Pink of Perfection

There is much to be said for what discomforts a change of scenery can ease. And because I have been nursing a cold with a sore throat that only tom yum soup, apple cider, and hot tea could make feel better, we went apple picking.

It was 80 degrees, and the pumpkins and hay bales looked completely out of place in the hot sun. Sebastian and I piled into a wagon filled with children and their parents and rode into an orchard where rows and rows of Piñata apples were––literally!––ripe for the picking. It was so pretty there, with tiny apple blossoms and lush, glossy leaves on the trees, dark green grass below our feet and a big blue sky above. We wandered between trees to the Empires, then the Golden Delicious, and finally the Suncrisps. Later, with our modest five-pound haul, we walked back to the orchard entrance and bought some cider donuts, still hot in their white paper bag. We shared a cold bottle of cider and sat in a shady spot in the grass. I wondered what had taken me so long to do what has long been on my fall fun list.

Colds lead to thick, murky thoughts and minutes lost to staring off into the distance. And so Sebastian had to figure out what to make with all those apples. Wouldn’t you know that the rookie would come out of the gates with a grand slam? My mom makes the simplest of apple pies: just peeled wedges, sugar, cinnamon, and dots of butter. What Sebastian baked was ultra-rich, and bubbled over with a caramel-like sauce. It might have been the best slice of apple pie I’ve ever had. We shared a single slice hot from the oven late last night and pronounced it a victory. (But I’m still partial to tarte tatin.)

I didn’t intend for this post to be about Sebastian’s triumph in the kitchen or to tell you about the killer apple pie recipe he found. Both were just serendipity! I set out just to recount this kind of magic moment in the weekend where even with an aching throat there was something so sweet about wandering, foggy-headed, through an orchard in the sunshine. Why did something so simple feel so utterly divine?

We play this game in our house from time to time, “what was your favorite moment?” And the surprising thing is that it’s never the fancy dinners or big to-dos we planned for, spent money on. It’s always something unassuming and random, like a nice walk, or seeing some hilarious dog, or reaching up into an apple tree, grabbing a piece of ripe fruit, and biting right into it.

Continue reading “Sweet Suprises and Apple Pie” »

I don’t know Jennie. But I know the reliable warmth of her writing and her creative recipes, and I’ve thought about her more this week that many of my real-life friends. Jennie’s husband died.

Just writing that makes me feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

People like me, who love Jennie through the fibers of the internet, have felt achingly helpless. But I read her lastest post and felt grateful for some direction:

For those asking what they can do to help my healing process, make a peanut butter pie this Friday and share it with someone you love. Then hug them like there’s no tomorrow because today is the only guarantee we can count on.

Pie I can do.

I went to the grocery store this morning for the ingredients, and came home to bake. I tried to be mindful as I was mixing. Before this unimaginable news, I had been thinking about what it means to be married, how to share your life with someone and uphold the promises you make. I had been wondering about timing, and when to take the next steps in life. When is it time to buy a house? To have a baby? To take that trip we’ve been putting off? As I botched the cookie crust and struggled to spread the melted chocolate I thought, This is love. Making mistakes and making a mess. And extending the whole sticky mess as an offering.

If we walked around all the time, aware that at any moment our time with the people we love most could almost be up, it would drive us insane. So there must be some line we can walk, one where we are filled up with gratitude and so much joy for how lucky we are, but without making ourselves crazy over how fragile life is.

The pie smells delicious, and it’s sitting in the refrigerator right now. Tonight I’ll carry it upstate on a long train ride, resting securely on my lap. I’ll cut into the whole mess and watch it fall apart when the crust doesn’t hold, then pass out slices to old friends and my guy. And then we’ll dig in.

Time’s a wastin’.

Continue reading “Jennie’s Peanut Butter Pie” »

I’ve been wondering what will come next. Cupcakes have had their day. Pies currently rule the school, but really, how long can that last? At first I thought I’d move to nominate the humble cookie. It’s simple, it’s unassuming, it’s individually-portioned. But then I thought how sad it is to watch a dessert rise and fall like a teenage pop star.

I like to see the cookie as trend-proof, like the perfect trench or red lipstick––perennially delicious and always in style. And really, that’s what I’m looking for: the wardrobe additions and the ways of thinking and the recipes that will continue to delight me––and maybe even improve my life––long after the dessert du jour’s reign is up.

These cookies are marvelously simple: super rich, not-too-sweet, and with the added benefit of feeling, well, sort of healthy, right? Just think of all the protein!

Continue reading “Almond Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies (They’re Gluten-Free!)” »

My friend Julie is always unveiling these delicious candy-like confections when she arrives at book club. To someone more than a little intimidated by candy thermometers, these artful, thin layers of chocolate, peppermint, and nuts look complicated, but Julie always recites the recipe as if it were as simple as tying our shoes and as if tomorrow, in the haze of book club wine glow, I will remember exactly what went into those peanut butter balls.

Recipes are for sharing, and I love the generosity of “oh it’s so simple, here’s how you do it.” Maybe you won’t find it simple when you are melting easy-to-burn white chocolate over a makeshift double boiler alone in the kitchen, but your friend thinks you can do it. Her vote of confidence rings in your ears even as you spill a bag of cocktail peanuts on the floor. “It’s so simple!” If she thinks I can do it, I can.

If confidence comes from competence, as my mom always said, then a kitchen triumph is as good as any to make you feel like you can conquer the world. When I remembered Friday morning that I was supposed to bring dessert to a dinner party 130 miles north that night, I thought of Julie. What’s simple, holiday, can be ready before you need to run off to catch your ride, and is a treat hardy enough to be toted in the back of a Zipcar? You guessed it.

