I’ll keep this short and sweet because, let’s be honest, we’ve all got things to attend to. Somehow I woke up this morning staring December 21st in the face and none too pleased about it. We always talk about how we can’t believe it’s already such and such holiday/season/milestone, but this year it’s really true. I blinked and it was almost over. So hopefully you have things a little more under control than I do at the moment. I got an exciting temporary writing job so I’ve been hunkering down in my pj’s writing online copy while trying to check things off my holiday list: wrapping, card-writing, packing up boxes (YES, we found a place and I can’t wait to tell you all about it).
At my yoga class a few days ago, the instructor was talking about what a magical time of year it is and she started going on and on about our dynamic energy fields. I’ll admit it, I tuned out in the midst of my downward dog. But something she said resonated with me: across so many cultures and religions, at this particular moment in the year, millions of people are celebrating their holidays and beliefs. When that many people start devoting their energy towards something good– looking inward and celebrating with family and friends–it does something to the energy around all of us. It may be a little out there for you. In some ways, it’s a little out there for me. But there’s always that moment when I feel Christmas come on, that little tugging inside that reminds you what magic and belief feel like–and that’s what I think she was alluding to. So here’s to hoping you get everything done on your list in the coming days. But even more importantly, here’s to hoping you find some light and that you can step into the playfulness, anticipation, and awe of the season…if only for a few moments.
Now let’s get right to business with three simple words: Eggnog Popcorn Balls. I came across this recipe on Chow.com recently and couldn’t wait to try it.
These are a quick, easy holiday treat and with the addition of vanilla and nutmeg, have a flavor amazingly reminiscent of eggnog (which is great combined with the crunch of popcorn). I decided to make them minis instead of full-size as the recipe instructed mainly because we’ve got so many darn sweets lying around the house. I also made a couple alterations to the recipe after trying it a few times: more nuts and a little less popcorn so they syrup coats each piece. I couldn’t, for the life of me, find plain popcorn anywhere. I did find “natural” popcorn but it was salted, so I ended up using that and just omitted the salt and it turned out wonderfully. I think popping your own is the key to finding unadulterated popcorn these days. Enjoy, and thank you so much for stopping by. More and more each day, I’m thankful for my readers. You all bring me joy. Happy holidays.
Slightly adapted from: Chow.com
Coat a large heatproof bowl with butter or oil and place popcorn in bowl. Toast pecans in oven at 350 F until fragrant, about 5 minutes.
Place sugar, corn syrup, water, vinegar, and salt in a medium saucepan and stir to combine. Place over high heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved, about 2 minutes. Bring to a boil and cook until mixture registers 260 F on a candy thermometer, about 5-7 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in butter, nutmeg, and vanilla until melted and smooth.
Immediately drizzle sugar mixture over popcorn. Add pecans and stir continuously with a rubber spatula, scraping the bottom of the bowl, until popcorn is thoroughly coated and cool enough to handle, about 3 minutes.
Using buttered or oiled hands, tightly press mixture (it may still be warm) into mini rounds. Place on waxed paper to cool completely, about 15 minutes.
Winter Comfort Food
I intended on baking holiday cookies to share with you today, but when I sat down to brainstorm all I could think about, truly, was the morning porridge I've been making and how that's really what I wanted to send you away with. The holiday season always seems to zoom on by at its own clip with little regard for how most of us wish it would just slow down, and this year feels like no exception. We got our tree last week and I've been making a point to sit in the living room and admire the twinkle as much as possible. I have lofty goals of snowflakes and gingerbread men and stringing cranberries and popcorn, but I'm also trying to get comfortable with the fact that everything may not get done, and that sitting amongst the twinkle is really the most important. That and a warm breakfast before the day spins into gear. This multi-grain porridge has proved to be a saving grace on busy weekday mornings, and it reheats beautifully so I've been making a big pot and bringing it to work with some extra chopped almonds and fresh pomegranate seeds. While cookies are certainly on the horizon, I think I'll have this recipe to thank for getting us through the busy days ahead.
