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[reginacooks]

Day 365. The End.

I’ve decided to make cheesecake as a send-off to this blog. I cannot think of any good reason why cheesecake should not be the cake-of-celebration for having reached my goal of creating something delicious every day for one year. Cheesecake was my sister’s favorite, and she died a year ago in March, bypassing a global pandemic by one week. Every memory I have of the countless celebrations in her home include a cheesecake. Cheesecake was my father’s favorite. He grew up on New York-style cheesecake, and he made sure my mother had a Lindy’s Cheesecake recipe when they married in 1963. My mother made good on her promise to feed him with love, and cheesecake. My mother’s birthday was in March. She taught me how to make a cheesecake using her large, ceramic mixing bowl in our kitchen in Ohio. I cannot think of cheesecake without thinking of my mother. The pandemic started in March and brought us to another March. All roads lead us to cheesecake. 

One week into the pandemic and toilet-paper humor, I decided I would use the next 365 days to cook and bake, and write about it. Aside from a few months when yeast was sparse, we lacked for nothing, including toilet paper. Unbelievably, and faster than I thought one year could pass, I have reached the end of my goal. I needed a thing to grab on to at the start of this pandemic, something separate from teaching. True, I was tired at the end of some days and faced this goal reluctantly. Or worse, there was a day when I’d already gone to bed. I closed my eyes then moments later remembered my blog. But I dragged myself to the couch and sitting position anyway. Not long ago, after watching a family movie, it was close to midnight and I said to my kids, “My blog!” Ethan sat nearby. “Quick mom! It’s ten minutes to midnight. You can do it!” I shared some pictures and words of the food I’d made that day and at 11:57, clicked on “Post.” Mostly I felt like I was writing into a black void, then unexpectedly a friend would email or text indicating they were reading these posts. I was glad someone was reading, but I guess that wasn’t the point. All along I knew I was doing this for me, to brighten my days and bring on a spot of joy.  

The cooking, baking, recipe searches, taking pictures, and writing helped to define my life this year. I’ve thought a lot about why the act of cooking and baking is important to me, too. Once, many years ago, a couple of friends were on a road trip and they stopped at our home for dinner. That night I happened to be making pasta with cauliflower and tomato sauce, garlic and cheddar cheese, a pretty standard week-night meal in our house. They dug into that food like it was their last drop of sustenance on the long journey ahead, even though they were only traveling by minivan from one state to the next. They exclaimed and wanted the recipe and so thoroughly enjoyed that simple fare, it seemed as if it had been many moons since they’d eaten a homemade meal. Making dinner that night, I would never have anticipated their reaction to it.    

I think about the times I’ve been fed by others. A long time ago, for one year, I worked in a school in Highwood, Illinois, an old town with a large Italian population. The secretary of my school was a short, slight-framed, older Italian woman with whom I had a special connection. She had worked at the school for maybe her entire career. I complained to Vera once about the reading curriculum in first grade that didn’t use real children’s literature. Same old story. I hinted that I was going to talk to the principal about it. This was my first teaching job and she warned me against that. I’ll never forget her words. “You don’t talk about books to someone who doesn’t read.” She came into my room once as I was reading a story aloud to my students, and she paused to listen. Later she told me I was “the real deal.” Ah, to be seen by another person. Even if only briefly. 

Vera and her husband were making pasta dumplings, she told me one day, and she’d like to have me over for lunch. When I went across the street and knocked on their side door, I entered their kitchen where they were filling dumplings with cheese and meat, trays of fresh pasta, dough, and flour spread out on the small kitchen table. The scene was intimate and homey, as traditional as any holy ritual, and I was invited to pull up a chair. It was the first time I’d eaten homemade pasta and I remember it still.   

