Swimmy and the Big Bad Tuna

I love reading. I'll read almost anything - fiction, biographies, current events. Anything. My parents have always been readers - my dad and his newspaper, and my mom, amazingly enough, even with four kids would manage to have a book tucked away in the kitchen or in the side of the minivan door. Over the summer my mom would load us all up in the car to spend an afternoon checking books out in the small library in our town (which now, by the way, is an amazing state of the art library with resources, DVD's, CD's, magazines and books galore). There was a period of time when reading became so frenzied for my sister and me that we would even bring our books with us to breakfast, devouring the pages of our Archie comics, Ramona Quimby books, and Judy Blume titles while consuming large bowls of cereal. I remember one morning my dad insisting that we clear the table of our books and instead talk to each other. My sister and I are best friends, so engaging in conversation was absolutely no problem (even to this day, our husbands wonder why we need to talk to each other multiple times a day). But we were so obsessed that we took to reading the inane puzzles and facts on the cereal boxes.

When my nieces and nephews were born, I re-entered the world of children's books. And I fell in love. I would spend hours at Borders and Barnes and Noble searching the children's section for old titles only to stumble upon new treasures. I think that it was my love for children's books that eventually drew me into the field of teaching. Now that I'm a mother, my love for reading is something I truly hope to pass down to my daughter.

The very first book I read to her was Pride and Prejudice. I found that breast feeding wasn't only a full time job, but it was tedious and mind-numbing. So, I thought I'd read one of my all time favorites to pass the time, and I decided to read it out loud to her. She seemed to enjoy hearing my voice, and I relished reading Jane Austin's classic out loud - bring her words and characters to life for my daughter (even though she was only a few days old!). We continue to read - a lot. And like an indulgent mother and a bibliophile, little Y's book collection keeps growing. I try to save buying new books for an occasion - father's day, mother's day, birthdays, etc. But sometimes I just can't help it.

I keep a spread sheet of books that I come across (either in the library, books store, or through recommendations) plus my own childhood classics that I think little Y would enjoy. The database is roughly divided by picture books and chapter books. I predict that it'll soon be subdivided by age. Little Y has already gone through a whole slew of favorites - Dr. Seuss's ABC's, Silly Sally, The Sleeping House, The Foot Book, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Papa Please Get the Moon for Me, Madeline, Hush Little Baby, Imogen's Antlers, and A Color of His Own. Usually when little Y gets a new book, she shows very little interest in it. I preview the book with her, but then she'll often neglect it in favor of the books she that she's read dozens and dozens of times. Without fail, she eventually and independently shows interest in her new book.

Little Y is now 23 months old, and her current obsession is Swimmy by Leo Lionni. The reason I love Swimmy is because it's a very subtle story that teaches the importance of creativity, perseverance, and it touches on the subject of loss. The illustrations are phenomenal - conveying the feelings of a vast ocean full of beautiful and mysterious creatures. Today she read the book eight or nine times with her Papa. When it was time to leave for a birthday party this afternoon, she said, "Mama, wait five minutes. I want to read Swimmy." And she shimmied herself on to the couch, with the book in her hands, and opened it up.  I reminded her that we had to leave for her friend's birthday party, and when she asked if she could bring the book in the car, I promised her we would read it upon our return home. She reluctantly agreed, and our drive to the party took longer than usual because of summer traffic. During the car ride we never discussed Swimmy, and little Y fell asleep about fifteen minutes into the ride. When we arrived at the party, my husband and I announced our arrival, and the Y woke up. Still half asleep, with her eyes fluttering open, she looked over at my husband as he was taking her out of her car seat and said, "Tuna not eat Swimmy. Swimmy escape." My husband couldn't decipher what she was saying, so I responded to her by reassuring her, "Yes sweetie. Swimmy escaped." She responded with a smile and an affirmative nod, repeating, "Swimmy escape." When we got home, after washing up for bed, changing into her pj's, the Y retrieved Swimmy from her bookshelf and asked Papa to read it again for her. She smiled as Papa retold the story of a clever fish who persevered in the vast ocean.

