One Year

I can usually hear the footsteps the second the feet hit the ground. A tiny body sliding out of her giant bed, stepping around the dog sleeping on the floor, blankets and Tiger in hand. She sometimes opens the blinds, the creak of the roller a dead giveaway, just to make sure it's morning. Then she stomps down the hall. It sounds like stomping, even though she barely weighs 30 pounds. Her hand grasps the knob on the door to my room. A short turn and she peeks in. If she sees me awake she quickly pops in the room, slams the door behind her, props her crap on the bed, and climbs in.

She usually doesn't say a word. Not until she is settled and snuggled beside me. Her face is glowing with a morning smile and she practically purrs with delight. We lay like that for a what is probably only seconds. Then she pops her head up.

"Mama, can we bake today?"

*******

One year ago I marked my first day as a stay at home parent. My husband left for work, to return more or less almost 4 months later. I was thrust into the role of full-time parent with no regular paycheque. It was an initiation, almost hazing, that no college student would ever survive. 24 hours a day, alone, with my kids.

Being home with my kids was never a reality I imagined. I was going to either save the world or make a lot of money working hard. For a while I thought I could combine the two. Then these little creatures emerged, growing with me, and encouraging a sense of self I never knew was there. Our family changed and the needs of the whole outweighed my desire to save the world. Instead I needed to work on just saving us.

So, here I am. A year in. Much calmer now - most days - and still working on keeping us all sane. I've had to revise my own expectations about what can be achieved by the family and by me, in our time. I've also blown apart my own thoughts about the pleasure this would bring me and the peace it gives my husband. I still wonder what the hell I'm doing and I don't love it every day. But I like it. A lot.

In this past year I've developed a whole new relationship with the girls, worked to define this new thing with my husband, and searched for a balance to my own desires and goals. It's been HARD. And that's not counting the disappointments, struggles, grief, and disorder that the last year also brought.

And I wouldn't change a thing. As hard as this life is, it is better. Much, much better.

*******

Peach pie, lemon cupcakes, muffins, scones, cookies, bread... We're baking it all. Practically something new every day.

The Monster isn't as thrilled with being in the kitchen as she used to be. If there is the prospect of chocolate she will join us. Otherwise, The Evil Genius pulls up her bright orange chair, rifles through the cupboard for her apron, and says to me, "So, what should we bake today, Chef?"

With the Monster starting Kindergarten this morning I see even more baking in my future. That kid will have the best snacks in her heart covered backpack. Full of love and most likely chocolate.

Nectarine, White Chocolate and Cardamom Scones

(adapted from the basic English Cream Scone recipe in the original Five Roses Flour cookbook)

Makes 16-18 kid-size scones

1 nectarine, chopped into 1/2'' chunks

3 ounces white chocolate, roughly chopped

2 cups flour (you can mix whole wheat with regular, but don't go 100% whole wheat)

1 tbsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground cardamom

1/4 cup cold butter

2 eggs

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 tbsp sugar

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment or a silicon mat.

Make sure your nectarine and white chocolate are chopped. Set aside.

Combine the flour, baking powder, salt, and cardamom in a large bowl. Cut the butter into the flour. Frankly, we use our hands. 3 years olds are very, very good at this. You could also use a pastry cutter. Stir in the nectarine and white chocolate

Reserve 1 tbsp of egg whites in a small bowl, then beat the eggs with the cream. Add to the dry ingredients and mix well. The dough will be wet and sticky. Drop by heaping spoonfuls onto your prepared baking sheet. Leave 1'' between scones.

Brush the tops with reserved egg white and sprinkle with the sugar. Bake for 10-13 minutes until lightly golden.

A Fund for Jennie

A few weeks back an on-line colleague lost her husband, suddenly. Jennie Perillo and her young girls are now struggling to define a new life without husband and died. Like me, Jennie is a food writer. Like me, she has two young girls. Like me, she shared a passionate life with her husband.

Right now a new not-for profit, Bloggers Without Borders, is raising funds for Jennie and her family. Food writing, let's be honest, isn't a lucrative job. But it is infinitely rewarding, on a daily basis. The goal of the fundraiser is to hopefully provide some security for Jennie and the girls as they move forward into a new normal.