I have put a permanent place card next to my heart of the people who have fed me in my life. Homemade food is worth marveling at. And for me it brings back memories of the people I’ve enjoyed it with, and of other ways they’ve fed me. Vera fed me fresh pasta and there have been times over the years when my confidence suffered and I would go back to that one-liner she also fed me. “You are the real deal.”  For years I hung my hat on those words. I am the real deal. And I thought they must be so because a wise woman who read books, whose name meant truth, and who had feather-light Italian dumplings at her fingertips spoke them. 

We just never know how feeding others can have an impact, how words or deeds can take hold in our psyche, like a fortune cookie message we keep in our wallet forever. A long time ago a friend was visiting me in a house I lived in near the ocean. I packed us a picnic lunch and off we went. Years later she referenced those tuna fish sandwiches as being the best ones she’d ever had. Say what? She was a new mom and had her baby with her at the time. She was probably desperate for someone to care for her for a few moments and maybe that came in the form of my preparing a simple lunch, which she never forgot. I doubt it was just because of the sandwiches. 

I enjoy sifting through the recipe box of my food memories. Sometimes when I’m searching for a soothing thought to put me in a state of calm, I’ll think about something wonderful that I’ve eaten with a person whom I love. Often, we’re outdoors. A memory comes of pausing for a break on a hike in Ireland with new found friends, eating a sandwich and an apple, leaning against a fence and looking out at a wet, green field speckled with sheep. Or enjoying pizza and a cold beer on a sunny hilltop in Belgrade at a cafe on the edge of the forest. A giant swing on the property served to entertain our children while my husband and I grabbed a few moments of peace. Once, my family and I were staying the night at a simple hut during a trek in Ethiopia. We sat on the roof of the hut and watched as baboons scrambled toward their caves on the slope of a cliff, and we held hot tea and bread given to us as a sign of welcome by our hosts. Clasping that tea, we knew we would be taken care of during the night in that foreign spot. 

A chocolate eclair always reminds me of my father. I can hear him saying, “Oh boy,” smiling and looking down at the pastry display inside the food hall at Harrods of London, wide-eyed like a kid again in New York City. He bought us both a picnic that day and we enjoyed it in St. James Park. A few years later he was left five thousand dollars in the will of an uncle and used that to send me to cooking school in New York. He wanted me to have a skill and set me up for life. I learned many skills at cooking school, but none as valuable as the ones I learned in my parents’ kitchen. Love and food are intermingled. There was hardly a joyful, happy occasion in our home growing up without it involving something delicious. The memories I have of the food enhance the memories of my father’s laugh, my mother’s smile, my older siblings arriving for the holidays and the love that we all shared.     

My mother delighted in simple, good things. When I was a teen I remember her sneaking up to her bedroom for a little solitude, a glass of brandy and a little dish of peanuts in hand, a book tucked under her arm. She’d say she was going upstairs to have her party before bed. On weekend mornings she’d make pancakes. She had a knack for turning the ordinary into something special. She would make a pancake shaped out of the first letter of our name, large and covering the whole plate and recognizable as my very own. Neighborhood kids would wait by the backdoor for their pancake, too. An L for Lenny, a J for Jimmy. I’ve stored away hundreds of food memories of my mother, and I pull them up often. Her cheesecake, her smile, her sly grin when she sneaks another piece. 

Before my sister, Raissa, died a year ago, I flew out to stay with her in her home. It was the last weekend that I ever stayed in her house, the house that was a foundation for me—for all of our family—for so many years. This was the last weekend that I would ever see her home as it was, her home crowded with the beloved artifacts of her life. And beloved to us, too. We all knew every nook and cranny of that home so well. The family photos, the hundreds of books that lined the shelves, the afghans and dishes and vases and fireplace mantel and coffee mugs. I cried openly and loudly the night before I left, knowing that this would be the last time I would be in this space that was my second home. “My home is your home,” my sister always said to me. But the house would be sold and I would never have this as my second home again, and the next time I visited this town, my sister would be gone. I looked around feeling the shock, like a rug was being pulled out from under me, but it wasn’t just a rug. It was every precious thing in sight.  

