I’ll Meet You at the Bridge: Chocolate Angel Food Cake

It has taken me several months to write this post, partly for lack of free time, but I think mostly because I’m still in denial. In October, I had to say goodbye to one of my very best friends in the world, Dorie. 

I’ve written about Dorie before, she was my parents’ Flatcoated Retriever. Dorie was my special girl, but she was special in her own special way. She wasn’t like my other best friend Flatcoats, Buck or Sage, who were both very outwardly affectionate, loved to cuddle and weren’t shy about sharing their love with you. Dorie didn’t like to cuddle. She’d jump into bed with you, but would only stay as long as you didn’t move. At the slightest toe wiggle or gentle inhale, she’d bolt. And if you tried to hug her, she’d pull away, shifting all of her weight into the weakest point of your embrace, hoping to break the link and run free.

But she’d melt your heart with her loving stares. We’d be sitting in the living room at night watching TV and all of a sudden I’d get that feeling that someone was looking at me. I’d look up and catch Dorie staring straight at me with a focused and intent look, as if she were trying to connect with me telepathically. But I didn’t need some form of extrasensory perception to know what she was trying to say. I could feel it in my bones. It was the kind of stare that brings tears to your eyes and gives you goose bumps. She was sending love, a love so deep and pure that a mere glance from her would send a shockwave of bliss rippling through you long after the connection between your eyes was broken. Dorie didn’t need a physical touch to express her affection, she just needed her eyes. 

Sage, Dorie & Nell

Last year was a very hard year for my parents. Of their three Flatcoats, they lost two. Sage’s death rocked us all to the core. Anyone who is an animal lover and has lost a best friend will truly understand the depth of that pain. But we weren’t the only ones affected by his loss. Dorie suffered too. Sage was her best friend. 

Sage & Dorie

We weren’t the only recipients of those loving stares, Sage got them also. You could read  the look in her eyes with stark certainty – with all of us close to her, all was right in the world and she was truly in her own utopia. But when Sage was gone, a piece of her was missing, an important, foundational piece. And without it, Dorie just couldn’t survive.

She died 5 months to the day after Sage.

Dorie’s cause of death was tumors that ruptured in her chest. But my mom swears – and I agee – that Dorie truly died of a broken heart. Love is a powerful thing. When we have it, we feel invincible. When we are separated from it, we will move mountains to be reunited. Sometimes, however, we take it for granted. We believe it will always be there and instead of being constantly celebrated, it gets lost in the shuffle of life and tucked away, like a once-treasured item from our childhood that gets packed in a box and put into storage. Losing Dorie and Sage has taught me a lesson to stay rooted in the moment, enjoy every second we have together, because things change and sometimes we don’t get the chance to pull those boxes out of storage and rekindle the excitement for the things we packed into them.

 

 

Dorie & Sage

This February marked my 8-year anniversary of moving to Minnesota. I love the home I’ve made for myself here, but I am also still very homesick – some days more than others. The arrival of Lucy in our lives has made it immensely harder for me to be six long hours away from my family. In the past eight years, I have sought so much comfort in knowing that when I arrive home I will be greeted at the door by three very enthusiastic barking, jumping dogs that are ecstatic to see me (two of them were at least. The third, well, she only has eyes for my dad). Immediately upon arrival, I would be covered in slobber, have dirt streaks down my pants in the faint form of a smeared dog foot and red scratches on my stomach from Dorie’s nails as she desperately tried to be the first one to greet me. Every time I left, I would fall into Dorie and Sage with huge hugs. Sage loved every second of it and grunted his pleasure. Dorie endured it, but I secretly think she savored those moments as much as I did. Now, however, when I go home, it’s quiet. Until, of course, my parents see Lucy and shout out their enthusiastic hellos or Lucy sees Nell, the remaining Flatcoat, and squeals out her delight at seeing a dog (it doesn’t matter that the dog doesn’t care to see her). There is no slobber. My pants stay clean a little longer. My stomach no longer bears the temporary tattoo of a dog’s deep and true love. I will never forget the last time I said goodbye to Dorie. I held onto her as tight as I could and she let me. Maybe she knew it would be our last goodbye. I cried. I held her, told her I loved her and I cried. Maybe, deep down, I knew it would be our last goodbye too. 

