Friends, this is just a quick reminder that Google Reader is shutting down tomorrow. If you currently follow blogs on Google Reader, you can check out other readers like feedly and bloglovin’, both of which allow you to import all your Google Reader subscriptions with just a click or two. That way you won’t miss out on any dessert!
P.S. Byrd says to tell you that if you snooze, you lose. And she eats your share of the cupcakes.
I sometimes choose the middle booth at McAlister’s Deli (where I eat dinner way too often), forgetting that it’s the awkward seesaw booth. My seat is attached to the seat of the booth behind me but not secured to much else. As a result, a particularly large or particularly enthusiastic person sitting down behind me launches me into the air.
Today, two particularly enthusiastic little people danced a veritable waltz on the seat behind me. Every few seconds I would go awkwardly airborne. I felt like a passenger on a school bus with suspension problems driving through a speed bump factory. This made for an interesting work environment (I’m a workaholic; when I eat, I always work. And browse Facebook. Whatever.)
I was understandably annoyed. I’m not big on confrontation, however, and I knew they were just little girls, so I seethed quietly. Sometimes the vibration would stop for a few minutes only to start again with a vengeance: pounce-giggle, pounce-giggle, POUNCEPOUNCEPOUNCE-giggle. I crushed my napkin.
A few minutes after the table received their food, however, I heard two little girl voices chanting their prayers in sing-song voices: “God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food….” My heart grew three sizes. I revised my past conclusions about these children (namely, that they were ill-behaved little trolls hell-bent on raising my blood pressure) and decided they were sweet and angelic.
And then: POUNCE-giggle, POUNCEPOUNCE-giggle. WHO RAISED THOSE LITTLE HELLIONS?!
The entire situation was a paradox and I found myself running hot and cold in rapid succession. Were these little girls sweet or annoying?
In this situation, it’s obvious to see the synthesis: they were both. They were sweet girls and they were being annoying. I didn’t have to make a choice whether to despise or love them. I could do a little of both.
I’ve noticed in other spheres of life — particularly ones that are high-stakes like politics, religion, and family issues — people are very reluctant to find the synthesis. Perhaps they feel that giving an inch towards some sort of compromise in position would undermine their personal views; on the contrary, I usually find the synthesis to be more realistic and commendable. It inspires credibility when one can divorce themselves from a dogmatic viewpoint and find common ground.
Perhaps in the gun control debate, we need to value personal freedoms and brainstorm ways to regulate guns more appropriately. Perhaps in the gay marriage debate, we need to be able to live by our personal belief systems and allow others to live by different ones. Maybe we need to keep class sizes down, pay teachers more, and find ways to save money in our school systems. Maybe your overbearing uncle needs to stop talking so much and you need to listen and engage more with his stories. Life is not one big football game. We don’t have to choose sides, paint our faces, and wear one of those morph suits; indeed, we might actually make progress by seeking common goals instead of screaming our polarized opinions louder and louder and LOUDER. This is something I would like Congress to revisit before any more financial stalemates occur. The more complex a problem is, the more important it is to get past partisan squabbles and get to the synthesis so creative problem solving can take place.
To qualify, the truth is not always in the synthesis. Sometimes a stand needs to be taken because one side is right and the other side is wrong. But since I’ve started looking for the synthesis of viewpoints, I personally find this happens very infrequently. Much more frequently, progress could be made on an issue if both sides would acknowledge that, uh, they’re both kinda right.
I’m one of those people who believe that things come across our paths for a reason. So if you’re reading this, maybe consider it a challenge. What’s an area of your life where you’ve been very firmly rooted to one side of an issue? Can you find a synthesis of viewpoints there?
* * *
I’m thankful for those little girls, really, because they provided a moment to share something I’ve learned. Now it’s time to share something I’ve made — and I think you’ll love it as much as I did. I took your typical oreo icebox cake and swapped out the oreos for shortbread cookies, swapped out the whipped cream for limoncello-spiked whipped cream, and piled a ton of fresh raspberries on top. It was spring in a bowl — with an amazing little zing, subtle lemon flavor, and lots of brightness!
