The first Valentine's Day Scott and I shared as a married couple, I decided to make an elaborate cookie recipe that I remember took me almost 1/2 day to complete. Looking back, I'm sure the recipe wasn't all that complicated, but I hadn't baked much if at all back then, and so it probably took me double the time, and more angst and stumbling around in the kitchen than it ought to have taken. Plus, it didn't help that our kitchen was a true galley kitchen, and you could literally stand in the midle and touch both sides of the counters on opposite ends. The cookies were some kind of heart-shaped sandwich affair, with a heart cut-out middle, and lots of rasberry jam, and dusted over the tops with confectioner's sugar. I'm sure they were good but, of course, I remember the process of it all rather than the results.

I try and make a special cookie every year for Valentine's Day, but I know I've skipped many years in-between--like the ones when I was nursing a newborn, or too exhausted to even open a package of dry noodles, let alone bake something. This year, I definitely felt the baking bug bite, but I wanted something simple, yet memorable. Something with maybe a taste of cherry, something I could easily veganize if I needed to so, of course, I could enjoy the results, too.

Back when I was a graduate student the first time around (working on my first graduate degree in creative writing), I lived in a very snowy, very cold part of upstate New York. I had arrived in Binghamton, NY at the beginning of January, deep in the heart of winter, and not long after a big snowstorm had blown through. The shuttle from the airport left me off at the bottom of a hill near the main campus building, and I had to make my way from there to graduate housing in the dark, just me and my suitcase, winding my way through what seemed like mountains of snow. I spent weeks and weeks of my first year there trudging through tall snow drifts back and forth between classes, and marveling at how it could possibly be so cold that the tips of my hair would frost, and the inside of my nose would feel as if I'd sniffed in a handful of fresh snow. 

There was, more often than not, snow everywhere that winter. The flipside was that the weather drove us indoors--into the library, or each other's apartments for an impromptu gathering, or TV watching session, or if it was near the end of the week, into the campus bar (you have to love a campus that comes with a bar!) . We graduate students would sit and dissect that day's writing workshops, and any gossip we could pass around, feeling all the while oh so set apart from the rest of the world.

Yesterday the weather was amazing--temperatures in the low 60s, and the smell and feel of spring in the air everywhere. Sometimes you can feel the change in the seasons in your bones, or on the ends of your hair as the wind lifts it up. The daffodils at the bottom of the yard have opened, there are purple crocuses along the rocky path in the front yard, and on the way home from work yesterday I noticed that some of the cherry blossom tree buds had opened up into flowers. Despite how springy everything is I feel a little sad about what might be a "false start" and can't quite give myself over to it. It is, after all, only February 1st today, and I worry about what will happen to the new flowers if we get a wintry cold spell, or snow or sleet.

And while baking on a balmy winter day seems contradictory somehow, I did it anyway, while T. was hard at work on her math problems.

In her thinking cap. Math was hard yesterday.

I made cookies--chocolate chip cherry ones, and they're healthy, to boot!

Chocolate Chip Cherry Cookies (Vegan)

1/2 cup Earth Balance, softened in the microwave

3/4 cup turbinado sugar

1/4 cup chia egg (I just added a tablespoon of chia seeds to my 1/4 cup measuring cup filled with water to create the "egg")

1 tsp vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 3/4 cups spelt flour

1/2 cup vegan chocolate chips

1/2 cup chopped dried cherries 

Preheat the oven to 350. In a large bowl, add flour and baking soda. Mix in melted Earth Balance, sugar, chia egg, and vanilla. Stir until combined. Fold in chocolate chips and cherries. Drop in balls on an oiled baking sheet and bake for 10-12 minutes, or until the bottom edges are lightly brown.

We are starting the fourth week of the new semester, and I'm already horribly behind. The kids are both fighting head colds, and getting them up and going in the morning has taken double the amount of work (triple for L.). We can't seem to make a dent in the laundry pile. The stack of quizzes to grade doesn't seem to be getting any smaller, and the papers are piling up. Although I would love a day to stay in bed, I have been fantasizing lately about having a day to catch up--no students, no course prep, just me in my office, working my way through the grading, and crossing off things on my to-do list. 

