Apple pie guy

Randy's birthday is tomorrow, and he isn't a cake kinda guy. He is an apple pie kinda guy. I have been competing with his grandmother's apple pie for ten years, and I finally got the dip and kiss after this recipe courtesy of foodnetwork.com (where all the cool kids hang out). It is labor intensive, I'm not gonna lie, but it has a crust to DIE for.

Ingredients

• Dough
• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 4 teaspoons sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
• 14 tablespoons cold butter, diced
• 1 large egg, lightly beaten with 2 tablespoons cold water
• Filling
• 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 3 pounds baking apples like Golden Delicious, Cortland, or Mutsu
• 2/3 cup sugar, plus more for sprinkling on the pie
• 1/4 cup unsalted butter
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• Generous pinch of ground nutmeg
• 1 large egg, lightly beaten

Directions

Make the dough by hand. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, and salt. Using your fingers, work the butter into the dry ingredients until it resembles yellow corn meal mixed with bean sized bits of butter. (If the flour/butter mixture gets warm, refrigerate it for 10 minutes before proceeding.) Add the egg and stir the dough together with a fork or by hand in the bowl. If the dough is dry, sprinkle up to a tablespoon more of cold water over the mixture.

Make the dough in a food processor. With the machine fitted with the metal blade, pulse the flour, sugar, and salt until combined. Add the butter and pulse until it resembles yellow corn meal mixed with bean size bits of butter, about 10 times. Add the egg and pulse 1 to 2 times; don't let the dough form into a ball in the machine. (If the dough is very dry add up to a tablespoon more of cold water.) Remove the bowl from the machine, remove the blade, and bring the dough together by hand.

Form the dough into a disk, wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled, at least 1 hour.

Make the filling. Put the lemon juice in a medium bowl. Peel, halve, and core the apples. Cut each half into 4 wedges. Toss the apple with the lemon juice. Add the sugar and toss to combine evenly.

In a large skillet, melt the butter over medium-high heat. Add the apples, and cook, stirring, until the sugar dissolves and the mixture begins to simmer, about 2 minutes. Cover, reduce heat to medium-low, and cook until the apples soften and release most of their juices, about 7 minutes.

Strain the apples in a colander over a medium bowl to catch all the juice. Shake the colander to get as much liquid as possible. Return the juices to the skillet, and simmer over medium heat until thickened and lightly caramelized, about 10 minutes.

In a medium bowl, toss the apples with the reduced juice and spices. Set aside to cool completely. (This filling can be made up to 2 days ahead and refrigerated or frozen for up to 6 months.)

Cut the dough in half. On a lightly floured surface, roll each half of dough into a disc about 11 to 12 inches wide. Layer the dough between pieces of parchment or wax paper on a baking sheet, and refrigerate for at least 10 minutes.

Place a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Line the bottom of a 9-inch pie pan with one of the discs of dough, and trim it so it lays about 1/2 inch beyond the edge of the pan. Put the apple filling in the pan and mound it slightly in the center. Brush the top edges of the dough with the egg. Place the second disc of dough over the top. Fold the top layer of dough under the edge of the bottom layer and press the edges together to form a seal. Flute the edge as desired. Brush the surface of the dough with egg and then sprinkle with sugar. Pierce the top of the dough in several places to allow steam to escape while baking. Refrigerate for at least 15 minutes.

Bake the pie on a baking sheet until the crust is golden, about 50 minutes. Cool on a rack before serving. The pie keeps well at room temperature (covered) for 24 hours, or refrigerated for up to 4 days.

Cook's Note: You may freeze the uncooked pie, but don't brush it with egg or dust it with sugar beforehand. Place the pie in the freezer for 30 minutes, to harden it slightly, and then double wrap it with plastic wrap. Freeze for up to 6 months. When ready to bake, unwrap the pie and brush it with egg and sprinkle with sugar. Bake, from the frozen state, until golden brown, about 1 hour and 10 minutes.

I Stink

Seriously? One of the best books for boys who love machines of all kinds. Both my boys (6 and 3) LOVE this book. They love to say, "You think I stink? whooooo-eeeeee do I ever! No skunk ever stunk this bad! But go on, think about it, without me? You're on mount TRASH-O-RAMA baby!"

