Finding Inspiration in Cookies: Springerle

As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve been in a creative rut for quite some time. I stare at my art supplies and all I can do is organize them and put them away. I open a journal and words can’t find their way to the page. I know that the cause of this stress stems from unemployment, but breaking through it is hard to do.

At the beginning of my unemployment, the situation gave me a reason to write. There was so much going on in my head, I had to get it all down to make sense of it. But this coming February will mark my 2-year anniversary of losing my job. I never thought it would last this long. The constant frustration of never hearing back from employers or interviewing and getting excited about the position only to find out I didn’t get an offer has taken its toll. Add to that the negative stigma surrounding the phrase “long-term unemployed” and harsh comments I’ve received about falling into that category have left me feeling scared, discouraged, ashamed and alone. I can’t even find respite in sleep.  Instead of crashing into the pillow and retreating into the crazy dream world behind my eyelids, I lie awake pondering what possessions I can sell to pay the bills, wonder when things will turn around, and try to remember a time when I wasn’t so stressed out.

Writing down my thoughts used to help, but I’ve gotten sick of writing the same worries over and over. I’ve tried filling pages with nothing but words of encouragement, but then a setback will occur and doubt will lodge its destructive-self deep into my head, destroying all the hard work of those positive words. So I pulled out all of my art books for inspiration and turned to the work of my favorite artists to get my mind focused on creativity and hopefulness instead of stress and worry.

In my very first blog post, I mentioned the work of Dan Eldon, who is one of my greatest inspirations. I also spoke of him in my presentation to the Visual Journaling Collective in June. So I began to sift through his journal pages. Then I turned to the work of Keri Smith, another of my favorite artists. She has a book called “How to be an Explorer of the World” that I absolutely love. It is filled with ways to discover the world around you, interact with your surroundings, and truly pay attention to everything you see. She uses a lot of found objects in her work and since acquiring her book a few years ago, I am constantly looking for things, especially when I take walks with Murphy. I have quite a collection of random objects that I’ve discovered throughout our journeys. I also highly recommend her books “Wreck This Journal,” “This is Not a Book,” and “Mess.” Each is a journal with prompts on how to let your creativity go wild. For example, one page instructed me to fill it with dirt. I took one look at my dog who had just dug a hole in my yard and thought, “Perfect!” I ran over, grabbed his foot, wiped it all over the page and presto – art was made! For someone like me who is constantly struggling to “let go of perfect,” this was a big breakthrough. 

The "artist" with his work

Welcoming Autumn: Sugar Cookies

Last night at 10:09pm the seasons officially changed from summer to fall, although, around here it has actually felt like fall for the past few weeks. The temperatures have been dipping into the 40s at night – which would be great sleeping weather if my dog would stop stealing the extra blanket I threw on the bed! And the colors of the leaves are fading fast, creating a layer of camouflage across the back yard the color of a Golden Retriever, perfect for Murphy to hide in while sneaking up on his squirrel enemies and completing his mission of destroying every pinecone that falls in the yard. There are piles of pinecone carnage everywhere.  

Trying to Beat the Heat: Fort Atkinson Gingerbread

August was a hot month in Minnesota. There were several times when our heat index rose to the 100+ degree level. On a couple of those weekends, I was shocked to hear that Ryan’s soccer league wasn’t cancelling games and my super-dedicated husband willingly played in that oppressive heat. At least he’s a goalie so he could hang back and watch as his teammates risked heat stroke for the thrill of the score. Murphy and I played it safe and stayed home, tucked inside in the cool comfort of central air.

I decided to dive into The Found Recipe Box in search of some relief from our summer heat wave. Ironically, I flipped right past all the frozen desserts, the puddings and the fruit recipes and for some reason, was drawn to the gingerbread. There are two recipes for gingerbread in the box and they have always piqued my interest. I’m a huge fan of gingerbread cookies, but have never tasted a loaf of actual gingerbread, so I chose the card for Fort Atkinson Gingerbread and began to gather ingredients.

Learning to Improvise: Oatmeal Cookies

Every so often, I’m reintroduced to the idea of choosing a song as your personal mantra. I love music, it’s a huge part of my life (I have a post I want to write about this, it’s just waiting for the right recipe). And a few weeks ago, it felt as if music was seeking me out to send me a message. I was listening to the radio in the car, which I don’t do too often because I usually listen to my iPod, and a song came on that I haven’t heard in years. It’s one of those songs that immediately transports you back in time and conjures up memories of big hair, summer vacations, and junior high sock hops. But once I sifted through those images, I began to hear the song in a completely different way.

First Public Appearance: Chocolate Joy Cake, Milk Chocolate Cake, Cherry Torte, Swedish Shortbread & Blueberry Muffins

I apologize for the delay in posting my recap of The Found Recipe Box’s first public appearance. It’s been a crazy week and my scanner decided it didn’t want to work for a while!

Last Monday night, I did a presentation about The Found Recipe Box project for the Visual Journaling Collective at the Minnesota Center for Book Arts. There were about 25 people in attendance at the meeting, including two very special guests: my husband and my mom. I got a surprise the week before when I found out my mom would be coming to help me bake and to watch the presentation. She was a huge help in the kitchen and it meant a lot to have her there because there was a lot I had to thank her for (click here to read about how she got me involved in art). 

Celebrating the Arrival of Summer: Spinach Salad & Cornbread

Summer has arrived with a vengeance. Technically, it doesn’t officially begin until the middle of June, but the record-setting high temperatures we had in Minneapolis this week have left everyone agreeing that summer has settled in for the season.

It was too hot to tackle the weeds in the garden so I decided to cook instead. Murphy hates the heat so he stayed curled up on the cool kitchen floor, right in the middle of all the activity. He thought about cooling off in the pool a few times, but as soon as I opened the door and the heat hit him in the face, he turned around and returned to his spot at my feet.

