Breakfast. Fast.

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by Lisa

A really, really, really long time ago, a friend asked if we would write about breakfast. Specifically:  she had noticed her son was much happier at school, had more energy, got a better start to the day, when he had a really nice breakfast, i.e. more than cold cereal.  I knew she was right when we had the discussion. But serving a nice, warm breakfast on a school morning can take time, energy, creativity. And I am not one of those people with lots of time or energy or creativity in the morning, I never took pictures of breakfast, I didn’t have too many weekday breakfasts to take pictures of, and I generally tended to forget about breakfast as soon as the dishes are cleared.

I still don’t have pictures, but I do have the evidence that feeding them better in the morning makes them happier, calmer, better ready to the meet the long morning at school. This is as important for my 3rd grader as it is for my kindergartner who is tackling full days, mostly with great energy and spirit (& I don’t mean that in the “my child is spirited” euphemistic way.)

However.  I still can’t bring myself to get up early. I stay up way to late reading. (Last night, it was Cristina Nehring’s terrific new single about becoming a mother, confronting her daughter’s leukemia, learning about …well, everything. You should read it.)  But we have figured out some things about how to vary the offerings. The kids still eat cold cereal some days, but we also have a wider offering of foods that can be prepared really quickly.

Because here’s the thing: we don’t get up until 7 am. By 7:40 am the kids have to: get dressed, eat, make beds, feed cats, clean litter box. Kory and I have to make coffee, feed kids, make lunches, empty dishwasher, and he has to get dressed.  But we manage, and most mornings run smoothly.  This means, breakfast is on the table in 15 minutes.  Below is a list of (warm) things that we can get on the table by 7:15.  We’d love to hear your ideas in the comments!

  • Sweet Rice, made from leftover rice
  • Steel cut porridge, cooked in the rice cooker which has a timer. I set it the night before & it’s ready to go at 7 AM
  • Fried egg, mini bagel + cream cheese
  • Scrambled egg + tortilla=mini breakfast burrito
  • Instant oatmeal
  • Left over pancakes (AKA snack pancakes in Caroline’s house)
  • Leftover waffles
  • French toast (this one really only works if I’m up a little earlier, say, by 7:45)
  • Finn has also been known to eat leftover macaroni & cheese.  Not Ella.

My New Pet

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by Caroline

Lately, it seems, many of our friends are expanding their families. Second and third (and fourth!) children are arriving, dogs and cats and guinea pigs are being adopted, and it’s all got me thinking. I don’t want another child, being perfectly content with my two, and my children don’t want a pet (though I hope someday to become the first mom in the history of the universe to talk her sons into getting a dog). But I have the time now, with the kids in school full days and my work cooking along pretty well, to take care of something. And so, for now, it’s starter. Bread starter.

My husband gave me Tartine Bread for Christmas, with its infamous 25-page Basic Country Loaf recipe, and I am taking on the challenge. It doesn’t start with store-bought yeast, or even a commercial starter. You begin by making your own starter and then, after several days, embarking on the bread itself.

The recipe is both incredibly precise, with its charts and metrics and hydration percentages, and frustratingly vague (a “handful” of flour? Obviously — and unsurprisingly — baker and author Chad Robertson’s hands are bigger than mine because it took me two handfuls to create the described “thick batter”). It is specific and a bit bossy about certain essential tools (a bench knife, a dough spatula) and simultaneously lax about others (maybe if I could use a whisk, instead of my hands, to mix the initial starter, I wouldn’t need a dough spatula to clean my hands!) But I’m trying, despite my characteristic carelessness about following recipes, to follow this one as closely as it permits.

On Sunday, I began. I got out five pounds of flour to create the requisite 50/50 mix of white and whole wheat flours, though immediately ran into a problem when I discovered I only had two pounds of whole wheat flour. So my ratio is a bit off but I trust that’ll be ok. I stirred, by hand, two handfuls of flour into a small amount of lukewarm water. I covered it, as directed, with a kitchen towel and then, afraid the unprepossessing mix might be tossed out or spilled on in the daily maelstrom of our kitchen, stuck it in a cupboard to grow:

After two days, it had started to bubble up and smell yeasty:


So it was time to take the next, somewhat painful, step: pour out 80% of the starter and replace with equal amounts flour and water. Now, pouring out 80% proved to be as easy as using 80% of an egg, and I don’t know why you’d follow up the precision of “80%” with “don’t worry too much about the quantities of water and flour in these feedings,” but I fed the mix with some more lukewarm water and flour, mixed it up, and put it back in the cupboard. Now I watch it daily, to observe when and how much it bubbles up after each feeding so that I can anticipate when it will be ready to leaven my bread. This process is called “training” the starter, and I have to say, it’s as much about training me as training a puppy or child is about training the owner or parent. But I hope it’s less effort than training a puppy or child because, well, it’s flour and water; I’m not going to give it the attention I give my children or my hypothetical future dog. I’m a little worried, though. If you google the term “tartine basic country loaf recipe” you’ll discover there’s a small industry of forums and help desks cropping up to guide bakers through their bread-making journeys.