When I searched through the box for a recipe that would be fitting for my sweet girl, I knew exactly which section to look in first. When she had her surgery and we almost lost her in 2010, I made angel food cupcakes. So for this post, I knew I had to do a similar recipe and I chose to make a Chocolate Angel Food Cake. I love these cakes, they’re so easy to make and dependably delicious. Plus, there are so many ways to dress up their flavor, either by making it sweeter with a chocolate drizzle and whipped cream or the “healthier” option of covering them in fruit. I decided to keep it simple – a chocolate cake with a dollop of whipped cream. It was one of my absolute favorite recipes in the box and I think it was a very serendipitous choice for this post.

I thought of Dorie as I pulled ingredients from the cupboard, as I cracked each egg and measured out 1 1/3 cup of egg whites, as I stirred the fluffy batter, and while the cake cooled upside-down in the Bundt pan. Ironically, when it was time to remove the cake from the pan, I lifted it, patted the bottom and watched as it fell out onto the cooling rack and broke in half. Very serendipitous indeed. 

Even after sitting down and writing this post, I’m still in denial. I have this hope deep down in my heart that maybe the next time I go home, I’ll learn it was all just a bad dream and Dorie will be there to greet me at the front door with Sage. She’ll stain my pants and scratch my stomach. Then we’ll run outside and I’ll watch her dig holes under her favorite tree, fish for frogs in the pond, and eat the decorative grasses in my mom’s garden. She’ll bark at me when I’m not following fast enough. I’ll smile – a smile that goes straight from my face to my heart. And she’ll stare back at me – her loving stare that goes straight to my bones and makes me confident that all is right with the world because we are together. But sadly, I have to admit to myself that that is a dream that will never come true. Instead I need to find solace in the fact that Dorie has been reunited with her best friend, Sage, and her mother, Bonnie. They all met up at the Rainbow Bridge and together, they’re digging holes, fishing and eating grass. Watch out frogs, Dorie is an amazing hunter. 

Dorie, I miss you more than words can say. You will always be with me – always – deep inside my bones. Goodbye my sweet, sweet girl. Goodbye for now…until we meet again at the bridge. 

When Autumn Won’t Let Go: Apple Turnovers

Last January, when we brought Lucy home from the hospital, the wind chill was 25 below zero. I never truly despised winter until that moment, when I had to step into the piercing cold with my brand new baby girl. Every piece of the car creaked and cracked in the cold on the drive home and I think it took the entire 20-minute trip for the engine to completely thaw out.

But this year, we’ve had a very temperate winter. Back in October, the meteorologists started saying, “Enjoy this weather folks, it will be the last nice weekend of the year.” Up until a couple of weeks ago, they were still staying that. We’ve been seeing temperatures in the 40s and even a few 50s all the way into January. For those of us who were seriously considering packing our bags and moving south last winter, it’s pretty nice. But for those who are longing to pull their skis out of the closet, go sledding, or are ready to drill a hole into the ice and go fishing, it hasn’t been a good season.

In honor of the lingering autumn weather, I made a fall favorite: Apple Turnovers. Topped with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream, these delicious pockets of molten cinnamon apple are the ideal combination of hot and cold – a perfect complement to our unseasonably warm weather. Lucy’s new favorite treat is apple slices, so she was able to enjoy the pre-cooked ingredient, while Ryan and I savored the sweet and soothing finished product. Without looking at the calendar, one bite of these and a glance out the window would make you think it’s time to start carving pumpkins and planning a Thanksgiving menu rather than exchanging Valentine cards.

For Lucy’s first birthday, we gazed across our bare, brown backyard and reminisced about the weather one year ago – bitter cold, three feet of snow on the ground, near constant will chill advisories. Maybe you’ll get to go sledding on snow next year, Lucy, instead of dry grass and piles of leftover autumn leaves. But remember to enjoy this nice weather, because this still is winter in Minnesota and it just might be the last nice weekend of the season. 

December Birthday Cake of the Month: Peppermint Candy Cake

Do you remember the Birthday Cake of the Month card? The last cake I posted was from November 2010 when I announced I was pregnant and starting a new job. I can hardly believe that was over a year ago. I only had two cakes left to go and sadly, that December and January were a little hectic and the cakes were never made. So this year, I dug the card back out and made the first of the last two cakes: Peppermint Candy Cake. And in true Found Recipe Box fashion, it ended up being the perfect recipe for the situation.

Last December, all through the month, I kept thinking that I needed to make the birthday cake of the month. I remember checking the card and seeing “Christmas Package Cake” in black type. In my mind, I thought of all the fun ways I could decorate the cake, all of the different adornments I could add to make it a truly tempting package to tear into. But December came and went and the cake was never made.