To celebrate summer, I wanted to make a meal complete with all the wonderful treats we get to enjoy this time of year. My goal was to make dishes that didn’t require turning on the oven, but that didn’t happen.

I started with a spinach salad. When I began reading the ingredients on the card, I was intrigued by the combination of flavors in this salad. I never would have thought to combine bacon, oranges and avocado, but I have to say that I was more than pleasantly surprised. This is a refreshing and very tasty mix of flavors and textures. And the dressing is the perfect way to top it all off. I usually make salads with green leaf or romaine lettuce and just add some spinach leaves in, but I loved that this salad was entirely made of spinach. The leaves seem to have more density to them; they feel thicker and more robust than regular lettuce. It reminds me of eating whole wheat bread or whole wheat crackers. There’s just more substance to the bite. 

Dressing for the Spinach Salad

To accompany the salad, I chose to make cornbread. I’m so used to getting the little blue box of Jiffy mix from the store that I feel embarrassed to admit I wasn’t even sure of what goes into making real cornbread. But, as I’ve learned from so many other recipes in this box, it’s really not very complicated at all. And the other benefit of making it from scratch is it tastes SO much better. This cornbread has a full flavor that isn’t overly sweet and makes you mumble “mmmmmm” as you take your first bite. It was a great side dish to serve with the spinach salad.

For dessert, I chose to make a variation of the Tiny Shortbread Tarts. As I mentioned in the original post for these little cookies, I thought fresh raspberries would be a great way to top them off as opposed to the can of pie filling. Now that summer is unofficially here, the price of raspberries is starting to come down so I bought a carton and decided to test my theory. Instead of making the tarts, I patted the dough down into an 8” x 8” pan (which caused the baking time of the original recipe to increase by almost 10 minutes). While that was cooling, I made a cream cheese mixture to spread across the top which consisted of 1 package of cream cheese, ¼ cup sugar and ½ teaspoon of vanilla. Once the cookies were cool, I frosted them with the cream cheese mixture and topped it all off with raspberries. And I was right, it was divine. This variation would work for the tiny tarts as well. 

As I took the last bite of dessert and savored the explosion of fresh raspberry in my mouth, I thought of how much this project has expanded my taste buds and forced me to break out of my comfort zone. As I’ve said before, I’m a picky eater and although I enjoy oranges, bacon and avocado on their own, I never thought I’d be as bold as to throw that odd mixture of flavors into one dish and eat them all together. But, as I learned from my adventure to Canada, it’s good to break our boundaries, to push ourselves a little farther every now and then. Who knows, we may just discover something about ourselves we never would have known had we not taken that leap of faith. Each discovery makes us just a little wiser and just a little stronger. And in addition to broadening our minds, sometimes our discoveries will leave our bellies full of wonderful summer treats as well.

When Life Hands You Lemons…Canadian Road Trip Part II: Lemon Squares

In my last post, I told the first part of the story about our trip to Canada. Only, I never even got to the part where we crossed the border. So now, I’ll pick up where I left off…

Crossing into Canada:

We thought we’d never make it, but after a few mishaps along the way, we were finally leaving US soil and I was using my passport for the very first time.

I wondered how much things would change once we crossed the imaginary line and entered foreign soil. It was the same piece of land, how much different could life be for our neighbors to the north? Surprisingly, quite different in some ways. In others, it was exactly the same. The first thing we noticed was that we had entered into the metric system. Luckily the GPS we were using changed to kilometers and told us our speed so that Ryan didn’t have to decipher it from the little red kilometer lines on the car’s speedometer. And gas was in liters so that required some mental conversions before we knew how much we were paying for a tank of gas. Have I mentioned that I hate math? I let my engineer husband handle the calculations.

The other thing we noticed as we drove down the highway was their street signs. Our favorite was the caution sign with a silhouette of a moose on it and the notice of “Night Danger” posted below. Sadly, we never did see a moose. 

And of course, there was the difference in currency. We had changed money to Canadian before crossing the border. The US dollar that day was worth two cents more than Canadian so we got a little extra money. Yea! And their currency is very similar to ours so there was no confusion there. But their taxes are substantially higher than those in the U.S., especially on beer.

In doing our research into Thunder Bay, we couldn’t decide whether we wanted to stay at a hotel downtown or one a little farther into the wilderness. We opted for the wilderness because we wanted a little peace and quiet. Also, we had read some online reviews for the downtown hotels and were a little afraid of what we’d find. When we finally hobbled up to our hotel, we were glad we made the choice to stay farther outside of town. The hotel was surrounded by a fairly wooded area with a small range of mountains and a pond in the back. Our luck temporarily shifted to our favor because we ended up with a mountain-view room. The room was nothing spectacular, but it was clean and had a sliding door that opened onto a beautiful vista, which we stared at for several minutes before tackling the chore of finding someone to fix a busted tire on a Sunday. A few minutes of searching told us that the smaller local shops were all closed on Sunday, but there were a few bigger chains that would be open and hopefully able to help.

Next, we decided to explore Thunder Bay and find dinner. Pizza and a cold beer was the only thing that sounded good. And with a GPS, we thought finding dinner would be no trouble at all to find. We could not have been more wrong. First, if you’ve never been to Thunder Bay, it’s not a touristy town. It’s very industrial. If you’re familiar with Duluth, MN, I was expecting something similar to that type of area: cute shops and restaurants along the water, a marina area, and beautiful water views. Instead, Thunder Bay has factories occupying the best water real estate and the downtown area is much more run-down and dirtier than Duluth. As we undertook the quest to find a pizza place, we became more and more frustrated. Each location the GPS suggested was either out of business, carry-out only, or really disgusting. We finally found Boston’s Pizza, a local chain that reminded me of a nice Pizza Hut. So far, we were pretty discouraged with our trip, but hoped the next day would be better.

