Being a 'Big Girl' at (nearly) 33

Is it strange that I find myself retelling a breakup story and saying that I handled it 'like a big girl?' What a weird phrase, that at less than 2 weeks away from being 33 years old it rolls off my tongue without hesitation. It's a phrase you tell a six-year-old when she's having a meltdown, not a phrase to describe a long-independent, fairly rational adult. It makes me realize that if I handle a situation 'like a big girl', it probably means I don't consider myself to be a big girl all the time... maybe ever. Or is it that I am just getting so practiced at being broken up with that I am just learning how I am supposed to act?
I didn't sob uncontrollably. I didn't throw a temper tantrum. I didn't get angry and slam the door. I just stoically sat quietly and listened to why I just wasn't the one. Yet again. I quietly wiped the tears as they slid silently down my cheeks. Once again. I didn't grovel and beg him to change his mind. I know that wearing heels and perfume next time I see him won't make him doubt what he's decided.
Maybe 'acting like a big girl' is actually just accepting resignation. You've lost. The race is over, and you didn't win. Nothing you can do can change that. No arguing with a referee. No whining about it not being fair. There is no asking for a do-over. When you've put your heart and soul into that race, projected your wishes and dreams onto it's hopeful outcome, it's really hard to accept. You're exausted and drained and utterly defeated. You can't fathom lacing up your shoes to do it again. And you have a splitting headache from the muscle tension in your forehead as you tried to keep from crying... compounded with the dehydration that comes with the floodgates opening as soon as he leaves and you can't stop crying.
But after a full day of welling up approximately every eight minutes, I think I've cleared the system. I've still got that pounding headache. I still have that dull heartache. But the feelings of desperation have faded. The irrational thoughts of never finding someone have gone back underground. The swelling around my eyes has gone down and with the flush in my cheeks, I actually looked pretty when I saw myself in the mirror a few minutes ago. I hope sleep will wash away the rest of the sadness and I can start tomorrow fresh. Because, isn't that what big girls are supposed to do?

Step Away from the Cookies

Tis the season for over indulgence. This is the time of year I love and I loath.  The time of year when pounds of butter are not only stuffed into my freezer, they are also currently making a home on more than one shelf of the fridge. The pantry is dangerously overfull with marshmallows, chocolate chips, coconut shreds and sugars of brown, white and raw. I can feel a second chin bulging out just thinking about it all.

Cooling after baking.

At work I sit in a office all day, surrounded by tins of sweets- cast offs from coworkers, gifts from clients, omiyagi (Hawaii/Japanese tradition of bringing gifts when you visit friends) and candy bars used for guest activities. This time of year I end up eating cookies that aren't good, they're just readily available, and I end up returning again and again to the conference room for 'just one more' snack. It's usually not satisfying and it's certainly not healthy. So what's a girl to do?

The answer came to me yesterday as I pondered what to do with the 32(!!!!!) egg whites I had in the freezer from my last stint making Likikoi Curd.  I'll make my own combative goodie that will satisfy my sugar-craving needs and keep me away from the rest of the junk. A cookie-type sweet that is loaded with fiber and potassium, has a light vanilla fragrance the lingers on your tastebuds and just enough sweet to satiate without overpowering. An easy-to make treat that is dairy free, gluten free, kosher,  and downright tropical. I am now convinced that Coconut Macaroons may in fact be the world's perfect food.

Now, I am the girl that can easily put away half a box of Peppermint JoJo's before I've realized I opened the package, so its a relief to know that about 1 1/2 of these little "Hawaiian Snowballs" leaves me happily sugared but able to walk away from them (though undoubtedly I will return for that other 1/2... you can't leave a wounded cookie on the battlefield!) Absolutely perfect.

So let's get cookin' the magic, shall we?

A few hints to this recipe:
#1- Use quality vanilla. I am unabashedly a vanilla snob and will only use fragrant Mexican vanilla.  Anytime I am within a 4-hour driving distance, I make a point to 'Run for the Border Louise'. I get a kick out of shopping for vanilla in liquor stores and begging the store merchant to let me smell the bottles too. But that's another story...
#2- Beat your egg whites with a mixer until they ALMOST form meringuey peaks. Add the vanilla and salt at this point and beat for just another few seconds to incorporate.
#3- Don't use the sweetened, flaked coconut you find in the regular grocery store's baking aisle. It's decent coconut, but the sugar/sweet ratio will be thrown off in this recipe. Shop a health food store for unsweetened coconut (usually called (aptly) "Macaroon Coconut") instead. I get mine at the local food co-op, Kokua Market.
 #4- What do you do if you don't go through egg yolks in mass quantity like me and regularly have whites available? Build your supply, slowly. David Lebovitz (a dessert genius who blogs from Paris) taught me that it's OK to freeze egg whites. I tried it and sure enough, it works like a charm. He suggests using an ice cube tray to freeze individual whites in each compartment. Also brilliant. Then you won't be trying to remember how many you put in that re-purposed yogurt container you used and then measuring and dividing (and divining) to figure our how much of your container filled with frozen whites you need per batch. Not that that's a scenario that I am familiar with... ehem.
 #5- Share. It's a food for the masses. Your gluten-free/ Celiac-cursed friends will love you. Your dairy-free/ lactose-avoiding friends will love you. Your kosher or passover-observing friends will love you. Your girlfriends on a diet will also love you. See? The world's most perfect food.

Hawaiian Snowballs

• 3 cups of unsweetened coconut flakes
• 1 cup sugar
• 3 egg whites
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• pinch salt

Preheat oven to 350.
Combine coconut & sugar in a large bowl. Beat egg whites with a mixer. Add vanilla and salt to eggs and blend. Add meringuish blob to the dry mix and incorporate with a wooden spoon or your hands (I use a combo of both).


Roll into 2" balls and set onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. The batter is sticky, so keeping your hands slightly wet with water while shaping may help.

C'est super fancy.

Bake 15 minutes until lightly golden on top. Transfer entire sheet to a cooling rack and cool for 30 minutes.

If you're feeling fancy, you can dip or drizzle melted chocolate over the coconut magic when they've finished cooling.

Makes approximately 20 snowballs. Indulge and feel good. The double chin will bid adieu in January.

Spoiler alert- immediate family may see these arriving in the mail soon.

Sometimes life flops

Don't be deceived. It only looks good.

So I made some muffins this week. They turned out like a bit of a metaphor for my life this week. F-L-O-P.  The Blueberry Bran muffins were heavy, greasy, fairy tasteless and so full of bran that I've left a stinky, farty skunk trail wafting behind me all day. I so wish I were kidding. When you're in an open office space with only one other person... well, there's not a mystery of who's tootin and you can't exactly blame it on the intern. Christ. So welcome to my week.

