Calling all Cookie Lovers! Prepare your taste buds for an unforgettable event at the largest cookie-tasting party in L.A. history. If you are in the L.A. area, come introduce yourself and cheer me on in a friendly competition to claim the title of “L.A.’s Favorite Cookie Baker” and the opportunity to create a “cookie of the month” for top cookie shop, TheCravory.com.
In celebration of National Cookie Month, we’ll be indulging our sweetest cravings with an assortment of delectable cookies sourced from local bakeries and talented home-based bakers like me. I’ll be submitting my Pecan Mocha Malties. The name says it all…chocked full with pecans, coffee, malt and chocolate ganache.
But it’s not just about indulgence; it’s about making a difference too! Every tasty bite of cookie will help raise dough for a meaningful cause – supporting Paw Works, a fantastic local nonprofit rescue organization. Paw Works partners with shelters to give abandoned animals a fresh start, offering them a second chance at a loving home. During the event, you’ll have the chance to meet the most adorable dogs from Paw Works (and some scrappy ones too) so you can witness firsthand the animals your sweet tooth is helping to save.
So, put on your comfiest stretchy pants and get ready to immerse yourself in a cookie extravaganza – all while rescuing puppies. It promises to be a doggone good time!
Check out my Baker’s Blog for this event. I’ll be at the Hollywood Event on October 7. I hope to see you there!
Summer shouts at me through the squeals and laughter of the neighborhood children. Its scent is Barbacoa de Cordero slowly grilling on the neighbor’s Weber. It passes by on wispy clouds riding rapids through cornflower skies. I run my fingers through summer’s mane of fragrant, apple-green grass. These long, hot days kiss me through the ripe, juicy nectarines crowding my straining tree.
Just as July 4th in my neighborhood is certain to be punctuated with a cacophony of illegal fireworks, the same holiday never fails to produce the first globes of fleshy goodness ready for plucking. Harvest time is brief, yet prolific, with pounds upon pounds of sweet fruit, shiny with taught skin that barely contains the succulent flesh. I’m overwhelmed with the task of making use of this summer bounty.
If only I could rescue each luscious orb from Newton’s law, plucking them from the tree before they fall, but each morning I find a dozen plump globes bruised and broken upon the ground, their potential wasted. In my effort to salvage the masses, I bubble large caldrons of steamy nectarine jam, resulting in dozens of jars “put up” for later in the year. One woman can only eat so much jam, however, so my sister drove from LA yesterday for her own CPR canning efforts.
Capture the bright flavors of summer now so you can enjoy them and reminisce during dark winter days to come.
Ingredients
3lbs. diced nectarines, pitted with skin on
1 ½ cups sugar
¼ cup lemon juice
Pinch of salt
Directions
Boil all ingredients in a heavy bottom pot for 20-30 minutes until jam has cooked down to the correct consistency. To determine when your jam is set, use the plate test – let ¼ teaspoon of jam sit on a frozen white plate for 30 seconds and then push it with your finger. If it wrinkles up, you’ve reached your setting point. Once jam is the correct consistency, add to sanitized jars, seal, and process in a water bath for 5 minutes. This recipe should result in 5-6 half-pint jars of jam.
Today’s Musings: In my 21-year career, I have consistently executed successful meetings and events – wait, don’t stop reading…I didn’t accidentally post a resume cover letter, no matter how it sounds. In those 7,670 days, I never missed an event deadline. With my trusty project plan by my side and the event’s launch date clearly marked on my wall calendar, I focused on the goal and did whatever it took to ensure I hit the target date. Once the planning process has begun, a planner can’t easily (if ever) move an event date. There’s always contingencies and backup plans to be considered (for inclement weather, pandemics, terrorist attacks, strikes), but once the contract has been signed, the flights scheduled, the rooms booked, and the date set – the “show” must go on as planned. The straightforward mantra I murmured to myself throughout my career, and my driving force when the project seemed insurmountable, was a simple, “It HAS to get done.”
I started writing my book on March 19, 2021, during the early first months of the pandemic. I understood the process would take time – to write, to organize, to rewrite, to create recipes, to test those recipes (the industry standard is 7 testings for each recipe). My aim was to chip away at the book, a little at a time, until it was done. It’s over two years later, and I’m perhaps half-way finished. At some point in 2022, disheartened with my slow progress, I turned to my reliable companion, the Project Plan, and organized the chapters and recipes into a comprehensive, yet still fluid, timeline. Creating a Plan helped me become methodical with the process; I’ve completed five chapters, 64,646 words. Five additional chapters are still waiting for a significant rewrite, and most of the recipes are in need of retesting.
