) vanilla extract
1/2 cup (122 g) pumpkin puree
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground ginger
Pinch of allspice
Pinch of ground nutmeg
Powdered sugar and cornstarch, for dusting

Grease a 9″x13″ glass pan – grease it really, really well. Dust the whole thing with sifted powdered sugar (or cornstarch).

Pour the 1/2 cup cold water into the bowl of a mixer. Sprinkle the gelatin over it and let bloom for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, combine the sugar, corn syrup, and 1/4 cup water in a medium pan. Bring to a boil until the mixture reaches 250 degrees F on a candy thermometer, or the hardball stage. This means the sugar, when dropped into water, will form a hard ball that keeps its shape.

Turn on the mixer to low speed. Slowly pour in the hot sugar mixture into the gelatin/water mixture. Add the salt and turn the mixer up as high as you can without hot sugar splashing out (medium speed for me). Gradually work up to high speed. When the marshmallows stop increasing in volume, add the vanilla extract and beat until combined, then stop the mixer.

Whisk together the pumpkin, cinnamon, ginger, allspice, and ginger. With a rubber spatula, fold into the marshmallow mix. This may be difficult because of how sticky the marshmallow is, but some streaks are fine. Pour the marshmallows into the prepared pan and smooth the top with a spatula. Let sit, uncovered, overnight.

Turn the pan out onto a surface dusted with powdered sugar – I pulled on a corner of the marshmallow and it all came out. Cut with a thin, sharp knife, a pizza roller, scissors, or cookie cutters. Whatever you use, dust it with powdered sugar frequently. Once all the pieces are cut, pat cornstarch into the sides until marshmallows are no longer sticky.

Printer Friendly Version – Autumn S’mores

P.S. I’ve realized that many of my readers don’t use American cups. I’m trying to include grams/ounces with my recipes, but the conversions are still unfamiliar to me. Please let me know if you see any mistakes, and I’m doing my best! :)

It doesn’t matter how many cookie recipes I dog-ear or bookmark. I’ve tried everything from tuiles to the famous Word Peace cookies. These gingersnaps will always, always be my favorite cookie EVER.

I don’t mean to go over the top, but I love these cookies. I am in love with them. I love them down to the last detail.

First of all, they are beautiful. I’ve never made any cookie that is this consistantly perfect. Chocolate chip cookies come out misshapen and flat, sugar cookies always seem to brown unevenly, even oatmeal raisin cookies can come out bland – never these cookies. Every single cookie comes out a perfectly round circle, beautifully cracked, and sparkling with big crystals of sugar. And the flavor! Cinnamon is my favorite spice, and these cookies have the perfect balance of sweet and spicy.

Love!

Really, I could keep raving, and I’m trying not to go overboard. But if you’re not already sold and measuring out the sugar, I won’t feel bad about continuing. The texture of these cookies is just right; they’re lightly crisp around the edges and chewy in the middle. The cookies are (in my opinion) the best size, gone in three bites and leaving you wanting more. You don’t even a mixer. It only takes two bowls. The dough takes 5 minutes to make! Plus, plus, they’re only 60 calories a cookie. Not that that matters. :)

On another note… I’m enjoying the last days of my spring break and decided to make myself a light box for my photography. I had all the materials on hand, so it was free, instructions courtesy of Strobist. These were my first photos using it… I’m pretty pleased with the results, although I was using natural sunlight. I’ll have to see how it works with artificial lighting.

But back to the gingersnaps. Please, please do yourself a favor and make these.

While I wouldn’t suggest messing with a good thing, you could easily add mini chocolate chips or lemon zest to these cookies. These cookies are perfect on their own, but I always dunk mine in milk. I also suspect, since all the cookies are uniform circles, that these would make great ice cream sandwiches (vanilla? Maybe peach ice cream.)

Perfect Gingersnaps
Makes 5 dozen 2″ cookies

2 cups all purpose flour
2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp ground cinnamon
2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cloves
Pinch of salt
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup molasses
3/4 cup canola oil
1 large egg
Sugar for rolling (I like evaporated cane juice or raw sugar)

Whisk together the flour, baking soda, spices, and salt in a medium bowl. In another bowl, combine together the brown sugar, molasses, canola oil, and egg until smooth. Mix the flour mixture into the brown mixture, stirring until dough comes together. Cover with plastic wrap and chill for 20 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and line baking sheets with parchment paper. Scoop up bits of dough by the heaping teaspoonful and roll into balls between your palms, about the size of a quarter. Roll the balls in sugar and place on the baking sheets 2 inches apart. Bake 8 minutes – if you like crispy gingersnaps, try 9-10 minutes.

