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Crispy Baked Sweet Potato Fries with Basil Salt and Lemon Garlic Dipping Sauce

I really intended to have relaxed by now. Summer vacation officially began for me last Saturday, and I had all sorts of fun plans: relaxing at the pool, workin’ on my fitness, watching funny YouTube videos.

And then it happened: work creep.

I’ve talked a bit about lifestyle creep before — the phenomenon where, as you earn more money and invest in “luxuries” they begin to feel like “necessities.” Work creep is similar (I say this like I didn’t just make the term up; whatever), but without the fun new acquisitions. Work creep is where, as you gain a little time here and there, you find a way to fill it with work. Am I the only one who experiences this?

I think part of the problem is that I always have a backlog of work: things I should have been doing all school year but have been ignoring due to lack of time. I don’t want to think about the emails I’ve forgotten to respond to, the dog I’ve forgotten to walk (just kidding, just kidding, she reminds me!), the cleaning I’ve forgotten to do. Ugh.

I literally — are you guys going to judge me for this? I’m going to tell you anyway — I literally have not done an official overall cleaning of any room in my house in . . . months. Like, every now and then I cleaned the toilet, threw some dishes in the dishwasher, or cleaned off the stove, but other than that (and laundry when absolutely essential — but no folding!), we’ve been on autopilot over here. And again, it’s not because I’m lazy, but because my schedule was jam-packed full of educating young minds, baking young cobblers (okay, this parallelism makes no sense), and sometimes eating and sleeping.

So now that I’m confronted with a beautiful, wide-open couple of months, it’s understandable that I’ve immediately scheduled the entire thing with all of my backlogged work. I’ve worked all day every day this past week on blog work. And there are baking projects, cooking camps, cleaning (good grief, so much cleaning), and packing for my impending apartment and classroom moves still to be done. I need a vacation from my vacation — but I know I’d just work through it as well. Good thing I love every ounce of work I do, right?

If you’re fueling your work creep, sweet potato fries are a good snacking choice. This recipe by Giada DiLaurentis is my favorite because of the delicious basil salt and easy lemon garlic mayonnaise for dipping. Fun fact: I use the dipping sauce for dipping roasted asparagus spears in, too! So good.

I’ve included a few tips for making your fries extra crispy if you like them that way. Enjoy these at a summer picnic or, okay, while cleaning. Sigh.

Do you experience work creep? Are you a workaholic (by choice or necessity), or can you turn it off?

One year ago: Blueberry Cream Cheese Almond Braid
Two years ago: Santa Fe Breakfast Bake

Crisp Baked Sweet Potato Fries with Basil Salt and Lemon Garlic Dipping Sauce


Recipe by: Slightly adapted from Giada DiLaurentis
Yield: 2 servings

These sweet potato fries are delicious — especially with their tangy lemon garlic mayonnaise for dipping! To ensure you get crispy fries, cut them very thin and spread them out on the baking sheet — they shouldn’t be touching or crowding each other at all. This might mean using several baking sheets. Also, depending on the thickness of your fries, you might need to adjust the cooking time up or down to obtain crispy (but not burnt to a crisp!) fries. Just check early and often — and remember they’ll crisp up a bit as they cool as well.

Ingredients:
2 sweet potatoes, cut into thin “fries”
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil leaves (or more to taste)
1 teaspoon kosher salt (or more to taste)
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3/4 cup mayonnaise
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Directions:
Line two baking sheets (or more as needed) with foil and set aside. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. In a large bowl, toss the sweet potato fries in the olive oil and then spread them out on the baking sheets. Make sure they don’t touch and aren’t crowded. Bake until they’re golden and crisp, about 45 minutes (but check early and often in case your fries are thinner or smaller and cook faster.)

