You know you have good friends when they send a quick text and then leave a bag of fresh rhubarb on your doorstep. Kathy recently did just that. When I got home, there sat a brown paper bag full of rhubarb. Continue reading
“It is in my view, the duty of an apple to be crisp and crunchable, but a pear should have such a texture as leads to quiet consumption,” poetic words for common fruit. Thanks, Edward Bunyard for penning this description in “The Anatomy of Dessert.” Continue reading
Be well-rounded. Soak up the sun. Find beauty in small things. Live a fruitful life. Be a good pick. It’s ok to be a little blue. Make sweet memories – Ilan Shamir
I’m giddy. You know why? Because the first “Hood Strawberry” signs have started popping up. Heck, I’ve even received emails heralding their celebrated, sweet arrival, which means local berry season has arrived. Continue reading
Jazzy Christmas music is playing; a really cool version of Silver Bells crooned by Tony Bennett. “Soon, it will be Christmas Day” … but cookies with the Grands need to be baked first. Continue reading
True confession: I’d rather go off-grid since roast turkey isn’t my favorite. I like it. I’m quite fond of turkey sandwiches slathered with mayo, Dijon and cranberry sauce, all squeezed together on a potato roll. Therefore, each year I find myself gravitating to the sides that surround the bird. They absolutely have more appeal for me. Continue reading
My family has a small farm in the lush Willamette Valley. Cows, pigs and chickens used to roam the fields and woods. A garden the size of a city block (or at least that’s how I remember it) produced enough to feed everyone and their neighbor. Now, the livestock consists of squirrels, deer and raccoons. The garden is a manageable size, which still yields enough to share with a local Mission. And, fruit trees dot the yard, sans the Italian prune-plum that met it’s demise years ago. Continue reading
My kitchen smelled lovely; cinnamon and brown sugar and … yeast. I used to do a lot of baking and my kind man mentioned the other day my current baking dearth, after having been totally spoiled with baked goods over the Holidays.
Honestly, I don’t bake nearly like I used to; it’s the two of us and quite frankly, we don’t need to eat dozens of cookies and cakes and pies. If it’s here, it gets eaten. Is that bad?
There are certain things that are matches made in heaven; peanut butter and jelly, pumpkin pie and Thanksgiving and well, Christmas and cookies. Maybe it’s the whole what-we-leave-for-Santa thing, I don’t know. I do know that more cookies get made and eaten at my house during December than any other time of the year.
I was reading an article about cookie recipes passed down through the family that are still used. As I read, it reminded me of one of my favorites from my man’s Grandma Buzzini – isn’t that a great name?
My Dad loved going out to eat, and one of his favorite places specialized in pancakes. It was a plain Jane joint with a page after page menu of pancakes, waffles and toppings sweet and savory to boot. You could order a short stack of fluffy buttermilk pancakes with the classic blob of whipped butter and the teeny tiny pitcher of syrup that always meant asking for more, or go with something more exotic like banana pancakes swimming in pineapple sauce.