Internet users, I am 26 and a half and I know what I like. This is partially because I am now really fucking certain what I DON’T like. Thank you to those humans who have shown me what I don’t like. MUCH APPRECIATED, dudes.

But honestly. Here I am. Sliding my way towards 27. And I know that I like walking at night after it has snowed, when the streets are plowed but still pretty icy. I like that I grew up in a town small enough that I can run and slide and dance my way home on those icy streets and not pass one car. I like the idea of someone seeing my goofy ass from the window of their house, and possibly bringing a smile to their face. I like misjudging the slickness of a certain section of the road and completely eating it. I like rolling around in the snow for a bit, laughing about how I just ate it and no one was there to see it.

I like identifying with song lyrics, even though that sometimes makes me feel like I’m still in middle school. I like running in the cold. I like running in the rain. I like running in the cold rain. I like sitting by a fire, indoors or out. I like my roommates. I like flowers I’ve bought for myself. I like people who open up to me without me having to ask. I like slide tackling. I like when the drums come in. I like hugging someone who is wearing a puffy vest.

I like chili con carne with cheddar cheese and sour cream. I like fleece socks. I like old plates and new mugs. I like wood carvings. I like drinking wine with girl friends. I like drinking beer with boy friends. I like baking. I like baking alone and I like baking with other people. I like when people say my name when they say hello.

I like holding hands. I like looking people in the eyes. I like playing board games with friends. I like dancing to music while I cook. I like a blank crossword puzzle and I like a completed one. I like when people call me on the phone instead of text me. I like when people text me. I like when people just text me to say hello. I like the smell of bread yeast. I like when someone else takes the pictures. I like eggnog. I like making something for someone. I like when my nose and cheeks get cold. I like putting lotion on right after a shower. I like men in plaid shirts.

I like feasting on the winter solstice (which is TODAY, HAPPY WINTER SOLSTICE EVERYONE). And I like these cookies. My god do I like these cookies.

Triple Ginger Cookies
from 101 Cookbooks (i like 101 cookbooks.)

NOTES FROM HEIDI: Feel free to use all-purpose flour if that is what you have on hand. Again, in regards to the ginger – mince it as if you were trying to turn it into a paste. Two sugar coating. In my most recent batch of these I used a big, flaked, smoked sea salt along with sugar to finish the cookies, so that is something to experiment with as well, but totally optional. I grind whole star anise in my spice grinder and then do a bit of sifting.

1/2+ cup large-grain sugar (i.e. turbinado)

2 cups spelt flour OR whole wheat pastry flour
1 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon star anise, finely ground
4 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon fine grain sea salt

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/4 cup unsulphured molasses
2/3 cup fine grain natural cane sugar, sifted
1 1/2 tablespoons fresh ginger, peeled and grated
1 large egg, well beaten
1 cup crystallized ginger, then finely minced
2 lemons, zest only

Preheat the oven to 350F degree – racks in the top and bottom 1/3 of the oven. Line a couple baking sheets with unbleached parchment paper or a Silpat mat, place the large-grain sugar in a small bowl, and set aside.

In a large bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda, star anise, ground ginger, and salt.

Heat the butter in a skillet until it is just barely melted. Stir in the molasses, natural cane sugar, and fresh ginger. The mixture should be warm, but not hot at this point, if it is hot to touch let it cool a bit. Whisk in the egg. Now pour this over the flour mixture, add the crystallized ginger (make sure it isn’t too clumpy), and lemon zest. Stir until just combined.

I like these cookies tiny, barely bite-sized, so I scoop out the dough in exact, level tablespoons. I then tear those pieces of dough in two before rolling each 1/2 tablespoon of dough into a ball shape. From there, grab a small handful of the big sugar you set aside earlier and roll each ball between your palms to heavily coat the outside of each dough ball. Place dough a few inches apart on prepared baking sheets. Bake for 7-10 minutes or until cookies puff up, darken a bit, get fragrant and crack.

Makes about 4 dozen or so.

