Lisa is the author of the award-winning memoir, A Double Life: Discovering Motherhood, which was an National Book Critics Circle Top-10 Independent Press Pick for 2011. With Caroline, she's the co-founder of Learning to Eat and co-editor of The Cassoulet Saved our Marriage: True Tales of Food, Family, and How We Learn to Eat. She holds an MA in creative writing, a PhD in English and has taught literature and creative writing widely, most recently in the MFA Program at the University of San Francisco.
This weekend we went to a holiday party where a friend was mixing a drink he calls The Grinch, which really is anything but (unless maybe you’re around the person who drank them the day after…)
A Grinch is basically a Grasshoppper made with vanilla ice cream instead of cream and garnished with a peppermint stick and crushed candy cane sugar on the rim. I actually didn’t drink them, sweet drinks not being my thing, but Kory did, and I can vouch that they’re sort of fun.
We made the Christmas Kidtini version for the kids the next night: a mint chip shake + green food coloring, garnished with candy canes and red sugar on the rim.
We still haven’t made the milk punch, or any cookies, or candy…but we are slowly but surely finding some Christmas spirit.
I’ll bet you didn’t know that today is St. Lucy’s Day. And that it is also my daughter’s half-birthday. And that her still-beloved American Girl doll, Kirsten, hails from Sweden, where St. Lucy is pretty much the only saint honored. If you’ve read my book, you also might know that we nearly named Ella “Lucy”, after my paternal grandmother.
For a few years, Ella has been lobbying to celebrate her half-birthday/Swedish saint day in a traditional way: with St. Lucia buns, brought by the eldest daughter, at the crack of dawn, to the other members of the household. Usually, this daughter wears a crown of candles. Historically, December 13 would have been the winter solstice, the darkest night of the year, and thus the tradition of the eldest daughter bringing light and sweets.
Last night at dinner, Ella reminded me about St. Lucy’s Day and told me exactly where to find the recipe, and at 6:30 pm, I agreed and set to work making St. Lucia Buns for the morning. I didn’t have saffron or raisins, which means ours were not exactly authentic, but they were good enough. They’re a sweet, yeast bread and easy to make.
This morning, at about 6:45 am, it was still dark, and Finn came into our room, announcing, “Stay in bed!” Not long after that, Ella arrived (sans scary candle crown) with a breakfast tray bearing two cups of coffee and 4 St. Lucia buns, plated and garnished with candied walnuts, which she’d added in place of the missing raisins.
It was lovely to have a break from the regular routine, to forget about making lunches and emptying the dishwasher and making beds. We all piled onto our bed, and had a calm, sweet breakfast as the sun came up.
Sprinkle the yeast over the warm water. Set aside for 5 minutes until bubbly and smooth.
Warm the milk and butter over low heat until butter is just melted.
Add the milk and butter to the yeast.
Stir in sugar, egg, salt, and saffron.
Add 1 1/2 cups flour and stir until smooth.
Add enough of the remaining flour so that you can shape the dough into a ball.
Put dough on floured cutting board & knead, adding flour as dough becomes sticky.
When dough is smooth and springy (about 5-10 minutes) cover with a towel and wash & dry mixing bowl.
Measure cooking oil into bowl, add dough, turn to coat, cover with a towel and set in warm place to rise, 45 minutes, or until doubled in size.
Punch down the dough, then divide into 6 sections. Take one section and divide in half. Roll each half into and 8-inch rope. Cross the 2 ropes in the middle then coil the ends into tight circles. Repeat w/remaining 5 buns.
Place buns on greased cookie sheet, 2 inches apart. Let rise until doubled, 30-45 minutes.
While buns are rising, preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Beat egg and water and brush lightly over the top of each bun before baking. Decorate with raisins.
Caroline is definitely the baker on this blog, but once in while, we bake over here. Mostly for birthdays. Mostly involving my husband and fondant. You might remember the Lego Cake or the Volcano Cake. Not long ago, Finn had a birthday, and he requested a Hexbug cake. I made the yellow cake from this Smitten Kitchen recipe, which tastes just fine, but is not the best for working with fondant, still Kory managed. The colors were selected by Finn. The design is all Kory’s.
And then, my lovely daughter (again with her dad’s help) decided to surprise me with a cake from Whole Foods so we could celebrate finishing this book.
Last week, when I made this chive meatloaf, I made double. I rolled and froze the second batch, and took it out last night for a quick dinner. I baked it in our convection oven on the self-timer early in the day, around 3 pm.
But I also had mashed potatoes left over, and so when the meatloaf had cooked and cooled, I molded the potatoe into a little igloo over the loaf. I used my hands. Then, I suddenly remembered something from my childhood. Cheese in mashed potatoes ? Cheese on twice-baked potatoes? I quickly dumped some grated cheddar and monterey jack all over the potatoes, then baked everything at 350 degrees for 2-25 minutes.
The cheese crust turned golden and slightly crispy, and the kids were a little baffled, but then they tasted it and thought it was one of the best things ever. Finn ate two helpings and Ella just kept saying, “These potatoes are so good.” And she’s not much of a potato eater. Really, it’s the definition of comfort food, and it made for a very happy, easy dinner. In fact, the only thing more fun for the kids than this, which they thought was a totally new meal, was playing Finn’s new game, “Who Am I?” while they ate.
In this case, he is most definitely not what he is eating.
One of the contributors to our book, which is just a few weeks away from being sent to the publisher (!), is Jeff Gordinier. He’s written for a lot of places, but these days he makes his home at the Dining Section of the New York Times. He recently sent me a link about harvesting walnuts in France.
It’s a beautiful post, and as I read it, it made me happy to know that we, too, so far from France and big, sustainable gardens, also had a big bowl of walnuts, a bowl for shells, and a cracker out on our counter. Of course, we don’t harvest the nuts ourselves, but we do get them fresh from an orchard that’s about an hour away from where we live, and every year we say the same thing: We can’t believe how good they are. Fresh, flavorful, tender, sweet. Our whole family eats them all day long. A nut here, a nut there, they’re like little nuggets of fall. Ella will crack a few while she’s waiting for breakfast. Finn will ask if he can some after lunch. (I always say yes.) I’ll have some before dinner. The shells are thin and easy to crack. The nuts are so solid and compact, and they make little musical clicks as we sort them. Really, everything about them sings. They’re a fast, healthy snack that you have work a little for, which isn’t a bad thing. And for me, because we only have them this time of year, they’re just one more thing that reminds us of the present moment. That, and the nefarious way a certain medley of carols keeps being sung over, and over, and over….
