Yearning Again for the Motherland

When John and I got home from Ireland (almost a whole year ago...where has the time gone...?), we talked a lot about two things: one, how we wanted to go back, and two, what we would like to do on a return trip.

We agreed we definitely wanted to see more castles. I think, too, I'd like to stay in and explore one region more fully rather than take a brisk trip around the whole country. Perhaps it's the cool weather that's moved into New Jersey today, and maybe it's the grey clouds and slight threat of rain, but I've found myself thinking a lot about Ireland this morning.

And with that thinking came an idea, and a partial plan of what I'd like to do if we are ever blessed enough to go back. When I think of our trip, there are, of course, so many highlights they all sort of blur together in a pastoral scene of green meadows and meandering livestock. But when I think a little bit harder and let the more "white noise" images fade away, the one place that I felt truly at home was standing on the rocky shore of Galway Bay, feeling the ocean spray from the other side of the Atlantic. Listening to wind lash at our window all night, and waking up to see the whitecaps on the water...I really think I left part of my soul there on that shore. John dunked his feet into the lapping waves, baptizing himself in the waters of our homeland (for his last name may be Riggi, but he's also half Murphy).

And so as I thought about it more and more, if--when--we return, I'd like to do a more thorough study of County Galway. We can walk amongst the ancient fishing village of The Claddagh. The national aquarium is even right there. There are castles. There are parks built around the ruins of castles. There is the bustling, vibrant city center. There is Rathbaun Farm and Francis' scones, and Ted the sheepdog.

This, of course, presents some very real logistical questions. We'd be unaccompanied, without a tour guide to help us. We'd have to manage our own transportation. At least we've already been there, so we know what to expect as far as narrow roads, lots of roundabouts, and excellently helpful road signs. Driving on the other side of the car/road? A minor hiccup.

This also presents the question of travel priority, as there is so much in the US John and I want to tackle, and we also very much want to visit Italy and explore the other part of our heritage. Heck, I may even get to Denmark some day, though I can see that as an empty-nester vacation down the line when John and I have more life behind us. So, much to think about, but for now my Irish eyes are smiling at the prospect of returning home.

Stressbusters!

This post is going to take twice as long to type. Hamlet is currently curled up on my lap, and is resting his head on my right hand. While the left is free to type per usual, the right one is pinioned down in most devout snuggle time. It's funny how unbalanced it feels to have one hand stymied. Ah, well. Eventually he'll get annoyed enough at my constant movement that he'll adjust. Until then, the beat (on Bordentown) goes on...

There are a few things that invariably calm me when I'm stressed. The best stressbuster in the world for me is a day at the beach. From the moment I get the first smell of salty ocean air, my stress disappears. I don't know where it goes, and I don't care. I have very few thoughts or worries at the beach, outside of when to put on more sunblock and when I feel hot enough to go back into the waves. But this is a special treat. Maybe that's why it's so effective. It's something we can't do everyday, so the charm has never worn off.

Next best is writing, though sometimes when my stress mixes with depression, I can't bring myself to write. But when I do, I feel better afterward nearly every time. It could be a short poem, a blog post, or an email in which I vent to a friend.

Perhaps what has the most direct effect on my racing mind is to clean. I have always felt when my physical world is neat and in order, my mental world will follow. Even taking a few minutes to tidy my desk during a hectic work day reminds to slow down and take a moment to care for myself.

But aside from the beach, what makes me happiest? Baking. Maybe it's the satisfaction that it's something I'm good at. Maybe, too, the act of preparing ingredients, following (or diverting from) a recipe is routine and comforting. Plus, unless it's a more delicate baked good, I can usually have a delicious result in about 20 minutes,

Why am I boring you with all this? Today I left work at noon when the feeling of being overwhelmed finally bubbled over. It's been a stressful few months between work craziness and John's and my start to house hunting. (Wait, what? I know this is news to some of you--I've been blogging the whole process, but will post them all once we've found a place to call home...it'll be an interesting retrospect by then. As well as a testament to our survival.) It is absolutely the most stressful thing we have ever undertaken together, and certainly the biggest financial commitment I am endeavoring after in my own life, let alone my life together with John. So that's all I'll say on the topic for now. The hunt is still very much on the DL, but there you have--I've chucked it out into the void. Stay tuned for more.