Except…I’m not the hugest fan. I say hugest because I do like them with some coffee if I’m feeling very….dark brown and spicy. And I do like  them when they’re more of a gingerSNAP. You know, thinner and with more crunch. But as a whole I’m just not totally fucking psyched out of my mind for gingerbread cookies.

Which is totally ok, and I completely accept their place in holiday tradition as a legitimate baked good. And god, who doesn’t love to decorate cookies? WHO? Show yourself!

And in fact, this is a particularly lovely gingerbread cookie recipe. It’s deep and dark and spiced and molasses-y. So if you’re feeling the hankering for gingerbread, look no further, friends. Also, please appreciate and envy my woodland creatures cookie cutter set, purchased from IKEA during one of those trips where I go for like a single pillowcase and leave with 12 bowls, a set of finger puppets, 10 gallons of lingonberry jam, and yards of fabric I’ll never use. You know how it is.

But seriously. A hedgehog cookie cutter? Come on. Scrooge McDuck himself would see that and be like, well, that’s fucking fantastic.

Not pictured: me hunched over about 60 cookies at close to midnight the other night with 2 plastic bags filled with icing, neurotically piping patterns on woodland creatures. Because THAT is normal.

Gingerbread Cookies
from Moosewood Restaurant Book of Desserts

2 1/2 cups unbleached white flour
1 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
pinch of salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
4 tsps ground ginger
2 tsps ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground allspice
1 tsp ground nutmeg
1 tsp ground cloves
pinch of cayenne
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup unsulphured molasses
1 egg

Sift together the flour, cocoa, salt, baking soda, ginger, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, cloves, and cayenne. In a separate bowl, cream together the butter and sugar with an electric mixer until light. Beat in the molasses and egg. Stir in the dry ingredients. With floured hands, push the dough from the sides to the middle of the bowl to form a ball that holds together. Cut the dough in half. Place one half on top of the other and push down. Repeat three or four times until all of the flour mixture is incorporated and the dough forms a ball. Wrap the dough in plastic and chill for 30 min.

Preheat the oven to 350. Spray or oil 2 baking sheets.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough 1/4″ thick. Using cookie cutters or the rim of a glass, cut out the cookies. Use a spatula to transfer the cookies to the baking sheets. Bake 10 to 12 minutes until set and lightly browned at the edges. Cool on a rack and serve.

Frosting: For every cup of powdered sugar, use a tbsp or 2 of milk…whisk until smooth. Add more milk or sugar depending on what consistency you want.

So, do you want to hear how my diet is going? It involves days subsisting entirely on cookies and cupcakes. It involves cannolis. It involves binge drinking 3 weeknights in a row. Basically it involves me being the worst at being on a diet ever, and so, henceforth, diet is officially over. I would say it was a valiant effort, but that would be a lie.

But listen, this recipe is full of health and red and green and it’s like “The Holidays” so maybe you should seriously consider making it. But, learn from my mistakes first. Like, don’t think you’re smart using wonton wrappers as a quick ravioli casing. It don’t work. They’re too thin and floppy and completely unsatisfying.             That’s what she said.

So maybe get some real ravioli pasta. Or make some if you’re feeling adventurous. I would’ve, but I’m a lazy piece of shit. You know how it is.

The filling is super easy though. I roasted some beets, then mashed them with some ricotta cheese. Then I sauteed the beet greens with some onion and a tiny bit of veggie stock (and salt and pepper). Then I drained those and chopped them up and mixed them in with the beets.

A little parmesan cheese in there and you’re on your way to a holiday-appropriate dinner. I mean, I think. Can I be honest? I made these a while ago. I have no idea what the fuck went into them. All I know is I ate them and they were pretty ok, minus the wonton wrapper issue. Sooooo. There it is.

Beet Ravioli
from yours truly, but I swear it’s actually not bad (i just wrote bed. freudian slip)

3-4 beets, roasted until soft
1/2 cup ricotta cheese
beet greens from 3-4 beets, chopped
1/4 cup veggie stock
1 shallot or 1/2 cup chopped onion (or more, whatever)
salt & pepper to taste
1/4 cup parmesan cheese

Mash the beets and mix them with the ricotta cheese. Add salt and pepper to taste.