Knowing that developing and following a timeline is my Planner’s mind’s raison d’etre, I haven’t understood why this book seems to be progressing at a snail’s pace. Today, I realized the answer is BECAUSE I LACK A TARGET DATE. I envisioned myself plodding along, assuming I’d finish when I finish, without any hard date in mind. That philosophy, while it may work for some writers, isn’t the solution for me. So, I’m putting it out here, that I’ve chosen the event date, the date I will type the words “The End” on my book. I now have a target – and accountability, although the added pressure seems to have given me a momentary bout of writer’s block.
Target: Friday, November 3, 2023. It HAS to get done.
Today’s Recipe: The sophisticated combination of citrusy-floral lemon verbena and Earl Grey tea with just a pinch of warming, earthy nutmeg provides unique waves of flavor in these Earl Gray Lemon Verbena Thins Cookies. These cookies would be a brilliant addition to any proper English tea table, rubbing elbows with teeny finger sandwiches, sponge cakes, and freshly baked scones with clotted cream and jam.
These crisp cookies are a unique and sophisticated combination of citrusy-floral lemon verbena and Earl Grey tea with just a bit of warming, earthy nutmeg, reminding me of tea time in England. Lard gives these cookies a crisp, flaky texture.
2 Earl Grey tea bags, opened and tea leaves removed
1 cup lard (you can substitute vegetable shortening in a pinch)
¼ cup unsalted butter, softened
1 large egg
1 Tablespoon limoncello or brandy
Directions
In a food processor, process sugar and fresh lemon verbena leaves until leaves are finely ground and the size of the sugar crystals.
In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Whisk in the nutmeg and tea.
In a separate bowl, beat together ¾ cup sugar, lard, and butter until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the egg and limoncello and beat until combined. Gradually beat in the flour mixture, in three additions, just until combined. Form into two bricks, wrap in cling wrap and refrigerate dough for at least 30 minutes.
Preheat oven to 350° F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. In between 2 sheets of parchment or waxed paper, roll out ½ of the dough to ¼ inch thickness. Cut out cookies (I used a 2” square cutter). Place cookies on baking sheet and chill for 10 minutes. Bake cilled cookies until just barely golden and set, about 10 to 12 minutes. Let cookies cool for 1 minute, and then carefully toss them into the remaining lemon verbena sugar. Place on cooling rack until completely cooled. These cookies make a great accompaniment to a steaming cup of tea or coffee. It’s impossible for me to eat just one.
Shaking, not blending, ensures the strawberry flavor shines through in these fresh strawberry daiquiris.
TODAY’S MUSINGS:
Stephanie & Marc: “Attention everyone; we have an announcement…We’re PREGNANT!!!!”
Me: “What if you regret it later and then it’s too late?”
Everyone in the room: {Crickets}
“What if you regret it later and then it’s too late?” Why is this question deemed completely acceptable to ask someone who made the decision NOT to have children, but it is considered abhorrent in the scenario above?
This week, I read a post where a woman was sharing her reasons for not having children and someone responded with the question above. I am also child-free by choice and have weathered the same question over years of my life.
We are all confronted with serious choices throughout our life, among which is the decision to bear children. Pros and cons are weighed; guts are checked; consequences are ruminated upon, before most life-altering decisions are made. For me, the answer was, “no.” Of course, I wondered if I would regret my decision – just like I pondered if I had made the right choice to buy this house, move to another city, take a job I wasn’t qualified for, or when I broke up with someone I thought I loved. Yet, I don’t think a woman should decide to birth and raise a child out of fear of making the wrong decision.
Throughout my baby-bearing years, I saw the life I wanted and was 99.98% positive that life did not include children. But, I also realized, should that .02% ever grow stronger as I matured, excellent options remained open to me – adoption, fostering, mentoring. While, conversely, women who give birth and realize they weren’t cut out to be a parent have fewer palatable options – give the child away, abandon the child, become a resentful parent inflicting emotional scars, attempt to grin and bear it. The person who has a child and regrets it later has a hell of a lot more to lose than someone who doesn’t.
“But, no one REGRETS having a child! Once you give birth, you’ll feel more love than you thought possible.”
I will concede that most women do not regret having a child, but there are plenty who do due to their unpreparedness to be a parent, the state of their marriage, the father’s non-participation (whether physical or financial), or economic hardship.
“But don’t you want someone to be there to take care of you when you’re old or be with you when you’re dying?”
Giving birth to children is NOT an insurance policy made flesh. I can imagine someone, in their late 40’s, inhaling salt water during a scuba-diving mishap, their last thoughts as they sink to the bottom of the ocean being, “Damn, having children didn’t help me in the end, after all.” We don’t know how or when our lives will end. While it would be NICE to die of old age, surrounded by our loved ones, should we rely on that scenario when family planning? I’ve experienced my fair share of final moments – some offspring step up to care for an aging parent, some don’t. Some family members hold vigil during the final moments, some don’t. Some mourn, some don’t. Raising children does not safeguard us from dying alone and destitute.
I am not vilifying women who want children or have children. That is their choice, just like it was my choice to not have kids. By the way, I’m biologically in that “it’s too late” time of my life and I don’t regret my decision; not one bit.