Later that evening, after the Y went to bed, my husband and I discussed what seems to be Y's intense interest in Swimmy and the big, bad tuna. My husband expressed his concern that she may be afraid of the tuna, and I think he's probably right. I think the Y's is preoccupied with the fact that the tuna almost ate Swimmy that's why she has to constantly reassure herself that Swimmy escaped. I also think that her desire to re-read the book is a way for her to embrace Swimmy's determined perseverance; a trait that I truly hopes she develops and embraces.

Is that the Inside of a Dirty Diaper?

Who would have thought that I'd have a post on my food related blog about dirty diapers. Well, actually the post isn't about dirty diapers, it's about a chocolate pavlova with chocolate mousse (the Daring Bakers June challenge). But if you look at the photo of my finished challenge you can understand where the title for my post came from (let's be honest, my failure to actually pipe the mousse out onto the  meringue base resulted in the mousse looking like a pile of you-know-what).

I knew that someone in my family would comment about the dessert's visual appeal. It turns out that in all my infiinte wisdom, I was right. It  was my oldest brother in-law (who's been married to my sister for sixteen years - which is more than half my life, so I consider him to be my oldest brother - note there's no "in-law" prefix attached) who said what I think was on pretty much everyone's mind. I didn't actually hear him make the comment about the pavlova looking like the inside of a baby's diaper. All I heard was my husband bust out into a giddy laugh. When I looked over, my husband pointed to my brother in-law, and managed to mutter, "Did you hear what he said?" Although I didn't hear his comment, I instinctively knew that it had something to do with chocolate mousse and poop. So, I casually responded, "I didn't hear him, but I agree. It looks like a pile of poo."




A few years ago I would have been embarrassed or even hurt if someone said that about something I made, but I've learned that if there's any hope to enjoying life, you can never take yourself too seriously. So here's to the chocolate pavlova with a pile-of-poop-chocolate mousse on top. Thankfully it tasted a million times better than it looked!

Traditional English Puddings - The Daring Bakers

 So, I have to admit that I was NOT looking forward to this month's Daring Baker's Challenge. Esther of the Lilac Kitchen chose traditional English puddings for this month's challenge.  Most of the items I bake (and cook) are not made because I want to eat them, I usually partake in a new project out of curiosity. But my usual interest in new techniques and cuisine couldn't even get me excited about this project...that was until I became thoroughly obsessed with the idea that people (the English in particular) regularly eat these puddings - so there must be something redeeming about them. Something.

Esther's original challenge stated that the pudding could be savory or sweet, filled with anything the baker chose. But there were still rules (heck that's what makes the challenge a challenge, right?), and they stipulated that the pudding must be steamed (there are plenty of traditional English puddings that are actually baked) and it must have a crust. The combination of a food item being steamed and having a pastry crust just seemed so wrong. I immediately thought - wet and soggy. Two adjectives that should never be used when describing food (particularly food wrapped in a pastry shell).

So, I set off on a google journey to find myself some recipes on which to base my pudding. I came across a great website called Traditional English Puddings, Putting the Pudding Back on the Menu.  There were the usual suspects listed - spotted dick (call me juvenile, but I can't say that without cracking a smile), Eton Mess, and summer pudding. But I was looking for a general recipe for a steamed pudding made with a crust. I finally settled on the steamed apple pudding recipe. I modified the recipe be replacing the suet (No way in heck was I going to use any type of animal innards to make a pastry crust - sorry all of you lard-loving die hards. It just not my cup of tea.) with non-hydrogenated vegetable shortening. I also cut the recipe in half for two very important reasons: 1 - I was convinced it would turn out badly, so I wanted to minimize wasting food and my guilty feelings that I knew would inevitably accompany my misadventure (I promise I'm usually not a pessimist. Honestly, I'm not.) 2 - The only pudding basin (aka Pyrex glass bowl) that would fit into my steamer was only about five inches in diameter. Thus, making the full pastry pudding recipe much too large for my purposes. I also made my own self-rising flour by mixing baking powder and salt into my regular all purpose flour.

