kentucky derby pie

My parents’ friend Jane is from Kentucky and ever since I can remember, she and her husband Ed have hosted a Kentucky Derby party. My parents attend almost, if not every, year (I only had the privilege of stopping by one year after a dance performance at my nearby high school. I missed the race and was too young to know what I was missing in the Mint Juleps). Armed with very limited knowledge about the horses, Mama and Randy make their bets, drink mint juleps, and sometimes come away with a pie for picking the winner.

cream scones

Sometimes, I just need a vehicle for eating massive amounts of jam. I think it’s an overarching condiment/spread tendency. I live for condiments. Okay, not so into mayo, but salsas, jams, chutneys, you name it! If I’m eating chips and salsa, I’m looking for the chip with the greatest scooping potential and dipping that chip as far into the bowl as I possibly can. And while I love the soft, buttery biscuit, I’m over the moon to slather it in as much jam as possible. These scones are simply begging to be drowned in jam.

all-butter pie crust

If you’re going to memorize one recipe, let it be a pie crust. Mine is an all-butter crust that I can pull together at a moment’s notice. It’s simple, requires few ingredients, not a heck of a lot of time, and being able to make a flaky, buttery pie crust will lead to more friends. It’s a fact.

maple and cardamom scones

My love of scones has been burgeoning over the last year or so. I used to think they were dry, bland and crumbly, and unless they were positively loaded with chocolate chips, I couldn’t understand why anyone would ever want to eat them. Then I had my first taste of a currant rosemary scone from Ovenly bakery. I didn’t realize that there was a flavor missing in my life, but there was. And I found it. And it’s herby and buttery and oh so perfect.

mini beer pretzels

It’s national beer day and I don’t know about you, but nothing says “snack to eat with beer” like a soft pretzel with mustard. Normally I prefer them to be the size of my face, but these minis will do the trick. Plus they’re made with beer, so they’re extra celebratory!

buttermilk biscuits

It’s Sunday morning. The forecast is for less than springy temperatures. I have leftover buttermilk and oodles of time. My one and only plan this morning is to make buttermilk biscuits, slather them in butter and jam and eat them on the couch in my underwear. I suggest you do the same.

stockholm, sweden

I’ve resettled into life without three bakeries a day, meatballs on every menu, superior nordic skiing coverage on television, and street names that seem to be longer than the actual street. Our trip took us to Stockholm, Kiruna, Örebro, Malmö and Copenhagen; on foot, skis, ferries, planes, trains and automobiles. We didn’t get to see the Northern Lights, but the stars were abundant, the weather was great, and we couldn’t help but notice that most of what we saw reminded us, at least a little bit, of Minnesota. Lots of people were surprised that I didn’t speak Swedish (or at least couldn’t say more than “hello,” “thank you very much,” “cinnamon bun,” and “the women drink water”), which led to conversations about my ancestors, their ancestors and so much more. Familiar yet foreign was our trip in three words. And as loony as it may sound, I felt connected to the Blöms and Petersons and Hansons who enjoyed cinnamon goodies and rye bread long before me.

kardemummabullar (cardamom buns)

On Friday, I am going to Sweden with my whole stinkin family. That’s only 4 DAYS. I don’t think there is anything that I have been quite this excited for in my whole entire life. I’ve already packed and repacked, not to mention spent a million hours thinking about long underwear and what hats to bring. One of the things I am looking forward to most: cardamom buns. So many cardamom buns that I might turn into a cardamom bun.

procrastination poundcake

I’m studying for the GRE, which is really not a very exciting weekend activity. It makes me think a lot about Ms. Merrick’s math class in 7th and 8th grade and her opener paper. It also makes me think about how amazing brains are that they can remember the Pythagorean theorem, most of algebra, and 25 digits of pi (not for the GRE, just something I haven’t been able to forget), but they can’t figure out how to find the answers to percent problems in any sort of elegant way. Studying for the GRE also means I spend a lot of time poking around the internet, then I practice some vocab, eat chips and salsa, do 6 math problems, read loads of recipes, freak out, calm down, and decide it’s time to bake something.

cake scraps

I had a really exciting plan for a Valentine’s dessert: an extra-decadent chocolate cake, filled with peanut butter, sprinkled with cocoa powder. I was going to cut tiny slices and drizzle them with salty caramel sauce and we would all go back for seconds even though we were absolutely full. But, in my attempt to finish the cake before my sleepy roommate Morgan went to bed, I tried to divide a not-at-all-cool cake into layers, which is, you know, the wrong way to divide a cake into layers. At least it still tastes the same if it’s in a big crumbly pile on your counter, right?