Our main priority for Sunday was to fix the car. Then vacation could begin. The first place we tried said they might be able to fit us in Monday afternoon. That wasn’t going to work. We eventually found a WalMart and they were able to get us an appointment. After waiting for the tire to be evaluated, finding out it couldn’t be fixed and had to be replaced, waiting for installation, losing a credit card at the place we had lunch (thankfully it was found), finding out the car had been done for about half an hour and nobody told us, spending a nice chunk of our vacation fund on a new tire, then spilling a full, hot cup of coffee all over ourselves and the car, we were finally on our way. The first stop: Sleeping Giant Provincial Park.

There is a fascinating story behind this rock giant. It’s too long to tell, but if you click here, you can read about the legend. 

The Sleeping Giant

As I mentioned in the last post, Lake Superior is breathtaking and we wanted to get some nice photographs of the lake. We thought a provincial park would offer the best opportunity for that. Had we been more prepared, it would have. After driving quite some distance away from Thunder Bay, we reached the park and immediately noticed how thick the woods were on this peninsula. The trees were as dense as matted dog hair on either side of the road. Looking into them was nearly impossible, but that didn’t stop the deer from coming crashing out of the trees in front of our car. I swear we saw at least 100 deer on our drive through the park, which made for a very slow ride. But the coolest thing we saw was a wolf running down the side of the road and ducking into the cover of thick foliage. Unfortunately it all happened too quickly for me to take a picture.

We kept waiting for a break in the trees so that we could see the lake. One never appeared. At a gravel parking lot along the road, we pulled over and looked at a map posted on a park sign hoping we’d find access to a scenic overlook or public beach. Instead, we discovered that those things could only be reached by hiking quite some distance through the woods or by the campground area that was currently closed because it was still considered off-season (a term we’d encounter several times throughout the weekend that would alter our entire trip). We considered hiking into the woods until we calculated how long it would take and that we were in no way prepared for a long-distance hike (improperly dressed, no bottles of water, etc…) And after seeing a wolf, we both admitted this wilderness needed to be taken seriously. Neither of us wanted to become those unprepared tourists who get attacked by a bear and end up on the evening news as examples of what you don’t want to do in a Canadian provincial park. So we got back in the car and decided to drive a little farther to see if we could find water.

About ten minutes later, we finally found what we had been so desperately searching for. Silver Islet is a small town at the end of the peninsula and was the first silver mine in Ontario. The old miner’s homes are now private summer cottages and the general store has been restored and is open during the summer. Since we were there in the off season, no one was around and nothing was open. It was a little creepy. But the view is beautiful and we finally got the shots we were looking for.

That night we celebrated with an anniversary dinner at The Keg Steakhouse. I don’t eat a ton of red meat, but that night I had filet mignon with asparagus, shrimp and scallops in a béarnaise sauce. Everything about it was perfect. The meat was just a little red, but not raw. The asparagus was the perfect combination of crispy and soft. And scallops are my most favorite thing in the whole world; it’s not too often that I don’t enjoy a scallop.

The next day we checked out of the hotel and embarked on our final two Canadian adventures. The first was a stop at Kakabeka Falls, a trip which would have gone smoothly if we had trusted our instincts to follow the signs and not the GPS which led us on an excursion through unmarked, unpaved farm roads. After the previous tire adventure, we weren’t hoping for a repeat in the middle of nowhere Canada. Thankfully, we made it to the falls, car intact. However, we had to scramble to find change for the parking meter. Stupidly, we had the idea that morning to use all of our Canadian change in the vending machine at the hotel to buy unique candy and prevent a return home with pockets full of money we couldn’t use. Once correct change was in the meter and we had taken photos from every possible angle of the majestic, but nearly dry waterfall, we stopped at a cute little place called the Metropolitan Moose for muffins and hot coffee. That morning the temperatures were in the upper 30s and my hands had nearly gone completely numb while firing off photos of the falls. 

Kakabeka Falls

On a full stomach and with ten fully functions fingers, we made our way to the last stop: Fort William Historical Park. The park is a recreation of the original fur trade post from the early 1800s. The detail and accuracy of the fort is quite spectacular. But once again, that nasty little term “off-season” would come back to rear its ugly head. The fort is open year round and offers tours, but the real action is in the summer when all the activities are in full swing and the park is fully staffed with actors who take you back and give you the opportunity to experience what the fort felt like when it was operating in the 1800s. We were the only ones on our tour, but, in a way, it worked to our advantage. We had a tour guide who was fully decked out in authentic 1800s attire and took us on a complete behind-the-scenes tour of the fort. Although it would have been a lot of fun to see it fully operational, we had an amazing afternoon stepping back in time and learning what life was like during the height of the fur trade. One of my favorite parts was learning of the journals that were kept and how they were used, along with a lot of tedious note-taking, to create maps of that region in North America. Sadly, not many journals survived, but some endured the harsh environment and were later printed as books. The journals of Alexander MacKenzie, explorer and employee of the North West Company (the company which owned Fort William), are one example of journals that were published (I’m working on tracking down a copy of the book). 