So yes. I've been feeling close to the edge for weeks now, and today it all just came out and I couldn't hold it in anymore. I came home, had a good cry, and rested for a while. I guess I should add Hammy to the list of stressbusters. He is so intuitive when it comes to knowing when I'm upset. No sooner had I flopped, face-first, into my pillow than he was already hopping up beside me with a chirp and began nuzzling his face against mine. He then curled up with me and purred like a lawn mower.

Once all of that wallowing was done, I got up, had lunch, and started in on the organizing. I paid bills (less financial clutter...? Maybe simply less money.). I did dishes. I tidied the dining room table. Then I remembered I had buttermilk in the fridge. Scones. Scones must be made. This idea rumbled forward from the back of my mind, and I was off: I didn't have enough regular flour, nor did I have dried fruit, so I decided I'd try some savory scones we could have with dinner tonight. Done deal. Grabbed the whole wheat flour and some fresh grated cheese. Following the familiar recipe felt good, and using whole wheat flour and guessing the "right" amount of cheese felt like just the right amount of daring. Kneading out the dough and cutting small circles felt right. I even tried an egg. Why not? The result is sitting on my dining room table, waiting to be tasted.

When John gets home, we will go to the farmer's market in town, and then, finally, I can taste my little scones. With the herbed butter I made. Oh yeh...I went all out. I softened the half stick of butter I didn't use for the scones and whipped it til it was smooth. Then I added some pepper and rosemary, flavors I figured would complement the nutty whole wheat and cheese of the carbs. Rolled it into a tube using plastic wrap, and it's chilling and re-solidifying now

Looking forward, recipes on my radar to try:
1. Homemade Irish cream (that's right, bitches...makin my own Bailey's) I even have the storage vessels picked out...Kitchen Kapers, you saucy minx...
2. Homemade quick jam (no canning required...perfect for this quasi-lazy chef)
3. Blackberry-lavender scones (as soon as I find some dried lavender...)

All good things to think about! I'll try and will my mind to think of these when it wanders into the Dark Place.


And so now here I sit. Still stressed and still worried, but also a little more accomplished, and with more space on my mental hard drive. In short, it was the recharge that I needed.

Pavlova Perfection

Well, I'm pleased to pronounce I have achieved pavlova perfection. Well, at least as far as I can tell! Never having tried pavlova before, I assume this is what a perfect one tastes like. haha

The meringue was a sinful backdrop for the sweetened mascarpone and fresh fruit that topped it. The meringue itself is yummy, but really the point is to get a little of everything in every bite. Mmm. I will definitely make this again, and am already thinking about making mini personal-size pavlovas as well as meringue cookies for the holidays. Oh yes, friends, a new tool in the arsenal.

And now, the eye candy. (If you lick your screen, I won't tell anyone.)

Firstly, this is NOT how you beat eggs and get meringue...boo.

This, however, is success in a bowl:
 
















And here we have it: all three components, ready to top up and get devoured. And since I made this for a post-4th of July celebration at my parents', I even managed some patriotism with the strawberries and blueberries on the white plate.
















Ah, a perfect forkful indeed.

Holy Meringue, Batman!

I'm working on overcoming a baking quandary, and I think I've got it figured out. I first encountered this issue when making the Italian rainbow cookies. Simply separating egg whites was challenging enough--I'm a sloppy egg-cracker. Every time I have to open an egg, I think of Audry Hepburn in Sabrina where she's in the French cooking school, and they are, well, learning how to crack an egg. Perfectly and with one hand. Whoa. I'll get there someday. Anyway, so I'm getting better at cracking and separating eggs.