I also have to tell you about my shortbread experience. I honestly scoffed when I saw the price of a box of these Walkers shortbread cookies ($4.50 at my local store). That is not a price I pay for cookies. However, I got these babies home and took a bite and I seriously might go buy out the shelf. They are wonderful: just as buttery as fresh shortbread cookies and a nicer texture in some ways. They’re perfect for this cake. I immediately emailed the Walkers folks and told them I’d be mentioning them — so go show them some love on Facebook and tell ’em Willow Bird sent you. And buy a box of cookies. Or four.
One year ago: Sweet Orange Florentines
Two years ago: Itsy Bitsy Berry Cream Pies
Three years ago: Pulled Pork Sandwiches, Creamy Coleslaw, and Summer Bean Salsa
Limoncello-Spiked Shortbread Icebox Cake with Fresh Raspberries
Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 10 servings
Icebox cake traditionally layers oreo cookies and whipped cream. Upon chilling, the dessert turns into a velvety, indulgent masterpiece — with no cooking and no fuss. This version is updated for spring, using buttery Walker’s shortbread cookies, whipped cream spiked with limoncello, and a pile of fresh berries.
Ingredients:
6 tablespoons limocello
4 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon lemon juice
4 cups cream
4 (150 g) packages Walkers Shortbread rounds
fresh berries of your choice
lemon zest for topping (optional)
Directions:
In a large, chilled bowl, combine limoncello, sugar, vanilla extract, lemon juice, and cream. Beat with chilled beaters to stiff peaks. Place a layer of shortbread rounds in a large trifle dish. Top with about an inch of cream. Continue layering, ending with cream. Cover and chill this overnight in fridge. Before serving, sprinkle lemon zest over the top and pile high with berries of your choice.
Before I say anything else, I just want to thank you all so much for your kind words about my engagement! You guys are the best.
This whole ‘getting married’ thing means there’s also a whole ‘moving to Raleigh’ thing I’ve got to attend to. I’ve already been hired at a wonderful school and I know I’ll be telling you all about that before too long, but right now, I have to process leaving Woodlawn.
Woodlawn is the school where I’ve worked for the past 5 years and one of the most important places in the world to me. There are so many things I could say about this small school — things about its innovative curriculum, its beautiful historic campus, its kind-hearted students, its brilliant teachers. But all of that feels too big. I have to piece this out and say it the way I know how to say it: I’ll tell you some stories.
My first year at Woodlawn in 2008 was a crash course in doing things differently. I’m a very confident, driven, and admittedly controlling person. I know how I want to do things, I do them that way, and usually I’m proud of how they turn out. I like to sum it up by saying that I’m effective. When I got to Woodlawn, though, it was a different cup of tea than I was used to. The teachers collaborated and integrated in a way I’d never imagined was possible. They were at least as effective if not more effective than I was. They were creating projects and units that were overwhelmingly creative and brilliant.
I made one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, and one that taught me a valuable life lesson: I swallowed all of my pride, sat back, and listened. I took my cues from their courage and innovation. I tossed some of my ideas that weren’t right for my new environment. I accepted some of their ideas despite my territorial urge to do things my own way. As a result, that year changed my teaching philosophy. I’ve never looked back. Indeed, I’d say one of the tenets of my philosophy these days is humility, because I realize that a fantastic teacher can always learn from other fantastic teachers.
Overhauling my teaching was only one of many adventures that first year. Another was the cranes. Each year the 7th graders hear the story of Sadako, a young girl who died from leukemia after the bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima in Japan during World War II. Sadako spent her last months trying to fold 1,000 origami cranes and wishing for peace. In her honor, my students each year try to reach that ambitious goal as well. I teach them how to fold and they dutifully bring in excess paper: newspaper, old wrapping paper, origami paper.
That first year, they were so excited about the task. They folded huge cranes: one student, Morgan, folded a crane at least a foot in length out of metallic wrapping paper. They folded tiny cranes: the boys seemed to be having a contest to see who could fold the most microscopic crane out of a corner of a post-it note. They folded during any free time at school. They folded at home and came in with bags full of angular little birds. They folded with parents and siblings and friends. Surprisingly, we didn’t make it to 1,000 that year (my third year at Woodlawn, a group shot all the way to 1,300), but we made it close.
What we did accomplish, though, was threading every single crane onto strands of like colors. We hung the garlands all across the room: first the reds, then oranges, yellows, greens, blues, indigoes, violets. One corner held all the others: whites, blacks, browns. When you walked in the door, there was a gorgeous rainbow of flight. We were all a little surprised by how lovely it was.
