This picture was taken in a moment of minor delirium–setting out what would be only 1/4 of Tuesday’s necessary shipping and getting a moment of sunny fresh air. I believe this was day 4 of granola baking, little sleep, and major shipping logistics the likes of which I’ve never had to orchestrate. There was a lot of USPS googling, some Pay Pal live-chatting, a bit of pacing around our living room, and a few ‘get yourself together’ pep talks from Sam. I wanted to write a special breakfast post for you this week but it’s just not going to happen. So I thought I’d write a simple post talking about what we’ve been cooking or doing around Seattle but I can’t even do that because it would look like a whole lot of coffee, take-out and work. I’ve been joking that the house motto this week is “All Granola. All the Time.” In my most exhausted state, I’ve considered answering the phone that way. Let’s just say, it turns out that people still read The Wall Street Journal.
Probably six months ago, a wonderful writer for The Wall Street Journal ordered granola from me online. I followed up with her to see how she liked it, and this began a months-long casual chat about granola and small food businesses in general. She loved the product but wasn’t sure when it would be a good fit in the paper. I moved to Seattle, as you all know. And we revamped the Marge packaging and the website and now have a full line which I’m over the moon about. And that, my friends, was enough to be newsworthy. So I got an email a few weeks ago that the paper needed the granola overnighted for a photo shoot. I started stocking up on oats, nuts, and seeds and taking casual polls amongst friends about how many orders it would result in. Maybe none? Maybe just a few retailers will reach out?
The piece ran this past Saturday and the response has been overwhelming. I don’t know how to describe it to you, really. I try and describe it to my family on the phone and come up with nothing substantive or helpful, just a lot of tired blabbering. Sam has devised an absolutely genius spreadsheet for us to track incoming orders and fulfillments. I’m not sure what I would do without him. He is truly good at all the other things that drive me to curl up in a ball. And my sister Rachael is now helping out once or twice a week, packaging and organizing shipments. This makes me really happy. When I paid her a few days ago I almost cried to finally have an official helper. But then again, that could’ve been that “All Granola. All the Time” exhaustion, too. Let’s just say that it was. So for this week’s post, I just wanted to say hello from ‘Whoa, Baby” land and that I’m thinking of you and can’t wait for things to normalize just a touch and get back into the kitchen and the garden. Until then, have a wonderful rest of the week. See you back here very soon.
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.