But beating  them into a lovely frothy foam to turn into meringue...? That's another story. The first time I tried (for rainbow cookies), there was some latent moisture in the mixing bowl/on the mixer whisks, and I tried much longer than I should have, cursing them for not whipping up. When I eventually admitted defeat and started over, blammo: stiff peaks in like 2 minutes flat. Of course.

This time, I think my mixing bowl was the problem. I first tried in my huge aluminum bowl (perfect for making ice cream or ginormous batches of cookies). The eggs, cream of tartar, and sugar got all smooth and shiny and thick, but wouldn't come together to form peaks. Not even soft ones. After again beating for longer than I should have, I scrapped that, grabbed my trusty, ancient, plastic Tupperware bowl. Re-measured and started over with new egg whites. Again, blammo: fast, perfect meringue. Sigh. Next time I'll just start with that method. haha

My reason tonight for whipping up some eggies was to make a pavlova. I had seen this recipe on my favorite Irish cooking blog a while back, but was nervous. Cornstarch? White vinegar? I know...really basic ingredients, but still, two things not already in my arsenal. I was scared. Then, in last month's Coastal Living magazine, there was a beautiful pavlova topped with mascarpone and strawberries. Again intrigued, I scanned the recipe, and saw that this one lacked the cornstarch, so it was to be more like a traditional meringue (pavlova is a little marshmallow-y inside with a really crisp crust thanks to the vinegar and cornstarch versus a meringue which is a consistent solid texture throughout). I thought, "Hm. This one looks pretty damn simple. Why not!"

And so now here I sit. With about 20 minutes left of bake time (that's it at the left, just as I popped it into the oven). Then it has to sit in the oven for 2 agonizing hours, much like the cheesecake I recently attempted (OMG you guys...I haven't written about that yet...read on!). Which kills me. If it's an epic failure I'll never know until it's too late. Someday I'll have an oven with a window so I can peep in without opening the door and ruining the temperature. For now, though, I'll have to sit here in agony until I can open up and behold my creation. Call me Bakenstein. I hope my monster will be beautiful. And delicious.


Cheesecake. Holy. Hell. This recipe is really easy, and so you may be wondering why the hell it took me so long to make one. One word, my friends. One word, which has struck fear into my heart for years: springform. I was terrified that I'd put all this work into a delectable dessert, and then the damned pan would be its undoing. So when my dad requested a cheesecake for his Father's Day dessert, I said, "Springform, I shall vanquish thee!" I sprinted to the store, bought a pan (actually, it was a 3-pack...go big or go home!), and came home, armed with chutzpah and hardware.

Well, I sprayed the bejesus out of that 9-inch pan, crushed up the graham crackers, mixed them with butter, and made the cream cheesy heavenly filling. Dumped in said filling. Popped the cake in the oven. And panicked. When I opened the oven door (after it cooled in the oven for 6 hours...yeh, it was pure torture), it looked like a cheesecake. But what we going on under that browned crust? Was it cooked? Would it taste okay? All questions that had to wait until the next day when we'd serve it up at Mom and Dad's. Thankfully, I had sprayed the pan so well the cake actually shrunk away from the walls as it cooled and baked, so un-springing it from the pan was remarkably simple. And it tasted. Amazing. Amazing. If I had it in a white box tied with red baker's twine, you'd've thought I bought it at a Brooklyn bakery. No lie--it was that good. Ask anyone who ate it.

I hope I can pat myself on the back after Mr. Pavlova finishes. The difference here is I've never had a pavlova, so however this tastes will be my litmus test. Wish me luck, friends!

Probably-Stupid Observations

After watching this time lapse video of Reunions Weekend and Commencement activities on Princeton's campus, it's kind of mind-blowing to summarize my life in a likewise fashion.