TODAY’S RECIPE:
Below is the ideal cocktail recipe to celebrate strawberry season – and a woman’s choice. Cheers!
TODAY’S MUSINGS: I worked briefly for a hot-shot, marketing executive, Bob G, who would, on occasion, call me out for misusing a word. He’d say something like, “I don’t think you understand what that word means,” or “You’re not using that word correctly.” Because he sat in the C-suites, had a Marketing degree from some prestigious college, was a man (I’m loath to admit that affected me), and was older, I bit my tongue and deferred to him while stewing inside.
One of those words was “ruminate.” We were discussing the best marketing methods for attracting potential customers to the very-large, very-expensive custom trade show booth I was having built. We were spit-balling. I had some ideas; he voiced his own thoughts. He brought up Danica Patrick more than once. I wanted time to consider these options while also mulling over grander schemes we hadn’t yet fathomed so, I said, “Give me the weekend to ruminate on it.” Bob replied, “I don’t think you understand what that word means.” Granted, using the word, “ruminate,” was perhaps hyperbole on my part. One ruminates about the meaning of life, a recent breakup, or how to stop global warming, but, from my perspective, using the word “ruminate” meant, “let me give this topic careful consideration over the weekend, reflecting on our conversation thus far, and remaining receptive to other ideas that may bubble up.” In other words, let me chew on it a bit. Bob seemed rather smug for calling me out. The Oxford Dictionary defines “ruminate” as “to think deeply about something.” So, what do you think, was it perhaps Bob who did not fully understand the meaning of the word?
During another meeting, coincidentally while discussing the same very-large, very-expensive trade show booth, I mentioned that the attached meeting room would be enclosed by frosted plexiglass windows, providing plenty of light for conducting business while simultaneously blocking the proceedings from any passerby. Bob asked me, “Are they opaque?” I answered, “No, it’s frosted plexiglass. The windows are semi-opaque.” Bob responded, “They need to be opaque, so no one can see who is in the meeting.” My response was, “They won’t be able to see in. They will possibly see blurred movement behind the frosted plexiglass.” “So, it’s opaque.” “No, it’s semi-opaque.” We probably went back and forth with variations of the same question/answer process four or five times, Bob getting more emphatic that frosted plexiglass was opaque until I finally said, “let me bring you a material sample,” as a way to end the conversation. As someone who has worn nylons, stockings, and tights, I, and other women my age, am very well versed in the difference between opaque and semi-opaque. Semi-Opaque: not fully clear or transparent. Thus, the frosted windows were semi-opaque.
Bob wasn’t a bad guy. I’m unclear why he felt it was acceptable to question my intellectual acuity and English vocabulary comprehension. In other words, I’ve ruminated on the opacity of his rationale. I doubt he would similarly question a peer, particularly a male peer. In hindsight, I wish I had the confidence each time he questioned my “understanding” of a word to say, “Really? Let’s look it up together!”
TODAY’S RECIPE: This recipe for Alsatian Onion Tart is adapted from the tart Andre Soltner served at Lutèce in NY. Baking the tart on a pre-heated sheet pan helps ensure a crisp bottom crust.
This is a savory tart from the Alsace Lorraine region of France. It's richer than your standard quiche; I’d expect nothing less from my Alsatian heritage. Use regular white or yellow onions – not sweet. The long, slow sautéing of the onions already sweetens them up. To gild the lily, cubed bacon can be sprinkled over the tart before baking.
Ingredients
1 9” tart crust (homemade pâte brisée or pre-made refrigerated shell)
2 yellow or white onions cut lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise (with mandolin, if possible)
2 Tablespoons butter
½ teaspoon salt
1 large egg
½ cup heavy cream
½ cup grated Muenster cheese
1 Tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
Directions
Preheat oven to 350° F. Place a sheet pan on the lowest rack of the oven. Line a 9” tart pan with crust and dock. Freeze for 30 minutes.
Sauté onions in a large skillet over medium-high heat with butter and salt, scraping up the browned bits occasionally, until onions are golden and tender, 20-30 minutes Set aside to cool.
Meanwhile, line tart shell with parchment paper and fill with rice, beans, or pie weights. Place tart pan on top of sheet pan and blind bake for 12 minutes. Remove parchment and rice, beans, or weights and bake another 10 minutes until sides of tart are beginning to color and bottom looks cooked. Remove from oven.
In a bowl, whisk together egg, heavy cream, Muenster cheese, thyme, nutmeg, and pepper. Add egg mixture to cooled onion mixture, scraping up any remaining brown bits from bottom of pan. Pour onion mixture into tart shell and spread evenly.
Bake 30–35 minutes on the sheet pan until filling is golden brown and set. If the edges of the crust brown too quickly, cover edges with foil. Cool 10 minutes and serve hot.
Two-Bit Tart 