Hello from the other side! I realize we haven’t been back here for a few weeks, and I’m sorry for dropping into a little black hole. My cookbook deadline was Monday, so I’ve been a writing and editing machine, stepping away from the computer to occasionally clean the house like a crazy person or throw together a most random lunch or dinner. But somehow it all came together although there was something strangely anti-climactic about sending it off: In the days when you’d print out your manuscript and have to walk to the post office and seal it up carefully to send to the publisher, I imagine it would feel much more ceremonial and important –you could stroll out of the building and do a cartwheel. Or high-five a fellow customer on your way out. Instead, I was sitting in our dining room on an incredibly rainy, dark Monday afternoon unable to hit “send.” My sister Zoe told me to just close my eyes and do it. Sam gave me the thumbs up. So around 3 p.m. that’s what I did. With the click of a button, just like that: it was finished.
And then I proceeded to take the longest nap I’ve taken in six months. I don’t generally allow myself to take naps, but I made a pretty big exception and woke up feeling squarely on the other side of it all. We went out to dinner and had good wine and bowls of pasta at our favorite celebration spot. I felt teary and tired and gripped onto Sam’s arm for most of the meal, still in disbelief that I wouldn’t be waking up each morning working on book recipes. In a sense I feel like I just told you guys about the cookbook. In another sense, it feels like I’ve been working on the manuscript forever. I’m so pleased and proud of the way it has turned out, and can’t wait to share it with you.
It will be a little while though: Now that the publisher has it in their hands, it takes almost a year to make the book come to life. Right now, we’re looking at a December 2013 publish date, so this next year will be filled with lots of edits, a photo shoot, design meetings, revisions and the like. I think it’ll be a busy year but for now, I’m glad to step away into the land of eggnog, Christmas trees, strings of lights and afternoon naps.
If you’ve followed the blog for some time, you know that Sam is the web designer I hired for Marge and, after dating long-distance for a year, he is the reason I eventually moved up to Seattle from the Bay Area. Our story will be in the book as will the story of beginning and growing a small business. It looks like it will include anywhere from 60-70 whole-grain breakfast recipes, and I’ve been snapping photos of our house, neighborhood, farmers markets, and ingredients I use in the kitchen and many of those will be in the book as well. The cool thing is that the photos will actually be a collaboration in the sense that there will be many by me, but plenty of photos of the food itself will be done by an incredible local photographer (I’m not certain I’m yet allowed to say who she is, but I will as soon as I get the thumbs-up).
On Sunday we were debating what to make for breakfast and Sam asked if I’d cook something from the book. We’d both gotten used to having the recipes around all the time that he was starting to miss them as I’d been focusing much more on writing rather than recipe testing. That moment made me smile — the book’s become a part of our lives quickly, and so many of the recipes are new morning favorites. We lounged around debating which one it would be: whole-grain gingerbread, salmon crème fraîche tart, gingered grits with golden raisins, or maybe just some good leftover bread with my honeyed tangerine marmalade. So many decisions. So many recipes we’ve both come to love.
For now though, it feels good to have a little space from the book, to dip into my files of holiday recipes that I’ve been looking forward to making. This eggnog loaf actually wasn’t even on my radar until this week when my friend and fellow Kitchn writer, Emma Christensen, developed it. The second I saw her photos I knew I wanted to make it and thought I’d try doing so using whole-grain flours and natural sugar. The result? A lightly-spiced holiday loaf cake with a subtly sweet, boozy glaze that is already nominated as a must-make-again-soon this holiday season. I rarely tell you that you absolutely must make something on the blog. I figure you all decide what looks good to you, try a few recipes every now and again, and move on with your lives. But if I were to rate the recipes here from 1-10, this is a 10. It’s simple to put together with ingredients you likely already have at home (with the exception of eggnog, perhaps) and makes a wonderful afternoon snacking cake, morning sweet or after-dinner dessert with a little espresso.
The trouble I have with loaf cakes is that they often come off as heavy and dense but because this version is made with a mixture of spelt flour and whole-wheat pastry flour, it has a delightfully light, springy crumb and doesn’t feel at all overly-indulgent. If you’ve baked much from the blog, you know I have a thing for spelt flour. Remember the Rhubarb Custard Bars in the spring or the more recent Sweet Potato Drop Biscuits? I often turn to spelt flour in the kitchen because, while it’s whole-grain in composition, it behaves much like an all-purpose white flour: it has a mild flavor and produces baked goods with a tender, soft texture. Here, it helps form a loaf that’s everything a holiday cake should be: fragrant and begging to be shared.
Happy weekend to you. I’m so looking forward to lots of baking in the month ahead. Also, the lovely Melissa from The Faux Martha won the granola giveaway from the last post. Thank you all so much for commenting — I loved hearing what you were thankful for, and loved sending a box of Marge out to a blog reader. Let’s do that again soon, shall we?
The only natural cane sugar I had in the house was a coarse turbinado sugar, so I used that here and it turned out delicious. I will say that the butter and sugar don’t whip up quite as light and fluffy as they would with a finer-grain sugar and that’s why my version isn’t as tall and stately as Emma’s loaf. But I’m not so sure it’s a short coming, really. For the glaze, Emma suggests any dark booze you have: rum, bourbon or brandy. I opted for rum and folded a little into the batter itself. Last, full-fat eggnog is the best choice for this recipe as the lower-fat varieties won’t become nearly as frothy.