What else flopped this week? I spent my whole paycheck before I even received it. Oops. Financial planning flop. I got on the scale at the doctor's and see that I weigh the most I have weighed in 18 years. Not freaking out about it completely... but that's definitely along the lines of health flop. I got the results of my 'employees review the managers' review. And my star employee tells me she forgot to fill it out, leaving my disgruntled, currently-out-on-worker's-comp-for-a-minor-injury-going-on-6-months-now, employee to trash me up, down & sideways as the primary evaluator giving me 'you suck' scores. Management flop. Oh- and, I got dumped. Love life flop. Which is comical and tragic at once. Tragic because there wasn't a single red flag before I got blindsided by his abrupt and finite brake slamming. Comical because it freakin figures. No more online dating for me. Serious. I need to date men that are comfortable interacting in person, not just through heavily edited emails. And I need to date men that have dated enough to know what they want.  But that's another story all together.

So just prior to the getting dumped, I manifested my bedroom with all the feng shui vibes that I have been told will change my romantic future. So either it really DIDN'T work at all... or this last guy was simply another 'not the one' and I now have a fantastically feng shuied 'Why don't cha come up and see me sometime' bedroom waiting for Mr. Right-Enough to visualize himself getting cozy in. Now don't start thinking I did anything too overt. The room got a round mirror (according to friend Christina this is a must for good vibes in the sheets. Not sure why that is, but I don't question her and I put one on the wall), a cleared out closet so Mr. Nearly-Amazing can picture his own clothes hanging next to mine. Two nightstands. Two reading lamps. Clean sheets- like brand new, with no mildew stains because I live on the edge of a rainforest sheets (true story) so Mr. Slightly Flawed Because He's Human doesn't get all grossed out. Notice a pattern here too? I think I need the next man I date to have a few flaws- not red flag flaws, but enough human flaws to keep the relationship humbled and grounded. Maybe that's a more feng shui way to approaching dating too. Probably? Definitely. Now I need to take the feng shui course in how to get the guts to actually make eye contact and talk with random cute men. Any suggestions as to where this course might be published would be appreciated. ;)

So I gotta turn this flop of a week around. Shaking off the boy. Shaking off the muffins. Shaking off the "I have no money" and the sucky review. Shaking off the weight thing too. This is starting to sound like that Mariah Carey song.

So this week will entail baking a good recipe, talking to a cute man in person, and avoiding pulling cash out of the bank. Gonna make it happen. And hopefully I'll smell like roses too.

Manifesting Muffins

If you build it, they will come. If you buy nice sheets for your bed, they will come. If you project your desires to the world (in my case, as the form of a perfect boyfriend), he will come. If you visualize your life as you want it, it will manifest itself.  All bits of heavy, slightly too new-agey advice that I have sagely and seriously been offered this week.  How about my own? Plan and bake the perfect muffin and the Farmer's Market managers will ask me to come. Done and done.

I know one thing, I am tired of trying my hand at internet dating. I am tired of 'meeting' socially awkward men online and then being disappointed in person. My biggest beefs with them are usually superficial too, so shame on me. The last guy I went out with on a first/last date? Super nice. Super effeminate. Super not attracted. I seriously  have no one to blame but myself for my perpetual singledom. So I am owning that blame and will make a concerted effort to meet 'real' men (as opposed to the virtual ones). Then at least I know if they have a lisp or look 55 despite claiming to be 35 before we get past hello. I will manifest the introductions just as I will manifest my perfect muffins.

Morning Glory in Paradise Muffins

So tonight, I put on my 'wish necklace' ("Make a wish on this necklace and when it falls off your body in a state of worn and mildewed stinkiness it will come true"... ok, ok, so they necklace is actually beautiful and it's directions said nothing about the mildew & stinkiness...) and set about baking a perfect batch of islandified Morning Glory Muffins. Pineapple. Carrot. Raisins. Apple. Coconut. Macadamia Nuts. Cinnamon and Spice. What's amazing is that this muffin is dairy free and convincingly healthy.  It's different enough to turn heads, but comforting enough to be a go-to morning muffin when you're looking for something to crunch on in between the sink-your-teeth-into-heaven deliciousness. Yup, they're that good.

R&D by the numbers

Kabocha (local pumpkin) Cinnamon Rolls with lemony-cream cheese frosting.

Seven hours in the kitchen last night: Four kinds of cookies, two different varieties of muffins, two quick breads, one pound cake, one jar of lilikoi curd, one batch of scones and one pan of cinnamon rolls. One confirmed meltdown on cookies and one near meltdown from me due to monsoon-like rains assaulting and my little house's jalousie (read: non-sealing) windows and the humidity's affect on the goods. One refrigerator and freezer packed so tight that opening it is like opening a hive of angry bees - watch your toes cause something hard and frozen will likely be headed for them. Countless loads of dishes and remarkably only one broken water glass. And simply ridiculous amounts of butter, sugar and flour.

Muffins. It was all about the muffins.

Three hours in the living room this morning: Fifteen of my dearest friends, three french coffee presses filled many times over, twelve sheets filled with pen & paper bakery feedback, numerous casual suggestions, accolades and great conversation.

Well played.

The end result of the R&D breakfast (after a long, recuperating, sugar-coma induced nap)? I'm moving forward. I've got better direction. I'm whittling down bakery names. And I dearly, truly love my friends.

Tart & creamy Lilikoi Curd.

Muffins were the clear winner in the tastings. The lilikoi curd and the cream cheese frosting from the cinnamon rolls were standouts. Looking forward to refining recipies and sharing the results!

Sugar Coating the Sour Stuff

Cutting into a huge Pomelo, our island grapefruit.

So it turns out that not everything sour is unpleasant what you add sugar. I'm learning this both inside the kitchen and out. Lemons? Lemon Curd. Boy who dropped me like a hot tamale? Good riddance and good motivation to do better for myself. Grapefruit? Fresca Soda! (that's Grapefruit Soda, peeps....) Boy du jour who I am currently crushing on but who toes the other side of political lines? Making Out a bunch so you never have a chance to talk politics. Limes? Candied Lime Peel. See? Something sweet can come of anything sour!

So, with today's lesson on sweetening the sour in mind, I am currently standing in my kitchen wearing yoga pants (ha! maybe if I dress up and PRETEND I'm going to work out after baking it MIGHT happen. Not likely, but I digress...) getting ready to make some awesome candied citrus peel. I'm going to make the candy with lemon, lime and pomelo (island grapefruit). The lemon will be for topping lemon curd tarts, the grapefruit will be for something undetermined  (I have a grapefruit in my kitchen so it's getting candied) and the lime is destined for some island-inspired Lime, Coconut, Mac Nut, White Chocolate Chip, Spiced Oatmeal Cookies. Shoots, Cuz! (translation: Wow. That's really something, friend!)

Back to the Citrus Peel.  I'm gonna call on my nemesis/ mentor Martha freakin' Stewart again. That woman has way too many good recipes to ignore. Every time I use her recipes they turn out pretty fantastic, so that sweetens the sour of her too.

Peeling the pith from the limes.