In short, it's amazing to think that not so long ago, I had to ask my parents to drive me to friends' houses, ask them for money, ask them permission for pretty much everything. Then college came and offered new freedoms--my own car, my own schedule, and less asking for things. Finally, I got a big girl job, moved out from under their roof and under one with my boyfriend. We got engaged. We got married. Now we're planning to buy a house.

I have friends who have houses of their own, and we sit in their own backyards, bar-be-queuing and sipping beer or wine or whatever. I have friends who have kids I'll get to watch grown up.

It's one of those moments where time feels elastic: I'm 7 and 17 and 27 all at the same time.

It's been a long, long, long time...

Perhaps little known fact: my favorite Beatles song isn't a McCartney ballad. It is, in fact, a quiet little Harrison number on the White Album: Long, Long, Long. I feel like it's so different from their other songs, but also kind of what got them started: a simple love tune. I love it. And it has, in fact, been a long long long time since I've written, so while Hubby watches Game 7 of the NHL Playoffs (Blueshirts all the way!), I'm here to finally cough up the updates I owe you.

Two weeks ago, I ran my second 5K race and PR'd with 32:27. I still finished in the last pack of runners, but damn it, I still wasn't last! This race was smaller, with only 107 runners (I placed 75th). The race meandered along a bike path in Mercer County Park, and it was a completely lovely day: cool, sunny, with the trees and flowers just beginning to bloom. Of course, that meant I could literally wipe off a layer of pollen from my face afterward (and I really did). But I couldn't have asked for better weather.

This was Hubby's first race, a test run, if you will, before his obstacle 5K next month. Oh, and by obstacle, I mean zombies chasing him. In addition to slogging through blood-filled ditches and climbing up a rope ladder and other "fun" things. I will be watching from the sidelines, thank you...the only thing I want to wash off after a race is sweat. No interest in mud, goo, or zombie remnants. haha But he and another friend will be running for their lives, and I'll certainly be there to support them. We have funny post-race photos planned based on the outcome (survivor/victim).

I've checked off some shopping wins recently. I had two specific shopping needs: spring evening wedding and 2 Gatsby-themed parties. I actually nabbed the Gatsby dress a month or so ago on a trip with my Mom. We popped into m y favorite consignment shop, Rebecca's Vintage Consignment right in town here. There was a dress I had been eyeing for a while--the perfect 20s party dress. But alas, it was about $70, and I just wasn't that into it. But when Mom and I went in and it was still there, and 50% off...well, damn it, that merited a try-on. What the what? It was waiting for me, in my size, 50% off and fit perfectly? That sucker came home right away. It's currently in the capable hands of a talented friend who is repairing some of the beadwork for me so I can flap the nights away.

I also just crafted a 20s-inspired headband to wear, and found great shoes at Rebecca's on a later shopping trip (scored for $8, thankyouverymuch). On this later shopping trip (just this past Saturday, in fact), Tara and I were patrolling the wares of Bordentown, and since I wanted to look for a Gatsby hat (the only thing I struck out on!), visited the consignment shop. No dice on the hat, but I found shoes that would work, and then Tara pointed out a dress to solve my wedding-wear conundrum! Hubby and I will be attending a friend's wedding in two weeks at the lovely Moorestown Community House, and as the wedding is an evening spring affair, I wanted something fun, romantic, and colorful. I had been watching a few dresses at David's Bridal for a few weeks, waiting for a good sale. I was set to check them out, but then Tara pointed it out: everything I was looking for! I checked the tag: it was my size! I checked the price: $30! I flung myself into the dressing room and crossed my fingers. Blammo. Perfection! I waltzed out and sought Tara's opinion. All it needed was a pair of shoes I already owned to keep the hem off the floor, and I was sold. Signed, sealed, delivered. Further win? The shoes had no price tag, so Rebecca said, "Meh, $8." And with my resident discount, both dress and shoes came to about $33. Hot dang! Every time I look at the dress I'm convinced it was kismet--I can also wear it to lots of other events in the future, so definitely worth every penny.