One morning during my last weekend with her she was sitting up in her chair reading her newspaper, as she did every day, and I asked her if she wanted some breakfast. She had hardly been eating, so I didn’t expect her to say yes, but she put the paper down in her lap and looked up at me and smiled and said yes. Feeling hungry made her look so healthy. So I went into her kitchen and made her toast and scrambled eggs, simple comfort food. Our father was the Scrambled Eggs King. He cooked them slow and steady, all throughout our growing up. It was his specialty, we all knew. So I made them the way Daddy made them, no recipe needed for the dashes of good humor and love. She ate them with such pleasure, like she had not eaten in a long time, smiling up at me in thanks. I was feeding her, like she had fed me for years and years. We fed each other. I know I added joy to her life—she told me how much she loved me every time we were together—and she was my personal cheerleader, cheering for me every single step of every single way. I will live the rest of my days with the gifts she gave, and the memory that I made her comfort food before her own long journey home.  

#goals #cheesecake #baking from scratch #bakingathome #bakingforfamily #bakingforjoy #bakingforlove

[reginacooks]

Day 364

At last. The eve of the day before reaching my goal: one year of deliciousness. 

I would like to thank all seven of my followers. Oh wait! Forgive me - all 35 of my followers! How did that happen?

I put a lot of time into thinking about how I can celebrate this goal, what I can bake for tomorrow. It had to be something to bake to highlight as that’s what gives me the most joy in my kitchen. Achieving the goal means a celebration and as we all know, celebration means CAKE.  When I landed on the type of cake I would make to bring on the end of my blogging about food for one year, the choice seemed so very obvious. I made the cake today. And it’s now chilling in the fridge. And if anyone is actually reading this (all 35 at once?) I’m going to make you wait until tomorrow to see what I’ve made. Sadly, I cannot share an actual piece of the cake.   

This evening was pasta night. I had an eggplant. I had the penne and the mozzarella and the parmesan. A wonderful little concoction is presently baking in my dutch oven.  

And a perfect avocado.

Very delicious. And a very lovely time with family. We went from talking about how skinny Ethan is, to my seeing him come back from a run today and watching him from the kitchen window, noticing how long and thin his legs are, to our throwing our heads back recalling some of the track meets in Dhaka where the out-of-shape Bangladeshi kids practically crawled over the finish line after a 400 meter race. 

#cross country #pasta #vegetarian cooking for everyone #Deborah Madison #italian food #eggplant #mozzarella #cookingforfamily #cookingfromscratch

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Day 363

St Patrick’s Day. Despite the red hair, I don’t have even a wee drop of Irish in me. But I made corned beef, cabbage, potatoes & carrots, and Irish Soda Bread anyway.

#st patricks day #cooking #cookingfromhome #cookingfromscratch #cookingmama #cookingforfamily #cookingforjoy #cookingforkids #baking bread #irish soda bread

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Day 362

Billy gave dinner a four out of five. A four because it was delicious. Not a five because it was beans on toast. This meal may be the most delicious meal for the amount of time it takes to prepare: soak one cup of dry white beans, rinse, dump in pot with some parmesan rinds, one small onion, 2 cloves of garlic, 1 teaspoon kosher salt, and 2 tablespoons olive oil. Boil then simmer for about one hour. The toast is paramount. Brush with olive oil on both sides. Broil for 1 minute. Flip, then broil for one more minute. Rub the toast with raw garlic, then serve in individual bowls topped with the beans. Garnish with grated parmesan. We had asparagus to eat with it, too, steamed then tossed gently with a tab of olive oil and balsamic.  

Conversation post dinner was about girls again. Billy told the boys that one of his friends has a son who has a girlfriend and has posted pictures of them at the prom. The prom and girlfriends are not in the picture yet over here. Billy was teasing them about meeting girls once school starts up. Gabe gamely said that he was going to pass out flyers. Tell the females to form a single line. (He has no idea how adorable he is and how that is exactly what girls will want to do!)  

