Deciding on witch finger cookies

Every year, I get a kick out of the parade of homemade Halloween treats in magazines, on websites and blog posts. From the most creative (cupcakes topped with “skeletons” made of yogurt pretzels and marshmallows) to the least (a full-sized fake plastic skeleton whose ribcage was merely loaded with sausages and other meaty snack “innards”), . . . → Read More: Deciding on witch finger cookies

Stirring up passion for apple butter

When I was a kid, I had all the cool chores. I got to shell the peas, gathered to the brim of a bottomless five-gallon paint bucket. I got to guard the rows of cabbages with a swatter, set to strike down any moths fluttering along. I got to lie down on my belly in . . . → Read More: Stirring up passion for apple butter

Bread of the Month: Going plum crazy

It seems like every summer I become fixed on a particular fruit. In the past, it’s been strawberries, blueberries or cherries. I’ve been fanatic for apricots and peaches. This year, it’s been “plummy,” as the deeply jeweled and juicy fruit began appearing in my mind before it ever arrived on the market scene. I grew . . . → Read More: Bread of the Month: Going plum crazy

Bread of the Month: Filling the heart -- with jam

“The Heart wants what it wants, “ poet Emily Dickinson wrote, “– or else it does not care.”

My heart, or at least the scones I made into hearts, wanted jam, and who was I to deny them? Scones and jam have gone together since the clocks could strike three and mean teatime. And . . . → Read More: Bread of the Month: Filling the heart — with jam

Reliving my cookie period

I don’t know that everyone goes through a cookie period, but I did. It was extensive, lasting from the ages of 7 to 18 and boy, was I prolific. Like many little girls, the first recipe I asked if I could make was chocolate chip cookies — the Tollhouse recipe on the back of the . . . → Read More: Reliving my cookie period

Jamming with ripe berries

Back in the day, which is really only an arm-length back, a generation or two, ladies “put up” vegetables and fruits in an ongoing summertime ritual as the produce came to fruition in their gardens and orchards. By fall, cellar shelves were agleam with shining jars of jewel colors, the “fruit” of their efforts. . . . → Read More: Jamming with ripe berries