Candied Citrus Peel

recipe modified from Martha Stewart

• 1/4 Pomelo Grapefruit
• 5 Limes
• 2 Lemons
• 1 1/2 cups sugar

With a sharp paring knife, slice off ends of pomelo, limes, and lemons. Following curve of fruit, cut away outermost peel, leaving most of the white pith on fruit. Slice peel lengthwise into 1/4-inch-wide strips. 

Making a mess with pith, juice & peels.

OK Martha- you make this sound easy. It's not. It took me almost 2 hours to do this to all the fruit because it didn't come off easily. Most of my strips are more like chunks... with holes in them.

In a medium pot of boiling water, cook peel until tender, about 10 minutes. With a slotted spoon, transfer peel to a wire rack set over a rimmed baking sheet; spread in a single layer to dry slightly, about 15 minutes.

Um, yeah... Martha, how do these sit on the wire rack without falling through? I set mine on paper towels on top of the rack. They didn't get very dry, but I am getting tired after being at this for over 2 hours now.

Drying rind and cocktail juice.

In a medium saucepan, bring 1 cup sugar and 1 cup water to a boil over high, stirring to dissolve sugar. Add peel and boil until it turns translucent and syrup thickens, 10-20 minutes. 

It starts to look like you're cooking sardines with the bubbling little slices of peel. I cooked them until the sugar syrup had reduced to about 1/3-1/2 its volume. 

With slotted spoon, transfer peel to wire rack, separating the pieces as needed.

Then pour the citrusy sugar syrup into a jar and put in the fridge for future use. Hello, cocktails!!

Let peel dry 1 hour. Toss with 1/2 cup sugar to coat.

In retrospect, the recipe might have meant "Make all this great candied rind from all these fruits... separately." Once I removed them from the sugar syrup they're all kind of the same color.  I think I can pick out which fruit is which from the shape, and you can taste the difference.  But it might be easier to do them separately in the future.

 So yum. The sour becomes sweet. These buggas are good. I keep snacking on them...gotta save some for cookies. And yoga? Yeah right.

A little R&D

R&D. Research & Development. Things that go on in my life on a regular basis. But are we talking about my love life or my kitchen? Let's decide, shall we?
This week's Research:

• Compiling of my favorite locally-inspired recipes
• Cost computing of said recipes
• Hopeful (honestly, really, amazingly so) time spent on the phone with the Hawaii State Department of Agriculture
• Attending a "Backyard Beekeeping" seminar
• Chatting up an old friend/ insurance agent to get a second insurance quote
• Finding new kabocha (pumpkin)-inspired recipes to experiment with
• And spending too many hours on Match.com pondering why no one new ever signs up and why a 26-year-old (who I had absolutely no business giving my # to, but did purely because a 26-year-old asked for it & it made me feel like I 'still got it') would think its OK to text me at 5:15am... and again at 7am...and again at 8. And when i finally respond at 8 that he'd woke me up, his response is a wink-y face thingy and 'just thinkin bout ya. forgive me?' Thinkin' about me? He's never even met me (let alone talked to me!) Augh. I am too old for this shit.

And then there's the Development:

• As evidenced, absolutely no Development in the Love Life side of things
• Invitations sent to an upcoming "Bakery R&D Taste Test Breakfast" - this is a major Development!

So here's the scoop: I'm throwing a breakfast get-together, cleverly labeled the "Bakery R&D Breakfast". I've invited a lot of friends and have promised them plenty of baked goodies in exchange for their honest feedback and opinions on both the baked goods and business names.  Providing that the feedback on the muffins/tarts/cookies/breads/sweet rolls is predominately positive, I'm hoping to also enlist these friends to be the Shay's Bakery (official Bakery name tbd) PR Army. I'm hoping that these dear people will help pave a way for me to get into the Farmer's Markets by talking, tweeting, posting, sharing and whatever else people do these days to pass on good words. And I hope these friends will stay by my side, eating my baked yummies as things begin to(hopefully) grow.

So- you gonna be on Oahu in 2 weeks?  If so, you should come to the Bakery R&D Breakfast! October 15th. In Palolo. Help me decide on a Bakery Name. Eat lots of food. Drink coffee (or mimosas) and be around some wonderful, amazingly supportive people called my friends. I'd love to have you!

Shoot me an email if you need more details!

An Inspired, Rainy Friday Night

Sitting home on a Friday night, watching Billy Elliot again for the first time in years (it just never gets old. It seems more viscerally moving every time I see it), computing recipe costs and eating a bowl of ice cream. And talking on the phone with a cute boy... but only after the movie was over and I'd dried my happy tears. (ps- Can I mention how much I MISS seeing live ballet. I would just die to see an inspired production of the male Swan Lake. Chills just thinking about it).

So its my kind of a Friday night. The roommate is out and I have the house to myself. The rain smells sweet like wet grass and asphalt as it leaks it's big, fat, heavy drops onto the tin roof of the church next door. It's making percussive music as it falls. Tchaikovsky is playing on Spotify. All is more than well.

I'm happy to say a very productive week just wrapped. I met with a business counsellor. I priced out ingredients at Costco and the local food co-op. I realize that I need to find a better wholesale option than Costco. I got a quote on insurance. I researched available business names. I consulted with my mom about her experience running her own business. I bought new makeup and set dates with two men. And I dreamed that my little Farmers Market Bake Shop evolved into a coffee shop cafe in blossoming Palolo (my neighborhood), complete with al fresco dining and a glossy light wood interior. And I dreamed, on top of that dream, that I managed to make myself into this generation's Martha Steward. Baking, Sewing, Gardening, Home Improvement Projects and more... Better Homes & Gardens will be pounding down my door for an interview.  So now I am trying to snap back to reality. Tugging on my own reins. I need to START SLOW. Which is so funny to remind myself that because a week ago I was terrified of even thinking of renting kitchen space. It's all feeling very doable right now, and it's thrilling.

I'm thinking a Baking Breakfast for friends is in store. I need feedback on recipes. I need feedback on proposed business names. And I need to figure out exactly how many muffins/ cookies/ slices of pound cake are in these recipes anyway.  So stay tuned.  Your tummy may be invited to breakfast at the house very soon!

Sweet Potato Goodness prevails. Being on time? Nope.

Two challenges today. Well, maybe three if you count being on time as one of them. That's already an epic fail.

I visited the new farmers market this morning and am forever changed. Never again will I wade through the crowds at the more well-known "KCC" market. The new market was large enough to have plenty of selection, busy enough to run into friends, yet slow enough to be able to chat with vendors and enjoy the morning. Feeling inspired, I chatted up the Market Manager, telling her about my yummy Mango Bread, Banana Bread & Avocado Pound Cake and my desire to have a booth selling my goods. Though she said 'Mmmmm, sounds delicious', she immediately followed that by 'but we already have two bakers here.' She suggested bringing by a sample of my goods next week and she'd think about it. Now, I am totally jumping the gun but even chatting with her yet. I am no where near ready to go. But maybe I need to stop being so damn methodical and get a fire lit under my ass. So, inspired like I was going to bake all my best recipes in the same week (what was I thinking?) along with designing packaging and apparently becoming Superbakerwoman, I came home with 20 ripe Lilikoi, 4 long and thin mangoes and 3 huge avocados.
So challenge #1- impress Market Manager in very near future with scrumptious samples. Which will also require packaging/ stickers/ logos designed. And a business name. Crap. I've got a lot to do.

