new traditions
Andrea
As Brian and I prepare to host Christmas, my mind has been transported to the past. To holidays spent in my childhood home. Where there are three trees laced with ornaments positioned around the house. One with the automated Hallmark variety that buzz and hum (Dad’s tree), one with the sentimental decoration handed down for generations (Mom’s tree), and one in my own room filled with trinkets that symbolize those things that are important to an adolescent girl; horses, soccer, kittens, music, turtles, Winnie the Pooh. We rarely turn on an overhead light, relying instead on the soft glow from the multi-colored bulbs wrapped carefully around each branch of the three trees.
The dark blue-green front door to our home acts as the backdrop for an elaborate wreath hung with artificial fruit. On the mantle are candles of all sizes and shapes interspersed with greenery and every one of my little girl stockings (I am an only child, and have several). There are little dishes of candy dressed in jewel-tone wrappers scattered around the house for sneaking when my parents aren’t looking and, outside, a light display that rivals Clark Griswold’s abode.
On Christmas Eve we host a party, providing a stop for friends and family visiting our neighborhood to view the houses strung with lights and the luminaries lining the streets. We dress up and fill the dining room table with an assortment of cheese and crackers, sliced fruit, miniature cheesecakes and fresh cookies baked and decorated by my momma and I earlier that day. Christmas carols spill from the stereo as the adults mingle inside and the children busy themselves outside. I run around the yard with my friends, playing hide and seek behind Santa’s workshop and even Santa himself, and think that no little girl can be as lucky as I, who gets to live in this holiday wonderland.
Over time these holiday traditions have shifted with the changed structure of my family. Decorations were divided and dispersed between two different houses, those two piles having been joined by the piles of new family members years ago. My childhood home is still owned by my daddy, and Brian and I still visit for at least a portion of most Christmas’, but there are only aspects of the place that are familiar this time of year. Little reminders of the past that pull at my heartstrings and remind me of the little girl running amongst wooden elves and twinkling trees.
Part of me is sad for her, the young Andrea who still believes in Santa and his magic sleigh. She who thinks that all future holidays will be just like this one, who doesn’t know that the wonderland she is experiencing is meant just for her, at that moment in time.
And yet, another part of me feels the joy of a challenge - a challenge that Brian and I are tasked with together. To invent our own traditions, to collect our own meaningful decorations, to create our own wonderland. For ourselves, and for our future children.
I think we're off to a good start.
Although this tradition is borrowed from my momma and stepfather, we've adopted it for our Christmas morning breakfast as well, sharing it two years ago with Brian's family. In fact, we've expanded the tradition to not only include Christmas morning, but also at least two weekends between Thanksgiving and the 25th of December.
Panettone is an Italian dessert bread containing candied orange, citron, lemon zest and raisins. It makes for an incredible French toast. You'll find it in boxes at most grocery stores from Thanksgiving through the New Year.
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The dark blue-green front door to our home acts as the backdrop for an elaborate wreath hung with artificial fruit. On the mantle are candles of all sizes and shapes interspersed with greenery and every one of my little girl stockings (I am an only child, and have several). There are little dishes of candy dressed in jewel-tone wrappers scattered around the house for sneaking when my parents aren’t looking and, outside, a light display that rivals Clark Griswold’s abode.
On Christmas Eve we host a party, providing a stop for friends and family visiting our neighborhood to view the houses strung with lights and the luminaries lining the streets. We dress up and fill the dining room table with an assortment of cheese and crackers, sliced fruit, miniature cheesecakes and fresh cookies baked and decorated by my momma and I earlier that day. Christmas carols spill from the stereo as the adults mingle inside and the children busy themselves outside. I run around the yard with my friends, playing hide and seek behind Santa’s workshop and even Santa himself, and think that no little girl can be as lucky as I, who gets to live in this holiday wonderland.
Over time these holiday traditions have shifted with the changed structure of my family. Decorations were divided and dispersed between two different houses, those two piles having been joined by the piles of new family members years ago. My childhood home is still owned by my daddy, and Brian and I still visit for at least a portion of most Christmas’, but there are only aspects of the place that are familiar this time of year. Little reminders of the past that pull at my heartstrings and remind me of the little girl running amongst wooden elves and twinkling trees.
Part of me is sad for her, the young Andrea who still believes in Santa and his magic sleigh. She who thinks that all future holidays will be just like this one, who doesn’t know that the wonderland she is experiencing is meant just for her, at that moment in time.
