Morning Glory Muffins

These past few weeks have been a perpetual flow of long nights, looming deadlines and chaotic mornings.  With my nights spent in Nordic practice, playing at basketball games with our school's pep band, and agonizing over the stacks of homework that require my attention, my mornings have become a hectic scramble to finish assignments, cram for tests, and attempt to get everything ready before tumbling out the door to catch the bus. 

The other morning as I stepped onto the sidewalk, about to begin my hurried walk to the bus stop, I paused. Just to stop and breathe. It was for only a few seconds, but in that moment I let my obligations and preoccupations just slip away. 

It was a clear morning and I could see the still lake and the mountains in the distance, painted in soft hues of blue and purple. And for the first time in a while I was filled with a great appreciation for the beauty of Vermont and for the quiet and stillness of the morning. I realized that in the midst of all of my chaos there remained a quiet and peacefulness to the morning.

When the weekend came, I wanted to make a batch of hearty and tasty muffins to have for breakfast, so I took some of my favorite things to eat and bake with and put them all in these muffins.  A crisp, tart apple from the fridge, the rich flavor of coconut that evokes memories of a balmy climate, and the sweet, earthy tones of grated carrot. A half a cup of honey lends its sweetness and complexity to the muffins, and gracefully ties together tart apple, carrot, and subtle notes of coconut. 

On a whim, I decided to top some of the muffins with toasted walnut pieces. The walnuts complimented the other ingredients and added a bit of texture and crunch.

Each piece combined to make sweet, wholesome muffins to be savored with the stillness of the morning.

Blood Orange Tart

When we were in Italy this summer we travelled around and got to see beautiful cities like Milan and Florence. But it was Vernazza, one of five small fishing villages that make up Cinque Terre, that was most memorable for me. The main street that runs down the center of Vernazza is lined with small boutiques, restaurants, and gelaterias. The street, made of flat square stones, runs from the top of the village, where a flight of stairs leads up to the train station, down to the pier, where colorful fishing boats are docked and people lay soaking up the sun.

Branching of off the main street are narrow streets with the doorsteps to apartment buildings on either side. The apartments like all other buildings in Vernazza are painted light pastel colors and the windows shaded with deep green shutters. Clothes hang on the clotheslines below the windows and potted flowers sit on windowsills and the doorsteps of ground floor apartments. These apartments exude a warm feeling of home and life.
The apartment we rented was on the second story so when I pushed open the shutters I could look down to see people walking on the main street and look out to see the pier and the Mediterranean.

In the afternoons we read our books while bathing in the sun on the beach or the pier. When the afternoon became hot or the sun, blinding, I set my book down on a rock with my clothes and towel and jumped off the pier into the cool, salty sea. I rested there for a while, floating. Melting into the slow rhythm of the waves.
After a refreshing swim one day, my sister and I strolled up to the main street with a few coins in hand looking for something to eat. The village is the size of a small neighborhood so my dad didn't mind letting us walk by ourselves. We stopped at a pizzeria and exchanged a coin for a piece of focaccia topped with tomato and herbs. We sat down at a table outside and shared the bread while watching passersby.

Maple Butter Cookies

The Nordic Ski team filed off of our yellow school bus and stepped out onto the snow covered parking lot. Several beginners, including myself, having not yet purchased our own equipment trudged up the hill to the rental shop. The cabin was small and quaint, a warm fire burned in the fireplace standing in the center of the room and the walls were lined with long wooden benches. The owner fitted us each with our own pair of skate skis and poles and, after tucking our bags beneath the wooden benches, we headed back out into the frosty air to meet up with the rest of our team.

We circled up and as our coaches discussed the plans for the day I took a moment to look over my equipment. Black wrist straps hung from the tops of my poles each with a large and small hole. Strap with small hole on the right goes with left hand, I thought to myself as I stuffed my gloved hand through the strap. This was my first time.

"V1, V2, V2 Alt. ..." One coach listed the different techniques we would be working on today and I leaned onto my poles, sliding my skis back and forth. It seemed easy enough.

We split into two groups: those who had skied for the team last year, and those who had not. The returnees wished us luck and glided off to the trails. I watched the rhythm and grace of their strides in anxious anticipation. 

When our moment came I stood tall on my skis, lifted my poles, and slid one ski forward. The other ski followed and it slipped out from under me sending me crashing to the cold snow. I stood up and tried again, and again, but the rhythm and motion that had appeared so easy and natural, just did not come.

While the others skied off onto the trails I stayed behind in the open field to work on my technique and to inevitably fall many more times. By the time the coaches called us over to pack up I was exhausted and still an embarrassingly poor skier.

Gingerbread Cake

As a kid, I couldn't stand PB&J sandwiches. How did I survive my childhood? Simple. My mom drizzled molasses on my peanut butter sandwiches. It wasn't uncommon to find the molasses dripping out from the sides of the sandwich, and on some days come lunch time my sandwich bag would be a sticky, black mess; but I loved those peanut butter and molasses sandwiches nonetheless. And though I eventually moved on to other sandwich fixings, my affinity for the dark, sticky syrup has never diminished.

While baking this gingerbread cake I helped myself to spoonfuls of molasses . Sweet yet bitter, earthy yet smooth, blackstrap molasses has a complex and intriguing flavor that is not lost on this cake. The molasses, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves blend together and compliment each other so nicely that the resulting gingerbread seems like its own unique spice or flavor, than the combination of many.

As the cake came together the smell of gingerbread filled our kitchen and warmed my soul. The sweet, spiced aroma of gingerbread was enveloping and, like hearing a familiar song you haven't listened to in a while, it filled me with nostalgia.

Continuing the tradition that she had with her grandmother, my mom baked molasses cookies with my sister and I each year at Christmas when we were younger. We haven't made the cookies in a few years now and the tradition had slipped from my mind, but the smell of gingerbread in the oven reminded me of rolling out the soft, dark brown dough, cutting out christmas trees and santa clause, as well as a slightly less festive assortment of dinosaurs and dog bones.

Chai Hot Chocolate

My first encounter with spiced chocolate was over the summer when a mysterious bag of chocolates showed up on our doorstep kitchen counter. When it appeared I waited a few days to see who would claim the small bag of individually wrapped squares of chocolate. I assumed that is was a gift for someone, so I waited, and I eyed the chocolates longingly each time I passed through the kitchen. This went on for a few days until one morning I came downstairs for my early bird 10 o'clock breakfast and glanced over at the bag of chocolates to see that it had been untied.

Inside were two types of chocolates: dark chocolate with espresso bean and masala chai spiced chocolate. The squares were melt-in-your-mouth thin and just enough to satisfy a craving. The espresso squares were a bit too bland for my taste so I took to the masala chai spiced squares. I was hesitant at first, having tried a variety of unconventional flavors paired with chocolate -jalapeño, chili pepper, and orange with crushed peppercorns- none of which I enjoyed. But the delicate harmony of the chai spices with the complexity of the masala left a dimensional and delightful flavor in my mouth. I began to wonder what I could do with this beautiful relationship; this harmony of chocolate and spice.