Holy Sweet Potato, Batman!

Once home I threw around some ideas for what to make for the "Locally Made" potluck I was supposed to be at over an hour ago (quick aside- I'm typing while the pie is baking... so this technically isn't adding to the tardiness). Mango Bread is out because the Mangoes I bought are too green. Avocado Pound Cake has the same problem. The Lilikois are destined for Curd, so no sense cutting them open yet. I have a half gone jar of Lemon Curd in the fridge, but not enough to make something for a crowd. And I have an ENORMOUS Sweet Potato that is waiting to be used for something...
So challenge #2- Make something delicious and local with what is currently in the kitchen- so "Sweet Potato Something" it will be.

And the underlying challenge #3. Do yard work, bake something yummy, clean house & then proceed to run all over town retracing my morning market jaunt looking for lost cell phone and still be on time to potluck. FAIL. What I actually did was run all over town looking for cell phone to no avail, plant some seeds, clean a bit and take a long nap. And now I am almost 1 1/2 hours late for said potluck with 45 minutes left on the pie's timer. EPIC fail.

So what can I be successful at today? Baking Sweet Potato Pie!

Making the monster manageable size. Then I forgot to keep taking pictures. My bad.

So taking on the Sweet Potato Monster, I eyeballed that bowling ball-sized tuber and estimated it was about 4-5 cups of mashed goodness. Enough to make two pies. One for the potluck, and one for a going away party tomorrow.

I washed it off, sliced it into manageable chunks and peeled it with a peeler. Then I cooked down the chunks. If I had planned ahead I would have boiled them on the stove. But I didn't, so I covered them with water and put them in the microwave for about five 8-minute sessions. Once they slid tenderly off the knife I kept poking them with, I drained them and let them cool.

Now most sweet potato recipes tell you never to put them in a mixer because they get gummy. I have to agree, but timing was not on my side. Nor could I find my potato masher. So mixer it was. I didn't overmix. There are still a few soft lumps in the potato mash. I think that's ok. But that is entirely your call. I mixed it together and licked the spatula more than I should. I really won't be too hungry at this potluck tonight after my Sweet Potato Pie pre-dinner batter-licking feast. But my verdict? Totally worth it.

So here's the official unofficial recipe:
Backyard Sweet Potato Pie
Modified from Joy the Baker's "Dad's Perfect Sweet Potato Pie"

• 2 cups mashed cooked sweet potatoes. I used a local white fleshed variety.
• 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/8 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/8 teaspoon ground allspice
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted
• 1 12 oz. can evaporated milk, divided.
• 3 large eggs
• 1 tablespoon vanilla

Measure 2 cups of the mash and put in a medium sized pot with the packed brown sugar, all of the spices, salt,  the 1/2 stick butter, and 1/2 can of evaporated milk. Cook on low for about 5 minutes, whipping with a wire whisk until butter and brown sugar are melted down and mixture is well blended, smooth and starts to smell delicious. Remove from heat and let cool.
In a medium sized bowl, beat the three eggs with a fork. Add the rest of the can of evaporated milk, granulated sugar and vanilla to the eggs and continue beating until creamy. Pour the cooled sweet potato mixture from pot into a large bowl. Stir in the egg mixture. Blend thoroughly.

Pour the yumminess into 9" or 10" pie crust (choose 9" and you'll be licking the spatula a lot with the extra).


Bake 425 degrees for 10 minutes. Then lower the temp to 325 degrees for 45 minutes or so, until it plumps around the edges and doesn't jiggle much when you tap it. Let it cool before serving (well, let it cool a little...)

Enjoy with whipped cream! Yum!

Babies, Gifts and Indulgent Strawberry Lemonade Cupcakes

I'm currently inspired by babies (not always... only sometimes... honestly, rarely... sort of... Christ).

So my niece Morgan Brynn came into the world at 6 pounds, 15 ounces yesterday, and I couldn't be a prouder auntie! Yesterday I also received an email from a pregnant friend who is currently enjoying 3 weeks abroad in Italy with her baby bump just beginning to show. I then found out a favorite little inchworm, 2-month-old Hope, is coming into town with her mama Susan on Sunday. And tomorrow I am hosting a good friend's baby shower at the house- 10 women crammed into my living room making small talk about babies (or lack thereof) and playing awkward games involving faux poopy diapers, giant diaper pins and charading through guessing games about who's getting knocked up next. Luckily I am only responsible for opening my doors and baking cupcakes. Cupcakes I can handle. And buying a gift. Shit, I forgot to buy a gift.

So... showers. Why the heck do I always seem to be buying gifts for people having awkwardly traditional events that I do not qualify for? Bridal Showers. Baby Showers. Bachlorette Parties. Graduations. You don't really have a Shower for a Graduation, but you get a party and you still need to buy people crap. Weddings. Bar Mitzvahs. The list goes on.

I love my friends and love giving gifts, but lately I feel like I am continually checking someone's registry and plunking down a credit card for cute items I wish I had in my own house, but I am too broke to buy for myself. I want a Shower. I want cute Anthropology bowls and plates. I want a new set of La Creuset baking dishes and a soft Cashmere blanket. Much like Carrie Bradford registering for a pair of Manolos in that old Sex & The City episode (Season 6, Episode 8.3. I had to look that up, but obviously that episode resonated with me), I want an excuse for people to shower me with gifts that doesn't require reciprocation. I want. I want. I want. Greedly little bugger, aren't I?

So how can I make these cupcakes into something like a bit of a gift to me? First off, I can throw out any concept of 'healthy' out the window. I will abandon any inkling of 'diet' and thoroughly indulge. Second, I will bake extras and bring them to the picnic and concert I'm heading to tomorrow night. A little indulgent baking to share with any available good-looking men is never a bad idea. And Third, I am going to make all tomorrow's Shower attendees remember how damn good the cupcakes were so that eventually (hopefully, God-willingly) they will shower me with all the cute and non-essential crap that keeps stacking up on my "Dear Toothfairy/ Santa/ Sugar Daddy/ Important Grantor of all Shower-Requiring Events Deity" list when such a time comes. One would hope.

Until then, Cupcakes. Inspired by my Limon Curd session last week and this ode to the little muchkins and munchkins-to-be, I've decided to pair something sweet and pink (Strawberries & Cream Cheese) with something tart and acerbic (Limon Curd) and wrap it together with something traditional and delicious (Vanilla, Sugar and Butter). That about sums up my feelings toward this whole baby business. As much as I gripe about buying gifts and bemoan being single, I love my girlfriends and their little monsters more than anything in the world.