Fort William Historical Park

After leaving Fort William, we began the long trek back to Minneapolis, somewhat relieved to be putting an end to this crazy adventure. On the way back, we listed all the things that had gone wrong: the blown-out tire, a lost credit card, spilled coffee, an elusive lakefront, somewhere along the way I scratched my eye, everything being “off-season,” and at one point, I was even rammed by a young cow complete with a small set of horns (I was told he was “friendly,” thankfully no serious damage was done). But then we started to list all the things that we never would have experienced had those things not happened: meeting Anne and realizing the power of the kindness of strangers, seeing a wolf dive into the dense forest, learning the legends of the people who were the original inhabitants of this great nation, and realizing that there are more ways to live than just the one we’re used to. I think the best thing we got out of our trip to Canada was stepping outside of our comfort zone, granted it was only a small step, but even shaking up your life a little bit is a good thing. I thought of how much my life has changed in the year I’ve been unemployed and how thankful I am for that. I’ve taken a chance on trying many new things and most importantly, I’ve taken a chance on my writing. It’s terrifying to write about my experiences and throw them out to the world not having any idea or control over how they’ll be received. But I also realized that the only thing more terrifying than that, is not writing at all. Since I changed my major from biology to writing in college, I knew I wanted to be a writer. After graduation I accepted a job in the corporate world, which provided a steady paycheck and an opportunity to do some copywriting, but also became an excuse for why I wasn’t continuing with the writing life I dreamed about prior to accepting my diploma.

Lately I’ve been hearing a lot about your “authentic self” and realized how much I’ve crushed my own spirit and destroyed that authentic being. Sure, it was easy to blame work for a lack of time and energy to write, but there was also that inner critic who kept pounding into my head that I wasn’t good enough. We all have that voice, whether we want to be a writer, an artist, an athlete, a scientist, a musician, an actor, or anything else. And we all need to find the strength and the courage to tell that voice to SHUT UP. It’s easier some days than others. And sometimes we let that voice completely take over until we don’t even recognize our authentic self at all. That’s when we need a wake up call, maybe several. For me, it started with a bout of unemployment and I got a reminder during a trip to Canada.

As Ryan and I were thinking of all the good experiences that came from the bad, a famous saying came to mind: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. And that’s just what I did. Well, lemon squares to be exact. I knew I could count on The Found Recipe Box to deliver the perfect recipe for this post and it didn’t let me down. Not only is this the best lemon square recipe I’ve ever tasted, but it’s easy to make and the ingredients are ones that I commonly use so there was no need to run to the grocery store and risk losing another tire (although, it might have provided another great story!). And the bottom layer is shortbread – my favorite! So if you’re looking for a delicious way to prove that something sour can be turned into something amazingly sweet, take your lemons and make some squares. Now that raspberries are starting to come into season, the prices are lower and they make a great addition to this treat. The combination tastes like summer and you can’t help but smile when you take a bite. 

I’m already looking forward to the next time I get to use my passport. Hopefully it will be as I cross the Atlantic and step into one of the European countries on my list of places to visit. Or maybe it will be in Vancouver when I finally get to explore the Pacific Northwest. Regardless of where it is and how many tires are lost along the way, I will keep the taste of lemon squares in my mind to remind myself that inside every adventure resides a poem, and that shortbread and sugar can transform any puckered mouth into a smile.

The Art of Simplifying: Tiny Shortbread Tarts

I recently had the pleasure of meeting Christine Hoffman, creator of the blog Pies and Aprons. I quickly learned that we have two common interests: antiques and baking. Christine is an interior decorator. She is one of those people who can walk into a room and envision new color schemes, combine unlikely pairs of furniture and accessories, and walk out having created a relaxing, inspiring place to retreat. I wish I had that kind of vision. One of her homes was once featured in Country Living magazine. Flipping through the glossy pages, I realized I was packing my bags in my mind and ready to move in.

One of the things we discussed was our many creative outlets and how we’re always trying to add to our repertoire of talents. We talked about sewing and how, despite a deep desire to be able to sew, we’re both afraid of sewing machines. And then she made a comment that really resonated with me. “I’m just going to have to accept that I’m never going to sew,” she said. “I don’t have to do everything.” And there it was. That part of my life that I’ve struggled with for so many years was suddenly staring me right in the face in the form of a single sentence. And I had to admit that she was right.

I grew up with two brothers (identical twins) and boys tend to be competitive. Well, girls can be too. I played most of the sports the boys and their friends did and tried my best to compete at their level. I learned to downhill ski in junior high and quickly moved on to snowboarding for an extra challenge. Even though the first time out I sprained my wrist and my knees were purple for a week, I was completely in love with the sport. In high school I got the opportunity to go to Colorado and even had a ½ day private snowboarding lesson. One of the greatest thrills of my life was gliding down that mountain listening to my board carve through the groomed trail and feeling my face break through the mountain air.  

I wanted to prove that girls could do anything and I didn’t limit myself to sports. From there it was art. I drew in high school, did photography in college and since then I’ve picked up jewelry making, visual journaling, altered books and card making (to name a few). I am also a writer: poetry, fiction, and creative non-fiction. And now I can add novice cook/baker to my list of creative skills.

I love that I’ve tried so many different things in my life, although sometimes I wish I could be an “expert” at just one single thing. Like the rest of the world, I was glued to the TV for the past two weeks watching the Olympics. My favorites, of course, were the snowboarding events. I remember watching Shaun White and being in complete and total awe of his fearlessness and dominance on the half pipe. For his final run, the gold was secure, so he could have done nothing at all and still walked away an Olympic champion. But he chose to pull out his full bag of tricks and really go out with a bang. He was simply amazing to watch.

I desperately wanted that exhilaration that Shaun felt when all his hard work paid off and he became a champion. I’m at that point in my life where there are so many things that I feel I am supposed to be doing, yet don’t have the means of accomplishing. The pressure and frustration can be suffocating. So, I decided that I needed to simplify, get back to basics. And ironically, there was a recipe in the box for that.

Tiny Shortbread Tarts have four ingredients. They’re simple to make and they have that classic, dependable taste that makes me smile every time I bite into one. And the dollop of raspberry pie filling on the top is just sweet enough to seduce your taste buds without overpowering the simplicity of the cookie. The hardest part is waiting for them to bake and cool down before popping one (or three) into your mouth. It was just the recipe I needed to gain some perspective on my life. 