And yet, another part of me feels the joy of a challenge - a challenge that Brian and I are tasked with together. To invent our own traditions, to collect our own meaningful decorations, to create our own wonderland. For ourselves, and for our future children.
I think we're off to a good start.
Although this tradition is borrowed from my momma and stepfather, we've adopted it for our Christmas morning breakfast as well, sharing it two years ago with Brian's family. In fact, we've expanded the tradition to not only include Christmas morning, but also at least two weekends between Thanksgiving and the 25th of December.
Panettone is an Italian dessert bread containing candied orange, citron, lemon zest and raisins. It makes for an incredible French toast. You'll find it in boxes at most grocery stores from Thanksgiving through the New Year.
Panettone French Toast
serves 4 Ingredients- (1) 1-1/2 pound panetone loaf
- 4 eggs
- 3/4 cup whole milk
- 2 tbsp maple syrup
- 1 tsp vanilla extract
- 1/4 tsp salt
- 2 tbsp butter, divided
- Slice panetone loaf into (4) equal disks, horizontally (about 1-1/2 inches thick).
- Whisk together eggs, milk, maple syrup, vanilla and salt. Pour into shallow dish.
- Melt 1/2 tbsp butter in nonstick skillet over medium heat. Test to see if the butter is hot enough by dropping a bit of egg mixture onto the skillet. When it sizzles, the pan is ready.
- Lay a slice of panetone in the egg mixture. Pick up the slice, turn it over, and lay it back in the egg mixture. Remove the slice immediately and place in the skillet.
- Fry the panetone for about 3 minutes on one side, until nicely browned. Flip the slice and brown the other side, another 2-3 minutes. Remove from skillet and set aside while you fry the other pieces. (I place an oven-safe dish in the oven and turn it to 170*. The slices keep warm in the oven while I fry the others.)
- Repeat for other 3 slices. Serve with powdered sugar or pure maple syrup.
When I stand at the buffet table and survey the offerings laid out before me on Thanksgiving Day, it is all of the other “supporting” or “side” dishes that I get really excited about. The homemade rolls, the roasted vegetables, the tart-sweet cranberry sauce, the 
For most of my life the green bean casseroles of Thanksgiving came from the 
It seems tedious, I know, to make your own cream-of-mushroom soup for this casserole when you can simply whip out a can opener and have what you need in a mere 30 seconds. And maybe frying up your own crunchy onions seems like too much trouble as well when somebody has already packaged them up and made them available at grocery stores across the world. But with a little forethought (the mushroom soup can be made up to 24 hours in advance) and only 60 seconds to fry your onion rings, you'll have a dish worthy of supporting the star of the show. Just don't be surprised if the turkey gets upstaged...
Last week we had an especially dreary few days with rain and winds sweeping through Charlottesville, dropping our temperatures into the 30’s and 40’s. It was the kind of weather that had me wearing my scarf while sitting behind my computer at the office, drinking hot tea every hour while thinking about thick stews and hearty casseroles. This dish popped into my head several times, the memory of silky pasta laced with tomato sauce prepared and frozen at the peak of summer causing my mouth to salivate and my belly to warm.
It is the hearty, homey, comfortable meals that I crave when the air temperature transitions from brisk to downright cold. Unlike the summer months, when we'd rather be lazily sipping vino verde on the back deck while munching on a quickly assembled salad, Brian and I spend a significant portion of Winter in our kitchen, not minding the extra heat the stovetop produces in order to simmer a pot of soup for hours or the labor required to roll out thin sheets of freshly made pasta for a pan of bubbly lasagna. With chilled darkness falling well before we leave the office, our kitchen is a welcome source of warmth waiting for us at the end of each day, providing a space for us to pour energy into meals that will warm our bodies from the inside out.
Fresh pasta is one of those luxurious-sounding meals that seems as if it should be impossible to make at home, in the amount of time allotted for dinner preparation in busy lives. It is, in fact, quite the opposite. Requiring only 30 minutes of rest in the refrigerator before being passed through a pasta machine, the dough can be made in a mere 10 minutes' time. Your sauce can be simmering with whatever additions you've chosen to enhance it with as you turn the crank and catch the golden sheets of floured dough, fold them carefully and cut them into your desired shapes. After a quick dunk in a pot full of boiling water you are ready to garnish the silky strands with whatever mixture has been simmering on your stove, filling the air with the pungent aroma of tomatoes, garlic and herbs, or perhaps the sweet smell of browned butter and sage.