While the fries are baking, mix together the salt, pepper, and basil to make basil salt. Combine the mayonnaise, garlic, and lemon juice in another small bowl to make the Lemon Garlic Dipping Sauce. When the fries come out of the oven, sprinkle on the basil salt and toss them around with a spatula. Spread them out again to let them cool slightly (if you keep them in a heap, they’ll steam themselves and get soggy). Serve them with the Lemon Garlic Dipping Sauce.

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Croque Madame French Toast Cups

My 7th grade students and I spent most of class today making fun of their writing.

Wait, that sounds bad, doesn’t it? Am I currently losing teacher points? I definitely would’ve lost a few if you’d walked in and seen me reading a student’s paper aloud, barely restraining laughter (while the class didn’t even bother trying.)

Reserve judgment, though! I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds.

See, the students were actually nominating themselves for this roasting. The papers we were snickering at were their earliest assignments from last year, and they were so amusing because the kids are so much better at writing now. Because they grow by leaps and bounds over the two years I teach them, I always plan a day at the end of 7th grade for them to complete a writing reflection. Today was that day.

I originally planned the reflection to be an individual, silent activity. Every year, however, it inevitably evolves into a class-wide discussion, mostly because they love to share the absurd things they find in their early work. About 5 minutes into the assignment, a student will raise his or her hand to announce, “My handwriting was terrible back then!” Another hand will shoot into the air: “I used periods in a list where I should have used commas!” Another hand: “This sentence didn’t even make sense!”

My favorite moment today was when E. and A. shared their “thesaurusy” papers. After I exhorted them at the beginning of the year to work on their word choice, both girls resorted to the thesaurus. It was an excellent impulse, but their execution was . . . ah, imperfect. They doubled over in laughter today as they shared sentences from that early paper: “I reckon human cloning is spurious,” and “I conjecture that human cloning is shoddy.”

I’m happy to report that both girls use more appropriate diction these days.

All of the good-natured ribbing and laughter today did make their writing analysis take longer, and I could have shushed them and redirected their focus. The truth is, though, I relish their incredulity. I’ve saved all of their writing for two years just to savor this moment with them. They giggle at themselves and at others, search for concrete ways their writing has improved, and realize that the 360 language arts classes they just completed actually taught them something.

Secretly, their reflection becomes my reflection: what did my course accomplish? How have these kids grown?

For my students, I provide reflection opportunities like this, complete with detailed prompts to guide their thoughts. For me, though, reflecting is like breathing. I’m naturally introspective (sometimes to a fault!) so that I can hardly plan the future without evaluating (and re-evaluating, and re-evaluating again) the past.

Recently, pondering the past led me to revisit these adorable stuffed French toast cups. They’re one of my favorite breakfast/brunch recipes and I’ve known for awhile that I wanted to create some variations on the French toast cup theme.

In these little Croque Madame Cups, sweet French toast cradles salty ham, mellow Gruyère cheese, and a gorgeous yolky baked egg. The cups self-sauce as the yolk breaks over the contents, and with a quick dip in some maple syrup, each bite is perfection. They’re a little more fiddly than just making French toast or just making a sandwich, but they’re cute enough for a fancy brunch and so worth the effort.

They were a delicious, luxurious way to reinvent my French toast cups, but I’m betting I’m not finished yet! Those cups are destined for even more fun fillings.

Since we’re being reflective today, reflect on your year so far: how have you grown in 2012?

One year ago: Blueberry Cream Cheese Almond Braid
Two years ago: Lemon Triumph Cake

Croque Madame French Toast Cups


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 8 cups

These little Croque Madame French Toast Cups take two messy dishes — a traditional croque madame and French toast — and combine them in finger food format. Apart from being more convenient to serve and eat at a brunch or breakfast, they’re outright adorable. I love the gorgeous flavor of Gruyère in each cup, but if you’re on a budget you can use good Swiss. Make sure to buy good quality ham, though, because it really makes the dish.

