A Sweet New Beginning: Crepe Suzettes

 I don’t think that it’s any big surprise that the book “Julie and Julia” by Julie Powell was a big inspiration for my blog. Ironically I read it right before I stumbled upon The Found Recipe Box at an antique show. I immediately connected with Julie for many reasons, but mainly because she was at a point in her life when she felt lost and was facing some big life decisions. At the time I was unemployed and Ryan and I had put our plans for the future on hold, including starting a family. It felt like someone had pushed the pause button on our lives.

But reading Julie’s book helped. She wrote about her situation with blunt honesty and humor. She creatively worked her way through a challenging time and accomplished huge goals that she had set for herself. I felt empowered and encouraged as I turned the pages of her book and when the little lost recipe box came into my possession; I knew it wasn’t by chance. However, when I contemplated starting the blog, I didn’t want to just copy what Julie had already done. I wanted to take those recipes and share my own stories. And I didn’t want to set a timeframe in which to complete the project.

Well, here I am, three years later, and still nowhere near completion. But that doesn’t matter because I’m not giving up. Life has changed a lot in the past three years: I’m working full time and I have a beautiful little girl who gets all of my attention during our waking hours together – and she is at that age where she is constantly exploring and into EVERYTHING so my eyes rarely stray far away from her general vicinity. This leaves little time to do much else other than make dinner, do laundry, clean and pass out. 

The newest little cook in the kitchen: Chef Lucy

But once again, I find myself in search of a connection. I found work after two years of unemployment, but it was a huge step back from where I was and I’m not even in the same field. There are days when it’s easy to get overwhelmed by the stress of barely getting by. Once again, we feel as though our lives are on pause. It reminds me of the summers we used to spend in Florida visiting my mom’s family when I was a kid. My dad, brothers and I would swim in the Gulf of Mexico together and would challenge ourselves to tread water as long as we could. We’d paddle out until we couldn’t touch, then beat our arms and legs against the current and constant waves until our muscles burned and we felt as though we’d sink. Then, just before our tired appendages gave out on us, we’d let go and float on our backs, letting the salt water hold our exhausted bodies up until we were ready to dive back in.

I’m ready to dive back in. And once again, I’m looking to Julie for inspiration.

I rarely re-read books. In fact, I think the only book I’ve ever read more than once is “To Kill A Mockingbird,” (my all-time favorite). But I’ve started reading “Julie and Julia” again and already feel like I’m sitting down to lunch with a very close friend who I haven’t seen in many years. There is a quote from the book that I underlined the first time I read it and have gone back to re-read several times already:

“So that night I made my New Year’s resolution, better late than never: To Get Over My Damned Self. If I was going to follow Julia down this rabbit hole, I was going to enjoy it, by God – exhaustion, crustacean murder, and all. Because not everyone gets a rabbit hole. I was one lucky bastard, when you came down to it.”

Julie Powell

Luckily, I have not had to experience the crustacean murder, but I can relate to what she’s saying here and she’s right, not everyone gets a rabbit hole. And I’m so very, very thankful that I am one of the lucky few who do.

When I made the spreadsheet of all the recipes in the box, I tagged a few that I would like to make and dedicate to Julie Powell for her inspiration. And I’m honored to post one of those recipes now: Crepes Suzettes. Crepes were one of the recipes Julie struggled with and, after lots and lots of practice, eventually mastered. After making these, I can completely understand her frustration with the delicious little devils – they are nearly impossible to flip! After several attempts, I ran out of batter and had to give up, but regardless of how mutilated my poor little crepe was, it was still heavenly to eat.

Not quite round, but it works

 I did make a slight change to the recipe, however. We were at a festival this summer and saw banana/Nutella crepes and the combination had been swimming in my head ever since, so I had to try them. If you get a chance to taste these, don’t pass it up. They are truly divine. 

Crepe Suzettes (with bananas, Nutella and whipped cream)

So thank you Julie, for having the courage to share your story. I know that’s not easy. But hopefully you know how much that means to all of us out there looking for the right ingredients to turn this little thing called life into a delectable five-star meal.

And I also want to give a special thank you to all of you who have stuck with me through this journey. It means the world to me to have you share in this adventure and I love hearing your stories! So thank you, thank you, thank you! Hang in there, we have a long way to go. 

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder: Waffles

 When Ryan and I started dating, we lived six hours apart. There was a lot of time spent on the phone or driving to see one another. But all that time away just made the moments we got to be together that much more special. Often times we’d pick a place in the middle and meet there for a long weekend. And there was one thing we always looked forward to during those trips…waffles (that’s not what you thought I was going to say, was it?).

