Harvest Apple Salad

Growing up in Texas and Colorado, I picked pumpkins, climbed mountains, and stood in fields of blue bonnets…but I didn’t spend any time walking amongst apple trees.

Luckily, I married my husband who has roots in rural Pennsylvania. On one of our first trips out East together, we visited an apple orchard…and I quickly fell in love with that quintessential fall excursion. With bucket in hand I sampled apple after apple, marveling at their crispness, their sweetness. Heirloom varieties were marked by wooden signs, and the apples from those trees were far better than anything I’d had from a grocery store. Back at the wooden shack, we bought apple butter and cider donuts from women with long skirts. I talked about that farm for days…I’m still talking about it now!

If only we had apple orchards in Colorado Springs.

Lucky for me, I did find a few local farms (about an hour away from home) and signed up for a picking day sometime in September or October. I’m eagerly awaiting an email telling me exactly when and where. I’ll be ready, with Lucy in her Moby wrap, and we’ll spend a cool Colorado morning walking through those neat and fruitful rows.

Speaking of my little love…Lucy is 6 weeks old! She’s started smiling whenever Ryan and I come into the room, and I don’t know if anything has melted my heart like her eyes lighting up when she catches my gaze. We went to our first La Leche League meeting on Wednesday, and I couldn’t have felt more at home with those beautiful women and their babies. I felt empowered and connected, which was a very good for this new and inexperienced mom. Lucy also went to two fancy restaurants this week. Yes two! She slept through both meals. The bustling of a full dining room must have done the trick. My one-year-old nephew also went to dinner with us…and I realized we better take advantage of Lucy sleeping through meals!

Harvest Apple Salad

*From McCormick

1 Granny Smith apple, cored and thinly sliced
Juice of 1 lemon
1/3 cup cider vinegar
1/3 cup honey
1 teaspoon McCormick® Gourmet Collection Roasted Saigon Cinnamon
1/4 cup olive oil
8 cups salad greens, such as arugula, red leaf lettuce or Romaine lettuce
1/2 cup chopped dried apricots
1/2 cup crumbled blue cheese (about 4 ounces)
1/2 cup pistachio nuts

Cover apple slices with cold water. Add lemon juice. Let stand until ready to serve.

Mix vinegar, honey and roasted cinnamon in small bowl with wire whisk. Gradually add oil, whisking until well blended.

To serve, divide greens among 8 plates. Top each with drained apple slices, apricots, blue cheese and pistachio nuts. Serve with dressing.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Lemon Puff Pastry Tart

We celebrated my sweet mother’s birthday yesterday–and Lucy went to her first fancy restaurant (she slept the entire two hour meal, Praise God!) We dined on delicately prepared sea bass and trout as we passed around the bread basket and shared stories of the past few weeks. I sat beside my mother and watched the way she held her fork in her hand. I looked at her fingers and realized I knew them almost as well as my own. And then I thought back to my earliest memories of childhood and how her presence, then almost larger than life, infused those memories with a soft sweetness.

Having a daughter has made me appreciate the bond I have with my mother even more. The moment after I welcomed Lucille into the world, I told my doula to bring my mom into the delivery room. As I held my daughter in my arms for the first time, I finally realized how much my mother had loved me. There was nothing in the world that could change or diminish my love for Lucy, and I recognized that I’d been allowed to grow in that same unconditional love my entire life. The tears I cried that day were full of joy and gratitude. To be allowed to participate in this generational mothering is one of the greatest blessings I’ve ever received.

A mother’s love is the foundation of a human being’s life. I know many people, my older sisters foremost in my mind, who lost their mothers far too young. And so even as I celebrate this multi-generational bond, I realize that for many people, the transition into parenthood can be rife with pain. Ryan lost his father several years ago, and I can see occasional glimmers of that loss permeating the joy he has when he holds Lucy. He misses him, and my heart aches for him, and yet I see our little girl offering more healing to that wound than anyone has been able to thus far.

And so I’m sitting here, thankful that my mom has been my constant support and companion over these last 26 years. Happy Birthday, precious Mother. I’m sitting here, in the knowledge that new life can bring so much joy while also digging up buried pain. I’m sitting here, with Lucy in my arms, and I’m praying that our bond will grow and flourish over the next ten, twenty, thirty, forty years…and that she too will one day join me in the occupation of MOTHER. There has been no greater role in my life.

I made this lemon puff pastry tart for my mom. She loves lemon meringue pie, and while I didn’t have enough time to whip egg whites into those delicate white peaks, Lucy did grant me an hour so I could make this simple yet elegant tart. Pre-made puff pastry makes this tart an easy dessert while a homemade lemon curd makes it bright and flavorful. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did. And if you’re mother is around, tell her how much you love her today. I love you, Mom.