Ingredients:
1/2 cup heavy cream, plus 8 teaspoons, divided
1/2 cup milk
3 large eggs plus 4-8 eggs, divided (see note below)
2 tablespoons honey, microwaved for 20 seconds (but not while still IN THE BEAR, y’all!)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
8 slices day-old or stale sandwich bread
4 tablespoons butter
a couple of slices good ham
a couple of slices Gruyère cheese (or Swiss) and some grated for topping
salt and pepper

Directions:
Note: Cracking the egg over each French toast cup before baking is the hardest part of this recipe, because a whole egg has too much liquid and overflows the cup. I’ll tell you what I did to get the right amount of egg in each cup, and then I’ll make a suggestion for how you might be able to do it even easier. What I did is crack the egg and pry it open just enough to let half the white and half the yolk slip into one French toast cup (using the shell to reserve the other half of the egg). I then released the other half of the egg over another cup. I think it’d be even easier, though, to just crack 8 eggs into a wide bowl and use a spoon to scoop a yolk and a little white out into each French toast cup. You’d end up using more eggs, but this way each cup will have a whole yolk, which is lovely!

In a medium bowl, whisk together the milk, cream, eggs, honey, cinnamon, and salt (this step can be done the night before and refrigerated). When you’re ready to cook your French toast, pour this mixture into a cake pan or pie dish.

Prepare your bread by removing the crusts (I stack the slices and use a long serrated knife to remove all the crusts at once) and roll each slice with a rolling pin to slightly flatten and elongate it. Dip each slice of bread into your custard mixture for about 8-10 seconds on each side before carefully removing it with a spatula to a cooling rack over a sheet pan or over the sink. Allow the excess moisture to drain off of the slices for 1-2 minutes.

To cook French toast, melt 1 tablespoon of butter over medium heat in a skillet. Put 2 slides of bread at a time into the pan and toast gently to golden brown (about 2-3 minutes per side). Remove the French toast to a cooling rack to cool completely. Repeat with all the slices of bread, replenishing butter in the pan as needed. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. When the French toast is cool enough to handle, take each piece and gently tuck it into the well of a greased muffin tin, forming a bowl. Tuck some ham and Gruyère cheese in each cup. Place an egg over top (see above note). Lightly salt and pepper each cup and then top each egg with 1 teaspoon heavy cream.

Bake the cups at 400 degrees F for 10-12 minutes, watching carefully. Pull them out when the white is set but the yolk is not fully cooked through (has a little jiggle.) Top each cup with a little shredded Gruyère when they’re hot from the oven. Set them out to cool and continue cooking from their residual heat (at least 10 minutes). Use a knife to loosen the edges from the pan (and you might even need to use it as a lever to loosen the bottom of the cup, since some of the egg will have leaked out and sealed the cup to its well.) Remove the cups to a serving plate (if they seem to be wobbly, leave them in the pan a little longer). Serve them warm on a bed of maple syrup.

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Krispy Kreme Doughnut Croque Madame

(Will it totally squander any shred of credibility gained from my New York Times mention and our fantastic discussion to post a doughnut sandwich right now? Yes? Oh.)

My 6th grade students and I take a field trip to High Point every year to watch a play produced by the North Carolina Shakespeare Festival. Shakespeare is the main event, but there’s another attraction in High Point that inevitably catches the students’ attention: the 60-year-old historic Krispy Kreme Doughnut shop on Main Street. It’s exciting to see the “Hot Doughnuts Now” sign pop into view each year, but the first year we went, the doughnuts became a major source of dissent.

See, I divide students into small car groups before a field trip so that parent volunteers can drive us. That particular year we had 4 different vehicles carting us to High Point and back. After the play, each vehicle arrived back at school and unloaded a group of tired, contented 6th graders — until the last car arrived.

When the door opened on that car, I watched all heck break loose. Each kid stepped out, much to the shock and dismay of their classmates, sporting a paper Krispy Kreme hat. That’s right: while every other kid had been driven straight back to school, this car had stopped for doughnuts.