This salty sweet chocolate bark sat on my friend’s kitchen table the entire weekend. Chunks were nabbed at breakfast, as fortification after a winter walk, and during a heated match of Uno. By Sunday afternoon, I carried a near-empty tupperware back to Brooklyn. And as usual, you can trust a real friend: it really is so simple.

Continue reading “Winter Holiday Bark” »

On Saturday night, I had a chicken in the oven, my sister on the couch, and a bottle of prosecco in the fridge. I was telling myself (and anyone who would listen) that it was my Jesus Take the Wheel dinner party. Sometimes when life doesn’t feel like it’s going your way, the best thing to do is give up the illusion that you are at all in control, cast your fate to the winds, and sit down at the dinner table with your family. And eat cake. You must eat cake.

My sister, husband, and brother-in-law carried their chairs into the kitchen to keep me company while I chopped. Squeezed into the tiny space between the garbage can and the fridge, they were nibble garlicky olives and duck pâté with pistachios (it’s nice to have a sister who can be relied upon for a touch of luxury). And then we moved to the table, switched the Pandora stations to the Magnetic Fields, and toasted to something likely worthwhile and sweet and tender. I wish I could remember.

Roast chicken is the ultimate comfort food in my book. It makes me think of Sunday night dinners in cozy kitchens with a cat curled up on the windowsill and Nina Simone on the stereo.

Would you believe though, that the salad really stole the spotlight from the bird? We all (vegetable-phobic paramour not withstanding) flipped for the earthy, green salad of shredded Brussels sprouts and Swiss chard, sweetened ever-so-slightly with maple syrup. Who knew cruciferous vegetable could be such scene-stealers?

Continue reading “3 Cozy Fall and Thanksgiving-Friendly Recipes” »

My book club last night was Mad Men-themed, with one member rocking a clingy woolen turquoise dress that would have made Joan Holloway proud. What’s for dessert when you’re feasting on steak and martinis? Why, apple betty, of course, inspired by the evilest wackadoo of all.

The question came up: what makes a betty different from a buckle or a crumble? I have now had the opportunity to consult the Epicurious food dictionary and can shed light for inquiring minds. Dating back to Colonial times, a betty (or brown betty) consists of sugared, buttered breadcrumbs mixed and layered with chopped fruit (usually apples) that has been tossed with lemon juice and flour. The lack of eggs and milk makes it an entity separate from a bread pudding, in case you’re wondering. End history lesson.

I was one martini in when it came to dessert (can’t say enough good things about Farmer’s Gin) so I cannot, unfortunately, give an in-depth account of this betty’s virtues. I can vouch for her wholesome, warm simplicity, and a sweet, homespun fragrance irresistible to men on public transportation. I can also say having learned my lesson the hard way: gin martinis––insanely delicious, but watch out.

I haven’t seen the season finale yet, so pretty please: no spoilers in the comments!

Continue reading “Apple Betty” »

The bad news is, I killed a plant. A couple weeks ago, I went on a plant buying spree. Green plastic pots filled with pink polka dotted leaves and viney tendrils were two for $5 at the farmer’s market. Then later, walking home from a cafe, a flower shop had a tray of long-armed, spiny aloe plants for sale, and a tall, proud looking green thing. Of course, I had to have them all.

Ever since I visited my friend in Los Angeles in the spring, I have realized that my dream life has a lot more green things in it than my actual life. Jenny had plants hanging from the rail of her balcony, and a terracotta pot filled with succulents and a bed of stones. At night, she might have snipped buds from white rosebushes and slipped then into the narrow neck of a tall bottle back in her apartment.

I came home wanting more green on my windowsills and fire escape. And it’s why, when I ran into a jade plant at Trader Joe’s, I swooned. There’s something about jade plants that so speaks to me––they don’t need much, and they hold what they need, in reserves, inside of them. Yet despite the lovely symbolism and my ability to instantly make reality an element of my dream life right there in the grocery store aisle, I had to stand, weighing the pecuniary ramifications of a $10 plant for several minutes. Then finally it hit me: I’ll spend $10 on a sushi lunch but I can’t drop the same amount to make my ideal life vision a reality? So I got my priorities straight and happily carried that jade plant home, where it greets me every morning from my bedroom windowsill. An important lesson: it’s always worth it to spring for the things that really bring you deep delight, especially when they cost less than $20.

I killed the pink polka dotted thing. I think, perhaps, it was more delicate than it looked. It might have been the rain or the wilting heat. But I still have the jade plant, the aloe plant next to it, and two unidentified green things in the living room: one low and long-armed, one tall and proud.

Here’s the good news: I’m pretty into these cookies. In fact, would it be wrong to say my favorite thing about these cookies was the raw dough? It was the best I’ve ever tasted. Some of their magic seemed a little lost in the baking, but they came out of the oven soft and have stayed that way for days. Plus, while I would not go so far as to call these cookies “healthy,” they do have a number of good-for-you items in them, like whole wheat and oat flours, canola oil, and agave nectar. This is not reason enough to eat them for breakfast, but all the same, I did. Let’s just call that my other piece of bad news.

Continue reading “Chocolate Chunk Cookies with Almonds” »

Y’all know I like to tipple from time to time. That’s why, when I heard about a book called Booze Cakes, I pretty much knew it would be something you lovely readers would like for a giveaway (especially Sara Rose, am I right?). Quirk Books is raffling off one copy of this gorgeous cookbook to a lucky Pink of Perfection reader. Enter to win by leaving a comment about your favorite boozy recipe by midnight EST Friday, July 9. US mailing addresses only.

Update 7/12: And the winner is Amy! Thanks everyone for entering. Loved reading about your recipes!