In a frying pan, saute the onions in some oil until they are translucent. Add the beet greens & stir. Pour in the veggie stock and mix to combine. Cover and let simmer until the greens are wilted, about 5 minutes. I drained and then chopped the greens again after they cooked, but you don’t have to. I just wanted them to be finely minced for the filling. Stir the chopped greens mixture into the beet mixture. Place a dollop of filling on each ravioli round. Wet the edges and press to seal.

Cook in gently boiling water for 3-4 minutes. Drain and serve with sauce, or cheese, or nothing, it’s your call.

Hey guys. Think I’m crazy? Meet my sister. Older, wiser, yes. But also, forgive me sis, way more neurotic. Please enjoy this guest post by my sister in family name and in lunacy, Julia:

Sister’s friends, there is one important thing to know about me and food: I hate to waste it. I am not sure where I got this obsession. My mother was never one to evoke “starving children in Africa.” More likely it grew out of my grandmother’s stories of eating boiled stinging nettle during the war. Regardless, I can’t stand to see anything wasted – ANYTHING. Like the pale inner wilted stalks of old celery – why not use them in a soup stock? Or one quarter of a lemon – better use it (and the zest!) in a salad dressing! Or even some lumpy sour milk – time for sour milk scones!

It’s a strange (and useful) quirk of my perfectionist personality.  I like to think of it as my main apocalypse skill.

Of late, I have made this obsession into a more formal game. Here’s how it goes:

Every week I get a new box of vegetables from a local farm. I have to use them up in way that is not only efficient, but also delicious and healthy.  In the process I accumulate other necessary ingredients (which I also have to use up). If anything rots, I lose.

The sick part is, and here is where this becomes a metaphor for my life, I can NEVER win. I will never use up everything. Even if I somehow managed to, I would just have to buy more food, you know, to live. But I can lose. Even as I type this I am feeling guilty about the 2 tbsp of tomato paste I know is molding in my fridge.  Why didn’t I make a tomato-based lentil soup? Sigh.

Anyway, there is only one thing better than using up food you have paid for, and that is using up food that is free (keep me away from dumpster divers because I don’t need that kind of temptation in my life). So you can only imagine the joy I got from turning the unsightly pears growing in my backyard into delicious pear butter. It was satisfying for so many reasons. Like you can put the whole damn pear, skin, core and all, into the pot (no waste!). And then you can put it into sealed jars and save it, thereby relaxing the need to find creative ways to use it before it goes bad. Not that anyone would have that problem, because this stuff is so delicious. Try it on bruised banana muffins, or stale bread French toast or sour milk scones.

Pear Butter
from Simply Recipes

4 to 5 lbs chopped Bartlett pears, do not peel or core them (remove any bruised or damaged parts)
1 star anise
2 Tbsp chopped fresh ginger
2 cups water
1 cup lemon juice
3-4 cups sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon lemon zest

Put chopped pears, star anise, and ginger into a large pot. Add 2 cups of water and 1 cup of lemon juice. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook until the pears are completely soft, anywhere from 25 to 40 minutes. Remove from heat.

Fish out and discard the star anise from the pear mixture. Ladle the pear mixture (liquid included) into a chinoise or food mill and (use a pestle if using a chinoise) force the mixture through to a large bowl below. Discard remaining solids (seeds, stems, tough parts).

Measure the resulting purée, and pour into a large (8-qt), wide, thick-bottomed pan. For every cup of pear purée, add 1/2 cup of sugar. Stir to dissolve the sugar. Add the cardamom, nutmeg, and lemon zest. Taste and adjust seasonings if necessary.

Cook on medium heat, stirring often to prevent the purée from sticking to the bottom of the pan and burning. Cook until the mixture is quite thick, and a small bit placed on a chilled plate is not runny. This can take anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours, depending on the batch.

