As many of you may recall, I lost one of my best friends earlier this fall. It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever gone through. Sure, I’ve lost folks I love very much, but they’ve always been older and it’s never been out-of-the-blue. But Jean was my age with dreams the size of Texas and a heart of solid gold. I’m talking 24-karat. I still have moments where something happens and I think about what a kick Jean would get out of it. Lady Gaga and Elton John at the Grammy’s. Jersey Shore (no one loved bad reality TV more than Jean). This Friday would’ve been her 30th birthday, so I’m flying out to Boston to attend the first annual “Jean-a-bration.” We’re celebrating a big birthday and a big life that we all miss so dearly in a big way. And you know what? There’s nothing that girl liked more than a party. I know she’ll be proud. I’ve really never tried to celebrate an event or landmark when it’s tinged with this much sadness–so we’ll see how it goes. I guess there’s no right or wrong way to go about it.
I went to graduate school in Boston and haven’t been back since. So I’m excited to visit all my old haunts. I’ll take photos for you and share some of my favorite places to eat when I return. And if you have any favorite Boston spots, let me know! It’s been a few years since I’ve been back, and I hear things have changed a bit, so I’d love any suggestions. In the meantime, I wanted to leave you one of the best comfort drinks I know, perfect for heavy hearts or just a really gray afternoon: Mexican hot chocolate made with Ibarra.
I first learned of Ibarra when I was around sixteen. It’s when I started drinking coffee because–you know–everyone else started bringing to-go mugs to class and it all seemed very adult. This great bakery downtown did Mexican mochas made with Ibarra and I jumped on the wagon. They had a rich chocolate flavor with spicy cinnamon notes. It all seemed magical and mysterious until a few years later when I realized you can buy Ibarra at the store and the drink I loved so much was pretty darn easy to emulate at home.
Now this particular recipe is for Mexican hot chocolate, but feel free to add a shot (or two) of espresso to make yourself a Mexican mocha. You can find Ibarra at a Mexican grocery store or a well-stocked gourmet food market. It is made with granulated sugar so a) don’t munch on it right out of the package–it’s grainy! (I tried) and b) no need to add sugar. I have a friend who puts a little almond extract in her whipped cream, and I think that’d be a nice touch for this, too. So drink up. In the name of love and chocolate and life and memory and gratitude. And while you’re doing all that, I’ll drink to Jean.
Chop tablet of Ibarra into blocks for easier melting. Then warm the chocolate, chile, milk, and dash of salt in a small saucepan. Heat until the chocolate is melted–should be quite hot (although not boiling).
Froth with a hand-blender (or blend in a blender) until the bits of chocolate are completely dissolved and the top becomes foamy. Top with whipped cream and cinnamon and drink immediately.
On Monday our little family of three is headed to the airport at 6 am to board our first with-baby cross-country trip. We'll be visiting Sam's family in New Jersey for a few days, then renting a car and driving over to meet up with my family at my mom's lake house in the Adirondacks. Sam's younger sister and her kids have yet to meet Oliver; my grandpa has yet to meet him, and Oliver has yet to take a dunk in a lake, see a firefly, or spend quality time with energetic dogs -- of which there will be three. A lot of firsts. This week my family has been madly texting, volunteering to make certain meals or sweets on assigned days while we're at the cabin and it got me thinking about really simple, effortless summer desserts -- in particular, ones that you can make while staying in a house with an unfamiliar kitchen and unfamiliar equipment and still do a pretty bang-up job. I think fruit crisp is just that thing.
This past week we've had quite a heat wave in Seattle. I've been getting into the bakery early in the mornings so as to avoid the afternoon heat + hot oven combination, and it turns out the upstairs of our new house is quite a little hot box. I bought some aggressive blinds and a new fan and am hoping both will help cool things down a bit. The wool blanket is in the linen closet for the season, and Sam's been making iced tea like it's his job. Summer has arrived! A few nights ago, the thought of actually doing much real cooking seemed a bit overwhelming, so I figured it was time to dig out the ice cream maker and get to work. I'd wanted to do something with the beautiful strawberries we have in the markets right now, but it seems every time I get a little pint it's gone before I have the chance. They are just so incredibly sweet, and it seems a shame to do anything other than eat them right out of the container, preferably while sitting on the Moroccan picnic blanket you brought back from honeymoon on the lawn in your new backyard trying not to stress out about the incredible, insurmountable number of weeds. So. Many. Weeds. But cherries: somehow the bag of cherries made it safely through the weekend, so I set about to find a great cherry ice cream recipe.
When you have an eight month old baby, making social plans can be hard. Especially in the evenings. When I was pregnant, I read Bringing up Bebe and one of the big premises of the book is how the French feel strongly that babies and children can fit into your lives and that you shouldn't have to change and alter everything to accommodate them. I remember reading the book and thinking: YES! Life will be just as it was, except we'll have a small baby in tow. Obviously a few things would likely be different, but I didn't want to change our routines, change the way we cooked or approached time off together, or see our friends any less. Well of course I'm the fool. Or at the very least, I'm not as French as I thought I was. Today, we very much schedule things around Oliver's nap schedule and bedtime, but thankfully we have a lot of other friends with kids who get it. Friends who make homemade cookies, own ice cream businesses, and have really great taste in music. Friends who host the kind of occasion that warrants homemade hot fudge sauce and eating dessert first.
We're back! After a restful few days in Lake George, I ended up flying home while Sam spent a little time with his family in New Jersey and a few days in New York City by himself before taking the train all the way back to Seattle (a solid four day journey). If you know Sam, this isn't surprising; he loves trains. When he's gone, I quickly revert back to my single gal days of eating veggie quesadillas for dinner (over and over) and staying up working later than I'd like. We would talk on the phone often as Sam would narrate his very full days in New York City and the stops and layovers he had while on the train. After a few days of me lamenting the fact that I wasn't there to experience it all with him, he encouraged me to ditch the quesadillas and do something special for dinner. See a movie. Go to the museum for just an hour. In short: I needed to get better at dating myself.
I received The Sprouted Kitchen Bowl + Spoon cookbook in the mail not long before we moved to our new house, and I remember lying in bed and bookmarking pages I was excited to try but also feeling overwhelmed with where to start: the truth is that this summer has been a relatively low-inspiration / low energy time in the kitchen for me. I'd been chalking it up to pregnancy but when I think back and if I'm honest with myself, my cooking style tends to be very easy and produce-driven during these warmer months. I rarely break out complicated recipes, instead relying on fresh tomatoes and corn or zucchini and homemade pesto to guide me. But last night I cracked open Sara's book and pulled out a few peaches I've had sitting on the counter, fearing their season may be nearing its end. This morning as I was making coffee, I sliced up the peaches, toasted the pecans and churned away -- having a bite (or maybe two) before getting it into the freezer to firm up.