A few weeks ago my Grandpa friended me on Facebook. I immediately texted my two sisters to verify that this was, in fact, Grandpa. They confirmed. And so, confused, I accepted his friend request and popped over to admire his page. It was, as you can imagine, quite bare. He’d accidentally noted that he was born in 1986 and his page boasted a small handful of friends, all quite elderly. I didn’t think much of it at that time until early last week when my mom called to let me know that now Grandpa, apparently, knew everything we were up to. I imagined him incorporating this new bit of technology into his morning routine of checking stocks, doing calisthenics and having breakfast with my Gram at their little table on the porch in Florida. And then a funny thing happened: Gramp started posting on my wall. The first time was on Valentine’s Day when he wished me a very happy day and hoped I was doing something fun for myself. I decided to write back on his wall, wishing him a nice afternoon and letting him know that I’d been pretty busy baking that week. Since then, we occasionally report on the weather and what we’re up to. Many of the cousins do the same thing, so Gramp’s wall is now peppered with cheerful family updates from near and far. There are a lot of reasons to be skeptical — even scornful–of social media and the ways technology can sneak into our daily lives. We could all make a pretty lengthy list, I’m sure. But getting messages from your Grandpa that read, “I sit 85 and sunny here today” just isn’t one of them.
On Sunday night, like some of you I imagine, I set up camp in front of the Oscars (whoa, it felt long this year, no?). Sam made hummus, we roasted some veggies and I made a big salad. For much of the show, I was texting with my mom about a particular dress, speech, song, or how happy we were that Ben Affleck won. When I lived with my Mom for a brief spell in California, we got to watch these things together, but now that luxury has passed (and I’m not certain I realized what a luxury it was at the time). But texting with her on Oscar night made me feel just that much closer to her in California — in the same way I felt closer to Gramp knowing how the weather was looking on his side of things.
And then, Monday morning, I found Mr. Miller’s address! My old friend from high school, Lori B., sent me a message with it after reading my last blog post. She asked her parents and they tracked it down, so this week: technology wins! It’s helped me to send small, chatty notes to my Grandpa, 3000 miles away. It’s allowed me to banter about silly gossip with my mom, and get in touch with a very dear former teacher. And I’m thankful for that, although just as thankful to leave it all behind for a few days, too: As you’re reading this, I’m on a very long plane ride heading to what I only hope is a very sunny beach to spend time with my Dad and sister, Zoe and her boyfriend Steffan. It was a bit of a splurge in terms of time (12-hour flight each way for only 3 days of time off), but at the end of February when you live in Seattle, you make these kinds of decisions on a whim. Sun beckons. It truly does. So while I am very much looking forward to getting away from my day-to-day life for a few days, I’m also grateful to have had the chance to glimpse into a few other lives this week. The sunsets and cool drinks and my new straw hat will be nice — I’m sure of that. But I’m not sure that it can top last week, full of connecting with loved ones, reaching out to those I’ve lost touch with, and making a most fine batch of homemade Fig Newton’s. If every week could be so good, really.
Because the flight to the Carribean is quite long, I knew I would need a few snacks. Lucky for me, my friend Casey Barber recently sent me a copy of her new book, Classic Snacks Made From Scratch. I first met Casey at The Greenbrier Symposium for Professional Writers and we hit it off right away. At the time, Marge was still making pies and cookies at the San Francisco farmer’s markets, so Casey and I bonded over talk of homemade snacks, singing the praises of Valrhona oreo’s and strawberry pop-tarts. Since then, she’s done a lot of writing and recipe development for all of those snacks many of us may remember growing up with: Cheez-It’s, Homemade Nutter Butters, Fruit Roll-ups and so many more. While I’ve dog-eared quite a few recipes, I was immediately drawn to Casey’s Fig Newtons largely because they’re made with whole-wheat flour and the jammy fig filling sounded right up my alley. I made a few minor tweaks, using muscovado sugar instead of dark brown sugar (I just love its dark, fragrant stickiness and thought it’d be a perfect compliment to the earthiness of the figs). Other than that, I ended up cutting my Newtons a bit larger than Casey recommends and took a few shortcuts while putting them together. I sampled one before wrapping them up in parchment to take on the flight with me. They’re soft yet crumbly, not at all too sweet and are great for those on-the-way-out-the-door kind of mornings. I imagine they’ll take to long airplane trips quite well, too.
I have a hunch these would be really nice with oat flour as well, so next time I’ll try them with 1 cup of all-purpose flour, 1 cup of oat flour, and 1 1/2 cups whole-wheat flour and see where it gets us. I also have a hunch (that Sam’s confirmed) that the dough would be wonderful with a bit of orange zest, so I’ll sprinkle in some next time. Let me know if you make any adaptations you like.