While the mixture is cooking, sterilize the jars for canning. To sterilized the jars, either 1) run them through the short cycle of your dishwasher, 2) rinse them and place them in a 225°F oven for 10 minutes, or 3) place them on top of a steaming rack in a large pot of water which you bring to a boil for 10 minutes.

When the pear butter is ready, pour into hot, sterilized jars and seal, allowing for 1/4-inch head space between the pear butter and the rims of the jars. If you plan to store the pear butter outside of a refrigerator, follow proper canning procedures. Before applying the lids, sterilize them by placing them in a bowl and pouring boiling water over them. Wipe the rims of the jars clean before applying lids. Use a hot water bath for 10 minutes to ensure a good seal.
Makes 6 to 8 half-pint jars.

I know, it’s after Thanksgiving. There is no reason for you to make pumpkin pie anymore. But….isn’t there? On account of it being delicious? And maybe you have some leftover pumpkin that needs to be used? Yeah? (hi, also, forgive the shitty pictures, etc)

Ok, so, maybe not. But let’s pretend, because I didn’t actually make this until Thanksgiving eve and things were rushed and I couldn’t get things in order enough to post it that night. Forgive, friends. That’s what the holidays are about.

If it makes you any more motivated, this is my favorite pumpkin pie recipe yet. Yet! And I’ve had a bunch. And I love pumpkin pie. Trust me, kids. Trust all the delicious white cream that goes into this. Trust the mild spicing. Trust the new crust. RHYME. HIGH FIVE, and, end post.

Pumpkin Pie
from Tartine

Partially baked and cooled 10″ flaky tart dough pie shell (use half a recipe of that one. also, i didn’t partially bake it. BECAUSE I HATE TO. and everything was fine!)

2 cups pumpkin puree
3 large whole eggs
1 large egg yolk
1 cup heavy cream
2 tbsp brandy
1/2 cup light or dark brown sugar, lightly packed
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
1/8 tsp ground cloves (i used a little more-ish of all the spices. but only a LITTLE)
1/8 tsp nutmeg, freshly grated
1/8 tsp black pepper
1 tsp salt

Have the pie shell ready for filling. Preheat the oven to 325.

In a mixing bowl, combine the pumpkin puree, whole eggs, egg yolk, cream, and brandy and whisk to mix well. In a second mixing bowl, combine the sugar with all the spices and stir to mix. Whisk the sugar mixture into the pumpkin mixture.

Pour the filling into the pie shell and smooth the top with a rubber spatula if necessary. Bake the pie until just set but still slightly wobbly in the center, about 1 hour. The filling will continue to set as it cools. Let the pie cool on a wire rack. Serve slightly warm, at room temperature, or cold, with whipped cream. The pie will keep in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.

Since you already know Too Much about me (i have an oversharing problem), I might as well let you know that I am HEREBY on a diet. I’m also going to let you know that I fucking hate diets with every bone in my body (i’m sure i am the only one who feels this way), and I only resort to them when I feel they are necessary. And here’s how that necessity was confirmed:

Me: I can’t bake anything tonight, because then I’ll eat it. And I’m on a diet.
My grandmother: You know, I wasn’t going to say anything. But now that you say it, I can say you could lose maybe 5 or 10 pounds.

Eastern European grandmothers. They are great at 2 things: 1) making dumplings 2) making you feel like you are too fat to ever eat another dumpling again in your life. Ever.

It is true that every time I come home after being away for a significant amount of time, my grandmother will size me up. I’ll walk in, give her a hug, and she’ll take a step back and say “let me look at you.” So then she gives me the once over and declares her conclusion, which is usually something like this: “You gained half a pound.” “You lost 3/4 of a pound.” And the scary thing is, she is usually RIGHT. Anyway, I’m not sure why this time she withheld her judgment about my weight. Maybe it has something to do with the OTHER conversation my grandmother’s broken english always finds its way to: Do you have boyfriend?