It is a great stocking stuffer, a great read, and a great way to get kids to realize that their garbage has to go somewhere.

We read this after watching Wall-e one night and Drew said, 'Wow, mom. We make a lot of garbage. Why don't we recycle more?"

Good question from the 6 yo. He is pretty adamant about using our reusable bags at the grocery store, putting his trash in the garbage, but thinking about whether or not it can be recyled. If it can, it goes in recycling. Case in point, I said, "Hey, can you go put this in the garbage?" and handed him some old papers from his backpack. He responded, "No mommy, these are RECYCLABLE!" as if I was both deaf and stupid.

So I Stink is a fun and fast read perfect for those enviornmentally conscious kids in your life.

If it was just that easy...

More Wordless Wednesday.

rest within the race

Two boys are busy. Now, it is all relative. My friends with 3 or more roll their eyes enduringly at me. They smile and nod with a knowing smile that says, in the nicest way possible, that I have NO idea.

But really, I think I have an idea….maybe just one, but I’ll put it out there.
When I started training for a ½ marathon, I had no idea how long 13 miles is. Really, I didn’t, or I wouldn’t have followed through probably, heh. I stuck to my training schedule and each time the mileage increased I’d start to get a bit anxious. Wow, 5 miles? That’s far. How will I make it? What if I have to walk? Do you think I should take some gel? Like I said, I had no idea. Each time I would come home from a run I’d tell Randy I wasn’t sure if I had another mile in me.
But I always did.

Parenting is a really, really, really long training schedule. Each child adds a different dimension. There are some “runs” that make us want to quit and throw it in. After others we feel like we “just don’t have another mile in us.” There is no throwing the towel in or returning a child, there is an acceptance of the training, and a moment in which finally, an answer, never the answer, is clear.
One child, two children, red children blue children, it doesn’t matter – there are challenges in this race, this race in which to raise creative, kind, confident kids with a heart for others. It is hard, and sometimes it takes moments of selfishness to really do the trick.

For my mother, it was walks around the house. When she couldn’t stand our bickering and complaining we would find her walking around the house. She would pause at the flowers, pull weeds, or just walk. Over and over, she’d walk. For me, it is running. When the boys become too much, when I’d rather put them to bed at 9 am than start the day, I know it is time for a run. My grandmother sewed, my husband fishes, and my friends read, go for coffee, scrapbook, and watch movies. There are times built into the training called rest days. Those are the days where 44 hours of wii is ok. Those are the days where one more movie isn’t going to hurt. Those are the days where ice cream for dinner is just about perfection. Those days, those rest days, are important. They allow us to build back, center again, and remember the goal at the end.

This Saturday was a running day. Randy and Drew went to the hockey game and Owen and I went swimming. This weekend poor Owen’s binky “broke” and they just don’t make any more. He was sad, couldn’t sleep very well, and was, frankly, mad at the world. It was time for binky to go, and it was time for me to man up and run the run. Somewhere in this week will be a rest day. A day to release all the tension and unrest from the weekend, but in the meantime I keep reminding myself that: A. My miles and someone else’s miles are different and certainly we are training for different races. B. that I can run another mile. And C. I love the process. I love the training. I love the challenges.

Enjoy the race.
Enjoy the rest.

Exhausting Hope

Finishing up the last week of the first quarter in a high school is close to the 9th circle. Each one starts to throw the others under the bus. “But he didn’t send me the links on time.” “But she didn’t text me with the time we ere going to meet.” “Can’t you grade us separately?” “When can I meet with you for my thesis?” “When was that due?” “Oh geesh, Brock, why do you teachers do this to uuuuuuuuuussssssssssssss???”
I know you now are desperate to enter into my room every morning where a sea of Abercrombie and Uggs swarm my door and I must swat them away just to put down my backpack. You want to come and calm fears, shush tears, and remind them that, in the end, they will A. live, B. learn, and C. thrive. Then I have to remind them that they, A. are more than a number, B. this is merely quarter, and the real grade isn’t until the end of the semester, and C. can’t argue about points, so shush it.
You want to walk into my room.
Really, you do.

