Summer Berry Pavlova

Heat is oppressive. It wasn't until this summer that I fully began to understand the effects of a never-ending swelter. With a heatwave lasting the length of the sunny season bearing down on me, cool air has seemingly become a luxury of the past. I now realize just how often I took air conditioning (and a hundred other little things) for granted since I moved into a new apartment in a new city.

I used to think heat was glamorous. After reading books set in the deep south such as The Secret Life of Bees and watching movies like Gone With the Wind, my perspective has become skewed. I imagine pretty girls in patterned dresses drinking lemonade on the back porch and fanning themselves with a good book to stave off the sultriness of summer.

Oh, was I wrong.

My apartment is on the top floor of a building; when temperatures rise, the heat in the building rises, and I'm left with a kitchen that could pass for a sauna. The blazing sun has become an unwelcome sight in my windows. Keeping the blinds closed has become something of a survival tactic, as my apartment converts into a stifled cave when I struggle to keep out the heat. I have a small wall air conditioner, but it is useless against the rising heat of the building, scarcely lowering the temperature after running for most of the day.

The heat rarely registers below ninety degrees in my living room and I am starting to understand how food roasting in the oven must feel. At night the temperature impossibly rises as I strip the bed of sheets and fall into a fitful sleep in the path of an industrial fan. I've suffered bouts of heat exhaustion simply from lying on the couch in a heat induced stupor for too long, exhausted and dehydrated from doing absolutely nothing.

There is nothing glamorous about heat. I couldn't have been more wrong in my fantasies of the women of the south and their glasses of lemonade and magazine fans. Now, after living in my own little "deep south," I can appreciate how much people do suffer in the heat, with humidity so high that it suffocates and air so still it feels like a boa constrictor slowing wrapping itself around your body. Heat is really just sweat, frizzy hair, and dreams of crawling into the freezer next to the frozen vegetables.

Last weekend, my parents held a small summer party and I offered to make a couple desserts. Outside in the hot summer air, these Summer Berry Pavlovas were a cool treat to serve and impress. They are light and delicate, which is a lovely quality during the dog days of summer when a bowl of cold cereal is good enough to call dinner.

This Summer Berry Pavlova is sweet, light, and fresh. The pavlova is a large meringue with a crisp exterior and a soft, marshmallow-like interior. When the pavolva cools, the center collapses, revealing a cavity that is filled with a white chocolate whipped cream. The pavlova is topped with fresh raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries, with white chocolate shavings and a dusting of powdered sugar. These are a cool delight when the heat is high and friends are near.

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Caramel Apple Cider

Halloween costumes have always been a source of stress for me. Even when I was younger, I struggled to figure out what (or who) I wanted to be. My mother would take me to the store and I'd spend what felt like hours looking at costumes until my eyes would glaze over, ultimately choosing none of them before my mother would take me away. Most of my years growing up, my mother would choose to make my costumes to avoid my shopping indecision entirely, staying up late the night before to stitch everything together with a little love.

Because of this, when the end of October hit each year, I dreaded the inevitable decision of the Halloween costume. Can't I just be myself?

In kindergarten, I dressed up as a very eager Baby Bop, a costume my classmates thought I was arguably too old for, but I rocked it just the same. From there, I was a witch and a basketball player. I wore a poodle skirt and a wedding dress. I was a princess and a very overweight clown (of which I hope all pictures of that horrific hoop-lined costume are burned. No one should ever have to relive that decision. Especially me).

It wasn't until college hit that finding Halloween costumes became a real challenge. While all the girls I knew seemed to be dressing up as a slutty [insert occupation here], that wasn't my style. I like to keep Halloween about the costumes, not the cleavage. So this year, while searching a warehouse filled with thousands of rental costumes, I ran into a mother and young daughter doing just the same. If I didn't know any better, this could have been my mother and me years ago.