We loved to find the hotels that offered not only a free continental breakfast, but one which included a “make your own waffle” station – with the batter pre-measured into little paper Dixie cups that could be easily poured into a piping hot waffle iron. In the morning, we’d patiently wait our turn to choose just the right cup of batter, then listen to it sizzle and pop as we carefully spread the thick liquid evenly through the channels of the iron. Smiles spread across our faces as the smell of cooking waffles slowly drifted up to our noses. At the sound of the timer, we’d pry our breakfast out with a plastic fork, drop it onto a paper plate and carry it to our table where we’d sit and enjoy our “home cooked” meal.

It’s not that they were the best waffles I’d ever eaten – most of the time they were mediocre at best, hardly better than their frozen cousins. It was what they represented that made them so special. Eating those waffles meant that I was spending time with Ryan, something I only got to do a few hours a month. They became part of our routine, something that’s hard to establish when you see each other infrequently and each time it’s in a different place. But it was a routine nonetheless.
After a year and a half of dating long distance, we decided it was time to save some gas money and move closer to each other. And the rest is history. But those waffles never lost their special meaning. We still seek them out at hotels when we’re traveling. It’s as if they are a talisman that we cling to, reminding us of where we started and how far we’ve come. Over the years, we even got a waffle iron of our own. We’ve tried several waffle batter variations, but they never seem to be the same as the ones in the hotels. So we were excited to find a recipe in the box that we could put to the test.

Sadly, we weren’t too impressed with this recipe. The consistency was a little runny and the waffles were thin and limp. But, because of the baby and money being tight from unemployment, we haven’t traveled much in the past few years. So when that familiar sizzling sound hit our ears and the enticing smell of batter cooking on a hot iron drifted into our noses, we felt “home” again. It’s true what they say, absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

Before I began this project, I never imagined that I would miss being in the kitchen  making a mess with flour all over the counters, swearing at boiled icing, or waiting to see if the cake I pull from the oven will be light and fluffy or hard and caved in. But in those moments between the time when Lucy finally falls asleep and when my body gives into the exhaustion and passes out, my mind carries me back to the same thought time and time again: I miss writing and cooking. I miss them the same way I used to miss Ryan after  we’d packed our bags at the hotel on Sunday afternoon, each driving away in opposite directions.

There are things that are just a part of who we are. A long time ago, I learned that I am a “writer.” It’s deep in my soul. No matter what I do, nothing will ever change that. It doesn’t matter if I ever get published or if anyone else reads what I’ve written, I need to feel the soft glide of ink across paper, get a cramp in my hand when my body can’t write fast enough to keep up with my excited mind, or listen to the tip tap of my fingers as they type out thoughts on the keyboard. There have been times in my life when writing and I have taken a vacation apart from each other, but we’ve always come back. We are like lovers who see each other on opposite ends of the beach and run, almost in slow motion, towards each other until we slam against one another in a tight embrace, as if we are trying to fuse our bodies into one so that we may never be separated again.

Only now, I’ve come to realize that cooking, too, has entered that embrace. As I stare at my lonely kitchen utensils and realize it has been months since I’ve made a Found Recipe Box recipe and posted it on the blog, I get that pang deep in my gut and long for an afternoon in the kitchen.

Lucy just turned six months old. I can’t believe it. Everyone said it would go by fast, but I never imagined time could move this quickly.

She’s getting so grown up already and insists that she’s a big girl. I want to freeze time and enjoy each precious moment for as long as I can. But I also can’t wait for the day when she can join me in the kitchen. I love to watch her interact with the world. She’s so inquisitive and pays close attention to everything around her – I think she’ll catch onto baking quickly. And someday, I’ll pull out the waffle iron and teach her how to prepare her own batch of batter, all the while regaling her with stories of all the adventures her mom and dad went on…after their fulfilling breakfast of fresh-made waffles, of course. Hopefully by then we’ll have perfected the recipe, finding just the right blend to recreate those thick, flavorful hotel waffles.

A Lifelong Love For Animals: Pancakes

Father’s Day is today and I immediately knew which recipe I wanted to make in honor of my dad (besides the Hunter Dan Marble Loaf Cake, of course) – pancakes. When my brothers and I were kids and it was my dad’s turn to make dinner, we always had one special meal: animal pancakes. He’d spread pancake batter over the griddle into random shapes and we’d all hover around trying to decide which animal he’d brought to life. It was kind of like watching stories being told in the clouds as they drift across the summer sky.

A Lesson From “Leave It”: Raisin Scones

I am not a huge fan of breakfast. A glass of milk stirred together with Carnation Instant Breakfast will usually suffice. I typically only eat a full morning meal when I stay with my parents (my mom makes the best morning feasts!). But since I’ve been trying to get back into running, I’ve needed to find something to fill my stomach and give me a little extra boost of energy in the morning. I found a recipe for homemade granola in the Everyday Food magazine that I am absolutely in love with. I put it over plain, non-fat yogurt with banana slices and top it all off with a drizzle of honey. Yum!