In that room, where the anxiety level is through the roof, where they question the relevancy of English, literature, and me, they also are learning. OOOooooooooo, are they brilliant! They are learning that the “right” answer is one supported by text. They are learning that an easy “A” is less than a hard earned “B”. They are learning that literature is life. We are majoring in life within my room and for that, I am…

Exhausted.
But in a good way
In a way that I can’t explain other through anecdote

I came in to meet with one of my students for her thesis and the entire back board was covered with purple and brown expo brain matter. She worked madly over the philosophical debate about why we must proceed on the archetypal journey. She pulled examples from three or four different texts. She worked with concepts like fate, free will, task, stereotype, mentor, deceit, and love. She grappled with motivation and the lack of. When I walked into that room after grabbing a quick bite of a sandwich I sat on the back table and allowed her to proceed through the trails of now red ink connecting ideas, erasing those that don’t fit. I watched and interjected here and there in order to streamline her thesis. Later that evening, during online conference hours, she typed. “Brock, I am so excited about my paper. In truth, I can say I have never said those words about any paper, especially at the end of the quarter  haha.”

I am telling you, you want to be in my room. You want to be involved with these amazing minds. You want to see what they do when handed 12 titles and told to go find something interesting to write about. You want to be here, in the sea of Abercrombie and Uggs. You want to be here and see what our future is doing in the present.

Here is the hope those looking over they shoulders are looking for. It isn’t a plan, it isn’t a policy, and it isn’t a system or a standardized test. It lies in the hearts of our children. If we nurture those beating, pulsing bodies, our hope, daily, is restored.

So I invest. I smile. I say, “I know you are frustrated, but I believe in you. I know you can do this. Just try. Just pick up the idea and try.” Most importantly, I say, “What do you think?”

And make them answer.

Orange Cranberry Muffins - perfect for Thanksgiving morning!

Before I jump into writing about cooking and food and recipes and the like, I feel it necessary to disclose the relative amateur nature of mah skilz, as they say.

I do not cook very much. I do not cook well. My husband, in fact, cooks more often and better than I do. It is not because he likes to do it or feels he is especially good at it. He does so because he likes to eat and he likes it to taste good. Ergo, he cooks for our family quite frequently.

What I DO do is bake. I'm much better at it than cooking. Each Saturday and Sunday morning, we have fresh baked goods paired with hot eggs, fresh fruit, juice and coffee. Halloween? I'm ready with homemade pumpkin bread and butterscotch cut-out cookies. For Christmas everyone knows to expect gingerbread men, sugar cookies, bourbon balls and pecan pie. Other specialties of the house? Key Lime Pie. (No, I will never give out the recipe here.) I make almost all the birthday cakes in the house. I bake my own yeast breads. Our house runneth over with scones and muffins and cookies and biscuits and popovers and such.

That being said, let's jump in: Orange Cranberry Muffins

For this yummy, we will turn to our trusty companion, the Better Homes and Gardens NEW Cookbook, publication date 1996.


In the chapter of the food group "Breads," on pages 118-119, we find the general recipe for "Muffins."


Lest you believe for one minute that I would give you nothing more than a recipe from a cookbook, have faith. I wouldn't lead you astray. No, I rarely make a recipe exactly as it's written. The recipe in the cookbook gives a variation to include cranberries, but even that would be too ordinary and trite. It takes a little bit of know-how, but one always has to change up the recipe and add a little something extra in order to make the end result "pop" (as Stacy London might say).

Here's my spice, seasonings and herb cabinet:


We buy such stuff from a local market and then fill jars we already have.


This makes it possible to buy only as much as we need, enabling it to always be fresh and also enables us to buy expensive spices that we otherwise couldn't afford (like saffron). The per pound cost is as much as 1/10 of what it costs at the grocery store. So, hello exotic things I normally wouldn't buy! Like:

dried orange peel

The perfect complement to the tangy flavor of the dried cranberries. Just the little extra something we need to make this otherwise ordinary, run of the mill recipe for cranberry muffins become something extraordinary.