We returned home from San Francisco on New Years Eve just in time for dinner, and craving greens -- or anything other than baked goods and pizza (ohhhh San Francisco, how I love your bakeries. And citrus. And winter sunshine). Instead of driving straight home, we stopped at our co-op where I ran in for some arugula, an avocado, a bottle of Prosecco, and for the checkout guys to not-so-subtly mock the outlook of our New Years Eve: rousing party, eh? They looked to be in their mid-twenties and I figured I probably looked ancient to them, sad even. But really, there wasn't much sad (or rousing, to be fair) about our evening: putting Oliver to bed, opening up holiday cards and hanging them in the kitchen, and toasting the New Year with arugula, half a quesadilla and sparkling wine. It wasn't lavish. But it's what we both needed. (Or at least what we had to work with.) Since then, I've been more inspired to cook lots of "real" food versus all of the treats and appetizers and snacks the holidays always bring on. I made Julia Turshen's curried red lentils for the millionth time, a wintry whole grain salad with tuna and fennel, roasted potatoes, and this simple green minestrone that I've taken for lunch this week. Determined to fit as many seasonal vegetables into a bowl as humanly possible, I spooned a colorful pesto on top, as much for the reminder of warmer days to come as for the accent in the soup (and for the enjoyment later of slathering the leftover pesto on crusty bread).
If I asked you about what you like to cook at home when the week gets busy, I'm willing to bet it might be something simple. While there are countless websites and blogs and innumerable resources to find any kind of recipe we may crave, it's often the simple, repetitive dishes that we've either grown up with or come to love that call to us when cooking (or life in general) seems overwhelming or when we're feeling depleted. While my go-to is typically breakfast burritos or whole grain bowls, this Curried Cauliflower Couscous with Chickpeas and Chard would make one very fine, very doable house meal on rotation. The adaptations are endless, and its made from largely pantry ingredients. I never thought I'd hop on the cauliflower "rice" bandwagon, but I have to say after making it a few times, I get the hype.
People describe raising young kids as a particular season in life. I hadn't heard this until we had a baby, but it brought me a lot of comfort when I'd start to let my mind wander, late at night between feedings, to fears that we'd never travel internationally again or have a sit-down meal in our dining room. Would I ever eat a cardamom bun in Sweden? Soak in Iceland? I loved the heck out of our tiny Oliver, but man what had we done?! Friends would swoop in and reassure us that this was just a season, a blip in the big picture of it all. They promised we'd likely not even remember walking around the house in circles singing made-up songs while eating freezer burritos at odd hours of the day (or night). And it's true.
Oliver is turning two next month, and those all-encompassing baby days feel like a different time, a different Us. In many ways, dare I say it, Toddlerhood actually feels a bit harder. Lately Oliver has become extremely opinionated about what he will and will not wear -- and he enforces these opinions with fervor. Don't get near the kid with a button-down shirt. This week at least. He's obsessed with his rain boots and if it were up to him, he'd keep them on at all times, especially during meals. He insists on ketchup with everything (I created a damn monster), has learned the word "trash" and insists on throwing found items away on his own that really, truly are not trash. I came to pick him up from daycare the other day and he was randomly wearing a bike helmet -- his teacher mentioned he'd had it on most of the day and really, really didn't want to take it off. The kid has FEELINGS. I love that about him, and wouldn't want it any other way. But, man it's also exhausting.
It's been a uniformly gray and rainy week in Seattle, and I'd planned on making a big pot of salmon chowder to have for the weekend, but then the new issue of Bon Appetit landed on my doorstep with that inviting "Pies for Dinner" cover, and I started to think about how long it's been since I made my very favorite recipe from my cookbook, Whole Grain Mornings. I'm often asked at book events which recipe I love most, and it's a tough one to answer because I have favorites for different moods or occasions, but I'd say that this savory tart is right up there. The cornmeal millet crust is one of my party tricks; when we need a quick brunch recipe, this is what I pull out of my back pocket because it's so simple and delicious. This is a no-roll, no fuss crust with a slightly sandy, crumbly texture thanks to the cornmeal, and a delightful crunch from the millet. In the past, I've used the crust and custard recipe as the base for any number of fillings: on The Kitchn last year, I did a version with greens and gruyere, and I teach cooking classes that often include a version heavy on local mushrooms and shallot. So if you are not keen on salmon or have some vegetables you're looking to use up this week, feel free to fold in whatever is inspiring you right now. Sometimes at this point in winter that can be hard, so hopefully this recipe may help a little.