There is also a GRE to study for, Spanish to review (my job involves speaking Spanish on a regular basis and it gets embarrassing to mix up verb tenses all the time), Korean to try to learn and programs to look for so I can go teach English in Korea in a year.  I also don’t have a ton of money for fancy ingredients.  In fact, I’m most commonly seen eating cheese toast and celery with peanut butter.  One of my favorite free pastimes is going to the store to look at expensive cheeses.

So while I readjust and try to photograph and write about more of the food I’ve made we’re going to play a game!  It’s called “Name This Meal!”  Look at the out-of-focus photo of a meal that was served to me in Spain at a not-very-pleasant lunch with my study abroad group.  Then guess!

It contains jamón, white asparagus, egg, peas and other mysterious food items.  I think maybe I’d enjoy it if someone served it to me now, but I found the egg repellent once upon a time.  Anyone know what it is?

There is also a GRE to study for, Spanish to review (my job involves speaking Spanish on a regular basis and it gets embarrassing to mix up verb tenses all the time), Korean to try to learn and programs to look for so I can go teach English in Korea in a year.  I also don’t have a ton of money for fancy ingredients.  In fact, I’m most commonly seen eating cheese toast and celery with peanut butter.  One of my favorite free pastimes is going to the store to look at expensive cheeses.

So while I readjust and try to photograph and write about more of the food I’ve made we’re going to play a game!  It’s called “Name This Meal!”  Look at the out-of-focus photo of a meal that was served to me in Spain at a not-very-pleasant lunch with my study abroad group.  Then guess!

It contains jamón, white asparagus, egg, peas and other mysterious food items.  I think maybe I’d enjoy it if someone served it to me now, but I found the egg repellent once upon a time.  Anyone know what it is?

The most memorable experience, however, was a cooking video I made in the 6th grade.  Imagine three giggly 12-year-old girls setting out on a project about the food of Thailand armed with one video camera (operated by my older sister) and a burning desire for more extra credit.  That all sounds great.  Unfortunately, our recipes came entirely from an ancient library book that still referred to Thailand as Siam.  Apparently all Thai people like nothing better than a glass of limeade to provide respite from the sweltering heat of their tropical nation.  Also, the most authentic Thai dessert is a doughnut akin to a county fair funnel cake.  I don’t know how true that is, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the book was published in a time when the people of Siam were spoken of in the same patronizing tone that one might have referred to Hottentots or Pygmies and that this food was considered a novelty enjoyed only by heathens in their natural environment.

Weird recipes aside, we forged ahead in our cooking project, choosing to parody three famous chefs.  Two, if not all, of us had extremely limited access to cable television and had never even heard of Food Network.  Our celebrity chef choices were few and I’ve forgotten one of them.  I chose to imitate Martha Stewart, as we were filming in my kitchen.  I had only a vague idea of her persona, but I knew that she liked to be in control and that she was always on commercials selling her Martha Stewart Collection products.  Emily eschewed being a celebrity altogether, and instead parodied our extremely sweaty Home Ec. teacher.  It may have been the pinnacle of my middle school experience to watch her lecture the camera about cleanliness while wiping her hands all over her face, in her armpits and really just about everywhere — in what was a shockingly accurate portrayal of “Mrs. Biller.”

We pulled it all together into a passable show.  There was a fish sauce-spilling-incident in one mother’s car that was not easily forgotten in the summer months that followed, a decision to dye the limeade bright green so it looked “more natural” and some major editing done to remove all evidence that I licked doughnut batter off my fingers between each frying session — but we were just in it for the extra credit.  This documentation of my youthful culinary ambition has been lost for years.  I’ll pay to upgrade WordPress to support video the second it’s found.

What is the point of sharing this?  I’m honestly not sure.  Maybe it’s a plea for Rachael Ray to recruit me.  I’m no good with catchphrases or keeping a cheery disposition, but I promise I’ll try not to lick my fingers on camera!  Truthfully, I just remembered it while watching Tina Nordström on one of my five PBS channel.  I didn’t want it forgotten for another (nearly) twelve years!