My teacher sense kicked into gear. I recognized this moment! I knew it would come someday. This was the fateful moment when I had to whip out the line. You know the one (because you’ve either used it on your own kids or had it used on you). I looked around at all their outraged faces and said, feeling much older than I really was, “Guys, life’s not fair.”

They got over it. But since then, we’ve always made it a point to put “stop for a quick doughnut” on the field trip agenda. It’s lovely to see them all get out of their cars with paper Krispy Kreme hats and fun memories at the end of the day.

Personally, I have trouble “stopping for a quick doughnut.” It’s easier for me to stop for, say, a dozen doughnuts. In case you don’t already know this about me: I am wild for Krispy Kremes. Cake doughnuts are fine (only KK’s cake doughnuts, though; I’m not a fan of that other cake doughnut chain), but those yeasty rings of love are my kryptonite.

Last year I created the “Just Trust Me” Fried Bologna Doughnutwich (no really, trust me! It’s so good!) and recently I got a hankering for another version.

This sandwich is a take on a croque madame, which is a grilled ham and cheese sandwich topped with a fried egg and sometimes served on French toast. In this version, however, two original glazed Krispy Kreme doughnuts kick that French toast to the curb.

Listen, I know you’re skeptical (everyone gets skeptical when they see a doughnutwich, and perhaps that is the most appropriate initial reaction), but the melty Gruyère, salty ham, and creamy “sauce” from the egg yolk are absolutely insane with the sweet glazed doughnut. Maybe I should call this the “Just Trust Me (Again)” Krispy Kreme Doughnut Croque Madame? It’s probably a once-a-year sort of treat, but I hope you’ll give it a try.

What’s the “life’s not fair!” moment you remember from your childhood? (here’s another one of mine.)

One year ago: World’s Best Grilled Cheese (sharp cheddar cheese & caramelized onions on beer bread)
Two years ago: Caramel Fudge Brownie Cheesecake

Krispy Kreme Doughnut Croque Madame


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 2 sandwiches

Proving once and for all that I’m not a food snob, I offer you a sandwich on . . . a doughnut. The first Krispy Kreme breakfast sandwich I made was so amazing that I was ready for more. This time around I combined salty ham, melty Gruyère, and an over-easy fried egg on an original glazed Krispy Kreme doughnut to create a croque madame. The flavors are amazing together — trust me!

Ingredients:
4 Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnuts (or you can cut 2 in half if you’re delicate)
2 thick slices of good smoked ham
2 slices Gruyère cheese
Hellmann’s mayonnaise
2 eggs
salt and pepper
2-3 tablespoons butter

Directions:
Lay 2 doughnuts out on a plate. Melt a tablespoon of butter in a skillet over medium-high heat and sear the slices of ham on both sides briefly. Remove them to a paper towel to drain for a bit before placing each slice onto a doughnut. Top with a thin slice or two of Gruyère and microwave for a a few seconds to get the cheese melty. Smear with some mayonnaise.

Melt the last tablespoon of butter in your skillet. Break one egg at a time into the pan, salt and pepper it, and fry it to your desired doneness (I’d like to make a pitch for over-easy or -medium, since the gooey yolk is delicious in this sandwich!) Place the fried egg briefly on the paper-towel lined plate to drain off the excess butter, and then place one on top of each stack of ham and Gruyère. Top both sandwiches with another doughnut as the “top bun.” Serve immediately.

P.S. In case you’re wondering, this is not a sponsored post. I just really love Krispy Kremes.

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Eggs à l’Oignon and a Defense of Food Bloggers

I want you to know just if you can / where I stand. / Tell myself that a new day is rising, / get on the rise. / A new day is dawning; / here I am.

Bob Marley’s voice is currently trickling out of the speakers of the deli I visit once a week or so. The reggae beat floats down to meet black and white tile, rain-stained windows, a soda fountain.

Tonight’s dinner was half a tuna salad sandwich and a cup of hot soup. I finished it a few minutes ago and I’m now paying only occasional attention to my Coke Zero while I compose this post.