At various times throughout the past year, it would pop back into my mind. “In December,” I thought to myself, “I get to decorate a cake to look like a beautiful present!” And again the list of colors and bows and fancy gift tags would float around in my mind. I thought back to the Queen of Hearts Cake and the Merry-Go-Round Cake and made a mental list of ways I could incorporate different artistic styles.

Finally, December arrived. I pulled out the card, grabbed the New Party Cakes for All Occasions booklet, turned to page 19 and…it wasn’t there. The cake inside the package was supposed to be a jam cake. I flipped though each page of the booklet, but never came across the jam cake. I looked again, read each recipe title carefully. Nothing. So I flipped back to page 19 and was treated to a nice surprise. Instead of a jam cake, there was something much more delicious and appropriate for the holiday season in its place: a Peppermint Candy Cake.

While I was crushing up candy canes to sprinkle into the batter, I kept thinking of the Chocolate Roll Cake and my mom’s variation, which will always be an absolute favorite of mine. She put crushed peppermints into the whipped cream center of the cake, giving it just a hint of Christmas flavor and a slight crunch with each bite. Lucy watched as I slowly turned the red and white canes into small chunks and powder. I wonder, when she’s older, what recipes will remind her of me. Sadly, I don’t think it will be this one. 

Once the cake was completed and decorated, we dug in for our first taste.

Immediately I noticed the consistency. It wasn’t the soft, moist bite I was expecting. Instead it was dense and a little crumbly. I’ve been told that the ratios of ingredients on some of these older recipes need to be adjusted a bit. Perhaps if I play around with it, I can soften the cake up (here’s another example of chemistry coming back to haunt me!). Because with just a little more moisture and maybe a few extra candy cane pieces thrown in, this just might be a cake that Lucy would remember well into her adulthood. And it fit perfectly with the lesson I’ve been reminded of again and again the past few years. Sometimes we hit bumps in the road, whether it is something as major as unemployment or as simple as a recipe missing from the page or a dry cake. Regardless, we just need to stay focused, make a few adjustments and move forward. Of course, typing those words out are much easier than applying them to real life sometimes, but when the prize for all that hard work is a delicious piece of Peppermint Candy Cake, it makes the tough road ahead a little easier to follow. 

If anyone has any suggestions on how to moisten the cake or adjust the ratios of the ingredients, let me know!

First Tastes: Baked Sweetbreads and Mushrooms

 

When I started this project, my goal was to make every recipe in the box, take pictures, taste it, and then write a story about it. I was excited because it would push the limits of my comfort zone and force me to try new things. I thought this was a great idea – until I came across the card for Baked Sweetbreads and Mushrooms.

I knew I had heard the term “sweetbread” before, but I couldn’t remember the exact definition. My sweet tooth began conjuring images of cake with chocolate fudge drizzled – no poured – all over it. But there was this nagging voice of reason giggling in the back of my mind telling me that my fantasy was about to be destroyed. Somewhere deep in my memory vault was the definition of sweetbreads, but it was too chicken to reveal itself. So I enlisted the help of Google to discover the truth…and immediately amended my goal for the blog.

I found a few variations on the definition, but basically sweetbreads are the thymus glands or pancreas of veal, beef, lamb and pork. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, then you know I’m no Andrew Zimmern. This pushes the limits of my comfort zone a little too far and I’m just not brave enough to purchase these supposed delicacies, let alone bake them and put them in my mouth. But a recent commercial on TV sparked an idea for a different theme for this post.

If you’ve been watching NBC recently, then you’ve probably heard that they’ve resurrected the show Fear Factor, one of the original “reality” shows and probably one of the first places on American TV where people subjected themselves to horrifying stunts, such as eating live bugs or animal eyeballs, for a shot at a large chunk of prize money.

Thinking back to those early episodes of the show, when it was such a revolutionary idea to make people eat disgusting things for money, made me ponder the idea of “first tastes.” Lucy is starting to eat real food now and it’s fun to watch her reaction to different foods. 

Lucy's first taste of rice cereal -- this picture makes me crack up every time I see it.