I assure you that, although fresh pasta requires more time and attention than opening a box of dried linguine to dump into boiling water, it is completely, totally, undeniably worth the effort. We'll be making it often these next few months, so I'll be referring back to this recipe in future posts, I'm sure. It can be used for any shape of pasta desired.
The restaurant and its legendary pie quickly slipped my mind as we moved into a house and started new jobs, busying ourselves with life in Charlottesville and the many culinary delights we have in this little city. I hadn’t thought of my momma’s story in 4 years, until I attended the 
The 
Despite its petite size, 
I chose to tackle the Original Coconut Cream Pie recipe rather than the apple variety my momma had raved about. As the best-selling pie at 
And that concludes Bella Eats Pie Month! 5 weeks, 5 varieties, and 5 pounds later, I've learned so much and hope you have too. Please write and tell me about any of these or other pie recipes that you try out this holiday season. I'd love to hear from you.
While I'm ready to take a short break from pie, as are all of our friends and co-workers, I look forward to continuing my experimentation and sharing more pie recipes with you in the future. Here are a few more on my list to try:
Today, Brian and I will join a few friends and make a similar mess as we celebrate Halloween and Bella Eats' First Birthday! There will be pumpkin carving and 
I find it pretty hard to believe that it has been 
For you, dear readers, I have a recipe that you simply must make this Autumn. In fact, I hope that you will read this in time to carve out a spare pumpkin today, on Halloween, to fill with strong swiss cheese, bread and heavy cream. Its a grown-up spin on a classic favorite, warm and gooey and eye-rollingly good. It is absolutely a dish that one shares with friends - nothing this good should be kept to oneself.
Enjoy, and have a Happy Halloween!
Don't forget to save your seeds. They are delicious toasted with a dash of cayenne pepper for a little kick.
Pumpkin Fondue
from 
Spicy Pumpkin Seeds
Ingredients:
As I flew over Charlottesville last Thursday en route to Florida I took note of the fiery colors starting to present themselves in the trees below. The deep orange and bright yellow hues stood out in the dark green forest like fireworks in a midnight sky. Autumnal thoughts quickly left my mind as I jetted towards a weekend to be spent with family and friends in weather that required sundresses and sandals rather than corduroy pants and scarves. Outdoor dining options were declined in favor of cool indoor air conditioning as we all sipped punch made from honeydew, mint and ginger ale. The summertime frame of mind embedded itself so deeply in my subconscious that I boarded the flight home on Sunday in a tank top and flip flops, not thinking about the sub-50-degree air I would be greeted with as I deplaned at CHO.
Despite the 85-degree weather and ever-present green of my home state, during my visit last weekend there were a couple of clues that indicated the current season. The stores there all have the same picked-over Halloween costume aisles and sections devoted to Thanksgiving decorations as we have in Virginia. Restaurant menus show some seasonal specials featuring sweet potatoes and cranberries, and the slight drop in nighttime temperature has Floridians pulling out their lightweight fleece hoodies to protect themselves from the “cold”. The light has changed, lower and more golden that it was when I last visited a few months ago. But the indicator that hit home most with me, that brought back a flood of childhood memories of Autumn in Florida, was the giant box of full-size candy bars I noticed stashed close to the front door at my daddy’s house.
Growing up in Florida, Autumn had a very different feel than it does now that I live in Virginia. In my life now, Autumn means festivals and apple picking, changing leaves and layered clothing. We attend sheepdog trials and buy pumpkins from local farmers, plan parties with locally made hard cider and hand-dipped caramel apples. In Florida, in my youth, I remember the night air turning a little bit cooler and being very, very excited if I spotted a tree changing from green to a pale yellow-brown as I drove past on the interstate. I'd insist on wearing a sweater for Thanksgiving dinner no matter the temperature outside and the fact that I may sweat through it, and longed for a day when I could justify the purchase of a scarf. And then, of course, there was Halloween. For me, Autumn in Florida was all about Halloween.
The party planning started in September. Each year my parents and I (well, my parents, really) hosted a huge Halloween bash at our house, complete with haunted cemetery in the yard, costume contest, bobbing for apples or, when my friends and I all had braces, eating donuts hung from the rafters of our back porch with hands tied behind our backs. Evenings and weekends prior to the big day were spent with my father in the garage, drawing tombstone shapes on giant pieces of foam and cutting them out with a hot knife, the smell of melting styrofoam permeating the space for weeks. Daddy is a perfectionist, so the paint job those tombstones and the corresponding cemetery sign that arched high over the gate to our back yard received was perfect. That was one scary cemetery my friends had to walk through to get to the fun and games.