I rolled out 3/4 of the pastry, and placed it in the heavily greased Pyrex bowl. I filled my pastry with a traditional apply pie filling: diced apples, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and a squeeze of lemon juice. Then rolled out the rest of the pastry and laid it on top of the filling, pinching the sides of the two crusts together. I covered the bowl with a nice thick, tightly fitted piece of foil. Then into the steamer it went. I steamed it for two hours, and I had no idea when it would be finished. I kept trying to smell the pudding, but I guess the steamer had created such a vacuum that I could smell nothing. Nothing. That made me nervous. After two hours I called it a day. This is what came out of the steamer.

When I lifted the foil, a nice warm apply pie smell filled my nose. That seemed to be a good sign. Honestly, not bad, not bad at all. It slipped easily out of the steaming dish. Yet another plus. Much to my surprise, it  didn't look squishy, soggy, or wet. That was definitely another huge plus. Then my ever so lovely husband came wondering into the kitchen (he is so hilariously afraid of soggy foods that he can't even eat cereal) and casually glanced at the pudding and said, "Raw dough. That's a mound of raw dough. Don't eat it, or you'll throw up." I shrugged it off, and plunged a sharp knife into the sucker, and hell, to my surprise, the crust was actually cooked and FLAKY. What? A steamed crust that was flaky? Well, I guess these pudding weren't so bad after all...

This is how I ate my first piece of apple pudding. I had to laugh at myself for turning a traditional English pudding into something so thoroughly American. I made an apple pie, and was eating it with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. Ha - how ethnocentric of me. How typically American...

Did I enjoy my apple pudding? You be the judge. This is what it looked like after about five minutes:

Nana's Habitat

Winter in the midwest is brutal, so I warm, cozy hat is a must-have winter accessory. Growing up my dad never wore knit wool hats. Instead he opted for a wool ascot hat. He has them in a range of colors - from a light camel wool to stark, dignified black. Many of his ascots even have retractable ear flaps that only made an appearance on the coldest of cold winter mornings. So, this winter I was thoroughly surprised to hear my dad declare that he'd like to find a new winter hat. I asked him why he never wore a knit wool cap, and he admitted that he had tried, but never seemed to find one that was warm, soft, and roomy enough to fit his rather large noggin. I immediately decided that the best solution was to make a hand knit hat for him, with some extra stitches here and there to ensure a roomy but snug fit. I also wanted to make sure my dad's hat would cover his ears, providing the same coverage as his beloved ascot caps.

My pattern choice was easy - brooklyn tweed's Habitat. Jared Flood's is truly an amazing fiber artist, and his cable patterns are exquisite. The modifications I made to the hat along with yarn details can be found on my Ravelry page (you need to have a Ravelry account to access the page). I used Malabrigo Yarn Merino in a worsted weight, and I will definitely be using it again. I used the magic loop to knit the hat in the round.

 The hat fits my dad perfectly (his ears are covered nicely!), and most importantly he loves it. Seeing my parents happy makes me happy!

Orange Tian - My First DB Challenge!

This month I completed my very first Daring Bakers Challenge, the orange tian. I decided to join the Daring Bakers because one of the reasons I love, love baking is because there are so many different ingredients, products and methods that constitute "baking" - everything from savory breads to delicate pastry...ummmmm. YUM! To be honest, I often choose recipes to try simply out of curiosity, and I have never, ever had a problem finding eager taste-testers. My one serious hesitation about joining the Daring Bakers was meeting the deadlines to bake and post the finished product. But, since the Daring Bakers is a monthly recipe, it proved to be no problem. I'm super excited to find out next month's challenge.