The costume room was claustrophobic and smelled of lord knows what, only making the hunt worse. After looking through thousands of outfits, the little girl sat on the ground, exhausted. Her mother pulled one last costume off the rack, asking if this is what she wanted to be. The little girl put her head between her knees and grumbled nooo. The mother shoved the hanger back on the rack, completely exasperated. "Well, then what do you want to be?"

"Mom, I think I just want to be a potato."

I think that little girl might be on to something...

This Caramel Apple Cider is a twist on the standard apple cider. A few tablespoons of caramel ice cream topping is swirled into apple cider and then heated on the stove until just boiling. It couldn't be simpler. The cider is then topped with whipped cream which gently melts into the hot liquid, making the cider ever so creamy. The caramel also gives the cider a smoother taste and finish (which I love). This drink is perfect for autumn weather when you are looking for something just a little bit different.

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3 Milk Coconut Cake

On the coast of Oregon, there is an undiscovered restaurant resting in the small town of Oceanside. Unless you happen to stop in the town of 300 people to catch the sunset on the beach, you would never know this little corner of heaven existed. With a view of the ocean that could make your heart sing and food to rival any prized restaurant, it's a true gem.

A genuine hidden treasure.

A wooden beach house on main street has a small sign reading Roseanna's Cafe. With only a handful of businesses on main, Roseanna's is easy to spot—you can't miss it. The lightly faded curtains hanging in the windows invite you inside.

The interior is small but friendly, holding no more than a dozen tables. The decor is dressed up as if you had just gone to visit your grandmother. It's familiar and quaint. There is an immediate sense of belonging—one or two meals at this place and you may want to start calling Roseanna's home. I know I did.

At the end of July, a few friends and I rented a beach house on the coast of Oregon for a week. It was a beautiful visit, filled with the rise and fall of the tides and sand behind my ears. Near the end of our stay, we were craving a good, fresh seafood dinner. Willing to travel many miles for a feast, we wound up just a few minutes down the road. Roseanna's was the place to go, we were told.

And so we went.

A quick glance at the menu is enough to make your mouth water. Simply reading through the descriptions will send your taste buds into a tailspin. Though I am not normally a seafood fan, I found myself getting excited about a real seafood dinner. With too many delicious options on the menu, my friends and I decided to share a little food here and there so everyone would get a taste. We started with seafood stuffed mushrooms and a loaf of bread I could swear was lighter than air. Though we tried to take our time and savor it, it was promptly inhaled with everyone fighting over the last few crumbs. It was a deliciously dirty sight when one of my friends nearly licked the plate clean for fear of wasting such a divine cream sauce.

For my entree, I ordered the scallops drenched in a sun-dried tomato butter with a side of potatoes and string beans. After my first bite, I could have sworn I had died and gone to heaven. The flavors, the scallops, the butter... I immediately converted to a seafood lover. My first thought was of unspeakable emotion. The second was whether or not it would be strange to order an identical second entree. The third was to make everyone else have a bite because something this sinfully delicious couldn't be contained to one person or one stomach.

And then, of course, came dessert. Though we had a few desserts sent to the table, the 3 milk coconut cake was deemed the table favorite and disappeared the quickest (we even begged the waitress for the secret to this heavenly cake). With the sun setting over the ocean and good friends around the table, it couldn't have been a happier moment.

With that very moment in mind, I set out to recreate my own version of the 3 Milk Coconut Cake served at Roseanna's. The cake is essentially the base of tres leches cake, meaning a very light cake that can absorb a lot of liquid. A glaze of coconut milk, sweetened condensed milk, and coconut rum (who says you can't have a little fun?) is then poured over the cake. After soaking overnight, the cake is topped with a coconut rum infused whipped cream and toasted coconut. Man, oh man, this cake is good. Just ask my mother—she's eaten four pieces just today.

For a kid friendly version, substitute heavy cream for the rum in the glaze and remove it completely from the topping (though, you don't have to share this one with the kids. It can be a special treat just for you. Just saying).

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