Since the answer in the past has usually been yes, she might’ve given me a break since in her eyes I am now 26 (AND A HALF) and alone and also apparently 5 POUNDS HEAVIER AND MOST LIKELY I WILL DIE ALONE AND NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE ME.

What this has to do with this cake, friends, is this: Don’t make this cake for yourself and your family if you are on a diet. Because you’ll THINK that, no big deal, you can make a delicious cranberry cake and not want to eat half of it on your own. But you’ll be wrong. Because you’re always wrong. And alone. And 5 pounds fatter. And here, eat these dumplings and this fatty duck and watch me pour lard into every aspect of this meal and then serve it to you and then whisper how you really need to get your “figure” back.

God bless the holidays.

Cranberry orange cornmeal cake
Adapted from pastry chef Zoe Nathan of Rustic Canyon via Sassy Radish

2 cups flour
1 cup cornmeal
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3 eggs
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 1/2 tablespoons vanilla
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (1 3/4 sticks) butter
1 1/2 cups plus 2 tablespoons sugar, divided (i decreased this to 1 cup plus 2 tbsps. no regrets. but i like things not too sweet)
2 1/4 teaspoons salt
Zest of 1 orange
2 cups ricotta cheese
2 1/2 cups cranberries, divided (i increased this to probably over 3 cups, and i’d even add more. MORE)

1. Heat the oven to 375 degrees. Grease a 9-inch round by 3-inch tall cake pan and line the bottom with parchment paper.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder and baking soda. In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, maple syrup, oil and vanilla. Set aside.

3. In the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, or in a large bowl with a hand mixer, cream together the butter, 1 1/2 cups sugar, salt and zest. Mix just until thoroughly combined; do not overmix.

4. With the mixer running, slowly incorporate the egg mixture into the butter just until combined.

5. With the mixer on low speed, add one-half of the flour mixture to the batter and quickly mix for 5 seconds. Turn off the mixer and add the rest of the flour, the ricotta and one-half of the cranberries. Mix the remaining ingredients into the batter over low speed just until combined, being careful not to overmix.

6. Gently pour the batter into the cake pan and smooth the top. Scatter the remaining cranberries over the top of the cake, and sprinkle with the remaining 2 tablespoons sugar.

7. Bake the cake until a toothpick inserted comes out clean, about 1 hour and 15 minutes. Place a loose piece of foil over the top of the cake if it starts to darken. Cool the cake on a wire rack before removing it from the pan.

It’s not that I haven’t been actively searching, friends. It’s not that I haven’t been eating egg sandwiches. I just haven’t been blogging about them. I had to tell you about this one, though. I feel like I’m getting closer and further away at the same time. Closer to something, further from another. Story of my LIFE.

First of all: welcome to the fight, open-face. See, open-faced egg sandies aren’t something I had yet considered. But they solve for me a huge problem: namely, using bread with really hard crusts. When hard-crusted bread is used as a SANDWICH, the insides always splurt out. However, as an open-faced sandy, you can use it, because there is no top pressure. It’s just you and the glory of your incisors. And god, hard-crusted bread!

This particular bread was from Acme Bread Co. I sauntered down to the Ferry Building farmer’s market the other weekend and all of a sudden had an intense craving for bread. I waited in line for like 15 minutes and then asked the guy at the counter (clearly an owner-type) what kind of bread he liked best. They were all out of his favorite, so I said: I’m thinking of trying the spelt pain au levain, what do you think? And he goes, personally? I would never eat that stuff (btw, way to sell your product, guy). But looking at you, you seem like one of those “healthy types.” And I said…kind sir, I had bread pudding and a croissant for breakfast. And he said, well, I guess if you need a healthy dinner, that’s a good bread. Having already been set to buy the bread before I asked his opinion, I got it. And it was really lovely, I’m not sure what his big fat problem was with it. It didn’t taste like “health” bread. It just tasted like wonderful fresh bread with a really hard crunchy crust. In conclusion: I regret nothing and take a course in product loyalty mr. bread man.

