Frozen Morsels

Lately, I’ve been scanning my parents’ photo albums into the computer to preserve the pictures and to keep a copy for ourselves.  The books are large and unwieldy as I balance them on the old scanner with one hand while pressing the appropriate series of commands with the other.

There are a lot of pictures.

I’m not done with even a quarter of the albums, but I’m slowly making my way through.  Pictures of varying sizes, shades, and grain quality are packed into the books and it isn’t a surprise if a few fall out as I juggle them.

The image captures a moment, but for someone who was too young to remember, many of the moments are blanks – only recognizable if they are holiday or birthday snaps.  I vaguely remember the people in the photos and for many of them, even if I do know them, I doubt they’re the same now as they were then.

I love looking at the old family photos, though.  Everyone is wearing 70s or 80s clothing and the hair to match.  Even though I can clearly imagine the type of birthday or Easter dinner happening in the shot (nothing changes in my family), I feel as if the time-lapse has made the event “special”.   People are caught laughing and pointing at something that no one remembers anymore.  I’d love to go back to that time and find out what’s being said, because we don’t really laugh like we used to at get-togethers.  Everyone is polite, but there have been fewer and fewer convulsive moments of laughter.

In one shot, my great grandmother is caught smiling radiantly off camera. Her  bright white hair sits atop her head, just like I remember seeing it styled when we used to visit her.  As a very young child, those visits were always a mixture of dread and fun.

We  would play ping pong in her basement and pretend there were ghosts hiding in the dark corners as we chased after the balls.  My cousins would raid her candy jar (always filled again at the next visit), and I would sit precariously on her old rocker.  When it was time to leave, I would always scrunch up my face in childish disgust as she’d give me a big wet kiss on the cheek.  Never once did she take offense and instead laughed and smiled and told me that she couldn’t wait to see me the next time.  This would happen without fail until her progressed Alzheimer’s took it away.

And her smile.

My parents bought the house once she died and they remodeled it a bit, but it still has the garish pink and black tiles with blue tub in the bathroom, a few pieces of her furniture in the bedrooms, and the large rhubarb at the side of the house.

She was well known for her canning and pie making.  Having lived through the depression, canning came second nature and she was doing it all the way up to the point until she couldn’t anymore.  In fact, it was the proverbial straw meet camel’s back in her stages through Alzheimer’s.  After she burned herself in the middle of canning and it was deemed that she couldn’t live alone anymore, she was never the same.

I’m not certain whether the rhubarb growing at my parents’ house is the same one, but it doesn’t matter.  It’s in the same spot and therefore the same one in my mind.  Delicious rhubarb pies, crumbles and jams came out of the plant every year and I developed my taste for tartness from it.  My mother had given me a big bag of freshly cut rhubarb to use last summer, but the timing was never right. I wanted to make a strawberry rhubarb pie, because it combines two of my favorite flavors, but there were other desserts to make.  Other things to eat.  If only the freezer could freeze more than just food.

I had the opportunity last week when the bright red berries went on sale and we didn’t have any other desserts to get in the way.  I made it using a combination of recipes to achieve the flavor, consistency and just rightness I was remembering.

The pie was like a memory explosion on the tongue.  Even though it wasn’t her recipe, the fact that I will always associate rhubarb with her and only eat the rhubarb that comes from that plant meant that each bite was filled with a smile, a pair of bright eyes and a soft feeling.  There’s a lot of pain wrapped up in the memory of my great grandmother, too, (Alzheimer’s saw to that) but like the tartness from the rhubarb, it’s a part of her, and her overall joy at being with us and being our great grandmother blends with that tart feeling to become one of happiness every time.

The following pie recipe is a product of two recipes and two different cookbooks.  I didn’t want a double crust pie, so I looked up a great crumble recipe in my William’s Sonoma Baking book and used the filling from my Pillsbury Complete Book of Baking cookbook.  The result was absolutely delicious with a dollop of whip on top. Hubby and I both agreed that it was the perfect pairing of flavor and texture.

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

Ingredients

1 pie crust (I used Trader Joe’s pie crust since I don’t like making pie crust and we love the flavor of the TJ one)

Filling

• 3 cups rhubarb, diced (mine were frozen)
• 3 cups strawberries, diced
• Sugar or splenda to taste (the original recipe called for 1 cup of sugar, but I added a couple tablespoons of Splenda with no problems)
• ¼ cup cornstarch (I used potato starch mixed with a little water)
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice

Crumble

•  1 cup flour
• 1/2 cup old fashioned oats
• 1/3 cup firmly packed brown sugar (or 3 tablespoons Brown Sugar Splenda)
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 2-3 dashes of ground ginger
• ½ cup butter, melted (I used Country Crock)

 Directions

1. Form crust in pie pan and set aside.
2. Mix crumble ingredients together in a small bowl and set aside.
3. Mix filling ingredients except for the starch in a pan and bring just to a boil.  Stir in starch and take off heat as it gels together.  Stir gently.  Don’t overcook or over stir  (we’re not making jam).  Just mix it up a bit to blend in the starch.
4. Pour filling into the pie crust and top with crumble.
5. Bake at 375 F for 40 minutes or until crust and crumble turn golden brown and filling bubbles.
6. Cool completely before serving.