Lemon Puff Pastry Tart

*Lemon Curd Recipe from Barefoot Contessa

1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed (1/2 of 17.3 ounce package)

2 lemons

3/4 cups sugar

4 tablespoons butter

2 eggs

1/4 cup lemon juice (from above mentioned lemons)

Dash of Salt

Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Place puff pastry on parchment paper-lined baking sheet. Cut 4 (3/4-inch) strips evenly around the puff pastry with a small knife. Place strips on the edges of the square to form a frame. Prick inside of pastry all over with fork.

Bake for 15 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on wire rack.

Using a carrot peeler, remove the zest of 2 lemons, being careful to avoid the white pith. Put the zest in a food processor fitted with the steel blade. Add the sugar and pulse until the zest is very finely minced into the sugar. Cream the butter and beat in the sugar and lemon mixture. Add the eggs, 1 at a time, and then add the lemon juice and salt. Mix until combined.

Pour the mixture into a 2 quart saucepan and cook over low heat until thickened (about 10 minutes), stirring constantly. The lemon curd will thicken at about 170 degrees F, or just below simmer. Remove from the heat and cool in refrigerator for one hour. Using a knife or a spatula, spread cooled lemon curd on cooled puff pastry. Serve immediately.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Double Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies

Veteran parents will laugh, but I’m just now realizing that I’m just not going to get everything done. Lucy naps twice a day now, and when those blue eyes finally flutter shut I am torn between what feels like endless priorities. Do I clean the dishes? Do I make a loaf of bread for dinner? Do I call my best friend in Austin? Do I take a few minutes to close my eyes and pray? And what about the laundry? Don’t her cloth diapers need to be washed? This list could go on and on.

Even now, as she sleeps inside the wrap that’s tied around my chest, I feel the urge to organize the clothes that are now covering our bedroom floor. There are breast pads flung around the house that need to be gathered and washed. There’s pastry dough in the fridge waiting to be baked. And yet I’ve decided to sit on my bouncy birthing ball, with my baby next to my heart, and write. I speak out loud as I type, and I imagine Lucy is dreaming about our dog, Margot, as my words float in and out of her dream consciousness. The movement on the ball makes it harder to type, but easier for her to relax and sleep. I find myself becoming less and less selfish as each new day of motherhood begins.

I’m already realizing that I’ll have to choose between chores and hide-and-seek. Between visiting my favorite blogs and exploring in the sandbox outside. We’ll go to the beach and I’ll leave my novel behind because we have a little girl who wants nothing more than her papa and mama to hold her in the waves. They will be small sacrifices with rich rewards. Her childhood is priceless.

And yet I’m finding ways to combine her happiness with my own personal passions. Like baking. I remember standing in my grandmother’s kitchen, watching her create something out of nothing. Magic is the only word I could have used to describe it. I remember playing with pots and pans as my mom cooked crepes. She’d let me experiment with flour and water, and there was nothing more thrilling than stirring that grey soupy mixture. And so I’m sure that Lucy and I will have endless hours of fun in our kitchen. We’ll make brownies and cookies. We’ll learn how to create a rich chicken noodle soup. I’ll teach her to love vegetables because they’re good for you AND taste delicious. We’ll sample cheese from the alps of Europe. And we’ll talk about our days as butter browns on the stove.

My daughter is quickly becoming my greatest blessing and my greatest lesson.

We made these cookies together last week for our neighbors. Thick and chewy, studded with chocolate chips and oats, they were easily shared and enjoyed by all.

Double Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies

1 3/4 cups flour

1/4 cup cocoa powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup packed brown sugar

1/2 cup granulated sugar

12 TBSP butter (1 1/2 sticks) melted and cooled

1 egg

1 egg yolk

2 tsp vanilla extract

1 cup chocolate chips

1 cup quick oats

In a medium bowl, whisk together your flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.

In a large bowl, cream together your melted and cooled butter with your brown sugar and granulated sugar for 2-3 minutes (longer if creaming by hand). Add in your egg and yolk, cream until fully incorporated into batter. Stir in your vanilla extract.

Add your dry ingredients and mix together until combined. Stir in your chocolate chips and oats. Cover your bowl tightly with plastic wrap and allow to rest in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, preferably overnight.

When ready to bake, remove dough from fridge (if chilled for longer than 1 hour, allow to sit at room temperature for 20-30 minutes.) Preheat your oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit.

Scoop out batter using a 1/4 measuring cup. Divide dough into two smaller balls and place on a greased or parchment-lined cookie sheet. Bake in a preheated oven for 12-16 minutes. Remove when cookies are just about to turn a light golden brown (they will appear underdone, or soft). Allow your cookies to cool on cookie sheet. (I always take my cookies out of the oven well before they look “done” because this helps them stay soft).

Store any leftover cookies in a zip loc bag with a piece of bread to retain softness.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Pine Nut Cream Tarts

Pride doesn’t begin to describe how I felt this afternoon. Not only was my baby not fussing, but I was making tarts and pastry cream. Lucy is five weeks old today, and I’m starting to find some sort of rhythm. She still changes daily, even hourly, but I find myself more adept at changing along with her. We began this great dance when she was safe inside my womb and it’s taken a few weeks of stumbling around on the outside for us to pick up where we left off. I know we’ll have our days, even our seasons of struggle, but I don’t think they’ll compare to the first few weeks of newness (both in wonder and in terror!)