Strawberry Lemonade Cupcakes- makes 2 dozen cupcakes
adapted from Sprinklers Strawberry Cupcakes by Candace Nelson

• 1/2 cup thick Strawberry Jam
• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup whole milk, room temperature
• 2 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
• 1 1/2 cup sugar
• 2 large egg, room temperature
• 4 large egg whites, room temperature
  
  
  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line 2 12-cup muffin tins with cupcake liners; set aside.
  In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt; set aside. 
  In a small bowl, mix together milk, vanilla, and strawberry jam; set aside.
  
  In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream butter on medium-high speed, until light and fluffy. Gradually add sugar and continue to beat until well combined and fluffy. Reduce the mixer speed to medium and slowly add egg and egg whites until just blended.
  
  With the mixer on low, slowly add half the flour mixture; mix until just blended. Add the milk mixture; mix until just blended. Slowly add remaining flour mixture, scraping down sides of the bowl with a spatula, as necessary, until just blended.
  
  Divide batter evenly among prepared muffin cups. Transfer muffin tin to oven and bake until tops are just dry to the touch, 22 to 25 minutes. Transfer muffin tin to a wire rack and let cupcakes cool completely before filling and frosting.
  
  Once cool, take a sharp knife (a steak knife works well) and hollow out a chunk of cake (about the size of an extra large grape). Be sure to leave the bottom and sides of the cupcake untouched. 

  

  Hollowed out cupcakes get the parfait treatment.

  

  Smoothing out the Limon/ Lemon curd filling.

  
  

  

  Strawberry Jam smear atop the Curd.

  Fill each hole with a mini parfait layering a tiny drop of strawberry jam, a small spoonful with Limon (or Lemon) curd and topping with another drop of jam. See recipe for Limon/ Lemon Curd in the previous blog entry "Preserving fruit. And my bruised ego." 

  
  Frost with a tiny dollop of yummy strawberry cream cheese frosting with a hint of lemon (recipe below). They guys don't really even need the frosting, but it looks pretty!  Garnish with a sprig of fresh mint and a scant sprinkle of fresh lemon zest.
  
  
  

  

  Strawberry Cream Cheese with Lemon frosting
  1 teaspoon Strawberry Jam
  Tiny squeeze of fresh lemon juice (maybe 1/2 teaspoon)
  1/2 teaspoon vanilla
  2 oz (1/4 brick) cream cheese
  1 cups Powdered Sugar
  2 oz (1/4 stick) unsalted butter
  Beat in electric mixer until light and dreamy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Tonight's Listening Inspiration:
  
  Mumford & Sons Sigh No More
  Ingrid Michaelson Girls and Boys
   

Preserving fruit. And my bruised ego.

So I had an interesting conversation today with a man who sells preserves at the Farmer's Market. He willingly gave advice, recipes and good will. There need to be more people like him in this world.

But before our canning conversation, I spent the morning eating my belly full at a Volunteer Appreciation Brunch at Waimea Valley. Good food, amazing Hawaiian music and tangible energy and mana. And then with belly full I went to the Farmer's Market and proceeded to talk story with vendors, practically dancing through the aisle with joy at simply being alive on this glorious sunny day. I wish that I could shine like this all the time.

I left my fruit preserving conversation with some insight as to how to sell my goods at market's legally and safely: "do my thing and keep my head low." Short, practical advice to navigate not only through all the Department of Health red tape, but solid advice on how to be successful on this island as well.

So with a new 'head low' mantra, I'm taking all the limes (lemons?) found on the ground at my friend Kelsey's new house and making them into a curd. She says they're limes. On the tree they are green, but on the ground (where I found all of them) they are firm and yellow. Perhaps "Limons" is what we'll call them?

As as the preserving my ego thing... Remember that boy that I was trying to impress by making all that Basil Ice Cream? I don't think it worked. *Sad Sigh* I am perplexed. I wish I could turn on the sunshiney, bubbling over with happiness girl that I was at the market this morning like a light switch. But I can't. And for whatever reason, I end up feeling so self conscious around him that I end up not being myself- I end up saying and doing the stupidest things (like when I referred to August as April today. And then I proceeded to drop my 9-foot-long surfboard... almost on top of him. Dumb!) Can't be sure, but I feel like we're sliding very quickly into the friend zone. Is there any way to preserve what we had? I wish that was as easy as canning Lemon Curd.

So with a sad sigh of near but not-quite resignation, I'm going to slice open these limey lemons and create something lasting. And I'm going to keep my head low and keep doing my thing. Maybe it will pay off after all.

Limon Curd
Adapted from Martha Stewart's Lemon Curd Recipe

Makes about 2 cups

• 1 cup sugar
• Zest of 5 or 6 "Limons"
• 3 large eggs
• 4 large egg yolks
• 1 cup "Limon" juice
• 5 ounces unsalted butter, chilled and cut into small pieces

Directions

Place sugar and lemon zest in a mortar and grind with a pestle to combine and release the oils. 
Transfer sugar mixture to a medium heatproof bowl along with eggs and egg yolks; whisk to combine. 
Place over a saucepan of simmering water and whisk until sugar has dissolved. Add lemon juice and continue whisking until mixture is thick and reaches 160 degrees on an instant-read thermometer, scraping down sides of bowl as necessary. The last 5 degrees are pivotal. That's when it really starts to thicken. Be patient and really wait for the full 160 degrees.
Add butter and whisk until well combined.
Strain lemon mixture through a fine mesh sieve set over prepared bowl. 
Cover lemon curd with plastic wrap, pressing plastic wrap directly onto surface. Transfer to refrigerator until completely chilled. 

Can and Preserve away :) Or just eat it with a spoon, shuddering again and again at the all-too-tart sweetness as it hits your tongue.

How to (hopefully) impress a boy by baking

Clearly I am not one to write a trustworthy blog about how to impress a man enough to make him fall head-over-heels in love with me. Otherwise "perpetually single" would not be the box that I check on my taxes every year. But again and again, I let that little gasp of hope fight to the surface and fill me with the lovely vision of how wonderful relationships can be. I get a fuzzy recollection how it felt to be loved, and to give love from an endless place inside me.  It's just been a damn long time since I've actually been in a committed relationship. But it's that little gasp of hope that makes me want to find that certain boy, to make that fuzzy feeling sharpen into focus. It makes me want to bake and impress. 

So this Saturday is the planned "Spaghetti Party"- complete with 12 of Courtney & my closest friends, the lonely chicken Lolo and the two newest additions to the house, baby chicks Francey & Duck. And a boy worth trying to impress.

Courtney is creating the sauce, I'm in charge of dessert. Naturally.

I've decided that I am baking a double crusted Peach Cobbler and will be concocting some homemade Basil Ice Cream to pair with it. Simple yet fancy. Unique but familiar. It will be an intriguing flavor combination that will spark conversation and hopefully disappear to crumbs while everyone wishes they could have just one taste more.  Really, that's my whole plan for impressing the boy. Make him realize how dimensional I am. Simple and pure hearted, yet capable of dressing up and stepping up to the occasion. Unique and strong in my own convictions and direction in life, yet relateable and reliable. Intriguing and charming, leaving him so that he can neither stop thinking about the cobbler and ice cream... or me.