Keep on “Rolo”-ing

Sometimes, it’s the smallest people that help us bigger folks grow up.

My little nephew, only 10 months old, has spent more time in the hospital than I’ve ever had to my entire life.  He was born with a rare vocal cord condition that has resulted in multiple invasive surgeries, long hospital stays and the saddest, pleading eyes that grab your heart and make you want to smuggle him home under your coat.

We went to see him in hospital this past weekend after another, and hopefully last, surgery.  The tall glass-plated building housed gigantic wooden animals wearing bright scarves and Beatrix Potter-esque murals.  The halls were quiet, even though people milled around the sunny waiting areas.  After signing in, we raided the small gift shop and shared our fluffy bounty – a round, blue bear for the little one and an equally round Pooh for his older brother.  The couple of times I stayed in hospital when I was little had always resulted in gifts – it was something that made being ill just a bit easier to handle.  Seeing his tiny hands clasp his blue bear, even for the brief second before he jilted it for the glitzier purple poodle, made me very glad that I had made the 3 ½ hour drive to see him.

His room was rather large for such a little guy, but it was clean, bright and cute – insofar as a hospital room can be.  We burst into the small space with all the noise and enthusiasm that our family could muster.  When we do noise, we do it well.

His big, round eyes brightened when he saw us and a huge grin followed as we crowded around his metal crib.  We cooed and waggled his arms as he kept his foot propped up in his baby way to hold the humidifier tube in place.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit dissatisfied and wallowing in my self-imposed stagnation.  My job was making me feel unfulfilled and frustrated, days were filled with chores and to-dos, and I seemed to have a complaint list a mile long.  Just a few wrongs would make me feel like my life was spinning out of control.

But as I tucked my nephew’s IV under his pillow, I was faced with my own selfishness and was reminded of a quote from a book I was reading by Howard Behar, the past President of Starbucks, titled It’s Not About the Coffee.   Behar’s book about leadership and lessons learned had more to it than that simple description implies.  It’s filled with a lot of really good points about relationships, not only with your company, family and co-workers, but with yourself.  In it, he discusses the idea of not hiding who we are.  By keeping “different hats” for different situations, we aren’t true to ourselves and just wear out (amongst other more negative results).  He asks:

“If someone came into your home and listened to the walls talk, what would they say?”

And that, folks, brought a stain to my cheeks that even my hardest run could not rival.  While I wasn’t saying most of my frustrations out loud, they were seeping into my dreams and into my approach to everyday tasks.  I let my emotions feed on themselves and it wasn’t the green, leafy variety of food, either.  The only way my nephew could eat was through this tiny, clear IV tube.  Here I was, totally vocal, healthy, happily married, munching on decadent desserts (like the one below), but moaning about my “bad” life.  My little guy couldn’t even moan if he wanted to, and by the look in his eyes (we ranked him a 4 out of 10 on his “how am I feeling” chart), he really needed a good moan.

I could, at any moment, “feed” my life with those nutrients that I thought were missing – the art classes I was going to take at the new year?  I’m going to look into our options this week.  The frustrations at work?  I need to address them with my manager.  There were actual steps I could take to alleviate this sense of whirlpool, but I was letting myself drown.

For my brave little nephew, his path seems clear – to get out of that hospital room, to get home and, for the first time in his life, to howl up a storm.

Here’s to more howling in all our lives. 

And here’s a recipe for Rolo Cheesecake Bars from Bakers Royale that will make everyone sing your praises.  I made them for work this week and they are filled with mini-rolos, cream cheese, caramel and chocolate – what’s not to love?  The entire batch was gone before some even knew I had brought any dessert.  Oh, yes, and they’re a cinch to make.  It’s a wonderful addition to my rolo repertoire, and a new one for many of my co-workers after I fulfill all of the recipe requests that came pouring in.

 Rolo Cheesecake Bars

(Note:  The original recipe is by Naomi from Bakers Royale and I didn’t tweak it too much.  The next time I make it, I might tweak the sugar quantities – it’s delicious, but I feel like a drop in sugar wouldn’t harm it, especially in the crust.  I did up some of the quantities slightly to make a 9×13 pan’s worth rather than the original 8×8.  I also decreased the chocolate layer since I didn’t want quite as thick a layer as the original’s.  It was a good decision since the chocolate balanced well with the cheesecake layer rather than dominating it.  All of my tweaks are in red.)