#cookingfromscratch #vegetarian cooking #nytimescooking #cookingmama #cookingforfamily #foodiesofinstagram #foodiesoftumbler #foodies #beans #beans on toast

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Day 361

Today marked the end of the 2nd week since the vertigo hit, and I’m about 95% normal, 5% wobbly. Kind of how I’ve gone through life since the get-go.

The changes of our work schedule / virtual / non-virtual / more kids / other teacher’s kids / misunderstandings / miscommunications and on and on is getting truly nutty. I met more of my new students today (I’m up to 13 four & five-year-olds.) They are all lovely, and so responsive. For the next few weeks until Spring Break we will keep it simple, sing songs, talk to the puppets, and have some stories. 

I always forget how many steps are involved in this pasta souffle I made tonight, with angel hair pasta, spinach, gruyere & parmesan cheese, and a bechamel sauce. Lots of moving parts. I flew around the kitchen (I’m getting back up to my regular speed) and got it in the oven by seven. A late dinner, but hey. I got a walk in with Billy and that mattered. Needed that after a very stressful day. Got a big hug from Gabe in the kitchen when I told him how stressed I was. He’s so present and caring. I was happy to offer him one of his favorite meals.

#spinach souffle #pasta #Cooking Mama #vegetarian cooking #cookingforfamily #cooking from scratch #cooksofinstagram #cooksoftumblr #foodies #foodiesofinstagram

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Day 360

Closer than ever to reaching my goal. FIVE more days!

Tonight was omelettes-to-order night. Everyone shouts out what they want in their omelette, and I start cracking eggs. I steamed some green beans and broccoli, and made potato cakes out of the leftover mashed. No one complained. (I was kind of strategic about the whole dinner affair. I was hoping no one would say anything about the Indian leftovers and they didn’t, so I finished omelette duty, then poured myself a glass of white and sat down to enjoy.) On nights like these, everyone grabs their food and eats separately, or together, depending on the timing of the food. Right now, I’m alone in the kitchen and Ethan is practicing violin. Whoops. I spoke too fast. Now he’s tossing a ball with his brother. Gotta keep on that kid. 

Windy but sunny and beautiful today, a perfect day for Canvass Sunday, a drive-through event we organized at our UU church to encourage pledging for the year. Our money is used for staffing, maintaining the church, and too many to mention good deeds around town. I was in charge of the “bird tree.” Members drove up with a paper bird which they were sent in the mail and I clothes-pinned it onto a tree by the entrance, a symbolic gesture of growth in our community. Despite the pandemic, our community is soaring! What a great vibe. People were dropping off food donations, giving me their bird to put up in the tree, dancing to music, taking pictures, holding signs and balloons. Such a feel-good day. 

When I got back into the car, this sandwich was there for me. Homemade bread provided by my Bosnian friend. And the cheese was nice and warm and soft and pungent, as Brie cheese should be. This and an apple - a perfect lunch.  

I arrived home to bulbs I planted in the fall. It worked! They came up!

#unitarian universalists #cookingforfamily #Cooking Mama #cookingforkids

[reginacooks]

Day 359

It’s sunny, it’s warmish, friends are on their way. We have not seen anyone in a long time. It’s needed, getting outside of our little foursome bubble. I’ve made an apple cake. It’s in the oven now, filling the kitchen with warm, apply-nutty smells. 

This is a pretty lovely cake. Warm brown-sugar syrup is poured on top, but it would be a better cake with some spice - like cinnamon or cardamom. Next time.

Tonight was our take-out night. The boys and I got the table ready downstairs so we could eat and watch a movie while Billy picked up the Indian take-out. We dug into that and loved it. Gabriel said how much the smell of his biriyani reminded him of Dhaka. Wonderful that he has that food association. It will be with him for life.