In theory, it's perfect. Unfortunately, reality usually dictates that I trip over my words or worse, can't find any at all. And I'll inevitably end up spilling ice cream into my clean shirt. The familiar role of "Bumbling Idiot #1" that I tend to melt into the minute I am in the presence of someone I really want to impress. Cool and collected? Only in my scripted fantasies.  But the cobbler and the ice cream? I don't think that those can fail me.

So tomorrow I'm buying Basil at the Farmer's Market, I'm putting on my new perfume and I'm hoping for something close to the scripted fantasy. Wish me luck.


Peach Cobbler 
6-7 whole, ripe Peaches (about 5 cups sliced). Wash and slice, leaving skins on.
1/4 cup Brown Sugar
3 tablespoons Flour
1/2 teaspoon Cinnamon

Place peach slices in an ungreased 9x12 pan. Stir in brown sugar, flour and cinnamon with a fork. Stir around loosening juice from the peaches. The peach juice will mix with the dry ingredients and create a sweet sticky syrupy coat for the peach slices. Stir until all the peach slices are covered with the yummy syrupy.

For the Double Crust topping:
1 1/2 cups Flour
1 1/2 cups White Sugar
1 1/2 cups Oatmeal
2 teaspoons Baking Powder
1 teaspoon Salt
2 dashes Nutmeg
2 beaten Eggs
1/4 cup salted Butter (1/2 stick)

Mix dry ingredients and then add the beaten eggs to make the topping very crumbly. Drop it onto the peaches and make sure all the peaches are covered. Melt the butter and drizzle over the topping.


Bake 40-45 minutes at 375 degrees until the peaches are bubbling out of cracks in the topping.


Serve warm, cold or anywhere in between.

Basil Ice Cream (inspired by Delmonico's in New Orleans)
2 cups fresh Basil. Rinse thoroughly to clean.
1/4 cup Simple Syrup (it's sugar water.. boil 1 cup water and add 1 cup sugar. Stir until dissolved. Now you have 1 1/2 cups Simple Syrup)
1/2 pint Heavy Whipping Cream
1 pint Half and Half
4 Eggs
2 cups White Sugar
1 teaspoon Vanilla
1/2 teaspoon Salt
5 cups Milk

Blanch (essentially dunk) washed Basil in boiling water. Then dunk into an ice bath. Remove from ice bath and set on clean towels and blot dry. Combine Basil and Simple Syrup in the blender and pulverize. Set aside.

Beat together Eggs and Sugar until stiff. Slowly add Cream, Half and Half and then Milk. Be careful to mix gently to avoid forming butter chunks. Add Basil mixture and stir thoroughly but gently. Strain through thin colander to remove chunks of basil (or butter) and pour into ice cream machine. Gently add vanilla and salt. Follow the machine's instructions to freeze.

Serve small scoops of Basil Ice Cream with the warm Peach Cobbler. No dripping on shirts. Keep the conversation going. Eye contact. Maybe he'll put his arm around you again when no one is looking. Or maybe he'll even do that in plain sight of everyone. Let that gasp of hope grow.

Research and Bluberry Muffins

So despite the recent blogs about canning escapades and dying pets, Courtney and I have been making progress on our quest of opening our mobile bakery.

I've talked to quite a few (surprisingly!) helpful folks at the Department of Health and finally connected with the commercial kitchen. Though start-up costs will be minimal compared to starting a store front, they are still something to be considered. We'll need a food handling permit ($50 and good for 2 years) and proof of commercial insurance (on my list of things to get a quote on) in order to rent space at the kitchen. The kitchen's rates are dependent on a lot of factors, including income. I have plans to pick up the application packet this week so that I can dig into all the variables and try to figure out what sort of kitchen space we'll need to rent. I'll also need to figure out if any prep work can be done at home or if it all needs to happen in the commercial kitchen. Then we need to test and time our recipes in order to prioritize and script our time to be as efficient as possible.

In order to sell our goods, we'll need a temporary food establishment permit, around $25 that will need to be renewed about 3-4 times per year (the rules on how long this one is good for are kind of complicated... but all in all we should budget $100/ year to be prepared).

I've been sent a packet of FDA paperwork that tells me how to properly label my packaged goodies for retail sale. That's a ways down the road, but nice to have the info in advance.

The health department also gave me the GREAT news that I am legally allowed to use my own backyard produce when cooking/ baking goods that I plan on selling. Though I don't pull in a ton of surplus produce now, perhaps in the future I will. I'm really excited about this possibility!

Finally, I am delving into some detective work. I need to figure out how to make my Lilikoi Butter and Lemon Curd shelf stable so that the food lab where I am required to send samples to will give me a green light to sell my canned goods. Without this green light everything will need to be sold as perishable and on ice... making it difficult for people to ship to friends on the mainland as gifts, a huge market I want to make sure we reach. My initial research is showing me I'm gonna have to learn more about Potassium Sorbate and Citric Acid. I don't like the idea of adding anything artificial-sounding to my butters and curds at all... but am playing the game with the health department to assure that I don't get shut down, or (worse) sued.

So the papers are piling up and the number crunching has begun. I'm getting very excited to start putting together a business plan and dive into this.

So where do Blueberry Muffins fit into all this research? At first glance they don't. But all this research is being done so that I can share these tasty little guys with the local farmer's market crowd, and practice makes perfect, right? Plus I needed to do some baking to distract my thoughts from missing chickens and cute boys.

So with that rational in mind, I picked up some mangos and blueberries at the store last night. I mixed my dry ingredients before bed so that I wouldn't procrastinate and put off baking in the morning. A great strategy because I don't function well at all in the wee hours and gravitate toward the toaster or the microwave if I don't have a breakfast plan.

This morning I finished baking the muffins. I ask you- is there anything more heavenly than steaming, hot, hearty muffins loaded with oats, bran and fresh fruit fruit served alongside a freshly laid and fried egg? I added a pot of fresh brewed Chai tea, sweetened with a spoonful of sweetened condensed milk just to push it over the edge. Decedent yet simple. I wanted to stretch eating this breakfast through the whole day, it was that good!


My muffin recipe is a combo of my mom's age-old Blueberry Muffin recipe that I grew up on, and inspiration from Brooklyn's creative Blue Sky Bakery. The only place I've ever eaten muffins that I can say rival my moms. Quite serious. My sister used to live about a mile from little hole-in-the-wall gem in Park Slope. Despite her moving to Queens over a year ago, a trip to the muffin shop remains a highlight of anyone's trip to NYC to visit her. Blackberry Peach muffins anyone? What about Pumpkin Apple Walnut muffins? I tried to find a website for them to give them the publicity they rightly deserve... but I couldn't find one (whaa?). However, if you're ever in Brooklyn, trust me that this place deserves at least one visit!