Instead of posting all about resolutions or my Top 10 Meals…OF THE DECADE, I’m ending the year with a picture of my Bûche de Noël.  The cake is long gone and the picture is a week late, but, hey, it’s never too early to start planning for next year.

My new year will bring a new home, lots of cooking in my brand new Le Creuset pot (dijon), and — with luck — more work than I’ve had in the past couple months.

Happy New Year!

I find that nothing makes me more enthusiastic about baking than a nice Mrs. Claus apron and a Le Creuset full of delicious simmering caramel sauce.

The second thing you need when undertaking French macarons is a friend who happens to love them.

It also helps if it’s that particular friend’s birthday and your gift happened to be a book about macarons, ingredients and supplies to make them and a free afternoon in which to do so.

The book, being new and ridiculously adorable, didn’t like to stay open to the correct page.  Hence, the third necessity:

A bookmark made out of a stick of butter!  (It’s being brought to room temperature for the buttercream filling, of course.)  I can’t think of a more conveniently shaped bookmark than a stick of butter — can you?

We decided to make two kinds of macarons:  pink with salted caramel buttercream in the middle and pink salt sprinkled on top and pistachio with rose water buttercream.  I find it necessary to confess that the colors were chosen, not in an attempt to turn Christmas pastel, but because those were the only food colorings I had left at the time.

I appear to have left out the most important part of this whole process.  We had a whole book devoted to macarons.  I’m not going to supply a recipe and then throw you to the wolves.  I’ve only recently jumped on the macaron bandwagon and there are loads of blogs and websites with more detailed and precise instructions than I am able to provide — after all, I’m nowhere near an expert.  In fact, I made a total of three batches of macarons this weekend, and the first one turned out better than the other two.

The second batch was marvelously green and pistachio-laden, but appeared greasy and proved difficult to remove from the pan.  They were tasty, especially with the rose water buttercream, but I think I preferred them in their unbaked state, when they still had the potential for excellence.

This photo brings me to the fourth thing needed for macarons.  Look carefully at that photo.  See what I’m squeezing the batter out of?  It’s a Ziploc bag.  Attached to that Ziploc bag is a too-small pastry tip screwed into a corner of the bag and reinforced with a rubber band.  It worked, but I went through too many plastic bags to feel good about myself when I took the garbage out.  I need a pastry bag.

Our sojourn into macaron making ended abruptly, when we realized we had very little time to get ready for Springfield Creamery’s Christmas party at which we were providing macarons.  So we packed everything up as quickly as possible and never even got a chance to photograph them as we ran out the door.  In all the rush we still managed to make time for this:

Thus ends the tale of Meredith’s birthday macarons.

I find that nothing makes me more enthusiastic about baking than a nice Mrs. Claus apron and a Le Creuset full of delicious simmering caramel sauce.

The second thing you need when undertaking French macarons is a friend who happens to love them.

It also helps if it’s that particular friend’s birthday and your gift happened to be a book about macarons, ingredients and supplies to make them and a free afternoon in which to do so.

The book, being new and ridiculously adorable, didn’t like to stay open to the correct page.  Hence, the third necessity:

A bookmark made out of a stick of butter!  (It’s being brought to room temperature for the buttercream filling, of course.)  I can’t think of a more conveniently shaped bookmark than a stick of butter — can you?

We decided to make two kinds of macarons:  pink with salted caramel buttercream in the middle and pink salt sprinkled on top and pistachio with rose water buttercream.  I find it necessary to confess that the colors were chosen, not in an attempt to turn Christmas pastel, but because those were the only food colorings I had left at the time.

I appear to have left out the most important part of this whole process.  We had a whole book devoted to macarons.  I’m not going to supply a recipe and then throw you to the wolves.  I’ve only recently jumped on the macaron bandwagon and there are loads of blogs and websites with more detailed and precise instructions than I am able to provide — after all, I’m nowhere near an expert.  In fact, I made a total of three batches of macarons this weekend, and the first one turned out better than the other two.