Bloggers the world over are holding fundraising auctions and drives for donations to A Fund for Jennie. You can donate directly by clicking through on the button above.

Readers here at Backseat Gourmet may or may not know that I am also a quilter. I design quilts, write about quilting, and quilt at almost any moment. A Fund for Jennie has some amazing auctions, and while I'm proud of my skills in the kitchen and what I could share from it, a quilt is where my heart goes when healing needs to be done.

To see my work click on any of the gallery quilts on Naptime Quilter or take the time to explore the site for details on my creative process and thoughts on quilting.

This is my contribution to A Fund for Jennie:

A custom, one-of-a-kind modern quilt. It can be anywhere in size from a crib quilt to a generous lap size (roughly 60'' by 80'' or 70'' by 70''). I will work with you on a colour scheme or inspiration. The majority of it will be completed by machine, but I always hand finish my quilts.

You can submit your bid in the comments on this post. We'll make arrangements to make the donation through Bloggers Without Borders for the successful bidder.

Bidding opens at $500 (US or Canadian, it's pretty close these days).

To submit a bid, click here.

A Pie for Mikey

You start out with an idea, a concept of where you want to take it. A taste, a feel, a look. A finished product to be savoured and enjoyed. Something to share, to show off, to take pride in.

You gather the things to make it, and you bring them close. You handle them, you edit, you cut, you taste. Add heat, maybe some sizzle, and quite often a long simmer. At many times will you season, highlighting the flavours and subsequent adventure.

Usually it gets messy. You are either the type of person who cleans as they go or the kind that has a third hand following them washing and wiping as you move. It doesn't matter, as long as you address the mess at some point.

Eventually you sit to enjoy. It isn't necessarily what you expected it to be. Sometimes it doesn't work and you have to start over tomorrow. Quite often it's better. Much better than expected.

One day it explodes. The pleasure is insatiable. The joy immeasurable. On another day it is more subtle, simple. It is good, but not great. The pleasure and peace, however, is there. It's lingering and comforting. Perfect.

At least, this is how my marriage feels.

My husband is my best friend and an incredible man. Kind, generous, a little bit wicked. Committed, driven, and horribly sarcastic. He owns his own business and used to race mountain bikes. But I always thought I'd marry a professor or snooty intellectual. We'd live in an old house filled with books and no kids. Obviously that isn't what I've got.

My man in my life and our marriage came about like a farmers' market dinner. One day you find something that looks fantastic and you go with it. And so we have, experimenting along the way. Some days it explodes with pleasure and some days it is lingering and comforting. Perfect.

Imagining a life without my husband nearly stops my breath. Cold.

And now there is a colleague, a friend I met through blogging, who is living this fresh hell right now. Her husband, the father of her two little girls, suddenly collapsed and died last week. She is feeling the immeasurable pain of loss, the unimaginable.

This pie is for Mikey, for her, for their girls. This pie was his favourite and it deserves a celebration. As does he, as does the love he and Jennie shared. Their recipe gave the world this pie. Let's celebrate.

The food blogging community - including those who live close to Jennie and are lucky enough to share a drink and pizza with her - are gathering around her right now. This is community. Today we are making pie. People the world over are taking Jennie and Mike's pie and making it for their own loved ones. They are adapting the pie for themselves, making the recipe for their own loves. In doing so we celebrate a man, relationships, and the spirit of adventure in love, cooking, and life.

A pie for Mikey.

Community (And Pickled Chioggia Beets)

"Anti-social media."

That's what my husband says when you bring up Twitter, Facebook, Google + or anything that incites or requires interaction through a computer or smartphone. He is, at heart, a huge people person. His business requires near constant contact with people - all of which he prefers to do face-to-face or at least on the phone.

His argument is that people think they have friends that they make or maintain friendships through social media, but that it's just superficial. Indeed, he merely tolerates my stories of people I've never actually met. He's not discounting that, once you've met in person, a friendship can grow.

I'll admit, some days I completely agree with him. Then I get a note from someone who reads the blog that is full of more support than a friend I've had for years has given. Or someone I only know from on-line shows up at my door with food, when no one else does on a bad day. Or I am heavily impacted by a tragedy that rocked the world of someone else.

