Honey Oat Bread

The wind is blowing outside my window with a fierceness only Mother Nature herself could bring. Another blizzard has descended, matching the winds of last Wednesday and the snow of last weekend. If the nine foot snow drift that appeared outside of my bedroom window this morning is any indication, it was only proper to spend the day wrapped up in sweaters and hiding under blankets. This winter, in particular, has been one of hot cocoa and warm ovens.

How could you have it any other way?

One of the dearest ways to spend a Sunday morning for me is baking bread. After the coffee has been brewed, I slowly pull the flour out of the cupboard and the yeast off the shelf, moving at the speed of the weekend. The morning may be filled with yawns (and flour may pepper the sides of my pajama pants), but bread is an act of patience and a practice in meditation. There can be no rush, for bread grows at its own pace, feeling out the air around it and reacting accordingly. It is this nature of bread, this uncontrollable spirit, that keeps me coming back time and again.

The scent of yeast and the feel of dough beneath my fingers is irreplaceable.

Honey and oatmeal are a classic comfort food combination, perfect for giving warmth to a wintery day. When approaching this bread, I wanted to find a way to make the oats a significant portion of the bread, lending a pronounced flavor to the final loaf. To do so, I ground up the oatmeal flakes in a food processor until they resembled flour, which working surprisingly well. The bread has a hint of honey, providing a pure sweetness which complements a spread of jam and acts as a spoon for potatoes and gravy.

It may be cold outside, but it is warm in my kitchen.

Honey Oat Bread is a standard dinner table bread. The subtlety of oats and honey allow the bread to be served with both sweet and savory foods. Before baking, the bread is brushed with warm honey and sprinkled with oats. When it emerges from the oven, the top takes on a golden color. If golden were a flavor, this bread would certainly match it. The honey soaked bites and toasted oats become the icing on the cake, so to speak. The bread keeps well for several days, bringing an element of joy to your favorite dishes.

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Pineapple Jam

I turned twenty-five years old yesterday. I have been on this earth for exactly a quarter of a century. In many ways, I am having a difficult time wrapping my mind around it. For the first time I feel, well, older. Perhaps, somehow, more grown up. I am wrapping up my final semester of graduate school, focusing on coursework much more than the social life I prized during university. Soon, however, the shoe will move to the other foot. I have been offered a job teaching high school science this fall and will very soon have lessons to plan, homework to correct, and students of my own to tend.

The times they are a-changin'.

I feel very much an adult, as if the child within me has headed off to summer camp and I've been left behind, waving her goodbye. I go to bed at a reasonable hour each evening, balking at the idea of staying up beyond one in the morning for any reason whatsoever. My refrigerator is full of fruits and vegetables; I optimistically pack a healthy lunch each morning so I'll be forced to eat it when hunger kicks in (this trick, by the way, works wonders). My work ethic is an employer's dream, but I find myself working so frequently that I rarely let loose, leave the house, and do something fun. It's easy to get caught up in responsibilities and forget there is anything outside of them.

Perhaps, you could say, I'm learning how to become an adult, learning to take on new obligations, but not allow them to slowly take over the other pieces of my life. Trying to find a sense of balance in a world that is leaning too far in one direction. Growing up is hard.

I think we should all be allowed a moment to say goodbye to the age we are leaving behind, a moment to grieve, a moment to celebrate, a moment to embrace the future, a moment to call our own and for which no one can judge us. Turning twenty five caught up with me last weekend. I realized, for the first time, that any sense of childhood was officially behind me. I filled up a glass of red wine, and then filled it up again, lamenting my burgeoning spider veins and faint laugh lines to my boyfriend. I walked out on the third story balcony to the apartment, bemoaning my impending old age as the lights in the courtyard made slow circles through air.

As if to show my despair at leaving childhood behind, I threw baby carrots at a neighborhood rabbit who was scampering through the grass below simply because an adult would never do that (the rabbit, I might add, did not seem to appreciate the free dinner). I gave up when I ran out of carrots, collapsing on the couch in front of an episode of Game of Thrones. I had my moment then, a little messy, a little unrefined, and then it passed as if it had never arrived.

The birthday has come and gone since then. The gifts have been unwrapped, the wishes wished, the candles blown out, and the peace made with growing older. Twenty five no longer feels so old anymore and I feel ready and even a little excited to embrace a new number. Thirty? Now that's old. :)

Pineapple Jam has a unique flavor, both sweet and acidic, and complements a toasted English muffin well. Fresh, ripe pineapple is blended into small pieces and cooked down on the stove until it thickens and slightly caramelizes. The addition of vanilla adds a bright tone while a touch of molasses adds a greater depth of flavor. The jam can be finished with a bit of lime zest for a bold twist, but it isn't necessary to create a rounded flavor.

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Blackberry Fool

The spring sun has struck me with an incurable fever. Even though snowflakes were falling from the sky just this morning, I long to shed my winter coat and find myself no longer craving the hearty soups and dishes of winter. My mind has begun spinning towards lighter fare and short sleeves. I have begun craving the sweetness of a ripe strawberry and the bold tartness of a stalk of rhubarb in vivid detail. If I shut my eyes tightly, with the sun streaking through the window late into the evening, I can almost pretend the world outside is green and ready to be planted with seeds of rebirth.

I shall never take for granted the arrival of spring again.

Craving a feeling, person, or place brings out a yearning in our heads all the way down to our toes. When our heart's desire is out of reach, we find a way to bring it closer through hope and longing and daydreams. These wishes, both small and large, sustain us as we wait for our cravings to be sated. They sustain us until our cravings come to pass.

I am craving spring. I am craving green grass, the smell of new growth, the touch of a warm sidewalk, the sweetness of a beautiful, red ripe strawberry. The hunger grows daily. As the sun sets later each evening, my appetite becomes insufferable. Knowing warmer weather will be around the corner keeps my spirit up as I dream of the long walks I will take once this winter is done.

Soon, soon, soon.

A "fool" is a traditional English fruit dish originating in the sixteenth century. The dessert was most commonly made with gooseberries, but a variety of fruits from raspberries to apples can be used its place. The three main ingredients to a fool are pureed fruit, whipped cream, and a sprinkling of sugar. For this Blackberry Fool, I used fresh blackberries with whipped cream and a seedless blackberry jam.

This may be a more modern take on a traditional dessert, but the result is the same—delight. Feel free to try out other berries with matching flavors of jam, such as blueberries or strawberries, to play around with flavors and preferences.

Blackberry Fool is a light, sweet ending to a spring or summer meal. Seedless blackberry jam is folded into whipped cream and layered into a glass with fresh blackberries. The contrast between the sweet bite of the berries and the smooth quality of the whipped cream makes the dessert simple, yet elegant. This traditional English dessert can be served for a small dinner party or an evening that calls for something special.

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