Come Halloween night, a few days after our party, my father gave, and still gives, full-size candy bars out to trick-or-treaters. Full-size. All of the neighborhood kids know about my dad and the top-notch treats he gives out, which means he buys a lot of candy bars. I enjoyed trick-or-treating as a child, but what I enjoyed even more as a young adult was staying home with Daddy, handing out those candy bars to the costumed youth and hearing the excited tone of their voices as they whispered to each other "see! I told you he gave out the good stuff!" I'd look over at Daddy, who would grin and chuckle and comment on all of their costumes as he dropped bars into their buckets, and smile with pride that I had the cool dad who gave out the good stuff.
That's my daddy, generous to a fault, always giving out the good stuff. Whether it be full-size candy bars to strangers on Halloween, time on the telephone working through digital camera and photography questions or unbelievably kind gifts, he's always striving to put a smile on the faces of those surrounding him. At this time of year, especially, I am nostalgic for my youth and the time I spent with him each fall, wishing I could fold his tradition of handing out full-size candy bars into my life now and regretting that we live in a neighborhood that trick-or-treaters don't visit. So instead, I made Daddy's favorite kind of pie and thought ahead to Thanksgiving, when we'll sit around the same table with Brian and all of my stepfamily and enjoy an Autumn meal together.
I tried out two different pecan pie recipes this week along with two different crusts. The first is more of an old-fashioned pecan pie, the filling made with dark brown sugar, butter, egg and a splash of bourbon with the pecan halves kept intact. The second pie filling consisted of a little bit of dark brown sugar paired with a lot more corn syrup, butterscotch chips, eggs and chopped pecans. They were both delicious, although there was a definite favorite amongst those surveyed at my office and in our home. I am hesitant to tell you which it was, as both recipes are great and I really recommend that you choose your favorite based on your own tastes.
Devoid of corn syrup, this pie has the dense texture that I associate with the old-fashioned pecan pie. It is sweet, being mostly sugar, but the bourbon adds a nice mild kick to the bite and a pleasant aftertaste that cuts the sweetness quite successfully.
With corn syrup used as the main sweetener and the addition of butterscotch chips, this pie is ultra-sweet. The filling is silkier than the pie above, and the chopped pecans make each bite more consistent in texture. I loved the addition of butterscotch in this pie, and know my daddy will too as he is a big fan of those little golden chips.
Joy is right - this pie crust is easy! If you're wanting to make a crust without much notice, or are intimidated by crusts that require rolling, this recipe is for you. The final texture was more crumbly than flakey and reminded me of the consistency of a shortbread cookie. But it held together nicely when sliced and has a pleasant, mild flavor.
Ok, so this crust IS pretty perfect. It is an all-shortening crust, which I've never made before, and I was incredibly impressed with the flakey result. The flavor was delicious (although not as good as all butter, in my opinion) and the texture couldn't be beat . One warning, it shrinks with baking, as shortening literally "shortens" the gluten strands in the dough even more so than butter. Before pre-baking, the crust pictured below reached the top of my pie pan. So, be sure not to fill the crust as much as you normally would if you don't pre-bake.
I've decided to extend Bella Eats Pie Month into November for one more week, so be sure to visit next Thursday for the last installment, Coconut Cream Pie, along with a review of 
Our car winds its way up the narrow gravel road to the top of 
Once parked we make our way through the crowd towards the renovated barn, dodging bundled-up children being pulled in bright red Radio Flyer wagons by slightly-frazzled parents. The smell of freshly baked apple pie and apple cider doughnuts fills the air as we find the ‘pick-your-own’ information kiosk, grab a bag, ask about availability and set off on our hunt for sweet and crisp Fuji apples. We continue our journey towards the top of the mountain, this time on foot, huffing and puffing just a little as I am reminded again of why I should wear sturdier shoes on these treks. Fifteen minutes later we have found rows full of our target. The bright pink globes dance in the wind and beg to be picked, and I am thankful again that Brian is tall and can reach the otherwise unattainable perfect specimens near the tops of the trees.