I used fresh mangos for the center of these yummy muffins, but usually use whatever fruit I can find fresh. I've experimented with apples, nectarines, raspberries and more. You honestly can't screw these up :)

Can I share a muffin baking tip that doesn't get shared enough?: Don't overmix your muffins.
Most muffin recipes say "mix quickly until batter is just wet." (or some variance on that phrase). It's no joke. You don't want to overmix muffins. They end up tough and dense rather than light and spongy with a crispy top. No one likes a muffin they have to gnaw on.

The following recipe makes 1 1/2 dozen muffins or 1 dozen monster muffins. I usually make the normal size if they're for me and the monster size if I bake them with someone else in mind (usually I am begging forgiveness or trying to impress someone)  :)

Mom's Famous Blueberry Muffins, with a Mango Twist

2 cups of flour
3/4 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1 cup bran
1 cup oats
Mix these dry ingredients together and form a well (or a hole) at the center of the bowl.

1 cup milk
1/3 cup oil
1 well beaten large egg
 2 cups blueberries
1-2 mashed bananas
Mix the wet ingredients together first, then add all at once to the dry mix's well. Mix quickly, just until the dry ingredients are wet.


1 mango (or 1 cup of fruit of your choice), peeled and sliced very thin. 
Set aside.


Spray a muffin tin with non-stick spray or oil. Then using a spoon, scoop about 1 tablespoon of batter into each of the muffin cups. Making sure the bottom of each cup is covered with batter, spoon about 1 to 1/2 teaspoons of fresh mango on top of the batter. Then cover the mango with another tablespoon or so of muffin batter to completely hide the mango. For monster size muffins you may want to add 2 tablespoons of batter on top of the mango.

Covering the mango with muffin batter.

Bake in a preheated oven at 400 degrees for 25-30 minutes. Muffins are done when the batter doesn't stick to a knife inserted into them... or when the muffins are getting a nice golden honey brown on their tops. Cool for at least 10 minutes in the tins. Run a knife around them before removing them to prevent the mango center from separating the muffin and carefully keep the muffin in one piece as you gently lift them out.

Muffins are amazing hot and piping from the oven... but they taste delish cold too!

So enjoy the muffins, I certainly will. And then the research and detective work resumes.

A Sad Day for Chickens

I feel like I'm having that moment in 3rd Grade that I never had. I remember kids in class crying, inconsolable because their dog had died. I remember not understanding why they were so upset... after all, it was only a dog. I had a cat as a kid, but being allergic to it, I rarely played with it or petted it. And it lived to be pretty old. I wasn't around when it died.

So now, 20 years later, I'm having that 3rd Grade moment. I feel like I want to cry my eyes out, but feel that it's silly to be so attached to, of all things, a chicken. And then I feel guilt. Guilt that comes with being glad it wasn't my favorite chicken, the spunky yet calm and cuddle-loving Lolo. And then, finitely, I am overwhelmingly sad that Lolo is now alone.

Sleeping in my hands at just a few days old.

I raised both birds from the day after the hatched. The two have been inseparable for the past 8 months. When they were tiny babies together they would fall asleep in my hands, on my lap, in my arms. When they got big enough to start flapping around, they would wreck havoc together, running around the house, pooping EVERYWHERE (that lasted about a day before they got the boot to the yard). When they were almost full grown there was a day that one of them flew onto my head and fell asleep there while I sat holding the other. And they both used to escape together. Down the street a few times. Into the trees on the street below a few times.  Worried for their safety, I continually built the fence around the yard higher... until one day it was clear that though they were perfectly capable of escaping, they simply didn't want to anymore.

They started sleeping side-by-side on the porch railing, ignoring the nearby chicken coop. My little chicken soldiers standing watch over the house. Every night at dusk they would take flight and fly over the fence into the open yard, then hop up the front stairs (completely capable of hoping down the front stairs instead to the street below) and fly up to the railing to perch. Every morning at dawn I would wake up to the flutter of feathers as they flew back into the fenced yard below the porch.

But last night when I got home I only had one soldier standing guard.
I searched the yard in the dark. Nothing. I searched the nearby churchyard where they've escaped before. Empty. And then I searched the street. I found feathers and and smear. No body, but a squish of dark brown feathers, the same color as feisty Laka.

Sick at heart I went to bed. And I dreamed of chickens. I dreamt at one point that Laka showed up at the house with a huge gaping hole in her back and I was urgently trying to find a vet. But over and over, I dreamt that Lolo was sad and lonely. I dreamt she wouldn't leave my side. I actually dreamt she was sleeping in the bed with me, like a small baby who needs to be held. And I woke up to the empty sound of one pair of wings flying into the yard below.

I don't know enough about chickens to know if she'll notice her sister is gone. I don't know if she'll be lonely or just confused. I just don't know what to do.

Part of me wants to rush out and get two more hatchlings to raise so that there is a family for Lolo. But I also know that I'll need to keep those babies in a box in the house for at least a month until they're big enough to be on their own. A month is a long time for a human to be lonely. Let alone a chicken.

I still feel silly as I write this. And I still feel like crying. It's only a freaking chicken. But its only also the first pet I've ever raised and taken care of myself.

So the 3rd grader in me will cry big wet tears and the adult in me will try to be rational. But both will miss the lost chicken and worry about the one that is still alive.

Devil's Sauce, or, How to spend 10 hours stuck in the kitchen on a Sunday

It's 10:39 pm. Pressure Canner attempt # 4 (I think?). We started this project around noon (I think?) All I have to say is thank God for cold beer and leftover Indian food to get us through this ordeal.

So in theory, this post is supposed to be this fabulous story of how amazing Courtney & Shannon are. What Goddesses in the kitchen. What an amazing delectable tomato base we concoct, like fabled Mead to please the masses.

Shall we discuss reality? Take notes, don't repeat our mistakes. And come and join us for our big Spaghetti dinner we're planning. We might even throw in some Bloody Marys for kicks.


So here's the true dish on making this devilish sauce:

First- don't wear a white shirt you really like when cooking red tomatoes. And don't wear an apron smeared with pancake batter from this morning's breakfast if someone is photographing you cooking. You may notice Shannon seems to be wearing 3 outfits during this ordeal. You're right. She is.

40 pounds of tomatoes taking up the whole counter.

Second- Don't freak out when seeing 40 pounds of tomatoes on your kitchen counter. You don't need to go buy more canning jars or raid certain friend's stashes of HUGE half gallon jars, certain that you'll translate 40 pounds of tomatoes into 40 jars of sauce. 40 pounds actually ends up being more like 30 pounds by the time you weed out the bruised ones and bring a handful to a BBQ the night before canning. 30 pounds reduces to less than 12 pint jars (a standard case you'd buy at the store). In our case, we reduced down to 11 pint jars of semi-thin sauce.

 Third- Hiding behind inanimate objects (towels, cookbooks, door frames, etc) is a perfectly rational thing to do every time you nudge the damn canner to make sure its working. You never know when its gonna blow its top and cover you and your entire kitchen with scalding sauce. Luckily we had no explosions, but we had to start the freaking thing over multiple times.