We watched “The Hunger Games.” Truly not a fan - of violence or dystopia. The only movie with a dystopia theme that I can think of enjoying is “The Truman Show.” No one died! I don’t know how my kids (or me) are going to sleep tonight. I just have to remember Billy saying to me (every time I groaned or moaned), “It’s just a show, Regina!” 

Reading my book before bed will relax me, and help shake off that movie. I’m reading another lovely memoir: “Walking with Ghosts,” by Gabriel Byrne. Gentle tales, humor, and I can hear that lyrical Irish dialect on every page. 

#Applecake #apples #baking #cake #bakingforlove #bakingforfamily #bakersofinstagram #bakers of tumblr #foodblogger #foodies

[reginacooks]

Day 358

One week to go before I reach Day 365 and this random goal I have created for myself. Fran Lebowitz has words to say on challenges that we create. Life is hard enough without making yourself run a marathon. I get that. Doing laundry is challenge enough, why create more challenges? But, I also think setting goals can help shape us. I will never run a marathon. But I may have learned more about cooking this year. I’ve grown as a cook and baker, I’m sure. I remember our UU minister in Peoria suggested during a New Year’s service that we start the year by trying something new. It will expand us as human beings. That was the year I started yoga, and have been at it ever since.

Except for the past 12 days. Since March 1st I have not felt safe or comfortable looking down or moving my head at an angle. I’m still walking next to Billy and holding his arm much of the way. Looking down makes me dizzy. I sleep with my head propped up higher than I like. It may be a while before I attempt downward facing dog again. We’ll see. I have another PT appointment next week.

I was happy having the afternoon free today (early dismissal day in school) and told Gabe I was going to bake, but got distracted with other things. An hour later he walked into the kitchen. “Did you bake anything yet, Mom?” I hadn’t. What to bake? What could I prepare that would take less time than it takes for the oven to heat up? Scones, that’s what. Orange Current Scones, from The Gourmet Cookbook, were ready to put in the oven before the oven heated up. 

AND it was homemade pizza night. Good thing I got THIS Cheesy Pan Pizza dough made yesterday (doubled for four people). We love this recipe and every time we eat it I think of it as a gift from my brother, Barth, who told me about it. 

#nytimescooking #thegourmetcookbook #bakingfromscratch #baking #scones #teatime #foodie #foodiesofinstagram #foodiesoftumbler #cookingforfamily

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Day 357

On the radio today I heard a man say that during the first three years after he lost his entire family in the tsunami, life was a blank. Then he started telling people to try to live each day as if it were your last. 

I hope that my days continue to be moments of reflection, gratitude. The silly things we get anxious over, the flashes of anger, the disappointments are so insignificant in the larger picture. 

Here’s a moment of gratitude: just after I wrote the first paragraph here, my son rode up the driveway on his bike and said hello to me while I sat in the open kitchen window. 

He came home from football practice, just in time for dinner, another good day for him. He said he loved it. No injuries yet. 

I’m so grateful I froze lots of pesto last summer. I needed a quick meal today - a day without cooking - and had my very last container of pesto waiting for me. I opened the container and a rush of basil and garlic filled the air. I froze five containers of this last summer, and I must have done something truly perfect when I made this last batch. It was truly perfect. It was oily and salty and nutty and garlicky, all wrapped around the flavor of basil. This was a wonderful meal. I ate lots.

#oh sweet basil #pesto #italian food #foodie #foodiesofinstagram #foodiesoftumbler #cooking #Cooking Mama #vegetarian cooking #pastapasta

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Day 356

A better day with the balance. I’m getting better. When I’m sick, it feels like I’ll never get better and I go through bouts of terrible thoughts that I’ll have to live with whatever is going on forever and I’ll never be able to enjoy life again. Dramatic, I know. But being laid out like this has made me also reflect on people who are sick who truly have no prospects of getting well. And that’s led to my feeling gratitude, for every day, every precious moment I have with my children, for every breath I can take with ease. I know these episodes of Meniere’s will return, but at least I know they will also eventually pass.

