I've forewarned you that today is National Croissant Day. And that we would eat this for breakfast:
And I've said that I no longer bake anything croissant like because it's a lot of trouble for something that that is these days remarkably good when purchased at the local bakery.
But I want to talk about baking in general: what should you bake at home? What do I want to bake at the farmhouse? Well, surely things that my grandkids love. That's an easy one and luckily, at least the two oldest living near me like stuff that I love having around: light and fruit filled muffins, anything with rhubarb. But is there more that I could churn out (in this imperfect oven that is soon to be replaced)?
I've hit this stumbling block: if I bake it and it's good, then Ed routinely snacks on it. Nothing with copious amounts of sugar or even moderate amounts of sugar is going to be good for us. Add to it butter and white flour and you may as well start picking out your coffin style. At our age, we have to be careful.
So I've cut back on baking.
But I'm tempted. Today, for instance, I could not resist pulling out a recipe from Jesse Szewczyk's Cookies, for his "raspberry cookies with chocolate chunks." Here, I baked some two dozen:
I'm going to send some home with my daughter tonight. That'll help me clear away at least a dozen (I hope). The rest? Sigh... We'll eat them. I'll call it lunch for the next few days and Ed will snack on them in between meals. But really, I know I should not bake too many cookies, no matter how tempting they may appear.
And yet... for me, one hyggelig aspect of a winter day at the farmette is that candle (currently burning: North Woods Cabin, from Big White Yeti -- if you like them subtle, this one's for you) and a steamy frothy coffee in the afternoon with.... something. Before Christmas, I'd stock up on chocolate covered gingerbread. What should be in its place now? If not sweet buttery cookies, then what?
As if by magic, I stumbled today on an article in the New Yorker praising a fairly recently published cook book by Yossy Arefi called Snacking Cakes. This is what I need (arriving tomorrow)! Exactly this. Cakes that you can eat for breakfast without too much guilt. Or for lunch if you're like me and want something special, served on a pretty plate, but again, not too over-the-top, and not too sweet. Cakes that you can bake that (like my muffins and rhubarb cake) a child would like in the afternoon after school.
My baking has a bright future once again!
[As for the oven -- well, thank goodness that we have to wait until spring for the ground to unfreeze. There is electrical work that needs to be done in preparation for the Big Switch. I don't look forward to losing my gas stovetop, though friends have convinced me that induction will keep me happy. Still, with happiness comes a price tag: induction is more expensive and most of my ancient pots cannot be used. They fail the magnet test. Ed and I keep talking about it, but we both understand that the Big Switch is a chore without great rewards at the end of it all.]
In the evening, the young family is here for dinner. Mostly because of Covid, they have not had a Sunday meal here at all this year and so it feels rather special to return to this routine. Not many photos for you. When all the kids are here and dinner needs a nudge and my daughter stays in the kitchen to catch me up on all the latest, the camera slides to some corner of the room and stays there.
(Sandpiper thinking -- this place, these dinners... vaguely familiar!)
(he likes to scoot... backwards! which gets him into and under unusual places!)
(dinner)
It is a happy evening. Sure, I've got my compartment of worries: friends, family, people whose lives aren't running along a straight line toward success and a carefree existence. I cannot not think about them. But if I look back on days like this one and I look ahead to our plans and schemes for the future -- I smile. With good reason.
And with love.