Later, I sat at my desk to write. As I paused between thoughts, I glanced around the room and my eyes stopped on an object: my snowboard. I haven’t been on it in years, not since I injured my back, but it stands like a sentry against my bookcase, keeping my memories of that day on the mountain in Colorado securely locked in its bindings. Someday, I want to return to those tree-lined paths of packed snow and carve my way down the trails. Maybe I could get a lesson from Shaun White (dream big right?). But until then, I have to remember that although I’m not an Olympic champion and even though there’s a lot that I can’t do right now for whatever reason, there is still a lot to give me cause for celebration. Hey, I can bake a Queen of Hearts Cake! And I’m glad that I’m not an expert at just one thing. I have my own bag of tricks that I can reach into when I need a moment to let myself shine and that bag is overflowing with options. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll overcome my fear of the sewing machine and I can throw that into the mix too.

I know I’m not the only one out there in my situation. This economy has caused a lot of people to redefine their lives and rethink their dreams. It’s not an easy thing to do, but sometimes, by taking a step back we actually move forward. If you’re one of those people, I just want to say – hang in there. I always thought that at this point in my life I’d be married, have a steady job, kids, and would have stepped foot on European soil. Instead, I have a wonderful and supportive husband, an amazing dog, and a cooking blog (1 out of 4 isn’t bad). They all make me incredibly proud and happy and isn’t that what being a champion is all about anyway?

Life is an interesting balance of cutting ourselves some slack and remembering that we don’t have to do everything, but at the same time having faith that we are, in fact, capable of doing anything. It’s a complex thought for complex times, but in the end, it will make our lives much simpler. And when life gets to be too overwhelming, head to the kitchen. Sometimes the answer can be found in four simple ingredients.

Creature Comforts: Oatmeal Cookies

 

 

I’m not sure who loves horses more: me or Murphy. Whenever I come back from a barn, he can’t stop sniffing me, wagging his tail, or licking my boots. This is a dog that rarely wags his tail. He’ll do it when we have guests over or when he sees another dog, but Ryan and I have to work pretty hard to earn that loving gesture. Sad huh?

I got the opportunity to visit the horses that my friend Muffy and I rode a few weeks ago. The snow was too deep to ride so we just made sure they were healthy, brushed the ice out of their tales, and loved them up. The sun was out, but the wind was blowing so it was colder than it looked. I dared to remove my gloves, however, and bury my hands deep in the woolly coats of the horses. I love winter horses. Their hair fills out to provide extra warmth making them fuzzy and irresistible. I took it one step further and leaned into the chest of Scooter. I was hesitant at first, not sure how he would respond (I didn’t want to upset a 1000+ lb. animal), but he didn’t seem to mind so I rested my cheek against his neck and instantly felt his warmth thaw out my frozen face and fingers. I could smell the sun in his hair and the hay from the large bale in the field where he had lunch. For a few moments, I didn’t notice the cold, the stress I had been feeling earlier in the day, or much of anything other than pure contentment. 

I once saw a picture of a dog resting his head on top of a horse’s nose. The look in their eyes was one of pure bliss, as if they were the best of friends and this was their form of a loving embrace. Murphy has only been around horses once, but it was love at first site. In fact, he began grazing in the backyard afterward. I know this is a common thing for dogs to do, but Murphy didn’t do it until he watched the horses chewing on grass in the field. At one point, we tried to get Murphy to come into the house, but one of the horses called to him as he walked away and Murphy went running back. I was so scared of him getting kicked, but Murphy had no such fear. He wanted nothing more than to be with the giants and act like one of them. When we left, he gave his new best friend a kiss on the nose. It brought tears to my eyes. Partly because it was so sweet, but also because I’ve never gotten one of those from my dog and I was really jealous!

Animals can have an amazing presence in our lives. My neighbor keeps telling me that having a dog can lower your blood pressure. I point to all the holes in my yard and ask, “Really?” Seriously though, I don’t know what I’d do without my dog. When I need a moment of escape, I lie down on the floor next to him and bury my nose in his soft, fuzzy ears. Even on the days when he is in desperate need of a bath, the simple act of cuddling my dog can make the whole world disappear. And I was happy to discover that I got the same result when I hugged a horse.

Lately, I’ve also learned that the act of baking can have the same effect. Reading a recipe and mixing ingredients can provide a similar outlet of escape for your brain. You are focused on measuring, pouring and anticipating the outcome. Especially when it’s a recipe you’ve never made before. There’s no room for outside worries when you’re elbow deep in flour and egg whites. And it’s a truly sweet escape when you’re making one of your favorite foods.

Everyone has their go-to comfort food. Some people prefer meat and potatoes. Mine usually involves chocolate. And I’m not the only one. I have some friends in Chicago who read my blog and have tried some of the recipes. I know we are kindred spirits because they made the Banana Drop Cookies and had the same reaction I did: they need chocolate chips. I asked them what their favorite type of cookie is and they gave me a few options including Oatmeal Chocolate Chip, which was perfect because I just happen to have a few Oatmeal Cookie recipes in the box. They’ve been having a rough time (they too have had to deal with unemployment, only their experience has lasted over two years as opposed to my one) and I thought a little comfort food just might be in order to help raise their spirits. The recipe calls for 1 cup of nuts, but I substituted chocolate chips instead. I was only going to use half the bag, but I dumped the whole 12 ounces in there just for a little extra chocolately goodness. Also, the recipe suggests flattening the balls of dough with a glass, I don’t recommend that. I found that they cooked better and weren’t as thin if I left them alone. This is a great recipe to make if you really want cookies, but don’t have eggs in the house because it doesn’t use any. I thought that was weird, but I’m a baking novice so it might be more common than I think.