No spoiler pics of either dress for now, but you won't have to wait long. I will share pics, however, of my recent baking success. See the next post for that, though--don't wanna cram too much in here! Also to come: spring 2013 gardening.

Cheers until then.

On the homefront...

We finally hit a rhythm of springy weather, and I've been a busy bee in the house and without.

I'm still waiting for my perrenials to pop up and come back to their full glory, but every day I see the hostas unfurling more, and the rusty coleus are getting brighter and standing taller. Calladiums won't come up for a while (if the come back at all...fingers crossed!). And the new additions this year are red impatiens, 2 varieties of fern, and a white hydrangea.

The impatiens are plopped right in the ground as they'll die at the end of the summer, but the hydrangea is potted up nice so we can take it with us and plant at our future home. The ferns and hydrangea, unsurprisingly, seem very happy, but the damned impatiens...sigh. Always an uphill battle. I don't know what it is--I see other impatiens blossoming like rock stars, but my little guys are still looking sickly and weak. I Miracle Growed them for the first time this weekend since they'd been in the ground stretching their roots (or so I hope!) for 2 weeks now. Hopefully with some encouragement they'll fill in a bit more.

So here we were as of planting day back a few weeks ago. I'll have to take some more photos once the new mulch goes down and compare how things are looking.

And now, the rainbow cookies. Oh, you guys, the rainbow cookies. This is a recipe I had been eager to tackle for a long time, and I figured when better than Mother's Day? In addition to the scones, clotted cream and lemon curd I had planned (only the scones were homemade, though I do have a recipe for lemon and lime curds that I'm eager to try...stay tuned for that!) I decided to tackle the rainbow cookies. I found a recipe that was very straightforward, and used 99% of ingredients I already owned. This would test my method, though! In addition to a new preparation in general, I'd have to tackle two processes I had yet to undertake: whipping egg whites to soft peaks, and using a double boiler. Both concepts I'd understood, and I'd beaten cream to soft/stiff peaks plenty of times, but egg whites...oh, that'd also mean I'd have to successfully separate the eggs, another process I'm still perfecting (I will think of Sabrina every single time I crack an egg; I can't help it). I did screw up the egg whites--there must have been some unwelcome moisture or food particle or something in there cuz I was beating like crazy for a ridiculously long time before accepting I had screwed it up. Thankfully, on my second attempt (sorry 4 wasted yolks!) that ish came together in about 3 minutes.

Long story short, the baking process was broken down into two nights: on the first, I made and thirded the dough, died two thirds, baked all three layers. Once that was done and cooled, I added raspberry jam to the green bottom layer and apricot jam to the white center layer, stacked them up an popped them into the fridge to chill and compress overnight.

Fast-forward to the next night when I trimmed off the crispy, uneven edges to make a nice-looking rectangle. Used a double boiler to melt chocolate and frosted top with chocolate. Back into the fridge to harden up. Then, finally, I was able to slice it up. That's where the "I'm totally nailing this!" kinda ended. haha They tasted AMAZEBALLS, but hmm...a lot of them were weird shapes because the chocolate cracked. So slicing is a science I will have to perfect over the next few attempts.

When all of my baking was done, I portioned two sets of everything--scones and cookies--for our two Mother's Day celebrations, and packed up a few cookies to take to work on a test audience. Perhaps the greatest compliment I got came from my office manager: "As an Italian girl born in Brooklyn, I can say with confidence these are the best layer cookies I have ever had, and I have tested a significant number of Brooklyn Italian bakery layer cookies. These are really really really good—moist, flavorful, really perfect." Bam. I was all ::drop the mic:: on that one! I got that comment a lot, actually...three other people also told me they were the best they had tried. Yeh, I'll be patting myself on the back for a while.

What's next on the baking horizon? Lavender-blackberry scones and homemade lemon curd.

And now, friends, you're all caught up for now. And so until my next adventure (or 8...sigh), I bid you goodnight.