The second batch was marvelously green and pistachio-laden, but appeared greasy and proved difficult to remove from the pan.  They were tasty, especially with the rose water buttercream, but I think I preferred them in their unbaked state, when they still had the potential for excellence.

This photo brings me to the fourth thing needed for macarons.  Look carefully at that photo.  See what I’m squeezing the batter out of?  It’s a Ziploc bag.  Attached to that Ziploc bag is a too-small pastry tip screwed into a corner of the bag and reinforced with a rubber band.  It worked, but I went through too many plastic bags to feel good about myself when I took the garbage out.  I need a pastry bag.

Our sojourn into macaron making ended abruptly, when we realized we had very little time to get ready for Springfield Creamery’s Christmas party at which we were providing macarons.  So we packed everything up as quickly as possible and never even got a chance to photograph them as we ran out the door.  In all the rush we still managed to make time for this:

Thus ends the tale of Meredith’s birthday macarons.

Here I am in 2008 making the required sugar cookies.

My family celebrates the holidays high on tradition — despite my opinions about public displays of Christmas spirit.  Most of these revolve around food, such as the aebleskiver every year at tree decorating time.  (How many Americans of no known Scandinavian ancestry can claim that?)  We also have a long list of cookies with names like Frosty Fruit Bars and Pecan Tassies and Toffee Cookies that must be made.  I have no objection to this, and usually decree the must be made-ness of any such variety of cookie.

There is also a sour cream sugar cookie recipe that is unlike any other sugar cookie I’ve ever had.  My recipe card says it was passed down from my father’s paternal grandmother; hence the name Grandmother Marshall’s Sugar Cookies.

This dough is absolutely the most difficult to work with of any of the sugar cookie varieties that I have ever made, because the cookies are noticeably worse if it is even slightly overworked or overcooked.  The recipe that I’ve included calls for nutmeg as the sole flavoring, but my original includes suggestions for either vanilla or lemon flavorings as well.  We always use nutmeg at Christmas though.  This is also the only recipe I have in which I haven’t substituted butter for the shortening content.  I’ve never used lard, but kept it in the recipe for its old-fashioned charm.  I’m sure they’d taste just as good if anyone felt the need to use it.  The finished cookies are meant to be very pale and very soft, sprinkled with sugar and never (to my knowledge) frosted.

This is 2007.  It’s the same idea except Nick is included.  It’s also dorkier.

Grandmother Marshall’s Sugar Cookies

2 cups white sugar

1 cup lard (or vegetable shortening and butter combined)

2 eggs, beaten

1 tsp. salt

1 ½ tsp nutmeg

1 tsp. baking soda

1 qt. flour, enough to make stiff while handling

1 cup sour cream

Cream together lard (or butter/shortening mixture) and sugar.  Add beaten eggs.  Sift salt, baking soda, and nutmeg with 2 cups of the flour.  Add alternately with sour cream.  Add 2 or 3 more cups of flour, until the dough is firm enough to roll but still tender.  Chill.  Roll out some of the dough on a heavily floured board until approximately ¼ inch thick.  Cut and place on ungreased cookie sheet lined with parchment or a silpat baking sheet.  Spinkle with sugar or decorate.  Bake 10-12 minutes in 400° oven, until they are just barely browned.

Same cookies with a lot less clothing in 1988 or 1989.

That’s right…I’m a fan of Martha Stewart.  I’ve attempted to hide this fact from the public for as long as possible, but the plain truth is that the main reason my mom still subscribes to her magazine is because I read them religiously.  As a high schooler I used to relish days off and late-starts just so I could watch Martha Stewart Living in my pajamas at 10 am.