 

 

I packaged up a bunch of the cookies and sent them off to Chicago. Then I also set aside a bag for Muffy as a “thank-you” for letting me tag along to cuddle horses. And I made a bag to stick in Ryan’s lunch container. He denies having a sweet tooth, but I have to believe that a homemade treat in the afternoon is a nice break in his hectic day. And once the dishes were washed and the kitchen was clean, I curled up on the floor next to my dog. He might not wag his tail for me every time I come home and sometimes he smells like sodden earth from his backyard excavations, but I cherish the moments I have with him. And if I can’t have a dog and a horse, then the next best thing is a dog who thinks he's a horse.  

And if you need a reminder not to over indulge in your favorite foods, here’s a picture of the barn cat at the ranch I’ve been visiting. I don’t worry about him staying warm this winter.

Little Drops of Love: Sugar Cookies

When my husband and I began dating, we lived six hours apart. Since we didn’t get much time for face-to-face conversations, we had to find creative ways to communicate. This, of course, included long telephone calls and e-mails, but we also took advantage of the U.S. Postal Service. I have a box full of old letters, decorated envelopes and pictures sent during the year and a half we were apart. My favorite one is a picture of Ryan standing with his arms spread out in a field in Ireland with a note promising to take me there someday – I’m holding you to that Ryan!

Once I moved to Minnesota, and especially once we got married and lived under the same roof, the notes stopped. Unless we are letting the other know if Murphy has been fed or that the dishes in the dishwasher are clean, our handwritten correspondence has pretty much come to an end. But recently, I decided to resurrect this dying art form.

It has been a rough few weeks for Ryan. Between layoffs at his company and his beloved Green Bay Packers blowing another chance at going to the Super Bowl, he’s been a little down. So I decided to pack a little treat into his lunch to help cheer him up. His lunches typically consist of a sandwich and bags of fruits and veggies (I thought after living with him for this long some of his healthy eating habits would wear off on me…not so much). This menu definitely needed some sweetening up so I consulted the recipe box and found just the thing: Sugar Cookies.

I love this recipe. These aren’t typical sugar cookies. Instead of being a dense, heavy cookie, these are light and airy and have a hint of shortbread in them. I bagged up a few, attached a little note wishing him a sweet day from Murphy and me, and tucked them into his lunch tote before he left for work. The next morning, Murphy and I had a note waiting for us on the kitchen table thanking us for the cookies. It was a great way to start the day. 

It seems these days that communication is shifting more towards Facebook posts and text messages. But there is just something so much more personal and thoughtful about a handwritten note. Maybe being a writer I have more of a vested interest in the art – I keep journals that I write in everyday. But I also send handwritten cards for birthdays and to say thank you. Everyone loves to get mail and it makes me happy to see the distinct marks of my loved ones’ handwriting when they signed the card. It’s as if they packed a little piece of themselves in the envelope and sent it as part of the greeting.

So this year for Valentine’s Day, I challenge all of you to make a treat for a loved one and include a handwritten note. And if you prefer chocolate over sugar cookies, I highly recommend the caramel bars. Each decadent bite is sure to leave a smile on their face and a sweet thought of you in their mind.

In Honor of Clementine Paddleford: Joe Froggers (part 2)

I apologize for the long delay in posting the conclusion to this recipe, but the inspiration I got from the clipping has had me immersed in research about the woman whose name appears on the bottom: Clementine Paddleford. She is truly a remarkable woman, a legend in food journalism and I want to try to do her justice in this post. This is a long post and I don’t have any pictures to include, but bear with me, I promise that Clementine’s story is worth the read.

Paddleford is credited with changing the way America wrote about food. Before her, there were no articles to accompany recipes in newspapers; it was just a list of ingredients and instructions. Today, that might be hard to conceive of because we are surrounded by The Food Network and people, such as Anthony Bourdain, who bring us cooking stories from exotic places across the globe. But Paddleford was truly a pioneer in this type of food reporting. She connected with her readers in a remarkable way and at the time of her death in 1967, it was estimated that she had 12 million readers.

Clementine Paddleford was born in Stockdale, Kansas on September 27, 1898. Her childhood in the farming country of the Midwest would be the catalyst for the incredible bond she had with the women of America. Her interest in writing began at an early age and when she attended Kansas State Agricultural College, she pursued a degree in Industrial Journalism. This was very uncommon for women during this time, most received their degree in Home Economics.

Paddleford’s writing career led her to New York, Chicago and eventually back to New York. She wrote for such publications as Farm and Fireside, the Christian Herald, and Gourmet magazine but it was her position at the New York Herald Tribune and This Week magazine where she published her weekly article entitled How America Eats that would truly secure her place in the world of food journalism.

Paddleford didn’t just write about the food she ate, she dug into the history of the recipe, met with the people who cooked it, and traveled worldwide in search of stories that would resonate with her readers. She estimated that during her career, she traveled more than 800,000 miles in search of stories about food. She traveled to Maine to learn about lobster and discover ingenious new ways the locals were serving the crustacean. In California, she immersed herself in wine country and met a family who was just getting started in the wine business: the Mondovi family (sound familiar?). She even boarded the atomic submarine, Shipjack, to learn about its kitchen and report on the meals being served all while traveling the depths of the Long Island Sound. But her favorite place to travel to was the Midwest where she had roots.

The world changed a lot during Paddleford’s lifetime, especially in relation to food. Her career began during the Great Depression and World War II, which she responded to with articles about making the best meal from what you have. Later on, women’s role in the kitchen began to change. They were finding jobs outside of the home and were now spending minutes on meal preparation instead of hours. Paddleford published quick tricks for dinners and helped women find ways to save time making meals. Toward the end of her career, Americans began to worry about weight issues and again Paddleford met these concerns with recipes that were leaner in calories, but not in taste.

