It has been more than 2 months since my last posting. These weeks have been filled with joy, grief, change, friends, excitement, loss, fun, adventure, family, and growth. It’s been a crazy ride, that’s for certain!
This is probably the most incredible apple crisp you will ever taste, in my humble opinion. It is sweet, tart, chewy, buttery, and boasts a surprise with the sauce that looks like caramel, but has a fresh appley-citrusy-bourbony zing.
I have a couple different philosophies when it comes to dessert:
One of the first gardens I planted was filled with every black flower I could find. This was somewhat of a fad during the Victorian era, which I find intriguing. Can you imagine elegant women in long, floofy dresses tending gardens? That might be as difficult as imagining ME working in flowerbeds. But I tried.
True confession here: I am not a huge fan of dessert. My husband grew up with a mother who baked pies, cakes, and cookies daily, and each meal – and every cup of coffee – was accompanied by some wonderful homemade treat. Honestly, I would rather eat a candy bar filled with tons of sugar, fat, and preservatives than a slice of homemade pie. But that may change!
Every family has its black sheep — the person that didn’t really follow the norm but went their own way. Not that there’s anything wrong with being different and not conforming, but sometimes the contrast is so drastic it’s comical. That’s Grandpa’s younger sister, “Margit”.
There is something so wonderful about this time of year — even though everyone is busy with programs, parties, and dozens of other activities, there’s this driving desire to connect with friends we haven’t seen for a long time. “Stop by for tea!”
This has been “one of those weeks”. Too much going on. Not enough getting done. Too little energy. Not nearly enough sleep. And no groceries in the refrigerator because I don’t have time to shop. Am I alone in this situation???
It seems like every child in Sweden is capable of making kladdkaka on their own by age 8. Kids grow up helping Mom and Grandma bake this wonderful and simple treat. In fact, most people I know have made kladdkaka so many times that they don’t even need to measure the ingredients.
I don’t like doughnuts or pastries. Even the smell can turn my stomach. Strange? Of course I am! But I can point to a cold and rainy day in the summer of 1970 as we were driving through the Danish countryside. We stopped at a bakery for cocoa and a treat, and the warm, sweet, suffocating smell of pasteries overwhelmed me. End of story.
Long ago and far away I had large glass jars with dry mixes for everything – waffles, soups, muffins, hot cocoa, pudding, etc. Days spent at the farm with little kids under foot were made simpler that way, and edible gifts were created in pretty canning jars with the “help” of said kids.