Marley’s words come at an apt time, because I want to tell you about where I stand. The International Association of Culinary Professionals’ website just published an incendiary (but nothing new, actually, and nothing unexpected) opinion article by Amy Reiley that charged food bloggers with “faking it”: faking the recipe development, food journalism, and cooking expertise that the culinary industry is supposedly painstakingly cultivating.

Essentially, upon realizing that food bloggers are not testing their recipes dozens of times but are still being employed by companies to create recipes (like this one I created for McCormick — and tested, by the way — that is flippin’ awesome and you should make immediately), Reiley decided that food blogging represents a “dumbing down” of food culture. The IACP has since published a piece noting that these are solely Reiley’s opinions and don’t reflect the view of the association as a whole, saying, “OBVIOUSLY, at the end day, it isn’t really the medium that matters, but the work itself” (okay, I added the OBVIOUSLY part. But really!)

I say this is nothing new because the article is doing the same thing the Marie Claire article about health food bloggers was doing a year ago. The same thing Mario Batali was doing when he discussed food bloggers on Eater. That is, trying to discredit a medium that seems like an imminent threat to their fancy-official-cooking-people-ness. They have everything to gain from doing so, but it’s not going to work (unless bloggers shoot themselves in the foot; more on this later) because real people love hearing from other real people about food.

Here’s why Amy Reiley is wrong about food writing and the role blogging plays in it:

1. Real people have always shared food ideas with other real people — blogs just make it more convenient.

People visit major cooking websites, read cooking magazines, visit restaurants, and watch cooking shows to have enjoyable food experiences. But they also talk to other people to share ideas — and they always have. When I started cooking, I called my mom for ideas and received recipes from grandparents, friends, and coworkers. But blogging means that instead of limiting my personal culinary network to our friends and family, I can now search an extended network of personal ideas and experiences. I have hundreds of blogs on my regular reading rotation and I can’t imagine how limited my exposure to food and ideas would be without them.

2. People don’t go to blogs for rigorously tested recipes. They go to blogs for carefully created recipes that, from the blogger’s perspective, are worth trying.

When I log onto Suzie’s blog and she shares her creation, I know that her standard for how much testing needs to be done before publishing a recipe might be different than America’s Test Kitchen, but if I love Suzie’s personality, have similar food preferences, and think she’s creating neat recipes, I might want to try her ideas anyway. If I try something that doesn’t work for me, I can choose to try again or to stop visiting Suzie’s site. Or even better, I can let Suzie know what happened and we can troubleshoot it together, thus improving both of our culinary experiences — because Suzie is a real person just like me.

This is no different than if my Aunt Matilda made up a killer recipe and shared it with me at our last board game night. I’m not going to tell Aunt Matilda to stop sharing her awesome creations with me unless she’s tested the recipe 5 times, and I’m not going to tell Suzie that either. I get recipes from America’s Test Kitchen sometimes, and I get recipes from Aunt Matilda sometimes (well not really, because I made Aunt Matilda up, but you get the idea) — and they both play an important role in my culinary life.

3. Blogs provide something that food journalism, cooking shows, restaurants, and commercial test kitchens do not.

People know that when they visit blogs, they’re getting personal cooking wisdom that’s not produced by a company. If people only wanted recipes, blogs wouldn’t be so popular. Folks would just grab a cookbook or log onto Food Network’s website and be done with it. But sometimes people want more than that: they want a relationship with a person. They want to get to know you through your writing, hear your personal experiences with the dish, or take part in the community you create on your blog. They want to enjoy social networking with bloggers they love (Joy the Baker’s tweets regularly make my day.) They want to discuss what to do with Maple Balsamic Vinegar on your Facebook page. They want you to show off the awesome cake they made (the first they’d ever made from scratch!)

They might also want personal attention. I troubleshooted a pie with a lovely reader for her Memorial Day celebration today, and I can honestly say that I don’t think Mario Batali’s gonna bother emailing you back about that lasagna you have in the oven.