We fill our first bag, saving the second for a bin full of bright green Granny Smiths calling our name back at the barn. The pick-your-own trees once dripping with that variety were stripped the previous two weekends during the 
I knew from the first moment that Brian and I started talking about 
I really wanted to try something new (to us, at least) for Pie Month, and so started to look into apple pie variations. Initially Brian balked, for even though he is a fan of the apple cranberry pie I make every year, he is truly a classicist when it comes to his favorite dishes and was not keen on the idea of my shaking things up. Until a reader, Hannah, was sweet enough to send me her grandmother’s recipe for Cheddar Apple Pie. Cheddar? Apples? Yum! I’m embarrassed to say that we’d never even heard of such a pie in our household, not even the Wisconsin tradition of layering a slice of cheddar across a warm slice of freshly-baked apple pie. The idea appealed to both of us, especially Brian’s not-so-sweet tooth, and so Cheddar Apple Pie was penciled into the agenda.
A bit more research later, and I discovered that I’d overlooked the 
As with most recipes I've tried from within the pages of Gourmet, this one came together beautifully. Once the dough softened up a bit and stopped giving me a killer upper-body workout, it was a dream to work with. No tears or splits or crumbles except for at the edges. The slight sweetness of the filling was perfectly balanced by the savory tone of the crust, which flaked just as it was meant to and melted away on the tongue. The cheddar added a nice punch that left me wishing I had baked off the scraps leftover after trimming the pie's edge, imagining that pairing those crispy strips with slices of fresh apple would have provided a perfect afternoon snack.
The not-too-sweet nature of this pie was the perfect follow-up to the rich chocolate + caramel pies I was producing last week. If you have loved ones who aren't big dessert fans, who just don't have much of a sweet tooth, this pie is the answer to your "what shall I make" questions. Even Brian, who has been known to pass up cake / cookies / pie / ice cream in favor of an extra helping of meat or mashed potatoes, consumed multiple pieces of this pie in a day. And then did it again the next. This pie is a winner, indeed.
I had an additional apple pie planned for the week, a 
Cheddar-Crusted Apple Pie
Notes:
We were both architecture majors, and each semester arranged our schedule so that we had all of our classes together. On the first day of school we’d get to our studio early to ensure that our desks would be located next to each other in the space where we spent most hours of our days and nights. We’d put a disc-man between us, load it with mixed CDs and plug in a pair of split headphones so that we could listen to the same music as we worked all night long on projects for the next day’s review. Our friendship continued to grow as we saw each other through relationship elation and heartache, as well as the highs and lows of life as a student of architecture. But still we denied any feelings we had for each other, insisting to those around us that we were just friends, never anything more.
The end of the second year of architecture school brings a make-it-or-break-it moment for its students - a pin-up presentation that shows your best work to a panel of your professors so that they can decide whether or not you show enough promise to proceed in the program. It is terrifying - a time when you search your soul to decide if you are truly made for architecture, and debate possibilities for what you might change your major to if you are not chosen. You are given roughly 36 hours, the time between when your last project of the semester is complete and the pin-up judgement begins, to put together a 4-foot by 8-foot board that expresses who you are as a designer.
Brian and I, of course, spent those 36 hours together, holed up in his apartment working round-the-clock with no sleep. At one point, around hour 30, I was exhausted to the point of tears and hungry for anything other than pizza or Chinese delivery. And so, Brian made me soup.
It took a few more months and the demise of our high school relationships for me to outwardly admit the feelings I had for Brian but, looking back, I believe that the moment he handed me that bowl of piping-hot potato cheese soup amidst the biggest deadline of our lives thus far was the moment I knew that there was something more between us.
This soup is still, to this day, my absolute favorite thing that he makes in our kitchen. It has morphed over the years, adjusting with our tastes and food values, but at its core is still the creamy, delicious, heart and soul-warming meal that he made me so many years ago.
Brian's Potato Cheese Soup
serves 4
Ingredients:
About a year ago, my momma started talking to me about a chocolate mousse pie. Or, more specifically, a chocolate mousse pie whose mousse was so delectable that she and my stepfather decided to eliminate the crust, and therefore the element that made the dessert a “pie”, altogether. They’d served the mousse at a few dinner gatherings and even to my stepbrother (who is notoriously picky and known to complain about most dishes that come from our parents’ kitchen) with much success. “You’ve GOT to make it sweetie”, she’d say, “Its just soooooo yummy!”