It’s true that when you take in all of her cute ideas and sage housekeeping advice at once they become overwhelming — and often hilarious.  It’s also true that her current passion for faux-bois everything is mildly irritating.  Not all of us like our Christmas cookies decorated with a fake wood grain pattern.  However, I usually consult her website before doing anything crafty or before attempting to find new recipes.  The woman has captivated my heart and capitalized on my desire to cook, clean, garden and entertain like a New England gazillionaire.

There you have it.  I’ve publicly debased myself.  Now I can try to excuse myself for not writing by mentioning the fact that I moved home and that I got a new job that I actually enjoy.  I hope to be able to write plenty in the future about my Christmas baking escapades.  I’ll probably pass over Thanksgiving in its entirety — because everyone knows what that entails.

My take on a very appealing apple cake recipe.

About 20 minutes after this recipe showed up on The Traveler’s Lunchbox I received an email from my mom asking me if I’d seen the apple cake recipe yet.  Plans were immediately made — my dad’s birthday was coming up and, as it turned out, both my parents and my aunt and uncle would be passing through Portland in the afternoon of the birthday.  My mom orchestrated a gathering in my apartment involving everyone and an apple cake that I was to provide.

I was more than willing to bake a cake.  Usually I make extravagant dishes for no special occasion and ultimately feel guilty that I really did eat crème brûlée for breakfast.  A birthday is a socially acceptable, guilt-free time to make a cake.  Also, my dad always appreciates a good cake.

The very specific instructions to omit cinnamon made me somewhat dubious about this recipe.  Compliantly and against every instinct that was screaming for me to throw some in (I most recently added cinnamon to a jar of pasta sauce), I kept my paws off the cinnamon.  I had to settle for a 9-inch springform pan instead of a tart pan, but I otherwise followed the recipe exactly as found on The Traveler’s Lunchbox.  (That’s right — the recipe was so good I’m linking to it twice.)

I served it with homemade whipped cream and Stumptown coffee…and, okay, I cheated a little.  I happened to have some goat-milk caramel sauce more commonly known as cajeta in my refrigerator, and I happened to have made the caramel with a cinnamon stick in it.  So I served the cake with cinnamon caramel sauce.  I got my way.  And it was another excellent recipe from The Traveler’s Lunchbox, a blog I feel so strongly about that I felt the need to include link number three.  And in case anyone was wondering, the cake was pretty wonderful toasted for breakfast too.  Almost as good a breakfast as crème brûlée.

My take on a very appealing apple cake recipe.

About 20 minutes after this recipe showed up on The Traveler’s Lunchbox I received an email from my mom asking me if I’d seen the apple cake recipe yet.  Plans were immediately made — my dad’s birthday was coming up and, as it turned out, both my parents and my aunt and uncle would be passing through Portland in the afternoon of the birthday.  My mom orchestrated a gathering in my apartment involving everyone and an apple cake that I was to provide.

I was more than willing to bake a cake.  Usually I make extravagant dishes for no special occasion and ultimately feel guilty that I really did eat crème brûlée for breakfast.  A birthday is a socially acceptable, guilt-free time to make a cake.  Also, my dad always appreciates a good cake.

The very specific instructions to omit cinnamon made me somewhat dubious about this recipe.  Compliantly and against every instinct that was screaming for me to throw some in (I most recently added cinnamon to a jar of pasta sauce), I kept my paws off the cinnamon.  I had to settle for a 9-inch springform pan instead of a tart pan, but I otherwise followed the recipe exactly as found on The Traveler’s Lunchbox.  (That’s right — the recipe was so good I’m linking to it twice.)

I served it with homemade whipped cream and Stumptown coffee…and, okay, I cheated a little.  I happened to have some goat-milk caramel sauce more commonly known as cajeta in my refrigerator, and I happened to have made the caramel with a cinnamon stick in it.  So I served the cake with cinnamon caramel sauce.  I got my way.  And it was another excellent recipe from The Traveler’s Lunchbox, a blog I feel so strongly about that I felt the need to include link number three.  And in case anyone was wondering, the cake was pretty wonderful toasted for breakfast too.  Almost as good a breakfast as crème brûlée.