Here’s what I did: sliced a huge tomato and put the slices on the bread, then sliced some gruyere and cheddar over the tomatoes, put the whole thing in the oven for a few minutes, topped it with 2 over-easy eggs, some peppered bacon, salt&pepper, and a squirt or 2 or sriracha. I think, I THINK, if there was avocado on this, it would be in contention. The bread was full and hearty and the bacon was crisp and peppery and the warm eggs/cheese/tomatoes squished in the middle gave it all this really great texture. It was fucking good. It was reallllllly fucking good. You should make one and eat it. Then you can thank me later in the form of some sort of elaborate gift. I also accept personal checks. Thanks!

Hello reader! I hope you had a great Thanksgiving. I myself doubled my Thanksgiving intake by spending the day with my sister and her boyfriend in Oakland, and then catching a red-eye Thanksgiving night to do day 2 at my parents’ house on Long Island. That’s right. A bi-coastal, double-dinner, 5xpie Thanksgiving. But that is just how I roll.

I am a very predictable human being in many ways. For instance, if any toiletry is packaged in a combination of green and purple, apparently I will buy it (something i noticed the other day when i was surveying my various shampoos/lotions/facewash). For another, if you compliment me, I’ll sign your petition. Unless you’re petitioning for something terrible. But usually people don’t do that in San Francisco. The third truth about my predictability is this: any recipe with “brown sugar” woven into the title automatically becomes irresistible to me.

Apple pie? Sure I’ll make it. Brown Sugar Apple Pie? OH GOD THERE’S NO TIME WHERE IS MY PIE PLATE. Carrot bread? Sounds great. Spiced Brown Sugar Carrot Bread? HOW HAVE I LIVED WITHOUT YOU?

In fact, I’m the type who often substitutes out regular sugar with brown sugar without being told to. I just think there’s something so homey about brown sugar. Sure I know it’s just like…regular sugar with some molasses in it. But imagine sprinkling regular sugar on your oatmeal. Doesn’t it make you feel…dirty?

I don’t know if this brown sugar theory pans out in ALL recipes. Brown sugar pesto, for example, does not sound appetizing to me. But like…brown sugar hamburgers? I don’t know. I could probably dig that. Brown sugar spinach? WHY NOT. It’s something about the word brown. It works with butter too. Coffee cake, yay, whatever. Brown butter coffee cake? Fuck, does that exist? Let’s make it.

But first, make this. It’s worth it, even if you are of the belief that grating carrots is just about the worst task you could ever ask someone to do in the kitchen. I am of that belief. But here we are, with warm spiced carrot bread in our mouths, and doesn’t that sound nice?

Spiced Brown Sugar Carrot Bread
Adapted from Food & Wine via The Kitchen Sink

Yield: 1 loaf

1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon crushed cardamom seeds
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup grapeseed oil
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
grated zest of 1/2 a lemon
1 1/4 cup shredded carrots (about 7 ounces)

Preheat the oven to 350°. Coat a 8-by-4-inch loaf pan with cooking spray or grease and lightly flour the pan.
In a medium bowl, combine the flour, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, cardamom and salt.
In a large bowl, beat the eggs with the light brown sugar and granulated sugar until smooth. Add the oil in a thin stream, beating at high speed until the batter has doubled in volume, about 2 minutes. Beat in the vanilla and lemon zest. Fold in the shredded carrots. Beat in the dry ingredients at low speed in 3 batches, mixing well between additions.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake in the middle of the oven for 50 minutes to 1 hour, or until a cake tester inserted into the center of the loaf comes out clean. Let the loaf cool in the pans for 10 minutes before turning it out onto a rack to cool completely.

Attention Everyone. I have found my new favorite pie crust. So, throw away all your other recipes. Don’t listen to anyone else when they tell you they have the best pie crust. I have it. I found it. It’s mine now. Mine. And you’re going to benefit from it. You, if you’re near me, because I’ll be making you a pie. You, if you’re on the internet, because I’m sharing this with you.

