When we first started planning our wedding, we didn’t really know what we were doing. Sure we’d been to our friends’ weddings but hadn’t paid much attention to details like chair set-ups or music or stemware. So when we sat down to talk about what we wanted our day to look like, we had only one goal in mind: we wanted it to feel like us. Nothing forced. Nothing to appease someone else or for the sake of an uncertain tradition. Throwing a bouquet and the whole garter thing wouldn’t feel like me so we ditched it. Stuffy venues and fussy catered meals wouldn’t do. In the end, we were lucky to stumble upon an incredible working farm on Whidbey Island, had a big family-style Southern meal at a long table under the stars, and some real-deal cake. Not the dainty slices of fondant-draped jewels you often see in wedding magazines. We had big slices of coconut cake.
Last week was our second wedding anniversary and we both wanted to do something special, but we’re also watching our pennies and wanted to be smart about it, too. The more I thought about what I wanted to get Sam, the more I wanted for us to have more time together — just the two of us. In the broad scheme of things, I feel like we’ve done a great job mapping out time for each other’s work life, social lives, even exercise — it’s all a very precise weekly balancing act. But we still haven’t completely figured out how to get more time together as a couple. We’ve been on a few dates since Oliver was born and had a rule that we don’t talk about work or the baby for the entire meal; it’s always eye opening how it takes a good chunk of time to fall back into a groove of talking about all those things that made you interested in one another in the first place. And I want us to be sure to remember those things.
So I ended up getting both of us a book (I chose this one!) as part of the new Megan and Sam Book Club. When Sam asked if it was monthly (with enthusiasm), I explained that it was most certainly not: it was a quarterly book club; I didn’t want to set us up for failure right out of the gate. The gist of the book club is that we both read the book by the agreed-upon date, then arrange for childcare, choose somewhere to eat or drink (or both) that we’ve been wanting to try, and come ready to discuss the book. I’ve got my highlighter ready.
About a week before our anniversary, Sam told me to block out a few days in the middle of the week — that we were going somewhere. He wouldn’t tell me where, and hints were quite slim. I knew Oliver was coming along and I knew that I should pack a few warm things but I didn’t know if we were flying or driving or what to expect. I have a horrible sense of direction, so in truth, setting out on the highway gave little away. But I started to have a sense of where we were going when we neared Deception Pass, heading towards Whidbey Island. Then the golden pastures started to look more and more familiar and I felt a tightness in my chest as I recognized the open roads and prairie. We were going back to the farm.
Sam had arranged for us to stay there for two nights last week; we slept in the room where I got ready on our wedding day, sat out on the back porch and watched the sunsets, and cooked most meals in the farmhouse kitchen. Sam brought along ingredients for us to make the dinner we had on our wedding night: fried chicken biscuit sandwiches, slow-braised pork, succotash, cocktails and — of course — that coconut cake.
I realize this is a blog and a space for the written word, but so often during those two days I felt at a real loss for words. And I still do. Looking out at the large lawn where we said our vows two years ago and seeing our baby son crawling around, dirtying his knees and constantly looking back to us for approval felt immensely moving. Oliver was a thought at the time, most certainly, but a faraway thought and having him join us in the house last week somehow made our vows feel even more special: we were doing it.
During the two days, we cooked a lot and ended up walking around the farm with Oliver. We went to Ebey’s Landing Park and hiked the bluff trail all along the water. We managed to forget the baby carrier, so we literally carried Oliver the whole way, trading off every few minutes, and feeling pretty exhausted by the time we got to the turnaround point. We drove the few miles into Coupeville one evening and walked down the pier to look at the boats, wishing we could sneak a baby into Toby’s for a beer, which we did the night of our wedding (sans baby, obviously). We also ate cake morning, noon and night. For our wedding, we ordered our cakes from The Wandering Goose, a great Southern cafe in Seattle. The owner, Heather Earnhardt, made us three different cakes: coconut, lemon and her Brownstone Front (a really special mash-up of cocoa, brown sugar and caramel). The great irony (as I’m sure some of you can relate to) is that we ate very little cake on our wedding night: there were so many people to talk to and a small window of time to dance — which left very little time for cake. So we’re lucky that we can stroll into the cafe and buy a slice if we like, but we’re even luckier that Heather just came out with her first cookbook, Big Food, Big Love with recipes from The Wandering Goose.
Sam baked the cake layers and made the frosting the night before we left for the farm last week and I kid you not when I tell you that this cake tastes exactly like our wedding cake: it really is the best coconut cake I’ve ever had. It’s not a dainty affair by any means, but I rarely want dainty when I’m craving a good piece of cake. It’s possible I snuck Oliver a tiny bite despite my plans not to give him sugar until he’s one (which I already let slip once). He started kicking his feet in excitement and grabbing for more until he became distracted by the hydrangeas on the side of the house and the roosters making a ruckus. And he was off again. I was off chasing him again.
Sometimes you get into a rut of work, baby, house project, work, baby, house project and then you get a reprieve in the week and an open prairie to look out on and a taste and glimpse back at your wedding day and realize how truly sweet and very big it all is.
