Seasonal

This past Saturday started somewhat normal. I rose at an abnormal hour for a weekend day, this time feeling a bit more tired and slow-moving, having played cruise director to Isabella. Since the whistle blew last Tuesday at noon, my life has been kids, kids and more kids.

Wednesday we trekked to Harlem to visit Kim. I think I was more excited about this playdate than Isabella. I was happy and at peace, sitting across from one of my best friends while the girls played.

Thursday we walked the High Line and cooled off with some stracciatella from L'Arte del Gelato and plum syrup soaked shaved ice from People's Pops.

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As I reached into the pots and pans drawer for a skillet, my hand took hold of the crepe pan. Good sense stepped aside momentarily, and I knew this would not create a traditional omelet as I'd set out to make. I knew the eggs would quickly roll to the edges, creating a paper-thin sheet, more akin to a flourless crepe than the fluffy texture of an omelet one would expect from a recipe titled as such.

Still, I moved forward, unable to control myself. I was curious, and that is always good in the kitchen. It is what moves us to create something new. The disasters and flops are the pitfalls and rights of passage as a recipe developer.

So to create the best possible image as we talk about this, let's agree to call it an egg crepe, okay? Before I set out to make my egg crepe, I prepped the asparagus. See, that's really how this all started. I bought my first bunch of the season at the farmers' market a few days ago, and was eager to do something with it—just a few spears to tide me over until I could use them more substantially.

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A few years back Isabella and I were strolling through a neighborhood supermarket. Her eyes locked with a display of blueberries, and in her sweet little voice she asked if we could buy some.

It was January.

Close friends can already predict my answer. The rest of you might think me insane.

I told my then four year old daughter she couldn't have blueberries. I know, you're wondering why would anyone do such a thing.

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Many people asked if I would take a break from blogging or tweeting during my vacation. I promise I'm doing my best to relax and recharge. I did, however, do the same for you all as I do for the Mr. when I'm out of town. I left a few meals in the fridge to make sure you're well-fed while I'm gone.

By now you might have heard about my legendary my tomato jam. That recipe, as easy as it is, requires a time investment. The prep time is mere minutes, but patience is required as you sit back and apply a low and slow philosophy. The reward is a thick, jammy mixture of tomatoes and onions that tows the line between sweet and savory.

That bag of tomatoes you see above is the total opposite, and for good reason. If you're still nervous about canning or preserving, then this is a good "get your feet wet" approach. No special tools required. No jars to sterilze. While it won't last as long as a shelf-stable jar of jam, it will extend your tomato season by a month or two.

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There are a million other things I should be doing right about now. Like packing for vacation—we leave for Cape Cod in T-minus three days.

Or finishing my work before we pull out, so I can actually have a shot at rest and relaxation on this trip. At least as much as one can with two kids in tow.

But there's these peaches piling up, and this week is all about stone fruits on Summer Fest 2010 over at A Way to Garden. What better way to celebrate than with a simple, quick and, most importantly, easy way to make your own peach jam or preserves. 

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We’re in countdown mode. 18 days from now we pack the girls up for the sandy shores of Cape Cod.

I need this vacation. It feels like the last year has pummeled my spirits and pushed me to the limits. Life is supposed to be easier as the girls grow up, right? Well, if your kids are approaching school-age, let me give you a tip. Enjoy the life of leisure that is pre-K. Savor the relaxed pace of Kindergarten.

It all ends come first grade.

I will not sugar-coat the experience. I’ll even go so far to say it was easier the first time around when you did it yourself. Went through elementary school, that is. See back then you didn’t know the answers, so it was all a matter of discovery. Unchartered waters.

The second time around, you’ll find yourself thinking who cares if my kid know which sign is greater or less than. I mean, who really needs to know these symbols to prepare for life? Sure the concept is important, but why the symbols? Is it to prepare us, or them, for the symbolism of life?

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I'm not a fan of all those cookbooks that encourage parents to sneak veggies into their kids food. How would my girls ever learn to eat, and love, some of my most beloved ingredients if that were the case? I'm also convinced once they know what's in the finished dish, they'd be pretty annoyed and might even swear them off just as a way to show their hurt and betrayal.

I say this because about 12 years ago I did a lot of experimenting with ways to substitute eggs in baking. After a friend wolfed down his third brownie, I confessed they were made with tofu. He was as meat and potatoes an eater as they come. Forget the fact that he had already eaten two whole pieces, and likely licked the crumbs from his fingers. He spit out his third brownie. He then disappeared for a few minutes. Perhaps to purge his system of what he just found out I'd fed him.

I must admit, I wasn't honest and forthcoming. I knew he wasn't the tofu-type, so I decided to tell him after he'd fallen head over heals for the brownies, convinced he'd see his ill-ways. Well, if that's how the story ends when tricking a man nearing 40, I can only imagine the rebellion a child would conjure up.

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Before I utter a word about rhubarb, I must tell you about a new favorite recipe.

But you must promise not to laugh.

Because it’s for cinnamon toast.

If you’ve read Molly’s recent post, then you know which one I’m talking about. It is highly addictive and I’m secretly kicking myself for ever making it.

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Now, back to my slow cooker. Honestly, I never understood why people were so hooked on them. They’re not really one-pot meals because you have to sear the meat separately, so there’s extra dishes to wash‚ and I hate washing. Period. Laundry. Dishes. There’s no fun to be had. Then I made a beef stew last week. After searing the meat and sauteeing the carrots and onions, I added them with some stock and seasonings to my slow cooker. The work was all done, and the time I would’ve normally spent prepping dinner after picking the kids up from school, I decided to use to make hand-cut parpadelle to serve it over.

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Hard to believe Thanksgiving is next week. It seems the period between Labor Day and Halloween drags a bit, settling into school and accepting that summer really is over. Then, with a flip of the switch sort of feeling, it's November. Frankly, I love this month for two reasons. First, it's my birth month, and my mom always made the day special. We couldn't afford extravagant gifts, but what she gave was something you can't put a price tag on. She made me feel unbelievably special, like a princess for the day.

It would begin the night before, as she set my stick-straight hair with pink foam rollers before bedtime (picture the sleepover scene from Grease, except a nerdy-looking girl with coke bottle glasses). Then I'd wake and get to decide my birthday dinner. My sister usually complained at my choice, but it was my day, and perhaps I secretly chose something she didn't like to feel like I hand the upperhand—even if for just one day. My dad often made my birthday cakes, and one year created the most amazing looking Garfield and Odie cakes (I said I was a geek folks), complete with chocolate-covered cherry noses.

The second reason I love this month is because it's the start of a warm, celebratory season. Everyone seems to have a bit more pep to their step and sparkle in their eyes. It's a time of wonder, childhood fantasies and to give thanks. And so, if you're still planning your Thanksgiving menus, I'll be posting some recipes sure to make this year's meal is deliciously easy. First up are ricotta pumpkin fritters below. They're my twist on zeppoles, an addictive Italian fried dough.

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