Eventually, I hope, this little bowl will provide the starter for the delicious breads, pizzas, and waffles I will bake every week. For now, though, it’s my new pet. And let’s be clear: I’m calling it my new pet, but honestly? If it’s not the ideal pet — quiet, obedient, comforting — I’m pouring 100% down the drain and walking to the bakery.

Fondue: A Cautionary Tale

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by Lisa

Last summer Ella’s grandparents took her to see a regional production of Annie and then out to dinner at a fondue restaurant.  She loved the show. (Annie was a very close runner-up for the Halloween costume even though, in the end, Hermione won out.) But the restaurant?  Well, we’ve heard about that restaurant at least once a week for the past 6 months. Before Fondue, she had never of the stuff.  After, it was nearly all she could talk about  (in terms of food).  We heard each course recited ad infinitum, with every detail of service, and in as much descriptive power as she could muster. Over, and over, and over.  “Can I tell you what we ate, Mom?” “Do you want to know what they have at the Fondue Restaurant?”  We humored her, but it’s not a cheap restaurant, so we didn’t rush back.

But  recently she had something to celebrate, so we did take her back.

In the hours leading up to the event, she was so excited she willingly put on a new dress, and knee high athletic socks, and cute denim flats. Without being asked, and long before the last minute. Her brother was another story.  Finn grudingly put on his grey jeans and a shirt with a collar. And then, when he figured out we were actually going to the Fondue Restaurant, the real fun started. He whined, he cried, he lay on the ground and refused to put on his shoes. He rolled around like a Weeble.  “Why, why, why?!” he moaned. “I don’t want to go the THAT restaurant…”  The tears fell.   He doesn’t tantrum, but he is really good at weeping.

So, we did what we always do when a child threatens to ruin our plans.

We told him we had no choice, that we expected good behavior, and we put him in the car.  I was nervous, of course.  One can never be too sure of one’s kids.

By the time we got to the restaurant, Finn was carsick and Ella was so happy she nearly skipped into the restaurant. The host led us upstairs to a comfortable booth, and there, resting against the melting pot, was a card for E. signed by all the servers. Super cheesy, yes, but very sweet and sort of perfect for an 8-year old girl’s celebration.  At that little surprise, Finn started to come around. They were offered a mini box of colored pencils and a booklet with tic tac toe grids, which also distracted him long enough not to complain.

And then, the server offered them Italian sodas, of which they eagerly partook, and things started to look up.

Ella ordered (she’d had the menu in her head for months, remember), and there was something lovely watching her confidently put in the order for all of us (except for the wine).

And then– the server arrived with a tray of ingredients and made the cheese fondue in the pot in the middle of the table.  Finn was riveted. For really, what kid doesn’t like to see things melt and simmer and bubble and transform right in front of him?  There was bread, and apples, and long dangerous looking forks, and lots of things to spear with them.

One bite, two bites, and soon Finn was happily eating away, too.

“Hey,” he said, “You know this is MUCH better than I thought it would be.” He nodded and smiled and kept dipping and eating. “This is really good. I didn’t KNOW this was like this. I LOVE this. Thanks, Ella!”

And so.

We simmered all kinds of meats and shrimp and potstickers and vegetables in broth, and Finn was as charmed as Ella was blissed out.

Then there was the chocolate fondue with cheesecake, rice krispie treats, pound cake, brownies, and strawberry dippers…(don’t even ask).

Really, I’ve had better fondue.  The restaurant is sort of expensive. But as my husband noted, this place has it dialed in. The manager came over to congratulate Ella.  It has just enough fancy to impress the family but it’s not too formal.  And there is not much more communal fun than a fondue pot. There’s something magical about melting cheese, and simmering broth, and sharing all the little parts of a meal in a very active, ongoing way.  The night was easily one of our most fun family dinners–and for Kory and I it wasn’t because the food was top  notch. The kids, of course, would disagree. They think fondue, at this place, is the best thing in the world, and I’m not going to disabuse them of that notion. I hope they grow up and remember this place as an occasion, as something new and different, as something we did together to celebrate.  If they love mediocre fondue, and choose this place for their celebrations,  I’ll give it to them every time.  It’s better than a happy meal. Or Macys. We all came together to celebrate Ella, but we celebrated just being together, too.

Also: There was a great big blue flame.  And really, what more is there to be said about why fondue is a fun family dinner?

Triple Citrus Cream Cheese & Poppy Seed Coffeecake

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by Caroline

Before my mom went back to work full-time, when I was in elementary school, she cooked dinner every night and baked bread every Saturday. She made birthday cakes for all four of us kids and thousands (I’m not exaggerating) cookies at Christmas. But the one thing I don’t recall her making on any regular basis, if at all, was coffeecake. We bought Entenmann’s. Most New Yorkers I know will sigh with happiness when they think of Entemann’s, the grocery store coffeecake in the windowed box. There were strudels and crumb-topped cakes, but my favorite was the cheese-filled danish.