I put it off because, honestly, I’m not a big chocolate mousse fan. Give me a slice of 
But my momma, she’s stubborn. She was determined that I would like THIS chocolate mousse and so added it to the dessert menu for our Christmas meal last year. I’m willing to try anything, but honestly, I was looking forward to the 
When the 
There's something you should know about me...I'm a tweaker. I like to experiment with recipes, especially baked goods, to make them my own. My momma sent me the chocolate mousse recipe, which my stepfather had modified slightly from 
Determined to prove him wrong, I set to work last Sunday morning on my Chocolate and Salted Caramel Mousse Pie (pictured in photos above). I tweaked the chocolate mousse (
And so I moved on to plan B. I had this feeling that because both the chocolate and caramel layers were light and mousse-like, they oozed together in your mouth without maintaining their own identities and created a bite that was overwhelmingly rich. After some consultation with Brian and my Momma, I decided to try a pure caramel layer topped by the same chocolate mousse along with a new cookie crust, having not been completely thrilled with Emeril's mix of chocolate cookies and graham crackers in the first pie.
(Have I mentioned how easy it is to make homemade salted caramel? SO easy. TOO easy. There have been visions of caramel apples and caramel candies and caramel sauce for ice cream swimming in my head since I learned how easy it is. Yum.)
As it turns out, pure caramel doesn't adhere well to chocolate cookie crust. After placing a slice of pie #2 on a plate to serve, I watched as the mousse and caramel slowly slid down the length of the shell that was meant to keep the slice intact and maintain its shape. Even after an overnight rest in the freezer, it took a mere 5 minutes out before the caramel started oozing from beneath the chocolate mousse, lethargically making its protest at being forced to share the stage with another star.
Apparently, my parents DO know a little something about desserts - the chocolate mousse is perfect on its own.
So, here is my recommendation after this week of experimentation. Make the chocolate mousse. Put it into a chocolate cookie crust and place the whole pie in the freezer for a few hours. Serve with a generous blob of homemade whipped cream. Pure. Simple. Delicious. And if you're dying to try the salted butter caramel, DO! Just coat an apple with it or drizzle it over ice cream. It deserves its own spotlight.
Or better yet, follow Helen's instructions for her 
Chocolate Mousse Pie
adapted from 
Up next Thursday on Bella Eats Pie: Apple!
And, I'm going to try really hard to get some savory fall dinner posts up in between...
Here are links to the two videos that were shown - an initial promo clip and then the full story. Enjoy!
Last Thursday at approximately 12:00pm I learned of the 
I told myself that there was a reason for that expression and that, despite my lack of knowledge of pie baking, the task at hand was really a simple one. I had Thursday night to make two test pies trying out two different crust recipes and two different filling combinations, Friday evening to make a final test pie using the knowledge I gained from my first two pies and Friday night to assemble and bake my final entry. No problem.
I found two reliable sources for the base pie crust (or, pâte brisée) recipes, 
For the filling, I found a handy ratio in 
But still, Friday morning Brian helped me carry the two pies (one apple-plum, one pure plum), a server, plates and forks to our office, where I received feedback from seven more people. We all agreed on the too much juice issue, but opinions varied on the preferred crust and filling. In the end, I went with my preference (and luckily Brian’s too, whose palate I trust implicitly) and advice from 
I was so convinced that the third test pie would be a winner. So convinced. We invited a couple of friends over for the final testing and pulled the lattice-topped beauty out of the oven to great fanfare and raised glasses. We let it sit on the stovetop for an hour, until we could stand the wait no longer, and then dug in. And the pie was soggy. And less cohesive than the first two pies had been. And I had no more ideas about how to fix it.
By this point it was 11:30pm, 12 hours before I was supposed to be at the 
As I mentioned 
The use of tapioca wasn't the only important lesson learned in this process, either through my own experimentation or from the numerous websites and cookbooks I consulted. Below is a list of points about raw fruit pies that I plan to never forget, and I hope that you all will chime in with any lessons of your own.
Important Points for Raw Fruit Pies
Sugar Plum Pie with Lemon Almond Crust
crust adapted from 
Next up: Chocolate Mousse Pie
So many delicious-looking pies...
The judging begins...
The spectators are allowed to join in the fun...
And only shrapnel remains...
To read more about the event, check out 
This Thursday I'll start Bella Eats Pie Month with a recap of the trials and tribulations for the Italian Plum Pie I had hoped to enter in 
I’m fairly new to the world of writing, having only started forcing myself to practice regularly when I started this blog and discovered how much I enjoy it. I’ve learned in the six months since defining the 
This evening, as I was in the middle of my uninspired third draft, my Momma called for a chat. She had some bad news about an elderly relative, my grandfather’s sister. My Great Aunt isn’t doing very well, in fact hasn’t been for awhile, and Momma wanted to update me on her status. Our conversation eventually turned to more trivial subjects to lighten our mood, and my unsatisfying third draft came up. As I explained my writer’s block my Momma chuckled, and proceeded to share with me a few of her own childhood memories of plums, of which she has many.