Ever-so slightly adapted from Classic Snacks Made From Scratch
Make the dough: Sift the flours, baking powder and salt together in a large bowl.
In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter, muscovado sugar, and granulated sugar together for about 2 minutes, or until the mixture is fluffy and beige in color. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the eggs, one at a time, mixing in between each addition. Add the dry ingredients gradually to make a soft, sticky dough (I was nervous the dough was too dry — my mixer was struggling — but it turned out perfectly, so if your mixer struggles, just let it continue on). Separate the dough into four pieces and form into flat disks. Wrap tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 1 day.
Make the filling: While the dough is chilling, stir the figs, orange juice, sugar and ginger together in a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, then reduce to a simmer and cook until the figs are soft and the liquid has a jammy consistency, about 35-45 minutes (I used the back of a wooden spoon to mush some of the figs down to help it reach that jamminess). Transfer the fig filling to a food processor and pulse until pureed but a little chunky. Cool to room temperature.
Putting them together: Preheat the oven to 350 F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. On a floured work surface, take one of the dough quadrants out of the refrigerator . Roll into an 8 x 10 -inch rectangle approximately 1/4-inch thick. Trim the edges evenly, using a pastry cutter or sharp knife.
Spread one quarter of the fig filling onto half of the dough rectangle. Fold the uncovered half over the filling to make a long, sandwich cookie. Slice the filled rectangle into four equal pieces and then cut each of those piece in half (should yield 8 cookies total). Transfer the cookies to the lined baking sheet. Repeat the process with the remaining three pieces of dough. Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the cookies are golden brown. Cool on wire racks before serving. Store the cookies in an airtight container for up to a week.
Glimpses of Spring
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).
It turns out shopping for wedding dresses is nothing like they make it appear in the movies. Or at least it hasn't been for me. Angels don't sing. Stars don't explode. Relatives don't cry. There isn't a sudden heart-stopping moment that this is, in fact, "the one." To be honest, I always knew that I wasn't the kind of gal for whom angels would sing or stars would explode but I did think I'd have some kind of moment where I could tell I'd found the best dress. Instead, my mom flew into town and we spent three (yes, three!!) days shopping for dresses, and since then I've been back to the stores we visited -- and I'm more undecided than ever. Tomorrow morning I'll return with my friend Keena to try and tie this business up once and for all. Cross your fingers.
When I was single and living alone in the Bay Area, I made virtually the same thing for dinner each night. I ate meals quickly while in front of the computer. Or even worse: the television. This most often included what I call "Mexican Pizzas" which were basically glorified quesadillas baked in the oven until crispy. Sometimes, if I was really feeling like cooking, I'd whip up a quick stir-fry with frozen vegetables from Trader Joe's or a mushroom frittata using pre-sliced mushrooms. Mostly, though, it was Mexican Pizzas -- a good four or five nights a week. Today, thankfully, dinner looks a lot different. Meals in general look a lot different. How would I explain that difference? I think that ultimately how we feel about our life colors how we choose to feed ourselves and the importance that we place on preparing our own meals.
Today was 75 degrees in Seattle and it seemed the whole city was out and about drinking iced coffee in tank tops and perhaps not working all that hard. When we have a hit of sunshine like this in April (or, really, any time of the year), we're all really good at making excuses to leave the office early -- or, simply, to "work from home." I just got back from LA last night, unpacked in a whirlwind this morning, and took Oliver to meet up with three friends from our parents group at the zoo. The only other time I'd been to the Seattle zoo was once with Sam a few years ago when we arrived thirty minutes before closing and ended up doing a whirlwind tour -- sprinting from the giraffes to the massive brown bear to the meerkat. The visit today was much different: we strolled slowly trying to avoid the spring break crowds and beating sun. I managed to only get one of Oliver's cheeks sunburned, and he even got in a decent nap. A success of an afternoon, I'd say. Coming home I realized we didn't have much in the fridge for lunch -- but thankfully there was a respectable stash of Le Croix (Le Croix season is back!) and a small bowl of this whole grain salad I made right before I left town. It's the kind of salad that's meant for this time of year: it pulls off colorful and fresh despite the fact that much of the true spring and summer produce isn't yet available. And for that reason, I make a few versions of it in early spring, often doubling the recipe so there's always the possibility of having a small bowl at 1 p.m. while the baby naps in the car seat, one cheek sunburned, windows and back door open -- a warm breeze creeping into the kitchen.
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.