Ah, but don’t let me gush too much about the crust. Because the FILLING of this pie? The filling, friends. It’s special too. THIS IS A REALLY FUCKING SPECIAL PIE. All of it. Together. Baked in the oven. Warm and condensed.

Because, silly me! I forgot. I forgot about how much I love pies. How basic they are. Simple butter crust, fruit and sugar, in the oven, cooled to thickness, forked in mouth. I’ve been complaining about my unstable boat forgetting that pies are the answer. Pies are never emotionally incapable. Pies would never lie to me. Pies are never so cute that they think they can get away with being a total dickslap. Pies! Pies pies pies pies pies! Just say it with me.

And another thing. It’s almost Thanksgiving. My favorite holiday. FAVORITE. Favorite favorite pie crust parsnips mashed potato volcano dark meat stuffing stuffing stuffing holiday. Gibberish! It’s what I’ve been reduced to!

AND ANOTHER THING. Those cranberries are so RED. Red cranberries and sweet white apples and brown sugar and EVERYONE’S HAPPY.

AND TWO MORE THINGS. 1) My catamaran has been repaired. 2) Golden raisins! GOLDEN!

I want you to be happy, reader (unless you have wronged my heart, in which case I hope you never find happiness. oh, you, i’m just kidding!). Therefore, it only makes sense that you make this pie for you and your family on Thanksgiving. You’ll remove it from the oven and feel a great pride in yourself. And you’ll smell it and only be slightly sad that you have uncontrollable urges to eat your poor warm flaky progeny.

Flaky Tart Dough
from Tartine

1 tsp salt
2/3 cup ice cold water
3 cups + 2 tbsp all-purpose flour
1 cup + 5 tbsp unsalted butter, very cold

In a small bowl, add the salt to the water and stir to dissolve. Keep very cold until ready to use.
Put the flour in the bowl of an electric mixer (or any large bowl). Cut the butter into 1-in pieces and scatter the pieces over the flour (or grate frozen butter into the flour with the large holes of a box grater). Mix with the paddle attachment of your mixer until the butter is still in pieces the size of a pea (or using a pastry blender or 2 knives, cut the butter until the size of small peas). Add the salt-and-water mixture and mix for several seconds until the dough begins to come together in a ball but is not completely smooth. You should still be able to see butter chunks.
On a lightly floured surface, divide the dough into 2 equal balls and shape each into a disk 1-in thick. Wrap well in plastic wrap and chill for at least 2 hours or up to overnight.
Place a disk of dough on a lightly floured surface and roll out to 1/8″ thick. Carefully transfer to the pie dish. Cut the excess off. Roll out the other disk. When you’re ready to put the top of the pie on, lightly moisten the edge of the pie with water, press the top crust on and crimp with your fingers or a fork.

Rosy Apple Cranberry Pie
from the Pie and Pastry Bible

Pie crust for a 2-crust pie

4-5 medium apples, peeled, cored, and sliced 1/4″ thick (i used winesap and granny smith
1 tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
3/4 cup granulated sugar (i used demerara sugar. does it make a difference? damned if i know)
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp salt
4 tsps unsalted butter
2 1/2 tbsps cornstarch
2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries
1/2 cup golden raisins (or 2 extra tbsp sugar)

In a large bowl, combine the apples, lemon juice, sugars, cinnamon, and salt, and toss to mix. Allow the apples to macerate for a minimum of 30 minutes and maximum of 3 hours at room temp. Transfer the apple mixture to a colander suspended over a bowl to capture the liquid. You should have about 6 tbsps of liquid.
In a small saucepan, boil down this liquid with the butter, to 1/4 cup, or until syrupy and lightly caramelized. Swirl the liquid but don’t stir it. Meanwhile, transfer the apples to a bowl and toss them with the cornstarch until all traces of it have disappeared.
Pour hot syrup over the apples, tossing gently. Add the cranberries and raisins and gently mix.
Pour the filling into the pie crust. Moisten the edge and press the top crust on. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1 hour before baking (this will relax the pastry and keep it flaky).
Preheat the oven to 425. Set an oven rack at the lowest level and place a baking stone or baking sheet on it. Cut several slits into the top of the pie crust and set the pie directly on the baking sheet. Bake for 50-60 minutes or until the juices are bubbling out through the slits and the apples feel tender but not mushy. After 30 minutes you can protect the edges from overbrowning with a foil ring. Cool for at least 4 hours before cutting. Store at room temp for up to 2 days.