Oh, the bliss of it all, such a dream.

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On a lighter note...ever since I discovered that I can buy a gigantic pillow-sized bag of chopped, pre-washed kale at Whole Foods for only $4.99, I have been in kale heaven.

I love the stuff. I also seem to crave it, with an intensity that I thought was only reserved for chocolate. But I truly do. This makes me happy, because it's proof that the more good things you put into your body, the more your body wants them. In fact, I eat so much kale these days that T. has dubbed me "Kale Monster" and she took this picture of me the other day, standing over a tray of roasted kale. The added bonus is that T. loves kale, too, and my heart does little jumps of joy when I see her stuffing the rich, green kale leaves into her mouth as an after school snack, or at dinnertime. If I could only get L. to eat kale I would be truly happy and, while Scott will eat kale when I prepare it, he has confessed that he likes spinach more.

It's been a long time since I've put up a recipe post. It may seem like I haven't been busy much in the kitchen, but I have. I got this new cookbook for Christmas, and I've been enjoying meal planning each week, and looking forward to trying out the recipes. But sometimes the camera is out of batteries, or the meal/dessert is so yummy I forgot to snap a picture before it's all gone, and then another food post opportunity has passed me by.

I made a scrumptious seitan and mushroom recipe, simmered in red wine and shallots. Scott was thrilled I made a dish with mushrooms. I'm not a huge mushroom fan, but I do like them cooked in a nice hearty sauce, and mushrooms and a red wine-based sauce do go particularly well together. 

I also made stuffed tomatoes with orzo, and a hearty and healthy dish using chickpeas and broccoli rabe, and brown rice.

And once a week I've been baking this simple but satisfying bread, which conveniently makes two loaves at a time. It's perfect as toast, and freezes well, too. I substitute non-dairy milk and the recipe works out just fine.

Scott and I have been working away at a long to-do list this week. We made the most of the three days the kids were still in school to do lots of wrapping, and last-minute gift buying, and organizing the odds and ends that always go along with Christmas. On Thursday we were all home together, and I had cookie baking on my to-do list. Cookie baking--at long last! What I did not have on my list was taking both kids in to the pediatrician. L. has been complaining of a sore throat for a couple fo days now, and T.'s sinus infection, which clearly didn't clear up after the first round of antibiotics (that terrible round that resulted in her allergic reaction--she still has some residual hives from that!), has come back in full swing. Since we are traveling for Christmas, the thought of hitting the road with sickies in tow just wasn't at all appealing. Plus we were worried about spreading any serious germs to our family members--especially to my baby nephew. Luckily, both kids have only non-contagious sinus infections, so we'll be packing antibiotics with us and they should be feeling back to themselves by the weekend.

Once we had crossed the pediatrician off our list, T. and I turned to cookie making. One of our favorite cookies to bake at Christmas are stained glass cookies.

I veganized the recipe and used Ener-G egg replacer and Earth Balance, and the dough came out perfectly fine. I chilled it overnight, brought it to room temperature in the morning (while we were at the pediatrician) and working it with my hands a bit before rolling helped.

Before you start baking, put the hard candy in ziploc bags, cover with a dish towel (place on a wooden cutting board, too), and turn your older child loose with a hammer.

I had such a good time cooking and baking for our Christmas party this past weekend. I tried some recipes I've been wanting to for awhile, like this one for sugared cranberries:

They were so addictively delicious, the way they popped in my mouth with a sweet-tart burst of juice! I might have eaten away at the entire bowl if I hadn't been so busy.

I love tempeh, but it has to be doctored up, in my opinion, to bring out the best of the flavors. I made my own honey-sesame glazed tempeh (mixed about a 1/2 cup of soy sauce with a 1/2 cup of honey and sesame oil and tossed the tempeh in a pan until the glaze coated. Then I sprinkled sesame seeds on top) and topped a fresh salad with the tempeh:

I made a tahini-lemon dressing from this site (scroll down for the dressing recipe) and it was the perfect addition to the salad and melded so well with the tempeh.