She told me about “plumjum”, my grandfather’s favorite spread for toast, and how his sister (yes, the very same as mentioned above) used to make him jars of it with plums from another sister’s trees. She laughed about how surprised she was when, at an older age, she learned that the coveted spread was in fact a simple plum jam. Those family trees that produced the fruit that formed the jam were a favorite playground for my Momma and her cousins, a treetop haven where they ate as many plums as they could stomach while spitting the pits at each other (she was a bit of a tomboy, my mother, having grown up with all male cousins). As we laughed about her memories, events she probably hasn’t thought about in years, I was reminded again of how powerful food is, and thankful that even though she hasn’t read it yet, this post evoked happy thoughts of her past during a time of sadness.
As far as my future with plums goes - and based on my family history with the fruit - I feel pretty confident when I say that we've got many happy moments ahead of us. And you can bet (a plum cake, perhaps?) that a few jars of "plumjum" will be produced this weekend from the best possible specimens, packed up and shipped to Florida for my Momma and grandfather to enjoy. With love.
In the last few weeks, I’ve seen plums pop up in 
If you'd like this cake for breakfast, make it the night before and wrap it tightly in plastic, letting it sit on your counter until the morning. Then, about 15 minutes before you're ready to eat it remove the plastic, pop it in the oven to re-heat for a few minutes before turning on the broiler to crisp the top and caramelize the edges.
Plum Cake
adapted from 
I followed the original recipe closely except for the following adaptations:
Because about 1/2 of my plums were still a little green on the inside and therefore quite tart, I chose to macerate the fruit for a bit before layering it with the dough. Even if I use very sweet fruit in the future, I won't skip this step. The sugar helped the fruit to caramelize at the edges, producing a wonderful texture.
The addition of lemon zest to the dough and slivered almonds to the top of the cake are two tricks that I use quite often in fruit cakes and crumbles. I think that everything is better with a touch of lemon and a few almonds.
For me, it wouldn’t be the end of summer without the classic eggplant, zucchini and tomato-laden dish. It feels like a last-hurrah for the final produce of the season and the perfect start to autumn, when I start craving meals of its kind. It is homey and hearty, a melding of flavors served warm over pasta and topped with shaved parmesan cheese. I like to dunk a couple of thick slices of crusty french bread into the juices, and usually pair the meal with one of my first glasses of red wine of the season. Its tradition, and one that I cling to mightily despite a little resistance.
For Brian, ratatouille is just a little “blah”. He doesn’t mind it so much, but would prefer that we skip straight from summer salads to creamy potato cheese soup and pans full of bubbly lasagna. Typically, after we’ve purchased our eggplant Saturday morning, it will sit on the countertop for a couple of days until finally, on the cusp of its transition from firm and fleshy to soft and dimpled, I’ll convince Brian that “tonight is rat-a-tat-touille night!” and it will be peeled, cubed, salted and tossed in a pan with a glug of olive oil, freshly diced zucchini and a generous pile of minced garlic.
After some silly names, a few tabletop drumming performances and maybe a little ratatouille dance, it is the smell that will finally bring Brian around - his nose leads him to the kitchen and he’ll sheepishly tell me “it smells really good in here, honey”. The eggplant is set aside, and in its place onion and bell pepper start sizzling away. Tomatoes are added, and as their juice is released the eggplant is tossed back into the pan. All is covered and simmered until the eggplant is silky and the zucchini and peppers are just tender. Pasta is boiled, parmesan is shaved and bread is sliced. Dinner is served alongside glasses of red wine, in the golden light of the fading sun and suddenly, it is Fall.
Basic Ratatouille
adapted from 
And now, a few highlights from our trip to NYC. Again, this is mostly for our own reference and to highlight some of the places we recommend others visiting the city to see. It is not an exhibit of extraordinary photography skills. :)
View from 
A visit to 
The wedding Saturday was at the 
The desserts were catered by 
And don't miss 
Also, while in Brooklyn, I rekindled my love for bridges...