I don’t make coffecake very often myself — pancakes and waffles are much more common — but for New Year’s Day and other brunch parties, this is the one I make, which is like a fresh update of those classic Entenmann’s cheese coffeecakes of my childhood. I found the recipe first in a Martha Stewart Living and noticed it also on Heidi Swanson’s 101 Cookbooks blog, so those are great bona fides if you don’t quite trust me: this is a delicious, moist, and easy to make ahead treat.

Note: you can leave out all the citrus zests, or just use one (orange or lemon) if you don’t have all 3. Zests keep well in the freezer (I have little waxed paper bags to store each kind) so you can always have a supply on hand.

For the dough:
½ c warm water
2 T active dry yeast (2 envelopes)
1 t sugar

½ c butter, melted and cooled (plus some more to grease the bowl)
2/3 c sugar
1 c orange juice
2 large eggs
zest of 1 lemon
zest of 1 lime
zest of 1 orange
1 t salt
5-6 c flour

For the filling:
1 pound cream cheese (room temperature)
1 c confectioner’s sugar
2 egg yolks
2 t vanilla
1 c dried cranberries, dried blueberries, dried currants (or a mix)
2/3 c poppy seeds

For the egg wash:
1 lightly beaten egg

Stir together the water, yeast and 1 t sugar in a large bowl until yeast dissolves. Let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes. Now whisk in juice, eggs, remaining 2/3 c sugar, melted butter, zests and salt. Stir in flour, 1 cup at a time, until dough pulls away from sides of bowl and forms a ball.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until just slightly sticky, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a buttered bowl and turn so that the dough is lightly coated with butter. Loosely cover and let rise until doubled in bulk, either at room temperature (about 1 ½ hours) or in the refrigerator overnight.

Meanwhile, stir together cream cheese, egg yolks, confectioners’ sugar and vanilla until smooth. Add poppy seeds and dried berries. Set aside (at room temp or in the fridge, wherever your dough is).

When you’re ready to shape and bake the coffee cakes, butter 2 baking sheets and set aside. If you’ve refrigerated the dough, let it come to room temperature before proceeding (usually an hour or so, depending on your fridge and kitchen!)

Punch down dough and divide in half. Roll out one half into an 11 x 15” rectangle. Spread half the filling evenly over the dough, leaving a 1” border. Beginning at one long side, tightly roll dough into a log, encasing the filling. Carefully transfer log to baking sheet, seam side down. With a sharp knife, make cuts about 2” apart along one long side of the log, cutting just three-quarters of the way across, like this:

Lift the first segment, turn it cut side up, and lay it flat on the baking sheet. Repeat with the next segment, twisting it so it sits on the opposite side of the roll. In my picture, the dough wasn’t quite laying flat, but you get the idea:

Continue down the log, alternating sides.

Roll out, fill and cut remaining dough.

Preheat oven to 350. Loosely cover dough and let rise until almost doubled in bulk, about 30 minutes. Brush dough with egg wash, avoiding the filling. Bake until cooked through and golden brown, about 30 minutes. Carefully slide coffee cakes onto wire racks, and let cool completely before slicing.

After Dinner: Just Dessert

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By Lisa

I don’t know about you, but around here,we don’t get dessert every night. The kids tire of hearing me say, “dessert is a privilege, not a right” and whether or not we have it doesn’t really depend on whether or not they eat their vegetables. Sometimes we have something special (okay, rarely), sometimes they get a cookie or two and milk, sometimes they have walnuts, or fresh fruit, or a baked apple, or, as it happens, nothing.

We also don’t eat dinner together every night. My husband gets home late–usually around the time the children are turning off their lights–and he & I eat late, around 8 pm.  We get to talk, and catch up on our day, and be sort of adult, and remember why we like each other, and have a glass of wine, and do some of the business that families always need to do re. schedules etc etc. Sometimes, too, we just eat and watch Madmen, or less gratifying TV.

I do sit down every night with both children while they eat, and we talk and that’s nice too. But the other night, something happened, and there were baths to be taken and general mayhem, and Finn hadn’t finished eating, so I sent Ella away to bathe and take care of her general end of the day business, and Finn finished up, and then the two of us sat quietly and the loveliest little chat while he had dessert. And when he was done, I sent him away, and Ella came back, all fresh from her bath, and she and I had a lovely little chat while she ate her dessert. And this was how I discovered the really lovely notion of one-on-one time just for dessert.  As one of my favorite poets puts it, it was a moment when the house was quiet and the world was calm and my children and I were one. I have no idea what they ate after dinner that night, but I do know that it was really, really sweet.

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