Fourth- A jump-around-the-kitchen happy dance is not only acceptable but completely necessary after trying for hours (seriously, hours) to make the f*ing thing work. In Courtney's thoughtful words of triumph- "That's right bitches!"

Fifth- Read the directions on your canner. And then dump the directions and read this post to actually figure out how the hell to use it.


So.... wanna make some Devil's Sauce?  

Devil's Sauce
(makes 11 pints of thin sauce if you don't screw up too much, probably 9 or 10 pints of thicker sauce.)

You'll need: 

• 40 pounds of fresh, firm tomatoes 
• 6 tablespoons of lemon juice

Prior to touching the food, wash all your jars, jar tops and utensils and set them to dry. Bring a pot of water to a boil and dip the jar tops and just-washed screw ring lids to scald them/sanitize them, then lay them out to dry. Finally, find a cute outfit that isn't white and a clean apron. 

Slicing in a dirty apron.

So first you need to wash your tomatoes and slice them up. We fed the bruised ones to the chickens. Like probably 5 pounds of them.

Once you've got your tomatoes sliced, start layering them into the bottom of a huge sauce pot (we used the canning pot). As the layer comes to a boil squash the heck out of it with a potato smasher and then add a new layer of slices. Continue until all the tomatoes are in the sauce pot, smashed and boiling.

Winding Grandpa's food mill.

Then use grandpa's handy antique food mill. You can probably find one of these at a gourmet kitchen store. Or use the one that's been used for decades in the fam. We put 3 ladles of tomato smash into the food mill and processed it until all that remained were seeds and skins. Scrap the remains into a chicken feed bucket (or compost bucket) and pour the tomato-soup consistency sauce into a large bowl or two. Continue until all sauce has been put through the mill.

Sprouting seeds. Not worms. Promise.

Once you've got all that strained sauce, pour it all back into the sauce pot and boil away. Oh, and the little white things that float to the surface? After fretting and Googling and debating whether 'extra protein' was an option, we realized that they were not in fact worms that had escaped our attention when slicing tomatoes, but seeds that have been über-pulverized in the food mill and were actually squeezing out a piece of tomato plant. Like a seed sprouting. Kinda cool in retrospect. Kinda freakout in the moment. 

Keep boiling and reducing the sauce. For hours. Like hours and hours. Like, don't leave your house all afternoon hours.

What does one do while reducing tomato sauce? 

Shannon watered the yard, planted some seeds in the garden, caught up with friends on the phone, ate Indian food, ate ice cream, balanced her checkbook, ate ice cream again, cleaned her room, paced the house repeatedly and finally sat down and watched like four episodes of Arrested Development on Hulu (heck yes!) and drank beer.

Courtney studied for the MCAT, studied for her upcoming Calculus final, picked up a friend from the airport, ate Indian food, did laundry, paced the kitchen, studied some more and drank beer.

Yay. Sunday afternoon stuck in the house. A big flag-waving yay.

Courtney adding the lemon juice.

So finally around 9pm we decided our sauce was thick enough because we were both tired of making tomato sauce. With more patience I'd have probably cooked it another hour. Turn off the heat and add 2 tablespoons lemon juice per quart of reduced sauce. We were at 3 quarts of sauce so we added 6 tablespoons.

Being careful to cleanly ladle sauce into the jars and leave 1/2" space between the sauce and the jar's rim, we filled 11 jars.  Make sure there is no dribble on the jar. Wipe the jars clean if there is.

Two of our sad little jars, post swim.

Our 11 happy little pints prior to going for a dunk.

Our canner's instructions say that the canning pot can hold 10 pint jars. At a time. Lies. We could fit 9 jars, max. We alternated some jars upside down to squeeze more in. Bad idea. This just resulted in nearly half the sauce magically evaporating from about four of the jars and tinting the canning water orange-y red. And magically evaporating is no exaggeration. We were seriously baffled that inches of sauce could vanish from the upside down jars, yet no chunks of sauce floated in the canning water. We can offer no explanation for the phenomenon, but can sincerely recommend you not try to can anything upside down.

This is where the whole 'reading the instructions' part comes into play. Shannon's an instruction skimmer (or ignorer), so luckily Courtney is a bit more disciplined. She made Shannon unpack the canning setup and repack it because it was a bit counter intuitive (to Shannon's canning intuition that is). Then Courtney repacked it yet again. Then we proceed to make a ridiculous amount of 'mistakes' despite actually reading the instructions.


Here are a few things 'not' to do based on our attempts:
1- Don't put the pressure regulator piece on right away. Save yourself our lost 45 minutes and bring it to a steady boil/ stream of steam before putting on the pressure regulator.

Actual amount of water needed.

2- Don't cover the cans with water. Our canner only required 3 quarts of water (like 2-3 inches). Rationally (to me at least) this makes absolutely no sense. But I guess all that water makes it impossible for the canner to build up pressure so you end up with boiling water pouring out of random crevices on the canner and you end up hiding behind inanimate objects and nudging the canner. A lot. Then you start over. Again.
3- Don't can jars upside down. Magic can happen. Not good magic.

Wobbling in action.

Be sure at this point to open another beer. You deserve it.

So finally, 4 tries in we actually get the bloody thing to work. "That's right bitches." We dance around the kitchen when the pressure gauge pops up. We dance again when the pressure regulator starts to wobble (technical term, yes). And then we let it do its thing for 15 minutes. 

Timer buzzes. Heat turned off. Waiting time again.
Courtney studies. Shannon blogs.

About 15 minutes later the pressure gauge should drop back into the pot, signaling that the pressure has dissipated and it is safe to open the canning pot. This is super serious business. Don't attempt to open the pot prior to the gauge dropping. It would be like the pot getting "The Bends". And it would explode its brain all over your kitchen. Potentially putting a nice little hole in your ceiling. Don't do it.

So once the pot is safe to open, carefully lift out the jars, wipe them dry, label them and go to bed. It's been about 12 hours. Bloody hell.

Once you're gotten over your hatred of the cooking tomato sauce process and come to understand and embrace the $10 jar of tomato sauce from Whole Foods, you're probably ready to host a Spaghetti party. I'm not there yet. But when I am, I will detail how to add olive oil, herbs, garlic, onions, and other garden-fresh goodness to the sauce base for a pasta sauce and will rave about what Goddesses in the Kitchen Courtney and I are. "Mead" and all that B.S. I'll tell you all about how I made an awesome tomato soup with it and paired it with an artisan grilled cheese sandwich. About how we made amazing, life-changing Bloody Marys. But now? I'm off to bed.

Precursor to the Spaghetti Dinner made the day after canning. Ah-mazing. Sauce was doctored up with a splash of red wine, olive oil, red onion, garlic, salt, pepper and a drop of honey. Topped with fresh garden basil and sheep's milk feta. Served with a side of Kale with garden fresh lemon squeezed over top. Well done, Courtney!