...and the Flea Markets that happen underneath them. Again, I was surrounded by shiny (and not-so-shiny) objects, so other than this shot, and the fabulous necklace I bought from artist 
Thank you all for your NYC recommendations! I only wish we'd had more time to spend, and look forward to our next trip. That's the beauty of having a blog, I'll have your recommendations and this post to reference for our next visit!
I'll be back in a couple of days with a meal perfect for the summer-to-fall transition. In the meantime, you can follow me on 
There has been a lot of stuffing happening around our house these last few weeks, and I don’t just mean boxes full of wedding invitations for a friend or images into a presentation for a big board meeting. I mean stuffed peppers. And squash. It all started with a dinner party thrown by our dear friend Amy, who hosts fabulous gatherings at which everybody cooks a dish based on a theme for the evening. Sometimes the theme is a specific ingredient such as almonds or chocolate, and other times it is based on a method of cooking or assembly. A month or so ago the theme was “stuffed!”, and we enjoyed the food so much that Brian and I have been replicating recipes ever since.
The timing worked out perfectly, as we had just traded extra bell peppers from our garden for a friend’s over-abundance of homegrown pattypan squash. If you’ve ever grown squash, you know that two people can’t possibly consume all of the bounty from one little squash plant. Its unreal. We planted summer squash two years ago and were so over it by the end of the season that we haven’t planted any since. The same goes for eggplant. Next year we’re planning to coordinate with our friends and plan more regular produce swaps, to take advantage of the space we each have and be sure that nothing will go to waste. Our own mini version of a CSA.
Peppers are a different story. I never get tired of them, and the only reason for sharing is when I know that we can’t possibly finish them before they start to get soft. I haven’t always felt that way as growing up, I only knew of one type of bell pepper - green. They made appearances in the stir fries, fajitas and supreme pizzas of my childhood, their distinct earthy flavor permeating whatever dish they graced. I wouldn’t have called myself a fan, but I didn’t mind them either. Like milk with breakfast and brushing my teeth before bed, the emerald bells were just an ever-present part of my life that I didn’t bother to question.
Sometime in college I discovered that bell peppers came in colors other than green, and the rainbow beauties started making their way into my cart each week at the market. I found the sunset-hued varieties to be much more versatile than the green, and added them to my usual pepper-laden dishes as well as pastas, quiches and salads. They aren’t inexpensive, so when I found out we could grow them in Virginia I was quite excited.
Our garden has seen them all. The first summer we were a little over-zealous with our pepper patch, planting green, purple, red, yellow and orange bells, along with one lone (although incredibly productive) banana pepper plant. Our kitchen saw much pepper experimentation that season, as we learned that we really weren’t fans of green bells anymore, that the beautiful eggplant color fades from the purple bells when they are cooked (leaving you, essentially, with a green bell) and that we couldn’t possibly keep up with the harvest from one banana pepper plant (although, now that we know how to pickle, I think we’ll try again next year).
As summer winds down we are cherishing the last red and yellow bell peppers coming out of the garden. Smaller than those we were getting a couple of weeks ago, but every bit as tasty, they’ve added a mild sweetness and lovely color to frittatas, stir fry, fajitas, homemade pizzas and summer salads. Our favorite use lately has been to sauté thinly sliced red peppers with strips of onion, minced garlic and fresh kale, then to pile the whole mixture on top of grilled spicy Italian sausage drizzled with dijon mustard and encased in a crusty bun. So delicious, so summer.
And then, of course, there is the Stuffed! pepper option. Always a winner in my book, I finally convinced Brian of their merit a few years ago when I made them using red and yellow bells instead of green. We tried the same stuffing recipe with pattypan squash, with much success. Pattypan has such a mild flavor that it lends itself well to a full-flavored filling.
I came up with this recipe on a whim, adding ingredients to the stuffing until it looked and tasted the way I thought it should. The result was quite tasty but I encourage you to tweak to suit your own tastes.
Stuffed Peppers or Squash
serves 4
Ingredients:
Chiles Rellenos
serves 4
This recipe is nearly identical to the one above. But, there are a couple of ingredient changes and the method for preparing the peppers is a little different.
Ingredients:
This weekend, Brian and I are off to Brooklyn for a childhood friend's (mine) wedding. We are so excited, even though we'll only be in the city for about 48 hours. As with all of our vacations, we are planning this one entirely around food (except for the wedding of course, but the lovely bride has Baked! catering the desserts!!!). If you have any suggestions for your favorite foodie havens in Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn...send them on! And expect a full photographic review of our trip next week...!