 Ingredients

Crust layer

• 2 cups graham cracker crumbs (I used 2 whole sleeves of Trader Joe’s Graham Crackers)
• 10 tbsp melted, unsalted butter
• ½ cup sugar

Cheesecake layer

• 8 oz + 4 oz reduced fat cream cheese (or 1 ½ blocks), softened
• 1 egg
• 2 tsp vanilla
• 1/3 cup sugar
• A heaping 1/3 cup of caramel sauce (I used Trader Joe’s Caramel Sauce instead of making my own)
• One 8 oz bag of mini rolos

Chocolate layer

• 10 oz semi-sweet chocolate chips
• 4 tbsp butter
• 1 tbsp light corn syrup

4-5 tbsp caramel sauce for drizzling

Directions

Line a 9×13 pan with foil so that it overhangs the sides and heat oven to 350.

Mix crumbs, melted butter and sugar until well mixed and press into the bottom of the pan.  Bake at 350 for 7 min.  Remove and let cool.

In a large mixing bowl, place cream cheese, egg, vanilla, caramel sauce and sugar.  Mix on medium until smooth.  Stir in rolos and spread the mixture evenly on top of the crust.  (I tried to line up the rolos on top of the crust, but ended up mixing them in anyways. Save yourself the effort of even spacing and just mix the rolos into the cream cheese before you pour.)

Bake at 350 for 35 -40 minutes. Begin checking for doneness using a toothpick at the 30 min mark, depending on your oven.  Mine took a bit longer than 35 minutes before my toothpick came out clean.

Remove, allow to cool, and make your chocolate topping.

Place chocolate, butter and corn syrup into a pan and heat on low until melted stir frequently (you can also do this in the microwave, but be sure to use small time intervals so as to not scorch the chocolate). Spread evenly over bars and allow to cool completely.  You can fridge the bars now or cut them.

Cut bars using a clean, warm knife (clean the blade between each cut).  Heat caramel sauce in microwave until warm (about 20 sec depending on your microwave).  Using a spoon, drizzle sauce over cut bars.  Place back into fridge until ready to serve.

They’re good cold, but we preferred them when they were allowed to sit at room temperature for a few minutes.  The chocolate softens and the caramel becomes less solid.

The Impending Sugar Crash

Halloween isn’t my favorite holiday.

Cheap candy, cheaper decorations and pathetic attempts at scares makes for a grumpy me.

Is there a Halloween cousin to Scrooge?  That’d be me.

iScribbler aka iScareNot

(Let’s ignore how in my heart of hearts I really can’t wait to give out candy to adorable kids in bee costumes from my own doorstep.  Or how I secretly wish I had enough nerve to dress up in a cute costume.  Or how I really wish I could just eat all of the candy we bought for our coworkers. Yep, not at all reasons why I grump Halloween.)

It’s also the month that officially kicks off the Sugar Rush.  A time of no holds barred, kick in your teeth, cavity inducing, recipe hunting baking that starts off with simple brownies and culminates to confections of every cavity-inducing sort at Christmas.

And I’ve started off with a bang.

Our office loves parties.  There’s a special group of people that plan these extravaganzas and I’ve joined their ranks.  Like all parties, we need food and that’s where I step in.  I bake.  A lot.  So much my own teeth ache just thinking about it.  Because what I bake for these parties aren’t my typical “healthified” version we have at home.  Nope.  It’s 2 sticks of butter and 1 cup of sugar baking.  It’s a sugar rush that never crashes.

I live out my baking fantasies on my coworkers. 

As the hubby told a coworker who asked if we ate like this at home:  No.

First were the Pumpkin Cheesecake Brownies up above.  Take a normal brownie mix, whip up a pumpkin cheesecake layer, top, bake and cut out with a cute pumpkin cookie cutter.

Office Workers 1, Take home leftovers 0

Next up:  Toffee Chip Cookies with White Chocolate Icing

Take my brown butter chocolate chip cookie recipe toss in Heath Toffee bits in place of chocolate chips and drizzle white chocolate candy coating on top. Result was a chewy, thin cookie with a lot of toffee flavor and a dash of creaminess.

Office Workers 2, Take home leftovers 0

This week I made two different desserts for our pizza party on Friday.  The chocolate chip cookie pies got me voted the unofficial “baker in residence”.

I used Bakerella’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Pie and made them into individual pies with my silicon muffin tin.  I then topped them with whipped cream.

Next up were Caramel ‘n Chocolate Pecan Bars.  I used a cat cookie cutter I had bought for 79 cents and made about 10 large cat bars.  I followed the recipe exactly except for adding a few white chocolate chips to brighten things up a bit.

I placed them in my nifty Halloween treats basket and took them into work. (The black plate to the side contain the rest of the bars.)

Office Workers 4, Take home leftovers 0

And that was just October.  In November there’s a proposed Chili Cookoff, a book club, a Dr Who Club, Thanksgiving and a birthday.

Excuse me as I prep my bed for the hibernation that will surely hit me like a ton of sugar come January.

Right now, though, I’ll just buzz through the holiday season with a smile.