4. You don’t get to dictate what someone else wants from their food experiences.

In a recent article cataloging a few chefs’ opinions on food photography in restaurants, most chefs seemed to realize that guests get to choose, as long as they aren’t infringing on the rights of others, what they want from their evening. If this means taking a bad instagram photo of the dishes they ate and posting them in an album called, “GoOd EaTz!!” on Facebook, so be it. R.J. Cooper was the only chef who seemed to think he knew his guests’ goals for the evening, and as a result, he came off sounding pretty pompous: “You’re there for the dining experience with your companion, not to take photos of food.”

The truth is, R.J. Cooper doesn’t get to decide what you’re there for. Maybe you’re in his restaurant because you can’t wait to try a certain dish on his menu. Maybe you’re there to catch a glance of the jerkazoid who justified his hatred of restaurant photography by saying that it makes your dinner take too long and hurts his bottom line (he really said that!) Maybe you’re there because the sparkly disco decor reminds you of those awesome go-go boots you used to own (full disclosure: I have no idea how Rogue 24 is decorated — and don’t ever intend to visit — but disco is doubtful.)

Just like Cooper doesn’t have a stranglehold on diners’ opinions, “culinary professionals” don’t have a stranglehold on eaters’ opinions. They don’t get to decide that people only want recipes that have been tested dozens of times (or even that companies do — companies have realized, finally, that people enjoy hearing from bloggers). Each person can decide for themselves what information they’re interested in consuming.

5. Democratization always lets in “riff raff,” but the influx of amazing ideas is so worth it.

There are people with fantastic ideas that haven’t had the money, time, or life circumstances to become a “culinary professional.” We love the shows where hometown cooks try out to be the Next Food Star Master Cook and always root for the underdog. Until that underdog gets a blog and starts claiming they actually know what they’re talking about, that is.

The truth is, lots of people have great ideas and everyone deserves to share theirs. This does mean some silly ideas — maybe even a lot of silly ideas! — will find their way into a public forum. But first of all, there already were a lot of silly ideas, mostly thanks to companies that cared more about profit than about health, food, or people. Second, people are allowed to choose which ideas they want to pay attention to. If they do choose to pay attention to the pumpkin dump cake that uses a cake mix and a can of pumpkin instead of your religiously tested croquembouche, that’s their right. (Not to mention that I’ve tried plenty of those religiously tested recipes that ended up sucking. Just sayin’.)

6. We’re still gonna visit those “culinary professionals'” restaurants, read their books, subscribe to their magazines, value their carefully tested recipes, etc.

Blogs won’t stop people from paying “culinary professionals.” We think they’re kind of cute when they’re all angry and fussing about people stealing jobs. But more importantly, we’ll still care about their work because we love food, and just like blogs play a valuable piece in the food puzzle, they do too! We love those crazy “professionals” and all of their compulsive testing (here’s looking at you, ATK), fancy affirmations and accolades, and expensive equipment.

I’m being slightly tongue-in-cheek, here, though, because the truth is, plenty of bloggers are as professional as any “professional.” Plenty do test recipes repeatedly, plenty have written books, plenty have been to culinary school or worked in the culinary industry in other capacities. And those of us who haven’t are still pretty crafty.

Now for the caveat. There is a way that food bloggers can inadvertently justify Reiley’s concerns: by forgetting our place and our role, and pretending to be something we’re not. More and more bloggers are concerned with their “brand” and merging the world of blogging and business. To an extent, there’s nothing wrong with that; this is a business, even for me, and I’m concerned about maintaining the right image for Willow Bird Baking. I’m flippin’ overjoyed that I can get paid to create recipes, share stories, and host a little meeting place here for all of us. But I have to remember that my “business” is to be a real person communicating with other real people.