 Everything is new – the texture, the smell, the taste – and everything needs to be examined thoroughly before it’s allowed to slip past her two teeth and down her throat. It’s been so long that I’ve tried something completely new that I’ve forgotten that feeling of hesitation and apprehension. She first pokes the item with her finger. If it is squishy and sticky, such as a banana, then it’s quickly rejected and sent to the floor for the dog to eat. If it is bread or something crunchy, like a cracker, then it’s carefully picked up and tentatively placed just inside her lips. And if it passes the test, then it’s gobbled up. Her little fingers work together furiously to grab as many pieces as possible and shovel them into her open mouth. Fortunately, the combination of her zeal and lack of coordination sends most of the pieces to her lap so she doesn’t choke on them. 

My little Irish lass gobbling down potatoes at McGuire's Irish Pub in Pensacola, FL.

Lucy’s a pretty adventurous eater. Aside from her aversion to certain textures, there really isn’t too much she won’t eat, or at least try. But I wonder if even she would be brave enough to try sweetbreads. Watching her explore the world has already rekindled so much in me that has lain dormant for way too long. Maybe I should take a lesson from her and give some new foods a try. But instead of taking the plunge and starting with sweetbreads, I think I’ll wade in and give Brussels sprouts a try instead. Does anyone have any good recipes to share?

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 Forever Friend: Frozen Lemon Dessert

 The week before Memorial Day, my family had to say a very unexpected goodbye to a very special friend. My parents’ dog Sage lost his brief, but heroic battle against an illness – whose cause is still undetermined – only days before I returned home for the holiday weekend.

Ever since I was a baby, my family has always had a dog. And during that time, we’ve had some incredible dogs, the kinds of dogs that easily transcend from being the family pet to a member of the family. Every one of them left a paw print on my heart, but there are a few who were so special, there’s no other way to describe them than as a “forever friend.”

I already introduced you to one of those special dogs, Buck, who was our very first Flactcoated Retriever. Well, Sage (also a Flatcoat), was another one of those dogs. When he fell ill, I kept the highest of hopes that he’d recover quickly so he could keep spreading his special kind of joy to the world. But when I heard from my parents that he had lost his valiant fight, I was in shock. I couldn’t believe I’d never bury my face in his soft ears again, never hear him “woo woo” at me when I walked in the door, never cuddle up next to him, scratch his head and literally feel him radiate happiness. Sage, like Buck, was the kind of dog who not only left a paw print on your heart, but also a gaping hole in it when he left. He was one of those dogs who was truly man’s best friend – a friend you’d long to see at the end of a rough day, a friend who would make all your worries wash away, a friend who you’d remember forever. I still get a pang of sadness when I think about Buck. And I know it will be the same years from now when I remember Sage.

You didn’t have to be a dog lover to appreciate how special Sage was; even people who weren’t all that fond of flying clumps of dog hair, sloppy kisses or barking loved that dog. There was something about him that just changed the mood in the air when he walked into a room. It was as if he had special powers and could just emanate happiness (for all you Twilight fans, he was basically like Jasper and had the power to change your mood). And you couldn’t help but chuckle when you watched him clumsily run across the yard – his legs flailing about, ears flapping in the wind, tongue hanging out and a look of childlike giddiness spread across his face. Graceful he was not, but that dog truly knew how to enjoy life.

So when I dove into the box in search of a recipe to make in his honor, I knew it had to be something pretty special. It took some digging, but I eventually found the perfect dish: Frozen Lemon Dessert. This worked on several levels.

First, one of Sage’s favorite treats was ice cubes. Not because he liked to eat them, but because his favorite pastime was making a mess and next to tearing up Kleenex or digging holes in the yard, these proved to be perfect tools for accomplishing his goal. Whenever he got one, he’d carry it into the dining room and chew it into pieces, which he then left to melt on the floor. You’d think we’d learn to stop giving the dog ice cubes right? Not when you saw the look of pure bliss on his face as he bounded off with the coveted treat tucked into his lips. How can you deny him such happiness?

So the fact that it was a frozen dessert was a perfect choice for Sage. Second, he was the sweetest dog I’ve ever met. Honestly. He could turn even the bitterest moment into something heartwarming. And that’s just what this dessert did to the lemons. On their own, lemons make your mouth pucker and choke, but mix them with a little sugar and whipped cream and your lips curl right into a bright smile.

This is a pretty simple dessert to make and doesn’t take much time at all. I only made one change and used graham crackers for the crust instead of the vanilla wafers. After a short time in the freezer, it was ready to serve. Each bite filled me with warm memories of Sage and left a cool hint of lemon on my tongue. It was the perfect way to honor his memory. As a tribute to him, I even thought about leaving chunks of ice cubes on the floor, but the warm temperatures would have quickly melted my memorial and left only a big mess to clean up. And that just isn’t as much fun to do when Sage wasn’t the one who made it.