Adapted from: Emma Christensen’s recipe for The Kitchn
Heat the oven to 350°F. Line an 8×5 loaf pan with parchment so that the extra hangs over the sides. Spray the parchment and loaf pan with nonstick cooking spray.
In a standing mixer with a whisk attachment or with a hand mixer, beat the eggnog at high speed until it becomes frothy and airy, about 8 minutes. Don’t expect it to actually firm up like whipped cream as it has other ingredients (namely eggs) preventing that. Keep the frothy eggnog in the refrigerator until ready to use.
In a small mixing bowl, whisk together the two flours, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg. Set aside.
Wash the bowl to your standing mixer and fit it with the paddle attachment (or use a hand mixer). Beat the butter at medium speed until it become creamy, 1 to 2 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and beat in the sugar until the mixture is is smooth and well-incorporated, 2 to 3 minutes. Beat in the eggs and egg yolk one at a time, fully incorporating each before adding the next. Beat in the vanilla and the rum. Scrape down the sides as needed.
Add the flour mixture into the bowl of the stand mixer, and mix on low until the ingredients just come together into a dough. Be careful not to overmix.
Using a spatula, gently fold 1/3 of the whipped eggnog into the batter. Then fold the remaining eggnog into the batter. It will feel pretty loose at first, but don’t worry: just keep gently folding and stirring, and eventually it will form a nice, pourable batter.
Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and smooth the top. Place in the oven and bake for 50 to 60 minutes, or until the top is golden-brown and a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. Let cool for 10 minutes, then lift the loaf out by the parchment paper and transfer it to a cooling rack. Remove the parchment.
When the loaf has cooled but is still warm to the touch, whisk together the glaze and spoon over the top of the loaf. Allow the loaf to sit until the icing is set and dry. Slice and serve. Wrap leftovers in plastic wrap and store at room temperature for up to three days.
Something funny happens when you live with someone instead of dating them from afar. You learn little nuances about each other's behavior, see the bottom-of-the-barrel sweaters, take out the trash, and buy underwear and shampoo together. Sam calls my beloved furry slippers old lady slippers and, to be fair, they kind of are. And I've become well acquainted with his holey "sick sweater," his eagerness to retrieve the mail in the early afternoon, and his uncanny ability to drink more tea than anyone I've ever known. Also, I'm learning things about myself. Like the fact that, apparently, most people don't eat a whole grapefruit when they sit down for breakfast. According to Sam, they stop at a half.
Waffles. I don't make them often enough and I'm not sure why. Oh, wait: I am sure why. Because they always seem like kind of a slow, slumbery, Sunday thing to make and I rarely have those kind of mornings--even on Sundays. But I found a recipe I've fallen pretty hard for. It's an old-fashioned waffle recipe and you make the yeasted batter in advance, put it in the fridge for 12-24 hours, and it's ready to go in the morning. I've actually kept the batter in my fridge for a few days and just pull it out, put a scoop on the waffle iron, and have a warm waffle to take in the car on the way to work. Beats a granola bar or banana any day.
The early morning view from our hotel Hi from Shanghai! I'm sitting here stealing a bit of Internet on the 32nd floor of our hotel all too early in the morning. The sun's gleaming in through the curtains, horns are starting to honk below, and I'm clutching a steaming cup of strong coffee that Walter has so kindly prepared for me. Walter's the dining room attendant and, for the lone souls who can't seem to sleep much in Shanghai (I being one of them), he'll make you one mean cup of coffee at sunrise. I have so much to share with you: photos & stories. The World Expo was really incredible, the food's been amazing, the streets are lush with leafy trees and wide-open city parks. I've discovered dragon fruit and boiled peanuts, and learned that scooters and bicyclysits don't adhere to traffic laws. We've finally figured out how to say common phrases like "thank you" properly and are logging some serious miles in our Converse.
I am officially on maternity leave and it feels stranger than I'd imagined. I thought it'd be all about catching up on novels, leisurely baking and maybe sewing a little something for Sprout. Going on lots of walks with friends and out to lunch. The reality is that most people are working during the week and can't just sneak away for lunch dates, and sitting around the house aimlessly reading seems to make me antsy. Instead, I find myself deciding that certain tasks have immense and immediate purpose (when they never seemed to before): repotting our house plants, researching new insurance plans, and planning a new product line for Marge for 2016. In the midst of all of this though, I've found some time to catch up on Netflix movies (any recommendations?), went out to Lebanese food with Sam, and finally made it to a cafe on Capital Hill I've been wanting to try for quite some time. It's gotten a bit chilly in Seattle this week so I've been making lots of cider and chai in the afternoons for an energy boost, and there certainly doesn't seem to be a shortage of soup-making or baking -- which brings me to these not-too-sweet, protein-packed blondies that I've taken quite a liking to.
There are some things you don't question or plan for. They're the things that just happen, that unfold throughout the day or week or month. The things we don't always document or discuss because they don't really seem important enough, but that -- all the same -- so often bring us together in one way or another. Patterns or obsessions or phases. Late-night online shoe shopping. Permission to nap at odd hours. Spontaneous cell-phone photo exchanges. Maybe you can relate. Maybe lately you've been doing something similar. As you do. As we do.