Paddleford had an indomitable spirit and possessed unstoppable motivation. At the young age of 34 she developed a malignant tumor on her larynx, which was removed along with her vocal chords leaving her to relearn how to speak through a breathing tube in her throat. But that didn’t slow her down. She disguised the tube with a velvet choker that became part of her trademarked look and continued with her work. The surgery transformed her voice into a raspy, hoarse whisper and, as a result, she declined any public speaking opportunities after her recovery.

In 1960, she published a cookbook that bore the same name as her column: How America Eats. It contained reprints of the articles she wrote and was divided not by recipe type, but by region of the country from which she discovered each recipe. In it, is a copy of the recipe and article Clementine Paddleford wrote for Joe Froggers. I also traced a copy of the article back to the May 2, 1954 issue of the LA Times through their archives. I’d love to post a copy of the full article for you to read, but unfortunately copyright laws restrict me from doing this. If you would like to see the original article, click here to go to the archives and search for Clementine Paddleford’s article titled “Spice Wheels” that appeared on the aforementioned date. The cost to download a copy is $3.95. Or you can view the article on page 24 of Paddleford’s cookbook, How America Eats.

Through my research, I discovered I had a lot in common with Clementine Paddleford. She loved to travel, was a poet and an avid keeper of scrapbooks. She was very close with her mother and also married an engineer (however, they never lived together and eventually got divorced). But I think what I related to the most was the purpose for her writing. She wasn’t a chef, in fact, she rarely even cooked. What fascinated her were the traditions and memories baked into every dish she ate across the globe. Every recipe has a story and Clementine Paddleford made it her life’s mission to discover as many as she possibly could. In fact, she even got her pilot’s license to aid in this quest.

Clementine Paddleford died on November 13, 1967. She had several bouts of pneumonia and it was believed her body was taken over by cancer at the time of her death. In her will, she bequeathed all of her work to her alma matter, Kansas State University. In total, 274 standard-size file boxes were transported to Manhattan, Kansas where, sadly, they sat virtually untouched for 34 years.

But in 2002, two women began their own quest: to resurrect the memory of the woman who Time magazine named America’s “best-known food editor” in 1953. Kelly Alexander, then a food writer for Saveur magazine, and Cynthia Harris, an archivist at Kansas State University, teamed up to write an article about Paddleford for the November 2002 issue of Saveur (click here to view a copy of the article). But it didn’t stop there. They went on to write a book titled Hometown Appetites: The Story of Clementine Paddleford, the Forgotten Food Writer Who Chronicled How America Ate. In addition to being a complete biography of her life, the book contains wonderful photographs of Paddleford, quotes from her articles and many of the recipes she dedicated her life to discovering. I immediately located a copy of the book and devoured it in a few short days. I have even talked my husband into planning a trip to Kansas to visit her archives.

It saddened me to see the word “forgotten” in the title of her biography. Just like my discovery of Lucretia Brown, I found it fitting that I was introduced to this inspiring woman with a voracious appetite for life on my journey through the Found Recipe Box. I wish it contained more of her clippings. But just having this one was enough to whet my appetite and encourage me to continue my pursuit to learn more about her life.

A lot has changed since Paddleford’s death in 1967. You can’t scroll through the television listings without seeing at least one type of show about cooking – from Iron Chef to Man vs. Food, Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations to Hell’s Kitchen. America is obsessed with food. But how many of us spend the time to actually learn the history of the food we eat or even take the time to make an heirloom recipe? We’re too busy. We’re a nation of fast food. Unless it’s a special occasion or a holiday, most people find food that can be popped in the microwave or put together in a matter of minutes. I am guilty of this too. Until I lost my job, I never had the time to construct a fancy meal for dinner, let alone take on a project of cooking an entire recipe box full of made-from-scratch recipes and writing about them. For this experience, I guess I’m thankful to be unemployed. Everything happens for a reason. And without this project, I never would have been introduced to Clementine Paddleford.

I’d like to thank Clementine, for opening the door to a whole new way of writing about food and reminding us that there is a story behind every bite we take. For traveling hundreds of thousands of miles in search of the stories that shaped people’s lives and what they served on their dinner tables. Clementine, you are not forgotten. In fact, I will always hold a special place for you in my heart and maybe, someday, we’ll be seated together at the great Dinner Table in the Sky where we can swap stories about our favorite hometown dishes.

If you would like to learn more about Clementine Paddleford, here is a list of resources:

Biography:
Hometown Appetites: The Story of Clementine Paddleford, the Forgotten Food Writer Who Chronicled How America Ate By Kelly Alexander and Cynthia Harris

ClementinePaddleford.com

Hometown Appetites – 2002 article in Saveur magazine

Clementine’s Cookbooks:
How America Eats
Cook Young Cookbook
The Best In American Cooking

Archives:
The Clementine Paddleford Papers – Kansas State University Library: University Archives & Manuscripts

In Honor of Lucretia Brown: Joe Froggers (part 1)

 

Every recipe has a history. This one is not only fascinating, but led me to the discovery of two amazing women. When I first came across Joe Froggers in the box, I had no idea what they were. So I conducted a little internet research. What I found left me wanting to buy two plane tickets: one to Marblehead, Massachusetts to visit the birthplace of this cookie and pay homage to its creator; and the second to Manhattan, Kansas to visit Kansas State University, which houses the archives of a woman who changed the way America wrote about food.

Throughout my research, I found several variations of the Joe Frogger story. From what put together, I believe this to be the most accurate version. The first batch of Joe Froggers came out of the oven in the late 1700s. They were the invention of a woman named Lucretia Brown, or “Aunty ‘Crese”. She named the cookie partly for her husband, Joe Brown, or “Black Joe,” and partly for the frogs that inhabited the pond behind their home on top of Gingerbread Hill in Marblehead, Massachusetts. Perhaps their home was also an inspiration for the cookies because they are very similar to a gingerbread cookie.