I drove today, and tonight Billy and I will go on a walk - my first walk in about a week. I sat in our garden today and had tea. It was beautiful! I enjoyed that hour so much, just sitting, talking with Billy outside, enjoying my tea and cookies, of course, and just being outdoors. So wonderful. There are buds in our yard.

Around 6:00 I got on dinner. I had pork chops but no recipe. I looked for some online, then just decided to chuck the recipe idea. I can do this! Smeared the chops with Dijon, dipped in flour, egg, and panko w/ oregano, and fried in a little olive oil and butter. We were all kind of swooning over the delicious smell. I made some garlic green beans and Billy mashed the garlic potatoes. YUM.

#Cooking Mama #cookingforfamily #foodies #foodlover #foodblogger #cooks #cooksofinstagram #cooksoftumblr

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Day 355

Ten days to go until I reach my goal of making something delicious, every single day, for one year. I hope I make it while I’m still standing, and not keeling over, or leaning sideways.

About eight years ago an ENT doc told me I had Meniere’s Disease. It’s an inner ear disorder where there’s too much fluid in the ear. (I reminded Amiel what I have and she thought I said “many years” disease and she said, “Look, we all have Many Years Disease.” God, I laughed so hard at that one.) I basically haven’t thought much about this over the years because it wasn’t affecting me as it is now. I knew that it triggered vertigo every now and then, but aside from my first vertigo attack, this is the longest spell that I’ve ever had. My physical therapy appointment today was only semi helpful. I’m still out of balance, dizzy, and exhausted. Something about my brain giving signals that I’m moving, but I’m not moving. I just have to kind of hope it passes in time. 

Billy took me to my appointment and when I came home I was so tired. I was going to take a nap but I decided I’d rather have a cookie. Ethan was hanging around the kitchen so I said, “Ethan, make me some cookies.” I told him I’d tell him what to do and that we’d make the easiest cookies there are, and he was agreeable, and so that’s what happened. Molasses cookies - they are the best and they are made in one pot. Thank you Silver Palate Cookbook. Thank you, Ethan. 

I made this Eggplant Parmesan for dinner. Also easy and wonderful. We loved it. Afterwards, I had a zoom session with my entire family in honor of my sister, Raissa, who died one year ago today. We all expressed gratitude that she didn’t have to live through a pandemic, that she died surrounded by family, that we all got to say goodbye. We told stories, we laughed, cried. I’m glad my health didn’t come up. I mostly just wanted to sit back and listen, and look at all those faces I love so much.

#Eggplant Parmesan #vegetarian cooking #The Silver Palate Cookbook #Cooking Mama #cookingforfamily #baking #cookies #desserts #foodie

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Day 354

It’s wonderful to see both my kids excited about their sports. Gabe came home today from football telling me all about a great move (is it move?) he made. I basically have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’m happy for him. Interception. That’s what it was. The coach cheered and told him afterwards that those are the kind of moves (that word still seems wrong) that will get him starting. I have no idea if I’m using the right lingo here. I feel like I’m speaking in a foreign tongue when I start talking about sports. 

After dinner, he put on his helmet. He likes wearing that thing. Billy asked him if they’ve started concussion training yet. We’re laughing now.... Anyway, I’m super happy for him because he is happy. There are worse things he could be doing than playing football.  

And we haven’t seen Ethan so excited about running in such a long time, too. He did his long run the other day, eleven miles. And today he met with his team. He came home saying that he left the other guys in the dust. He has such a funny, modest way of bragging. He’s so humble, he doesn’t brag, except when he does brag it’s in such a fun-loving, sheepish way. He is completely quiet, and he surprises people by his sudden bursts of talent. 