Before I had too many consecutive granola-breakfast mornings and got burned out on my new favorite food, I turned to the box for some inspiration on how to change up my morning routine. My search led me to Raisin Scones. Although they are not the healthiest morning meal, scones are a nice treat that I love to give myself every once in a while. I’ve noticed, however, that a truly great scone can be hard to come by and sadly, this recipe was an example of that.

I’m not sure if it was the combination of buttermilk and nutmeg that I didn’t enjoy or if it was because I swapped Craisins for raisins and the taste didn’t mix well with the nutmeg, but these weren’t my favorite. I was pleased to discover though, that scones are a lot easier to make than I imagined. Now I just need to find a better recipe. Perhaps I’ll come across one in a recipe box yet to be discovered (I’ve acquired two more recipe boxes from antique stores, but there isn’t a scone recipe in either one). 

Another morning routine that needs some adjusting is my workout. I had a pretty decent schedule of going to the gym in the morning, but then the weather got nice and I felt guilty leaving Murphy at home. So I’ve been passing on the gym and have been taking him for walks instead. “Walk” is a term I use loosely here, because honestly, our morning jaunts have absolutely no redeeming athletic quality whatsoever. Murphy, being a retriever and a male dog, has his nose attached to the ground throughout the entire route, raising his head only to watch squirrels play or plan an ambush when a cat dares to cross his path. He stops to smell everything – trees, stop signs, piles of leaves – then lifts his leg on each to claim it as the property of His Highness, Sir Murphy of Minnesota (90%  of the time he’s lifting his leg, but there’s nothing coming out to label the spot as his). I spend most of the walk pulling on his leash and telling him to “leave it.” I swear that the people in my neighborhood think that’s my dog’s name. I keep reminding him that I’m trying to walk all the way to France and it’s going to take a long time to get there if we smell every lamppost along the way. He doesn’t seem to care.

He’ll pick up the pace for a few blocks, enough to raise my heart rate and get me excited about finally finding a good rhythm, but then he feigns exhaustion, stops, and looks at me as if he’s about to collapse. Anyone who comes across us at this point must think we’ve walked about 20 miles and that I’m being inhumane to make him go on. Little do they know that this dramatic display typically begins as early as the end of the driveway…at the beginning of the walk. I lean down, cuddle him up, urge him to go on and start the countdown: “Only three more blocks, Murphy. Come on, you can do it!”

But this act never fools me, because I know that as soon as we make it back home and I turn him loose in the yard, he’ll run around like crazy. Usually he runs in circles as fast as he can with a squeaky toy in his mouth, biting hard enough so that everyone in a five mile radius can hear that, yes, Murphy made it home safely from his walk. Maybe I should just skip the walk and join him for laps in the backyard. I’d have to pass on the squeaky toy though. Maybe this is his way of helping me get to France. Maybe he’s trying to tell me that sometimes, in order to make progress, you need to go off course and try something different. It might be like combining buttermilk, Craisins and nutmeg: a good attempt, but it falls a little short of the goal. But other times, what might seem crazy, such as running in circles in the backyard, just might be the ticket to get you to where you want to go. Because if you run enough laps, pretty soon you’ve run a mile…then two…then three, etc… To my neighbors, it might appear a little odd. But Murphy doesn’t care, he’s running like no one is watching. And what do they know anyway, they think his name is Leave It (well, except for the ones who live close enough to hear me yell “Murphy NO!” when he’s digging holes).  

Christmas Recap: Eggnog French Toast & Chilled Christmas Punch

 

 

 

I hope everyone had a great holiday season! My husband and I made the trip down to Illinois for Christmas. The weather caused us to change our travel plans a bit and added about two hours to the drive down, but we arrived safe and sound and had a wonderful Christmas with my family.

Life has been a little crazy the past few weeks so I’m a bit behind on posts. I have a couple of recipes from before Christmas, but I wanted to get these two posted since they’re relevant to the season. Christmas is my favorite time of year. I love the music, the traditions, the hunt to find a gift that will make the recipient smile with joy (the crowds in the stores and parking lots I could do without though). But it’s all over too fast. We spend so long preparing for it and in a matter of hours, it’s done. It’s kind of like cooking. Some things require quite a bit of preparation, but once they’re on the table, they don’t last long. Such was the case with the Eggnog French Toast. The preparation wasn’t difficult; in fact, this was one the easiest recipes I’ve made, but it needs to be refrigerated overnight so plan ahead if you want to prepare this for breakfast. Like Christmas, this meal was worth the wait. I am not a fan of eggnog and I loved this French toast. It doesn’t have an overpowering flavoring, but is sweet enough to make you sit back and savor the taste. My family decided this recipe would definitely become a new holiday tradition.