I left the house with L. yesterday at 7:00 a.m, and around the corner to our street we could see the rhythmic rotating smudge of red ambulance lights, breaking the gray morning. My heart fell to think why they might be there--some older neighbor, perhaps in that yellow house on the corner, stricken in the night?

"Maybe someone died," L. said, in that abrupt, realistic way 11-year old boys sometimes have of talking. 

"Oh no," I said emphatically. "Maybe someone fell and got hurt." I said it because I wanted it to be true--it's too close to Christmas for more sad things, I thought. But really, there is no "right" time for sad things. For some reason they hurt more keenly at the holidays; we rush to rewrite endings, hoping for a happy one.

The morning was icy-cold, and had brought a thick layer of frost that coated eveything, even my windshield. Only the night before our house had been filled with family and good, warm food, and a fire in the fireplace. Our Christmas tree, which I imagine must ache each year when we leave, like empty arms do to contain, stood tall over gifts wrapped in bright Christmas wrapping and ribbons. That was the night before; on Monday morning it was back-to-school again. Christmas parties are difficult to let go of, when you have to get up the next day and slip back into the real world again.

Because Scott's Nana wasn't here with us this year, I thought a lot about the hole the death of a loved one leaves in a family. And as I watched the kids play, I saw how pure and happy their excitement is over the things we grown-ups take for granted. I also thought about that special power children have to mend those holes; they are the thread that pulls closed the gaps, the promise of new memories and experiences, the bearers of past stories into the future. 

Yesterday we hosted the family Christmas gathering for Scott's side of the family. I made lots of vegan food, and didn't tell anyone what it was. I've found that announcing things as vegan--or vegetarian--to die-hard, life-long meat-eaters just predisposes them against it, no matter how yummy it tastes. I like to take people by surprise. Once they try something I've made, and exclaim about it, then I'll reveal the "secret."

Sometimes the experiment falls flat, as it did this past Thursday, when we had our good friends L. and P. and their kids over for dinner. At the last minute I decided to put out a hunk of vegan cheese, alongside "regular" cheese. I admit it was almost a joke on my part (my friend L. appreciates a good cheese). Would they notice? Would they say anything? I've known L. a long time, and we are way past being nice just for the sake of politeness; still, I saw her eat the cheese and, thoughtfully, walk away without comment, a strange expression on her face.

I follwed her into the dining room. "So what did you think about the cheese?" I asked.

"Which one?" 

"The really orange one."

She made a face. "It wasn't bad," she said, searching for the right words. "But I thought it was sort of...bland."

It WAS bland. Really bland. You just can't find a substitute for cheese, and there's no point in even trying.

I've been in meetings most of the week, and trying to control the impatient itch I've been feeling to get out and Christmas shop. On Tuesday though, one of my morning meetings ended surprisingly early so my good friend/colleague L. and I decided to seize the moment and head to some local shops together. While our goal was to holiday shop, somehow, happily, we ended up at my favorite thrift store. 

There are few shopping experiences I enjoy more than thrift-store shopping with the right friend. While sorting through odd framed prints and picture frames, I found this:

and fell in love with it. Yes, a blender. But not just any blender! A vintage, they-don't-make-'em-like-they-used-to Waring blender, which was in beautiful condition and just promised to be hands-down, no-question-about-it, better than my current  modern blender. It has a heavy base, and a charming cloverleaf glass top.

It's not a Vitamix, of course. I can't afford one, and even if I were to scrimp and save for a year (or two, or three) to raise the money to buy one, I'm not sure I could ever justify to myself spending $450 on a blender--unless my livelihood (or life) depended on it. It's a blender, after all. And while I have no doubts that it whirrs things to perfection, I was pretty certain that my $10 vintage Waring could do a pretty good job, too.