The ingredient list here isn’t small, but keep in mind this is a very large cake! A few personal notes: we used coconut milk for the cake (although Heather says you could use coconut cream as well, which you’ll notice is included in the ingredient list). And while she calls for almond extract in the cake (and I’ve kept the recipe below true to the original ), I think the extract can often can taste artificial, so I choose to leave it out – totally personal preference and up to you. Because the cake is so moist, it’s good covered and refrigerated for up to 5 days. That being said, I think it’s absolutely best served room temperature, so let it sit out for a few hours before serving.
Excerpted from Big Food Big Love with permission from Sasquatch Books.
For the Cake:
For the frosting:
Thoroughly butter three 9-inch cake pans, making sure to coat the sides, and line the bot- toms with parchment paper. Butter the parchment and set the pans aside. Line three baking sheets with parchment paper and set them aside. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.
In a large bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, salt, and baking soda together. In a small bowl, combine the coconut cream and extracts.
In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar on medium-high speed until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, scraping down the bowl after every two eggs. Reduce the speed to low. Add the flour mixture and the coconut cream mixture in alternating batches, beginning and ending with the flour. Mix in the coconut flakes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl again and pour the batter evenly into the prepared pans.
Bake until the cake springs back when you touch the center with your finger, and it is pulling away from the sides of the pan just a bit, 30 to 40 minutes, rotating the pans front to back and top to bottom halfway through baking. Let the cakes cool in the pans until you can touch the pans comfortably, about 15 minutes, then flip the cakes out onto the lined baking sheets to cool completely before frosting.
While the cakes cool, make the frosting. In the clean bowl of the stand mixer, mix the cream cheese and butter until no lumps remain. Add the confectioners’ sugar and extracts and blend until smooth. Frost between the layers, around the sides, and on top of the cake with the frosting. Decorate the top and sides of the cake with the toasted coconut.
Note: Toast the coconut flakes on a baking sheet at 300 degrees F until golden brown, about 10 minutes, stirring every 3 to 4 minutes. Be sure the coconut is completely cool before decorating the cake.
Healthy Comfort Food
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.
I just finished washing out Oliver's lunchbox and laying it out to dry for the weekend. My favorite time of day is (finally) here: the quiet of the evening when I can actually talk to Sam about our day or sit and reflect on my own thoughts after the inevitable dance party or band practice that precedes the bedtime routine lately. Before becoming pregnant for the second time, I'd have had a glass of wine with the back door propped open right about now -- these days though, I have sparkling water or occasionally take a sip from one of Sam's hard ciders. Except now the back door's closed and we even turned on the heat for the first time yesterday. The racing to water the lawn and clean the grill have been replaced by cozier dinners at home and longer baths in the evening. You blink and it's the first day of fall.
I'd heard from many friends that buying a house wasn't for the faint of heart. But I always shrugged it off, figuring I probably kept better files or was more organized and, really, how hard could it be? Well, I've started (and stopped) writing this post a good fifteen times which may indicate something. BUT! First thing's first: we bought a house! I think! I'm pretty sure! We're still waiting for some tax transcripts to come through and barring any hiccough with that, we'll be moving out of our beloved craftsman in a few weeks and down the block to a great, brick Tudor house that we wanted the second we laid eyes on it. The only problem: it seemed everyone else in Seattle had also laid eyes on it, and wanted it equally as much. I'm not really sure why the homeowner chose us in the end. Our offer actually wasn't the highest, but apparently there were some issues with a few of them. We wrote a letter introducing ourselves and describing why we'd be the best candidates and why we were so drawn to the house; we have a really wonderful broker who pulled out all the stops, and after sifting through 10 offers and spending a number of hours deliberating, they ended up going with ours. We were at a friend's book event at the time when Sam showed me the text from our broker and I kind of just collapsed into his arms. We were both in ecstatic denial (wait, is this real?! Did we just buy a house?) and celebrated by getting chicken salad and potato salad from the neighborhood grocery store and eating it, dazed, on our living room floor. Potato salad never tasted so good.
If your house is anything like ours, last week wasn't our most inspired in terms of cooking. We're all suffering from the post-election blues -- the sole upside being Oliver's decision to sleep-in until 7 am for the first time in many, many months; I think he's trying to tell us that pulling the covers over our heads and hibernating for awhile is ok. It's half-convincing. For much of the week, instead of cooking, there'd been takeout pizza and canned soup before, at week's end, I decided it was time to pour a glass of wine and get back into the kitchen. I was craving something hearty and comforting that we could eat for a few days. Something that wouldn't remind me too much of Thanksgiving because, frankly, I can't quite gather the steam to start planning for that yet. It was time for a big bowl of chili.
Porridge is not the sexiest of breakfasts, it's true. It doesn't have a stylish name like strata or shakshuka, and it doesn't have perfectly domed tops like your favorite fruity muffin. It doesn't crumble into delightful bits like a good scone nor does it fall into buttery shards like a well-made croissant. But when you wake up and it's 17 degrees outside (as it has been, give or take a few, for the last week), there's nothing that satisfies like a bowl of porridge or oatmeal. It's warm and hearty and can be made sweet or savory with any number of toppings. The problem? Over the years, it's gotten a bad rap as gluey or gummy or just downright boring or dutiful -- and it's because not everyone knows the secrets to making a great pot of warm morning cereal. So let's talk porridge (also: my cookbook comes out this month! So let's take a peek inside, shall we?)