Black Joe was a former slave who served in the Revolutionary War and, after the slaves were freed, bought property in Marblehead where he established his home and eventually opened a tavern. Joe and Lucretia were well known for the raucous parties that occurred at Black Joe’s Tavern. The constant thunder of heels clapping floorboards as guests danced the jig while Joe played the fiddle was typical at the tavern no matter what time of year, as was the copious consumption of alcohol.

Lucretia’s Joe Froggers became a legend of their own in the area. These cookies were called the “never-stale cookie” and for this reason were popular on sea voyages and fishing trips. I never had a chance to test this theory because the cookies were so popular at the cookie exchange and at family gatherings where they made an appearance that there were never any leftovers. Please note: if you do try this recipe, it makes A LOT of cookies and requires a pretty strong mixer. I imagine that Lucretia had amazing arm muscles from stirring batch after batch of this extremely viscous batter. It nearly broke my little hand mixer! 

 

Black Joe’s Tavern still stands in Marblehead. In fact, Joe’s fiddle still hangs on the wall. He has a large headstone at his resting place on Gingerbread Hill. The town has honored him several times and if you search his name on the internet, thousands of pages come up.

Lucretia, however, is another story. Her grave is unknown and the internet barely mentions her name. But she does make an appearance in Anya Seyton’s book The Hearth and the Eagle. I felt a connection between Lucretia and the Found Recipe Box – both were the bearers of heartfelt kitchen creations, but after their time had passed; they were left to fade away like a love note scratched in the sand before high tide. I found it fitting that I discovered Lucretia during my journey through the Found Recipe Box and am happy to be able to honor her memory on this blog. She may have slipped off the history pages during her own lifetime, but it’s a privilege to etch a place for her in mine. I think everyone dreams of doing something with their life that will be remembered after their passing and I’m sure she would love to know that her cookies are still being made with her in mind. Someday I’ll make a stop in Marblehead to properly honor Lucretia. Since her gravesite is unknown, I’ll place a Joe Frogger outside her kitchen window where it will always remain fresh and flavorful, just like my memory of an inspirational woman I never met.

If you would like to read more about Joe Froggers, Lucretia Brown and Black Joe, here are some great articles that I came across during my research:

Marblehead Magazine
Boston.com

I actually started writing this post awhile ago, but felt like something was missing. It just didn’t feel finished. For inspiration, I held the yellowed paper of the recipe in my hands and noticed something I had overlooked before. I did some more research and was introduced to yet another truly remarkable woman. She deserves much more than a simple name drop though; she deserves a post of her own. So please check back to learn about the woman who Time magazine named America’s “best-known food editor” in 1953.

To be continued…

Resolution Busters: Never Fail Fudge & Scotch Shortbread

 

 

Happy New Year everyone!

It’s cold in Minnesota. Last week we reached an air temperature of -20 with wind chills of about -40 in parts of the state. It’s so cold that Murphy barely has time to get off the deck to go to the bathroom before his feet freeze and he needs to be rescued from the backyard. For a dog that loves to just go outside, sit on the deck, and watch the world go by this is not a good time of year. It’s the kind of weather that makes you want to put on sweats and curl up on the couch with a heavy blanket and a good book or a movie.

This is also the time of year that health clubs are packed with people who made it their New Year’s resolution to finally get in shape and lose weight. Binging on things such as fudge and cookies during the holidays give us strength to brave the cold and wait in line for a treadmill so that we can plug away at our resolution. But how long does that last before we realize it’s so much warmer at home in front of the TV and we end up abandoning our resolution all together? And chances are there will still be some lingering holiday goodies at home to snack on while watching other people exercise on The Biggest Loser. But not at my house! The holiday season was a great excuse to try a bunch of the recipes from the box and give them away as gifts.

Two of those recipes were Never Fail Fudge and Scotch Shortbread. I love that the fudge is called “never fail” because it’s so true – chocolate never lets us down (well, unless we’re trying really hard to keep those resolutions, but just can’t stop from having a second piece…or third…or fourth…). I’ve never made fudge before and, aside from having to run to the store in the middle of the process for more ingredients because I didn’t have as much as I thought, this was pretty easy to make. I don’t recommend keeping these ingredients in the house, because the recipe is so easy that it would be really tempting to make another batch when you’re suffering from chocolate deprivation.

The wonderful thing about chocolate is that it goes with everything, especially shortbread. I made the Scotch Shortbread recipe for a cookie exchange with some friends before the holidays. We all made our dough the night before and then met at a friend’s house to bake the cookies, eat snacks, drink mimosas and socialize. And, of course, we had to taste all the cookies as they came out of the oven. We had a delicious selection of cookies to choose from. In addition to the Scotch Shortbread we had spritz cookies, walnut crescents, and snickerdoodles. And my friend Sara brought dipping chocolate so we dipped some of the spritz and shortbread in the chocolate, which turned great cookies into a truly divine treat. 

 

The cold isn’t expected to vacate the area for a while so I’m going to have to muster up the energy to join the masses at the health club despite the threat of nearly instant frostbite. I wish I could bring Murphy with me because the poor dog has a serious case of cabin fever. Every time he begs to go outside, I think he’s hoping that summer has magically appeared and he’ll be greeted by a blast of warm air when I open the door. I wish I had a shred of my dog’s optimism. Instead, I need to find other ways to motivate myself. The recent celebration of the end of one year and the beginning of a new one had me thinking seriously about life and goals. A year of unemployment not only made a serious dent in my bank account, but my self esteem and overall mood took a dramatic hit as well. So after some soul searching and more antique treasure hunting, I came up with another portion to this project. But I’ll leave you guessing about what it could be until my next post…