Murphy agrees that this is the perfect tribute to Sage

I miss you so much, Mr. Sage. I still can’t believe you’re gone. I keep hoping to wake up from this terrible dream and hear you in the background when I’m talking to mom and dad on the phone chewing your squeaky ball and annoying the bejesus out of everyone within ear shot (he could chew those obnoxious toys for hours and never get bored, it’s amazing he didn’t go deaf).

Sage and his favorite squeeky ball

But as I said when Buck died, life can be cruel sometimes and insanely unfair. Such a sweet life certainly didn’t deserve such a tragic and untimely end. You touched many lives though, and your love lives on in all of us, especially my sweet Dorie who I know misses you more than any of us. You will always be my friend, Sage, forever and ever.

Sage & Dorie

A Reduced Menu: Sweet Potato Recipes

 

 Lucy recently turned three months old (I still can’t believe it) and during that time, we’ve faced many feeding issues. She lost a lot of weight after coming home from the hospital and had to go straight back in to see the doctor. We learned that she wasn’t getting enough to eat and we had to start supplementing her meals with formula. Once that was figured out, she began to spit up. Then the spit up became more significant. The doctor thought she may have a food intolerance and suggested I begin by eliminating dairy from my diet. Easy enough right? I quickly learned that dairy is not only in a lot of my favorite foods (pizza, pasta dishes, sweets, etc…) but also food items I never imagined contained milk (bread, crackers, and some lunch meat for example). After some internet research, I found several great resources that provided lists of dairy-free food products and was able to easily change my menu. And I’ve even been able to indulge on some sweets. Did you know that Oreos don’t contain dairy? Neither does Pillsbury’s sugar cookie dough. I can still have warm cookies straight from the oven!

After a few weeks, Lucy was better, but was still having occasional bouts of heavy spit up. The doctor then recommended that I try the elimination diet, which basically cuts out any possible allergen. For a week and a half, I ate nothing more than chicken, pears, potatoes, squash, rice and water. I was miserable, but Lucy felt great. I slowly started to add things back in to determine what was disagreeing with her. I am still dairy-free, but have not been able to positively identify any other triggers. It can be extremely difficult to see such a tiny little body heave out such exceptionally massive amounts of liquid. The other morning, 15 minutes before I needed to leave for work, she expelled an impressive arc of stomach contents that left her, me and the floor completely soaked. She got a bath, I took a second shower and the floor got a quick mop-down. But through it all, Lucy never stopped smiling.

Although eliminating dairy wasn’t as difficult as I originally imagined, I am still looking forward to the day when she is able to tolerate it again (I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this is a temporary issue and not an actual allergy). I really miss pizza. And chocolate. And a glass of milk with dinner. And when I dug into the Found Recipe Box for recipes to post on the blog, I realized how many of them listed milk or butter as a main ingredient. There was one, however, that stood out right away and I knew I needed to post it as a tribute to my stint on the elimination diet: sweet potato recipes. There are a few variations listed on the card, but I chose the glazed sweet potatoes. They resemble thick-cut baked sweet potato fries. It didn’t take long for the house to fill with the delicious aroma of the beautiful orange tuber baking with brown sugar…and smoke. I had placed the potato slices onto parchment paper in a metal baking dish. The paper, though, didn’t fit the entire bottom of the dish. Some of the glaze slid off the paper and onto the metal where it began to bubble and burn and turn into a material that resembled black Hawaiian lava rock. Thankfully it was nothing that a quick soak in soapy, hot water couldn’t fix.

Once the smoke had cleared and we were able to sit down to dinner, we dug into the sweet potatoes and discovered they were delicious! In honor of the elimination diet, we also had squash, but swapped out the chicken for tilapia. The best part of this meal, though, was that it was in celebration of my very first Mother’s Day. This day has always been special because of how much my own mother means to me. But this year, as I gazed into the bright blue eyes of my beautiful baby girl, it gained a whole new meaning. Thank you Lucy and Ryan for making my very first Mother’s Day so incredibly special!

I found several other recipes in the box that are dairy-free so I hope to have more to post soon. Otherwise, I guess I’ll just have to make the recipes for cakes and pies and give them away. Luckily, I think I know a few people who wouldn’t mind receiving the gift of a fresh-baked cake.