[this post is dedicated to my dear Sassafras, the best dog there ever was]

Friends, I’m awkward. It’s ok, it’s something I’ve come to terms with. In fact, there are times I embrace it and play it up. But there are other times I feel like, MUST I BE THIS WAY?? Must I pretend to not see someone walking past me on the street because I’ve been ignoring his text messages (hey, side note. men of the world: seriously? SERIOUSLY? can you guys not try to start relationships via text? it would be much appreciated. you want to ask me out? ASK ME THE FUCK OUT [side side note: not now. i will say no]. do not. DO. NOT. send me a text message on a friday or saturday night seeing what i’m “up to.” my god. excuse me, now i need to go readjust my pantyhose and get a new prescription for my glasses and buy orthopedic shoes. but honestly, KIDS THESE DAYS. ahem.)  Must I get all red-faced every time I meet someone new? Must I say really strange things and then spend the next 10 minutes repeating in my head “why did I say that, what possessed me to say that?” therefore not contributing anything meaningful to the conversation because I’m too busy ruing my awkwardness?? Must I say “you too” when it doesn’t fit (food service person: here’s your basket of fries, enjoy! me: thanks! you too!  OR  ranger station employee: here’s a map, have a great hike! me: thanks! you too!)? MUST I?

The answer is yes. I must. It is just who I am. It’s strange and sometimes jarring but occasionally it’s funny and endearing (right??? RIGHT????). But you know what?–and, here it comes, the transition into this recipe–sometimes being awkward keeps things interesting. It really spices things up. SPICES. LIKE CHAI.

Hello, all hail my word-weaving skills. Let’s talk about the chai though. It was my sister’s idea to make some authentic chai, because the powdered stuff from Trader Joe’s, although lovely, was a tad too sweet for us and didn’t have enough KICK. So I went to her house this past weekend to do some paint-peeling/door-sanding and we cooked up this recipe, based on something I found in Moosewood but then ingeniously enhanced by our chai intuitions. Which were dead on, btw.

It seems like every time I go to my sister’s place, we make something delicious and I can barely stand to wait another day before I’m in my own kitch making it again. Such was the case with this chai. A mere day after having it at the sis’s, I’m in Rainbow Grocery searching out cardamom pods. I made my own version that night, but I grated the ginger instead of chopping it, which was a moronic idea, and so instead of a pleasant nip at the end of your sip, my version was a round-house kick to the mouth. WOOPS.

But I milked it down and it wasn’t so bad. And it still beats the store-bought stuff. And it’s easy and you can make a whole bunch and store it in your fridge and make it cup by cup–hot or cold. And it’s SPICY. Just like you and your life!

Tibetan-Style Chai
adapted from Moosewood Restaurant Celebrates!

5 cups water
1/3 to 1/2 cup chopped fresh ginger root (DON’T grate it like it did. remember? round-house kick?)
1 tsp cardamom seeds (i added seeds AND pods bc i’m craaayyy)
3 whole cinnamon sticks
3 or 4 whole cloves
3 or 4 whole peppercorns
4 tea bags to 4 tsps loose black tea, such as orange pekoe or darjeeling
4 cups milk (i used soymilk)
1/2 cup sugar (i used about 1/3 cup, i don’t like it too sweet)

In a large covered pot, bring the water, ginger root, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, peppercorns, and tea to a boil. Reduce the heat, uncover, and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes. Add the milk and sugar and return to a boil; then lower the heat and simmer for 5 more minutes. Strain and serve.
Store leftover chai in a sealed container in the fridge. Gently reheat the tea as necessary.