The arrival of our daughter is sandwiched by the arrival of so many other little girls. Two of my dearest friends are both giving birth in September, and a handful more have already welcomed their girls or will soon be meeting them in person. I feel surrounded by such a strong and growing community. Near and far, we share our stories, our struggles, and our attempts at solutions. Even though we live in 2013, I feel like I’m part of a small tribe of wise women (with my sweet and selfless husband nearby, lending a hand whenever he can).

When you’re toting around a newborn people often stop to tell me, “It goes by so fast,” and I’m beginning to understand why. To look at pictures of Lucy on the day she was born and to look at pictures I took yesterday proves that oft repeated truth. So I’m trying to savor the small moments, to appreciate this stage of utter dependence. But I’m also tired and eager to write and to bake, and sometimes I forget that this is such a quick and passing season.

So making these tarts with Lucy gurgling against my chest felt just right yesterday. I sang to her as I pressed the warm (yes warm!) tart dough into its pans. I kissed the top of her head while I stirred the milk and sugar on the stove. And we stared at each other as we waited those fifteen minutes for the tarts to brown. The end result? Three beautiful pine nut cream tarts and most importantly: a precious memory with my daughter.

Pine Nut Cream Tarts

French Tart Dough from the always enviable David Lebovitz (Prepare just as this link commands…far different (and better!) than any tart dough recipe I’ve tried!)

1 cup milk

3 tablespoons sugar

2 egg yolks

2 tablespoons corn starch

1/2 teaspoon almond extract

1 tablespoon butter

1/2 cup pine nuts

Make tart shells (or 3 mini tart shells) as commanded in the above link. Such a revolutionary way to make tarts! Genius! Allow tarts to cool completely.

In a large, heat-safe bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, corn starch, and 1 tablespoon of sugar. Set aside.

Meanwhile, bring milk and 2 tablespoons of sugar to simmer over medium-low heat. Stir often to prevent the milk from scalding. When the milk just begins to boil, pour mixture in a slow and steady stream into bowl of eggs. Stir constantly to prevent the eggs from cooking. Once combined, return the mixture to the stove and bring to a slow boil, stirring constantly. Once the mixture boils and thickens remove from heat immediately. Stir in almond extract and butter. Place in a wide bowl and cover with plastic wrap to prevent a skin from firming. Refrigerate until cold, about 2-3 hours.

To prepare tarts: spread a thick layer of pastry cream into cooked tart shells. Sprinkle generously with toasted pine nuts (to toast pine nuts: heat a dry skillet on medium heat and stir pine nuts until they turn a light golden hue)

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Breakfast (or how to write with a newborn)

I am typing while nursing. Not a small feat in case you haven’t tried. Lucy nurses around twelve times a day. While we spend most of those nursing sessions gazing into each others eyes, I have tried to take at least one or two to write. This is most often an unsuccessful endeavor, but I have had a few days where it’s worked. Lucy is content at my breast and my hands are free to pound out a sentence, a paragraph, a page.

This time last July, I was readying myself for the final year of my Masters of Fine Arts Program. I had spent the previous two years learning what it meant to be a writer and mucking around with poor attempts at short stories and novels. I eventually realized that my strongest work was personal–intensely personal–and I began writing short pieces that eventually became my thesis which will eventually (let’s hope!) become my memoir. Two weeks after Lucy’s birth, I received my diploma in the mail. I had made a baby and I had officially finished graduate school. 2013 was quite the year. Feelings of pride might have swelled if I didn’t feel like there was still so much work to be done. My memoir is about 75% complete, but those last thirty or forty pages feel as distant as the moon.

I am now typing with one hand while I hold Lucy with the other. As you might imagine, it’s slow going. But because this experiment is essential, I press on. I’m on a new journey to find a balance between motherhood and writing. This little baby is my greatest gift, and I hope that one day I’ll be able to sufficiently capture in words how much she means to me. But as for now, I’m just working on carving out space for my long-loved passion. Somehow, I must mother AND write.

And so this is one of the first lessons I’m learning: to hold on to what makes me smile, to what makes me sane. Because I imagine I’ll inspire Lucy far more with the passions I pursue than with those that I sacrifice. I want her to have a mother who nurtures others AND herself. And so, somehow, I’ll find time to finish my memoir, to continue writing. I’ll continue to make breakfasts like this: a scrambled egg sandwich with heaps of spinach between two thick slices of honey wheat bread. And Ryan and I will find time to be together, just the two of us. Maybe one day, I’ll even go visit a friend in New York on my own. But I’ll always come back to my greatest creation and my greatest joy. Because this truly is what motherhood is about. Lucille Amelia, you are more than my world. Your sweet face has worked its way into the very center of me. You are life.