We enjoyed it immensely until the fire marshall made us take it down. Our cranes sat in the corner for awhile before a student took them home to hang in her room (don’t tell the fire marshall.)
That first year was also the year I told the kids to get on their “ready to learn” caps (my version of the “thinking cap,” I guess? I didn’t think too much about it). I added that they might also need their “be quiet in class” caps. My 6th grader, Abigail, came in the next day with these:
I also remember my first Woodlawn students making liberal use of the cushions I’d bought for their writing workshops. I called them my “floor-sitters” because they’d never sit at a table when they could snag a space on the carpet with a cushion or two.
My first taste of Woodlawn Day was also in 2008. We teachers donned costumes and led the students through tours of the old Stinson plantation house, 19th century games, square dancing, gardening, and of course, 19th century popsicles (don’t think too hard about that one).
Like our beautiful crane rainbow, all good things must come to an end. That first year did, and I remember the odd, unexpected sadness I felt that June as I realized my time with my students was over. Now, as my time at Woodlawn draws to a close, the sadness isn’t unexpected at all. But it is laced with a lot of sweetness, and a lot of wonderful memories. I hope I gave even half as much to my students and my school as they gave to me.
* * *
There’ll be more Woodlawn stories to come this summer as I prepare for my move. There’s so much more to tell. In the meantime, here’s some cake! Mike picked out the flavors for this weekend’s dessert and, no surprise, they involved lots of chocolate and coconut. This cake is basically a Texas Sheet Cake scaled down to fit in a skillet. It’s wonderful all by itself, but topping it with a huge mountain of coconut pastry cream and fluffy whipped cream takes it right over the edge. As always, I recommend diving into this dessert straight out of the skillet!
One year ago: Crispy Baked Sweet Potato Fries with Basil Salt and Lemon Garlic Dipping Sauce
Two years ago: Blueberry Cream Cheese Almond Braid
Three years ago: Santa Fe Breakfast Bake
Gooey Chocolate Coconut Cream Skillet Cake
Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, based on the ubiquitous and absolutely delicious Texas Sheet Cake, with coconut cream from Zoë Bakes
Yield: 4-6 servings
This cake is like you took heaven, put it in a skillet, and added coconut cream. It’s also tremendously fun to eat straight out of the cast iron. What a great treat to pull out for your family after dinner.
Cake Ingredients:
1 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 cup sugar
dash salt
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
1/4 cup vegetable oil
2 tablespoons cocoa powder
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup buttermilk
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
Frosting Ingredients:
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
2 tablespoons cocoa
3-4 tablespoons milk (as needed for consistency)
1/2 cup pecans, chopped
2 cups powdered sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
Coconut Cream Filling Ingredients:
1/2 of a 14-ounce can unsweetened coconut milk
3/8 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch kosher salt
2 large egg yolks
1 tablespoon corn starch
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup sweetened coconut flakes
1/4 cup whipping cream
extra whipping cream
toasted coconut (optional)
Directions:
Make coconut cream: Heat the coconut milk, sugar, salt and vanilla in a medium saucepan over medium heat. In a bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and corn starch. Add 1/4 cup of the hot cream slowly to the yolks, whisking as you add. Then pour the yolk mixture into the pot of hot cream and whisk. Continue to whisk with heat on medium-high for 3 more minutes. The mixture will turn thick and bubble. You need to continue to whisk for the full 3 minutes or the pastry cream will separate once it is cool. After the 3 minutes, whisk in the butter. Add the coconut flakes. Pour into a shallow dish to cool.
Cover with plastic wrap pressed right against the pastry cream. This will prevent a thick skin from forming on the surface. Refrigerate for at least an hour or freeze for 30 minutes. Once it is cold, stir the pastry cream to loosen. Whip the 1/4 cup cream to medium peaks. Stir in a third of the whipped cream to the pastry cream to lighten. Fold in the remaining cream until the pastry cream is nice and light. Chill until ready to use.
Make the cake: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. In a large bowl, whisk flour, baking soda, sugar, and salt together and set aside.
In a 10-inch cast iron skillet, bring the butter, vegetable oil, cocoa powder, and water to a boil. Remove it from the heat and whisk in the dry ingredients well. Mix in the buttermilk, egg, and vanilla. Bake the skillet cake at 350 degrees F for about 15-20 minutes or until a toothpick comes out with just a few moist crumbs.