Always remember, there is a real person behind that on-line presence.

That means you can indeed form a relationship with someone you've never met. Will it be as close as the one you have with your best friend since high school? Maybe. Maybe not. But it will still be valuable and important for its own reasons.

On the days that I do see merit in what he says, I take a step forward into my community. Not my on-line world, but the one that is literally outside my door. I take a walk and chat with the neighbour. I grab a beer with another mom from the preschool. I call my brother or sister to just chat about our kids. Nothing can replace a face-to-face conversation.

Because of those conversations I have beet pickles today.

There we were, minding our own business, devouring my husband's hamburgers in the backyard. Our front door was wide open, the dog was probably sound asleep, and the kids were already performing after dinner hula hoop tricks. Suddenly the back door opens and one of our neighbours walks through. In her hands was a grocery bag full of chioggia beets and a big bowl of apricots.

With family in warmer climates and friends coming through she was left with a pile of produce from her folks' backyard. Too much for her and her husband, she brought them over to share. And she knows I would happily accept because we've actually talked before. We live on a street where most of us make an effort to know each other. So she knew I would tackle the colourful produce with gusto and none would go to waste. (There is an apricot crisp in the oven for another neighbour who just had a baby.)

This is my community. Embrace the friends you have when they need it, whether with a quiet note or the full force of your arms. Embrace the shared journeys. Embrace the beets they bring to your backyard.

This was my first time making beet pickles. Inspired by the Pickling Party, hosted by Shauna Ahern from Gluten-Free Girl, and my neighbour. The recipe is a mish mash of ideas from memory, Aimee from Simple Bites, and the Harrow Fair Cookbook. Even my cooking is an amalgamation of my many communities!

Pickled Chioggia Beets

Makes 3 500 ml jars

2 1/2 pounds scrubbed beets, tops and stems removed

2 cups white vinegar

1 cup rice wine vinegar

3/4 cup water

1/2 cup sugar

2 tbsp pickling salt

1 tsp coriander seeds

1 tsp mustard seeds

3 cloves garlic

rosemary (optional)

1. Boil the beets in a large pot of water for 25 minutes. Make sure a fork will go through the largest beets easily. Drain and immediately place in a sink or bowlful of cold water. Once cooled use your hands and, if necessary, a knife, to trim the skin from the beets. Slice and set aside in a clean bowl.

2. While the beets are cooking clean and process 3 jars and the screw lids in a boiling water canner for 10 minutes. Keep hot in the water while you clean and slice the cooked beets.

3. While you prep the beets combine the vinegars, water, sugar, salt, and seeds in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil and keep hot, hot until ready to use.

4. Quickly drain your sterilized jars. Keep the water boiling.

5. While they are still hot add a garlic clove to the bottom of each jar, then fill with beets. Stop filling 1/2'' from the top. Carefully pour in the pickling liquid, leaving at least a 1/4'' from the top of the jar of space. Wipe the rim of the jar with a clean cloth and screw on the lid.

6. Process for 20 minutes in a boiling water canner. Do not start timing until the water comes to a boil after you add your jars.

(Why didn't the skeleton cross the road? Because he had no guts!)

(Said skeleton keeping the almost pickles company.)

Fireside Pyrohy

Glamping it ain't.

We went camping on the weekend. Our first time with the girls. A stunningly gorgeous spot in the mountains, right above the river. No facilities. That is - no water, no outhouses, no nothing. And it was awesome.

We had a chainsaw, bacon, kids, dirt, fire, toilet paper on a tree, fleece, and more bacon. Not much more is required for camping in our books.

Now we can also add fireside pyrohy to our camping must-haves. Boil the pyrohy at home. Toss with some canola or vegetable oil to keep them from sticking. Pack in the cooler, along with some chopped onion and perhaps a mess of swiss chard or kale with some garlic sausage. At the campsite it all comes together.

Because there is no camping without bacon, there will be bacon grease. In our case I was frying away for the little kids. Instead of dumping the bacon grease in the firepit I tossed in my onions and chard. After a minute I added the pryohy and sausage to fry up for colour and heat. Then I served it on my daughter's Lightening McQueen plate.

Good fuel for hiking, throwing rocks, and all the fun stuff on a camping trip.