Jennifer from Chocolate Shavings chose the orange tian. This tian is a layered dessert consisting of a crisp, buttery cookie crust coated with a sweet and sticky orange marmalade, followed by a layer of whipped cream, and topped with orange segments. The final touch is an orange caramel sauce. As soon as I saw the recipe, I was excited because I thought I had never made a tian before. Little did I realize that a tian is simply a layered dish - anything from a savory layered salad to a rich and decadent dessert can be a tian, as long as it is composed of clearly deliniated layers.

I was also looking forward to the recipe because I've always wanted to make homemade orange marmalade. Orange marmalade is and always has been a staple pantry ingredient in my parents' house. Tea and orange marmalade are two items you can ALWAYS find in my parents pantry. Always. For the past handful of years, my parents' daily breakfast is a cup of chai (tea with steamed milk) and a slice of sourdough bread topped with a slather of orange marmalade and a slice of sharp, white cheddar cheese. It may sound like a strange combo, but the sweet marmalade contrasting with the salty, strong cheese is actually rather delightful (my mouth is watering just thinking about it). I never bothered trying the combination until I was pregnant. I stopped by my parents' place to drop something off for my mom on the way to a friend's baby shower. On the way over, I happened to mention to my mom that I was starving and hoped they would serve the food right away at the shower. As soon as I stepped into my parents' house, before I could even greet my mom, she shoved something wrapped in a paper towel into my hands reminding me that I have to eat. I didn't get a chance to unwrap the package until I was back in the car heading to the shower. Without even looking at what it was, I began eating the jam/cheese sandwich. From that moment on I was hooked. I called my mom to thank her for the delicious snack, and after scolding me again for not taking care of myself, I could tell that she was pleased that something as simple as a cheese toast could make me so happy. Needless to say, I'll be making a vat of the orange marmalade for my parents upon their arrival after a month-long tour of the Far East. I think, er actually I know, they'll appreciate it!

So They Said...

Before I became a mom, all of my mom friends (including my sisters) told me that I'll love my mom even more once I have my own little one. The sentiment makes sense, right? I mean, moms sacrifice their physical and mental well-being to care for their children. The pregnancy itself leaves many to wonder what their body was like pre-pregnancy (a reality I'm still coming to grips with myself). And "sleep" takes on a new meaning - no more deep, restful sleeping. Sleep is simply the byproduct of exhaustion. So, the idea is that once a new mom realizes how much her mom had to sacrifice to take care of her when she was a little baby, the new mom will have a deeper appreciation for her own mother. That seems logical, but before becoming a mother, I thought, I already love and appreciate my mom. I wasn't quite sure how much further it could go.

I'm very close to my parents, but to understand exactly what that means, you have to know a bit more about my family. I'm the youngest out of four children, and we're all pretty close in age. Even though there are four of us siblings, our house was full of at least six to eight kids at any given time because our house had a revolving door - cousins and friends would come and go seven days a week, almost twenty four hours a day. I remember one of my cousins saying that she loved hanging out at our house because it was so "lively." Well "lively" is one way of looking at it. Now being a mom myself, I think I'd use a word like "maddening" or "anarchy" to describe the atmosphere.

Given all of these chaos and activity, I still forged a very close relationship with my parents, especially my mom. I think it had something to do with being the youngest. I was always the one left at home. I was left at home when my siblings went off to school full time. I was left at home when they were allowed to have an extended curfew in high school. I was left at home when they went to college. I was left at home when each of them got married. (As a disclaimer I have to mention that I wasn't technically living at home at this point, but I still spent the most time at home since I had fewer responsibilities). Being around them without my siblings helped me form a very open line of communication with my parents. My mom will always be my mom first and foremost, but she is also a dear friend. So, given our already close relationship, I wasn't sure how much more I could love and appreciate her once I became a mom myself.

Once I emerged from the haze of being a new mom (which took me a good three months), I soon realized that my mom friends were right. As my experience of motherhood takes its course, the more I truly understand just how much my own mom sacrificed for me, and I appreciate and love her more than I ever thought possible. We talk almost every day, even if it's a simple, three minute conversation. And I try to show her how much she means to me through small gestures of appreciation.