This means I won’t sacrifice my honest relationship with my readers for the sake of partnering with a business. It means I won’t represent myself as a “culinary professional” in any sense that’s misleading to readers. They’ll know that they’re getting simple recipes from a creative home cook in Charlotte, NC, and not from Cook’s Illustrated. I won’t mention products or companies that don’t fit in this space for the sake of getting paid. And I also won’t turn down products and companies that should show up in this space due to lack of payment. I’ll share with readers what I’d appreciate being shared with me as someone who loves food, loves people and their passionate endeavors, and loves honest discourse.

Basically, bloggers need to be real people, not businesses parading as real people (and not real people parading as businesses.) As long as we’re all honest about our experience and our culinary viewpoint, I think we should let the public decide on their own who’s “faking it” and who’s not. Deal? Deal.

In keeping with the spirit of this post, here’s a homey little recipe I made up for Mike and have made a few times since then. It’s a pantry meal packed with a mellow, gorgeous onion flavor and a creamy secret ingredient — mayonnaise! Don’t shy away if you’re not a mayo fan; it lends the slightest tanginess and a gorgeous texture to the dish that I think you’ll love.

I’ve “tested” this recipe in my own kitchen a few times, and I hope it works for you, too! If not, let me know, and we’ll fix it together while Mario Batali is out being too fancy to respond to your emails. Okay?

One year ago: (Freshly Picked!) Strawberry Cream Pie
Two years ago: Caramel Cream Croquembouche

Eggs à l’Oignon


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 2 servings

These eggs begin with aromatic minced shallots and garlic sautéed in butter. Mayonnaise lends a slight tanginess and a gorgeous texture after cooking, and the green onions sprinkled on top round out the delicate onion flavor. You’ll love these for breakfast or even as a quick, simple dinner, which is how Mike and I enjoyed them.

Ingredients:
4 eggs
2 tablespoons heavy cream
salt and pepper to taste
2 teaspoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced shallot
1 1/2 tablespoons mayonnaise (Hellmann’s, preferably)
1 tablespoon butter
green onions and a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese for topping

Directions:
Whisk eggs, cream, salt, and pepper together in a medium bowl. Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat and melt the butter in it. Add the garlic and shallots and sauté for about 30 seconds or until very fragrant. Pour in eggs and scramble them, removing them to a plate when they appear just slightly moist (they will finish cooking on the plate). Smear them with mayonnaise and Parmesan cheese and mix them to combine. Top with green onions and serve immediately.

Other great pieces on food blogging that you should read:
In Defense of Food Blogging on Amateur Gourmet
Are Food Bloggers ‘Faking It?’ on Lighter and Local

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Blueberry Scones with Maple Glaze

I think I’d make a fantastic grandfather. I don’t have a “walking three miles to school! in the snow! uphill both ways!” story, but I have a tale of effort and hardship almost as edifying-and-simultaneously-annoying. I like to call it the tale of the forgotten essay.

My students hear it so often that I’m sure they know it by heart. All I have to say is, “Have I told you that story–” and they all cry, “Yes!” I think they hope that this affirmation will prevent me from telling it again; alas, I always launch right in.

They’ll be glad that I’m finally writing it down (if only so that they can print it out and ceremonially shred it).

I tell the tale of the forgotten essay for the same reason many other storytellers have told many other great stories: to inspire young people towards responsibility, honor, and success. And groans. And the occasional eye roll, apparently.

It also begins the way many other great stories begin: “When I was your age…” (Incidentally, it was at this point in the story recently when one of my students dropped his head into his arms melodramatically. I think he was overcome with excitement about the inspiring tale he knew was coming.)

See, when I was their age, I was a driven, successful student. Any grade below an A was unacceptable. I stayed up until 3 a.m. most nights working diligently on homework assignments or projects.

One day I walked into my first period English class around 10 minutes before the schoolday began. When I sat down at my desk and looked around, I knew something was amiss. My classmates each had a lengthy piece of writing in front of them. It suddenly hit me like a freight train: I’d forgotten to write the essay assigned for homework.