Make the frosting: While the cake starts to cool, bring the butter, cocoa, and milk to a boil in a medium saucepan. Remove them from heat and add the icing sugar, nuts, and vanilla. Stir to combine. Pour over the warm cake, spread with a spatula. Let the cake cool completely. While it cools, whip excess cream to stiff peaks. Toast some coconut on a sheet pan at 350 degrees F, tossing often, for about 5 minutes. Once the cake is cool, scoop out a hollow in the middle of the cake (chef gets to eat the excess cake, of course!) and pour in the coconut pastry cream. Top with whipped cream and toasted coconut. Serve immediately (as you know, I like to eat it straight from the skillet!)
P.S. You know I had to create an animated gif:
When I was 14 years old, I did something I had never done before. I outright lied to my parents. (Don’t tell my students; I’ve convinced them that I was above reproach as a middle schooler.)
I would say that I don’t know what possessed me, but I do: there was this bold, irreverent high school boy (with long hair, swoon!) who wanted to meet me.
Mike and I had been talking online for weeks. I’d accidentally contacted him while trying to instant message his sister, who was my classmate and friend, and after awhile I was smitten. We’d tried to arrange a meeting, but my parents had understandably forbidden it because of his age. One weekend, though, Mike had a movie date with another girl and I had a parent-sanctioned very public “date” with another boy my age. We were both really only interested in meeting each other, though, and saw this as an opportunity: I fudged the time of my date and asked my parents to drop me off at the mall hours before I was actually supposed to be there. I wore my cutest black pants and white button-down shirt and told Mike to meet me by the fountain.
To be clear, I was the goody-two-shoesiest kid you could imagine. Lying to my parents was not a thing I did, much less lying to my parents to meet a boy. I don’t know how I kept it together. My face burned the whole time I stood by the fountain. When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I thought I might die. Through waves of intense teenage angst, agonizing pangs of conscience, and tremendous excitement, I turned around to finally meet Mike.
He was just so cool, y’all. He was wearing a South Carolina Gamecocks baseball cap that just said COCKS in gigantic letters, a choice I found hilarious and characteristically bold. His long hair (!) was pulled back in a ponytail. He wrapped me in a hug first thing. I died. The end.
Well, that’s what it felt like, anyway. In reality, I awkwardly broke the hug and we started walking around the mall. I’m sure I was laughing nervously every 5 seconds. I’d never been on a real date-date before — like, with someone I really liked! An older boy! With long hair! Ahhh! — and I had no clue what to actually do. Questions raced through my mind: Should we walk through stores? Is that boring? Should we eat? But who pays? Does he expect me to kiss him? Will he try and kiss me? Is that a thing people do? Hyperventilate, rinse, repeat.
I walked in a happy/anxious daze through the wide mall corridors, talking about who knows what. Mike was so much more comfortable than I was. He held my hand without a second thought. He decided he wanted Chinese food, but I felt too shy to let him buy me anything other than a Coke. He took about 4 straws and drank his water through all of them at once without saying a word about it. Who does that?! He was so cool. Ahhh.
Finally, way too soon, it was almost time for my legitimate “date” to arrive. Mike saw that I was disappointed and asked me if I wanted to continue hanging out, but I knew it’d be wrong to ditch the other guy. We reluctantly said our goodbyes. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but I told him I was way too nervous! It was a good thing: right at that point, my “real date” walked up. I introduced Mike as a friend and then he left. I thought about him the rest of the day, the rest of the week, the rest of the month, the rest of my life since then.
And in case you’re wondering: Miss Goody-Two-Shoes spilled everything to her parents that very evening, and assured them Mike was a perfect gentleman. They were Not. Amused.
This past Saturday, 15 years after that first meeting, Mike and I were walking hand-in-hand again, this time around one of our favorite little shopping centers in Raleigh. A live band was playing covers of Otis Redding and Tracy Chapman and the sun had just started to set, so the weather was cooling off. We walked out of a store and stood by a fountain in the twilight, giving each other a little hug. “Julie,” he started. Before I knew what was happening, he was down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”
At first, the words didn’t register. I thought he was asking . . . I don’t know. Casually? Generally? Like, “Hey, you want to get married someday?” My brain wasn’t working. But it quickly got into gear: he’s down on his knee! in his nice linen pants, even! that means this is, like, the REAL THING.