I was so glad that we were able to have a healthy meal with so little effort. I put three whole sweet potatoes in the oven around 4:45, made a glaze for the salmon (1 tablespoon brown sugar, 1/2 teaspoon powdered ginger, 1 t soy sauce, 1 tea mustard), and suateed a zucchini w/ garlic, and gave the boys some peas. Dinner done. 

Tomorrow I have my PT appointment. I’m expecting miracles. I know I shouldn’t. 

#dinnerforfamily #cooksofinstagram #cookingforfamily #cooksoftumblr #salmon #sports #football #crosscountry #teenagers #parenting #mothers

[reginacooks]

Day 353

Lots of rest today. I attempted a walk yesterday. Didn’t make it beyond our block. While the vertigo spinning has stopped, the feeling that I’m falling has not, and that I just want to close my eyes. Walking creates the sensation that the sidewalk is moving back and forth. It’s weird begin so house-bound when the sun is out. My world has shrunk, going into the 2nd week. Tuesday’s PT appointment cannot come fast enough. I’m glad I have a place that I can come to and complain - HERE. My family is probably sick of it, as well as whoever is reading this. It must be giving me some kind of relief to just type it out. 

We’re going to the beach at the end of this month. We have a week for spring break, so we’re driving east until we hit the ocean. I just booked a spot for three nights and cannot wait to breathe in the smells of the sea. 

Billy and Gabe did all the grocery shopping for the week, this Sunday afternoon, while I stayed home and assembled dinner. A quick and basic Sunday meal: chick pea pasta. Delish, but something was missing. I started eating and wondered what that could be. Of course. Breadcrumbs! I said it out loud and Gabe realized it, too. Whaaa. Everything is just slightly off this week.  

#pasta #chickpeas #cookingforfamily #foodie #foodiesofinstagram #foodiesoftumbler

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Day 352

This afternoon - wobbly as I am - I made a cake to honor my mother on her birthday, the 6th of March. 

I got started after lunch, getting all the ingredients ready for this simple, but incredibly moist, Chocolate Dump-It Cake. I followed some of the suggestions in the comments: use sugar to dust the pan before baking instead of flour; use less sugar in the batter; make a ganache with chocolate, a bit of oil, and cream instead of sour cream (b/c I didn’t have that). 

I needed a nap. While the cake cooled, I took one, and then made my tea and the ganache.  So it was all perfect timing. And I had two chapters left in my book. Even more perfect. 

I loved the book I just finished reading, “My Home is Far Away,” by Dawn Powell. She was mentioned by Fran Lebowitz (when I was on my Fran kick) as being one of her favorite authors, so I checked out one of her earlier books. It’s an autobiographical novel and describes the utter hardship, with some humor, of our heroine and her siblings in a Dickensian fashion. It’s a harrowing story and a beautiful read. 

Back to my mom’s birthday cake. (I haven’t forgotten you, Mom. Don’t worry!) I don’t love frosting. I mean, I don’t need it on my baked things. But my family differs. I cut a slice, then decided to put some on the side. Good call. It really improves this cake. All I can say is - Wow. What a cake. My mom would have loved this cake. She would have wanted another piece. She would have skipped dinner for it. 

She loved birthdays. Ours, hers. She loved a good party, and I can see her smiling at me now. Telling me I shouldn’t have gone through the trouble, but glad I did. And our laughing. Happy birthday, Mom!

#chocolate cake #birthdays #birthdaycake #mothers #baking #bakingfromscratch #bakingforlove #reading #dawn powel

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Day 351

My doctor gave me some exercises to do for the vertigo. I had to convince myself while lying flat on my back that the ceiling fan was turned off. I knew it was off, but I had still had to convince myself. These dreaded exercises - three times a day.

A cancelled PT appointment bumped my own up to early next week. She told me even if the vertigo goes away, the PT will be able to check out my crystals. “How?” I asked. “A machine?” She told me they have a way. I’m very curious. 