I sheepishly approached my teacher, who was monitoring the hallway before class. “Ms. S,” I began, “I made a big mistake: I forgot to write the essay last night. I’m so sorry. Is there any way I could have a little extra time?”

I have to admit, I expected leniency. I was a superb student and tried harder than almost any of my classmates. I had never missed an assignment before. I always tried to go the extra mile.

Ms. S peered at me over her glasses and replied, “No.”

I was crushed and admittedly a touch bitter, but I didn’t have time to dwell. I walked back into the classroom and looked at the clock. There were eight minutes left until the bell would call Ms. S into the classroom. My bitterness was replaced by a rush of adrenaline and resolve. I took out a sheet of paper, grabbed my pencil, and began writing.

Eight minutes later, Ms. S stood at the front of the room collecting the essays. With a sigh of relief, I placed my work on the stack. She raised her eyebrows in approval.

Believe it or not, I got the paper back a few days later (oh, Ms. S, I now know what a miracle it was that you were able to grade papers so quickly) with a good grade scrawled across the top. I don’t remember the grade exactly (like a striped bass, it gets more impressive every time I tell the story), but it was solidly acceptable.

…And now I can lovingly goad my students with this story whenever they have an excuse for not trying their best.

Truthfully, though, we all have times when we’re in an unexpected pickle, and continuing to try can be daunting. Last Sunday I found myself in that position. I was supposed to make a special cake for a Mother’s Day dinner, but for reasons I won’t bore you with (I’ll just cry to Byrd about them), I found myself unable to commit to a long recipe.

There was at least an hour where I lay curled up on my bed with Byrd, wondering how I could make anything at all. Finally, though, with Mike’s encouragement, I began poking about online. As soon as I found a recipe for blueberry scones, I knew it was the eight-minute-essay of a dessert that I’d been looking for.

Thankfully, they turned out delicious. And even more lovely is the fact that I now have another story about determination to bore my students with.

When have you pushed past an obstacle to succeed?

One year ago: Coffee Mousse Filled Double Chocolate Chunk Cookie Sandwiches
Two years ago: Lemon Raspberry Cake

Blueberry Scones with Maple Glaze


Recipe by: Adapted slightly from Tyler Florence (scones) and Recipe Girl (glaze)
Yield: 8 scones or 16 mini-scones

These scones are delicious, quick, and easy. They can literally be mixed, baked, and glazed within 45 minutes — perfect for my crisis Sunday! I love the combination of maples and blueberry because it reminds me of a sweet blueberry pancake breakfast.

Scone Ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar, plus more for sprinkling
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold, cut in chunks
1 cup fresh blueberries
1 cup heavy cream, plus more for brushing the scones

Maple Glaze Ingredients:
1/3 cup icing sugar
2 Tbs maple syrup
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Sift flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar together (I usually do this on a piece of wax paper that I can then use as a chute to pour the ingredients into a bowl) and place them in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse the cold butter into the mixture 6-8 times until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs (you can do this with a pastry cutter or two knives if you don’t have a food processor.) Pour the flour mixture into a bowl and fold in the blueberries gently so as not to break them. Make a well in the center of this mixture, add the heavy cream, and slowly work the flour and cream together to form a dough, being careful not to overmix.

Lightly flour a surface and press the dough out (careful not to handle it too much; the butter should stay in tiny, cold pieces) into a long, skinny rectangle: about 12 inches by 3 inches. Cut the rectangle in half and in half again so that you have a row of 4 3-inch squares. Cut each square in half diagonally to form your scones (you can cut them in half on the other diagonal, too, if you want mini-scones.) Place the scones on the prepared baking sheets, brush on heavy cream, sprinkle with sugar, and bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until golden.

Let scones cool while you mix the glaze. Whisk icing sugar, cinnamon, and maple syrup together until smooth and drizzle over the scones. Eat immediately.

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