Without further ado then, here is the recipe:

************************

Orange-Cranberry Muffins

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup + 2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon dried orange peel
1 beaten egg
3/4 cup milk
1/4 cup cooking oil
1 cup dried cranberries

Line twelve standard muffin cups with bake cups; set aside. In a medium mixing bowl combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Mix in orange peel. Make a well in the center of dry mixture; set aside.

In another mixing bowl, combine egg, milk, and oil. Add egg mixture all at once to the dry mixture. Stir until just moistened (batter should be lumpy). Fold in cranberries.

Spoon batter into prepared muffin cups, filling each 2/3 full.


Bake at 400 degrees F for 20 minutes or until golden. Cool in muffin cups on a mire rack for 5 minutes. Remove from pan and serve warm. Makes 10-12 muffins.



ENJOY!

Book Review: You're Wearing That? by Deborah Tannen

You're Wearing That? Understanding Mothers and Daughters in Conversation
by Deborah Tannen

When my oldest daughter was entering her tweens, after a year of hearing she and I argue relentlessly, my husband ordered You're Wearing That? by Deborah Tannen and gave it to me for light reading. He hoped something in the book would help us girls work out our conflicts. I've been a daughter for almost four decades and a mother for almost 16 years. I've got two sisters (no brothers) and two daughters (no sons). Suffice it to say, I've spent my lifetime thinking about how mothers and daughters converse. I started a blog in order to work out my ideas. I have spent God-only-know-how-many dollars on long distance phone calls with friends and family discussing my angst. When the book was in my hands, I read it cover to cover in three days. I found out I'm not the only one who feels this way.

Chances are that you are...

...an adult daughter and that you have something to work out with your mother, or...

...the mother of a grown daughter, wondering why she's so angry or depressed or distant or riled whenever you talk to her, or...

...the mother of a daughter and you wonder what your relationship will be like with her once she is grown. You might even wonder what it will be like once she's past childhood and into her tweens and (gasp!) her teen years. Or...

...the husband or brother or son of a woman you KNOW needs to improve her communication with her mother or daughter.

If any of these apply, buy the book and read it. Or buy it secondhand. Or check it out from the library. Or go in together with five friends, read it one by one and passing it to the next when you are finished. Then talk about it together. It'll be worth your while, your effort and your pennies.

Tannen focuses on the relationships mothers and daughters have once the daughter is grown. It seems like the relationship should be easy enough to navigate, right? A mother nurtures her daughter through infancy and childhood, loves her, and wants the best for her. The daughter looks up to her mother, feels supported and loved, seeks her advice and approval in her times of need, and feels physical pain if her mother hurts. Sounds like the makings of a perfect symbiotic relationship. Perhaps that's why it's such a mystery to women around the world why they say the nastiest things to their mothers and why mothers are so quick to push all the wrong buttons with their daughters.

There is a dynamic push and pull of the mother-daughter relationship, one which Tannen explains is different from all other familial relationships. A daughter seeks her own identity and to define herself as an individual. Weighed against that is her mother's perspective, a woman who sees her daughter as an extension of herself. The two ideals work against each other, sometimes in ways the two women cannot even verbalize consciously.

As I read the book, I found myself realizing that I had to start changing the way I mothered NOW. My daughter was 12 at the time, but the push and pull was already there. This young woman, barely starting her adolescence, would (God-willing) be in a relationship with me for the next 50-60 years. We could continue down the rocky path I had set us on or I could make the choice to repave the path, a path we could walk down together and enjoy the beauty of the view instead of constantly criticizing each other's make-up, hair cut and choice of clothing.

The book is such an easy read, so enjoyable, and so enlightening. Tannen is a linguist (so am I), but I don't recommend the book because of our common research interest. For me, I was delightfully surprised to find that the book wasn't just another volume in my library of linguistics books, but instead it was a book that, when I was deeply engrossed in, I didn't even remember was written by a colleague at all.

So pick it up and treat yourself to a new perspective. I'm glad I did.