I think I said something like, “Yes. Wait, really? What? OH. This is happening! YES.” Cue so many tears and so much laughter. He held up the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen — a vintage art deco band from the 1930s, it turns out, though at the time, all I could think was, he even has a ring; oh man, this is totally the real thing!
I’ve always wondered: after the big proposal and related kerfuffle, what does the newly engaged couple do? How do you follow that? Do you talk? Do you pile in your car and go home? Do you go celebrate?
For us, the answer was a lot more nervous laughter and a lot of crying. We probably sat by that fountain for at least 45 minutes afterward, calling my parents, thanking congratulatory passers-by, holding hands, and thinking about our 15 years together. At one point I demonstrated my Zumba moves to Justin Timberlake’s “Mirror.” To be honest, nothing was making sense at that point. We were just so happy, so in love, so excited.
I told Mike as we were walking to the car, “Well, this is the best day of my life so far.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
But if I had to pick a second place, I might pick that first day we met, by that first fountain — the first time I saw the man who I would someday marry.
One year ago: Crispy Baked Sweet Potato Fries with Basil Salt and Lemon Garlic Dipping Sauce
Two years ago: Blueberry Cream Cheese Almond Braid
Three years ago: Blueberry Walnut Bread
Strawberry Coconut Cream Pie
Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, with basic pie recipe modeled on my Aunt Pat’s pie and coconut cream from Zoë Bakes
Yield: one 9-inch pie
This pie is one of the best pies I’ve ever eaten, and Mike’s already asked for a repeat appearance! It doesn’t hold it’s shape well — it’s more of a pudding pie — and so I serve it in a bowl. It’s more than delicious enough to make up for that, though.
Pie Crust Ingredients:
1 blind baked (until golden) and cooled pie crust
Coconut Cream Filling Ingredients:
1 can (14 fluid ounces) unsweetened coconut milk
3/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
pinch kosher salt
3 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons corn starch
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup sweetened coconut flakes
1/2 cup whipping cream
Topping Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups fresh strawberries
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons cornstarch
red food coloring (optional; I skipped this)
mint leaves or whole strawberries for garnish (optional)
Directions:
To make filling: Heat the coconut milk, sugar, salt and vanilla in a medium saucepan over medium heat. In a bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and corn starch. Add 1/2 cup of the hot cream slowly to the yolks, whisking as you add. Then pour the yolk mixture into the pot of hot cream and whisk. Continue to whisk with heat on medium-high for 3 more minutes. The mixture will turn thick and bubble. You need to continue to whisk for the full 3 minutes or the pastry cream will separate once it is cool. After the 3 minutes, whisk in the butter. Add the coconut flakes. Pour into a shallow dish to cool.
Cover with plastic wrap pressed right against the pastry cream. This will prevent a thick skin from forming on the surface. Refrigerate for at least an hour or freeze for 30 minutes. Once it is cold, stir the pastry cream to loosen. Whip the 1/2 cup cream to medium peaks. Stir in 1/3 to the pastry cream to lighten. Fold in the remaining cream until the pastry cream is nice and light. Fill baked, cooled pie crust with your coconut filling.
Slice 1 cup of strawberries in thin slices lengthwise and layer the slices in pretty concentric circles around the top of the coconut cream. Set this in the fridge to chill while you make your glaze.
Make the glaze: Crush remaining 1/2 cup of strawberries and boil with water in a saucepan over medium-high heat for two minutes. Strain through a fine mesh sieve and discard the pulp. Add the juice back to the saucepan over medium-high heat and gradually whisk in sugar and cornstarch. Cook until thickened. Mine had lumps of cornstarch despite my best efforts, but no worries; I just strained it again once thickened. If you want, you can tint this glaze with food coloring to desired hue, but mine was plenty bright enough!
Cool the glaze slightly (I transferred mine to a heat-proof measuring cup with a pour spout to cool for a bit) and then pour over top of strawberry slices on your pie. Garnish with big mint leaves, if you’d like, or whole strawberries. Chill entire pie for at least a few hours for best results; cut with a knife held under hot water and then dried. It’ll still be a bit puddingy, so I served mine in a shallow bowl! Use a pie gate (or a makeshift pie gate made from aluminum foil) to keep remaining pie from oozing in the pie plate after slicing.