The first guy I talked with while setting up an appointment told me that since covid, there’s been a huge spike in vertigo. Weird. He said there have been a lot of young people, and thinks looking up and down at a phone, which so many kids do all day long, is triggering it. Another thing to worry about. 

Day two without a walk. I’m still too wobbly. The medicine the doc gave me (basically for motion sickness) hasn’t kicked in yet. 

I made dinner anyway. I’m desperately wanting to feel normal again. I wanted to do something normal, even though it took a lot of focused concentration.  Instead of flying around the kitchen, I gauged every step. I’m fine if I’m not moving around a lot, so making dinner tonight took a long time - maybe a couple of hours. Slowly, methodically, we eventually all ate food.

Actually, it was good food. I made these shrimp burgers. As I’m writing this, I just remembered something - I forgot to add the lemon zest. I knew something was missing. I made crispy, rosemary, oven-roasted potatoes, too. Very yum. Too bad about the lemon. Next time!

#shrimp burgers #nytimescooking #Cooking Mama #cookingforfamily #cooking during quarantine #cookinglove #foodie #foodiesofinstagram #foodiesoftumbler #writing about food #writersofinstagram #writers of tumblr

[reginacooks]

Day 350

Dinner was a miracle from above, on this fourth day in a row of the hell that is vertigo.

I made dinner in stages in the later part of the day, and Billy helped me pull it all together. I know we could have ordered out. Sometimes, as hard as this is to believe, that’s more complicated. 

I had everything I needed. I just needed to do it slowly, and without a lot of movement. This is the first day (since when?) I did not go on a walk. I cannot really walk in a straight line. I’m really missing my walk.

I was on the couch for a lot of the day, just sitting. Teaching was brief, and my para was a godsend. It’s not easy for me to receive help. Receiving is not something I do well. It comes with guilt, despite the genuineness of offers that I receive in life. But today I accepted her help. I backed out of a church meeting tonight, too, and thought about my decision during dinner. But I needed to just stay still and I know that everyone understands. I can be really hard on myself. 

OK, now it’s time to switch gears and not be hard on myself. The pie crust I made tonight for quiche was fabulous. Pie crust is a mystery. It’s never the same each time. I feel like I’m getting closer and closer to perfection, and maybe I’ve already said that in this blog, but this one tonight seemed better than others. Here’s what I did for the quiche crust:

In a food processor, pulse 3/4 cup white flour, 1/4 cup whole wheat flour, 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt. Add 5 and 1/2 tablespoons of cold butter cut into cubes. Pulse about three times. Slowly pulse 4 tablespoons of ice cold water. The mixture will be very crumbly. Take out the blade and while the dough is still in the container, gather to form into a disk. Cover in plastic wrap and place in fridge for about an hour. Then you’re ready to roll. 

It just all came together so well this time. I think it’s the food processor and the pulsing. 

Beautiful color, these leeks.

My flakey, crunchy, perfect crust.

#quiche #pastry #piecrust #baking #bakingfromhome #cookingforfamily #foodiesofinstagram #foodie

[reginacooks]

Day 349

Day three of vertigo. I wrongly assumed it went away yesterday. Arghhhhh. In the morning the nausea returned and I had to teach. I could barely walk in a straight line. The teaching was only for a half hour (short day Wednesdays) but thankfully my para educator took over - bless her. I turned my video on just so the kids could see me for a second, and the ghost of my face looked back. I put on my smile, then turned off the video and just watched. It was actually very informative, watching my students respond and react. 

As the day wore on, the effects wore off. Billy drove me to get my 2nd vaccine dose. 

And I was feeling well enough to make these Italian Almond Cookies. The list of ingredients is so basic. So, I couldn’t not. Once I get that idea in my head....

 Easy and delish!

#nytimescooking #Almond Flour #almond cookies #dessert #cookies #baking love #bakingfromscratch #bakingjoy