The most recent gift I gave my mom is this pair of French Press felted slippers (the link to the knitting pattern only works if you have a Ravelry account). My mom loves the slippers, and that makes me so very happy (who doesn't like keeping their feet warm in these darn cold midwestern winters).

This is my first felted project, and I have to admit that the felting process was much easier than I had expected. I used my sister's washing machine because her's is a top-loading washer, a pillowcase, and six tennis balls. I'm hoping to try more extensive felting projects in the near future. I will make these slippers again, and here are the changes I will make/mistakes I will correct:

1 - I will sew the two side pieces together at the toe, just past the hump. On the left slipper I sewed too far down, past the hump. Sewing just past the hump is what gives the shoe a ballet shoe look.

2 - The cuffing trick for the backs of the slippers works really well, but again, I took it too far with the left slipper. I need to use more restraint next time!

3 - Instead of using puff paint traction, I'm going to try these suckers out. Apparently they can be sewn on to felted projects as well.

One more note, I used a very sharp and rather thick needle to sew the straps onto the already felted slippers. I actually used a needle that's meant for sewing through leather. It worked like a charm.

These adorable ballet slippers were knit using triple strands for the bottom and double for the sides. It was knit in six pieces (as seen below).

Then the pieces were sewn together. Sides first:

Then the bottoms sewn on:

Once they were felted, I stuffed the toes with crumpled plastic bags to help with shaping.

Once dried, I figured out the placement for the straps and buttons.

After applying puff paint traction on the bottom, here they are on my mom's feet. Yay for my first felting project!

My Obsession with Sandwich Cookies Continues...

So, my obsession with sandwich cookies continues with these beauties - Chocolate Candy Cane Cookies. I find myself drawn to sandwich cookies, and I'm not quite sure why that's the case. At first I thought it was because sandwich cookies are so substantial. I mean one sandwich cookie is really two cookies smashed together with a delactible filling peeking out between the cookies (in the case with these cookies the filling isn't really peeking out, it's oozing out!). Another thought is that sandwich cookies are an example of a very simple method (using a tasty concoction to stick two cookies together) that often produces a rather show-stopping result (visually and gastronomically).While making these cookies this holiday season, I've come up with yet another possible explanation for my affinity for sandwich cookies. It boils down to this - you always want what you can't have. In the '80's, Oreos were made with lard. Good o'l fashioned pig fat. That made them null and void in my household due to dietary restrictions. That meant, if we wanted to eat chocolate sandwich cookies, we were forced to opt for Hydrox. I realize that there's a huge fan base out there for the now discontinued Hydrox, but no matter how many of those suckers I ate, I just knew that they weren't as phenomenal as Oreos (I actually didn't know because I couldn't eat the lard Oreos, but my nine-year-old instincts told me that Hydrox just fell short). I finally beheld the chance to test my instincts when, in the '90's, Oreos replaced the lard with vegetable fat. My gut instinct was right - Hydrox had nothing on Oreos. Thus, my love affair with sandwich cookies began (or at least that's my hypothesis as of right now).

On with the recipe for Chocolate Candy Cane Cookies. The recipe is from the December 2005 issue of Bon Appetite, and can be found here. I made these (six dozen of them) for the 2009 Mother Daughter Cookie Exchange. They were a big hit, but hey, who could resist chocolate- peppermint-sandwich cookies rolled in crushed candy canes? Only the Grinch!

One of the biggest bonuses of this recipe is that the cookies are drop cookies (no rolling and cutting dough). I used a handy ice cream scoop. Then used my fingers to flatten the cookies. Next time I'll use the bottom of a drinking

glass to flatten the cookies because my fingers left a

bit of an indentation!

Crushing the candy canes was much more of a challenge than I thought. I found that placing them in a freezer-grade zip top bag (freezer-grade works best because it's thicker) then using a rolling pin and some good old elbow grease is the most efficien

t way to crush them.

Here they are, sandwiched together, rolled in the candy canes, ready to be devoured.