We also fell in love with the Christmas punch. It’s an interesting combination of flavors that is instantly refreshing. There is no alcohol in this punch so it’s great for the whole family, but if you wanted to make it an adult beverage, we all thought either vodka or rum would be a good addition. But be careful, this is one of those drinks that goes down easy so it wouldn’t take long to get pretty tipsy.

Cooking at my parents’ house can be a dangerous endeavor because they have three large dogs that love to be wherever you are. And in the kitchen, this usually means sprawled out on the floor beneath where you’re trying to cook. When you try to step over them, they have a knack for always lifting their heads or standing up as soon as you are precariously positioned above them (typically with a pan of hot food in your hands). They force you to pay attention to what you’re doing and watch every step you take. Not a bad thing when you’re in the kitchen.

The day before we were supposed to leave, flurries turned into a winter storm warning that dropped 10 inches of snow. The dogs had fun searching for toys buried in the snow and we got to witness my dad’s unique double shovel technique for clearing the driveway. But the time finally came to dig out the car, pack it up and head back to Minnesota.

 

Ryan and I kept hoping that someone graciously came over and plowed out our driveway while we were gone. No such luck. Instead, we got home at 11:00pm to a driveway buried beneath a foot of ice-covered snow with a 2-foot berm of solid ice at the end from the snowplow. We parked in the street, dug out a trench, put the car in 4-wheel drive and slid into the garage. The next day we also discovered several large branches from the behemoth pine tree in the back yard had fallen. The entire day was spent shoveling, breaking down branches, and trying to convince Murphy to come inside to warm up his feet (he tried to pick all four feet off the ground at once because they were so cold, but was having too much fun playing in the tree carnage and attacking the shovel monster to go inside).

 

Finally, the lure of his Christmas loot won out and he came inside to play with his new toys. Santa Paws was very good to both Murphy and Chico (he must not have seen the holes in the backyard or in the wall) and they were both overwhelmed with excitement when they opened their presents. Yes, I wrap presents for my pets. If you could have seen the enthusiasm with which each of them tore into their gifts, you’d understand why.

 

After a long day of unpacking and winter yard work, we all passed out before our heads even hit the pillows. Murphy was happy to be home in his own bed without the incessant barking of dogs disturbing the vision of sugar-plums dancing in his head. Another Christmas has come and gone. Soon, the lights will be down, the stockings will be packed up and stored away, and the only thing we’ll be left with is the snow and ice from the Christmas storm. Even though radio stations start playing holiday music the day after Thanksgiving and stores put up their decorations shortly after Halloween, it all goes by too fast. Christmas brings a feeling of joy and a sense of hope that, this year especially, is so important. I find myself staring into the dawn of not only a new year, but a new decade and wonder where it will take me. After nearly a year of unemployment and the recent news that my husband’s company will also be having layoffs in the next few weeks, I’m just not ready to let go of that hope and happiness from the Christmas season. Thursday night, I’ll raise my glass to toast the new year and instead of making resolutions for 2010, I’ll make myself a promise to enjoy every moment. If I’ve learned anything this holiday season, it’s that it all goes by too quickly and we need to enjoy this journey, not rush to get to the destination…whatever that is.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

For Mimi: Swedish Pancakes and Berry Cream (Barkram)

As I was flipping through the recipes when I brought the box home, I came across one that made me stop. It was for Swedish Pancakes. My grandmother has a recipe for Swedish Pancakes that has been a family favorite for as long as I can remember. Every time we’re at a restaurant and see them on the menu, we get an order to see if they’re as good as my grandmother’s. They never are. So when I saw this recipe in the box, I knew it had to be the first one I tried.

The ingredients are the same as my grandmother’s recipe, but the amounts are a little different. For example, there is three times more milk in this one, which caused the consistency to be a lot thinner than what I’m used to. They were really hard to flip and unfortunately, most of my “pancakes” look more like amorphous gelatinous blobs than edible breakfast food. Also, this recipe called for the flour to be sifted. I don’t own a sifter. I used a cheese grater. Not the best solution. Sadly, I don’t think I can blame my non-flipping pancakes on lumpy flour.They were, however, edible and reminded me of crepes (which I hear are also very difficult to flip successfully). Even though they were tasty, Mimi, yours are still my favorite and always will be.

 

 

At the top of the clipping is a recipe for Berry Cream or Barkram (a Swedish dessert). It suggests serving it with cold milk or cream. I chose vanilla ice cream – probably not a very traditional way to serve it, but it was good! I think it would also be good served as a shortcake dessert or with angel food cake. It makes a large quantity so this would be a good dish to bring to a summer picnic or barbeque when berries are in season and plentiful in the grocery store.

There is a tidbit about Swedish wedding traditions on the bottom of the clipping that is very interesting. I also scanned in the back of the clipping because it was part of a letter signed by a woman named Lorene. You only get small snippets of the conversation, but sometimes it’s more fun to fill in the blanks on your own.