Cookies will be very soft but will firm up. Leave on the baking sheet several minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Printer Friendly Version – Perfect Gingersnaps

This blog has gone through some changes.

New layout, new style of posts, even a new name. It’s all an attempt to get inspired again about having a food blog. I know I haven’t posted since August and honestly, it’s because I was a little frustrated. I’m about as amateur as you can get, which is okay because it’s about learning and enjoying the experience. But when you’re trying to take photos for your blog and are finding natural lighting and good quality photos impossible, you get discouraged. I don’t have photoshop, a special niche, or a cool theme. I don’t create my own recipes or possess remarkable presentation skills. I’ve never catered a party or baked for anyone besides my family and friends. So I felt like this blog, even if the photos were decent and the recipes were good, would never get noticed.

Which might be true.

But hopefully that shouldn’t matter to me. I like to bake. I love to bake. It’s the most relaxing, soothing, enjoyable hobby I’ve ever had, even if I’m not an expert. So I’m going to continue this blog and if anyone besides me benefits from it, all the more better! :) That said, it’s great to start blogging again.

Phew! Thanks for staying with me. Maybe you’re just sticking around for the recipe.

When I began to follow food blogs, one of the things that surprised me most was the absolute hate that Martha Stewart gets. I don’t care for her much as a person, but her recipes are always reliable and well worth the effort for me. My dad knows a new Martha Stewart cookbook is the best way to make me smile. I can’t help it, I trust her! This cake was no exception. Moist, flavorful, and best of all, light! The texture was great and it was the perfect sweetness. Officially the best carrot cake I’ve ever had.

Ginger Carrot Cake
Adapted from Martha Stewart Living
Makes one 2 layer 8″ or 9″ cake

3 cups all purpose flour
1 cup halved pecans, toasted (optional)*
1 lb large carrots, peeled
3 large eggs (room temperature)
1/3 cup buttermilk (nonfat can be used)
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups sugar
1 1/2 cups vegetable oil
1 tbsp freshly grated ginger
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 heaping tsp ground cinnamon

Butter and flour two 8 or 9 inch pans and preheat the oven to 300 degrees. Chop the pecans finely and grate the carrots, about 2 1/2 cups total. You can use a food processor when you’re in a hurry, but I find grating them by hand (using the smallest holes) gives a lighter and definitely better texture.

Whisk the carrots, eggs, buttermilk, vanilla, sugar, vegetable oil, and ginger in a large bowl until well combined. In another bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. Use a rubber spatula to gently fold the flour mixture into the carrot mixture, taking care not to over-mix. Fold in the pecans.

Divide the batter into the two pans and bake about an hour, until a toothpick comes out clean. Let the cakes cool 15 minutes in their pans on a rack, then gently turn out and cool to room temperature before leveling and frosting.

* It isn’t vital to toast the pecans, but does add something: arrange the pecans in a single layer on an ungreased baking sheet and toast in a 375 degree oven until golden, about seven minutes.

Ginger-Orange Cream Cheese Frosting
Frosts a 2 layer 8″ or 9″ cake

12 oz. cream cheese, room temperature
5 tbsp butter, room temperature
2 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 tbsp fresh, finely grated ginger
1 tbsp orange juice

Beat cream cheese and butter with the paddle attachment of an electric mixer until smooth, then add powdered sugar. Mix on low for 30 seconds, then add ginger and orange juice. Beat on medium speed until light, fluffy, and well combined.

Assembly: Unless your cakes are pretty flat or you’re going for a rustic look, use a serrated knife to level each cake. Spread 3/4 cup frosting between the layers and use the remaining frosting on all the sides and the top. If you wanted, you could cut each layer in half horizontally for a four layer cake, using less frosting between layers. Cake decorating is a definite weak area for me, I can never get it smooth! I used food coloring to tint the leftover frosting green and orange and used a plastic ziplock bag to pipe carrots.

Printer Friendly Version – Ginger Carrot Cake

My mom and I ate the whole thing. Yum.