• butternut squash pesto cheesecake

    So my cousin-in-law posted a recipe for a butternut pesto cheesecake and seeing as I had a bunch of butternuts in the back hall (thanks, Mom and Dad!) and oodles of pesto in the freezer (thanks, Me), I had no other choice but to make it.

    When it comes to cheesecake, I’m ferociously fatalistic.

    The original recipe was supposed to be some sort of healthy dip (all cottage cheese), but I tossed that idea out the window faster than you can say “reduced fat is gross.” People, it’s cheesecake! It’s dip! It’s CHEESECAKE DIP!

    So I doubled the recipe and used half cottage cheese and half cream cheese. Because while I’m a huge fan of cottage cheese (for the record, cottage cheese is not a reduced fat food) (unless you get the reduced fat version) (which I don’t), I wanted the finished dip to have more of a … of a … well, creamy, cheesecake texture. The resulting texture was spot-on (though it’d probably be even better with 100% cream cheese) (if you’re that sort of person). (I’m not suggesting my cousin-in-law’s low calorie version wasn’t spot-on, because it probably was, but I just don’t know for sure because the only version I tasted was mine.) (Whew. That was exhausting.)

    Confession: I did not like the crust.

    Confession’s Confession: It was all my fault. Because I just tore up stale bread, tossed it with some melted butter and stuck it in the pan. It tasted exactly like what it was: wet, greasy, stale bread stuck in the bottom of a pan. Next time I’ll toast the bread crumbs, or maybe pulse up some Wheat Thins or something—like a graham cracker crust, but savory.

    We ate the dip fresh, and semi-warm, for our Sunday night supper. It was good, but a little bland. Then it sat in the fridge for a couple days until I pulled it out to round out Tuesday’s lunch and it was fabulous: rich, flavorful, creamy, elegant. The kids dug into it like nobody’s business. And that’s when I decided the recipe was a keeper.

    It’d be the perfect thing to contribute to a potluck or Christmas party or family reunion. Because:

    a. it can be made well in advance (I bet you could slice and freeze it, just like the infamous pesto torte),
    b. it’s easy to transport (cover the pan with plastic and set it on top of a couple ice packs in a box), and
    c. the flavors are gentle and comforting.

    In other words, it’s sure to be a crowd pleaser.

    Then again, you could make it just for yourself, just because. That’s really all the reason you need.

    Butternut Squash Pesto Cheesecake
    Adapted from Kate over at Motley Mama

    1 cup cottage cheese
    1 8-ounce block of cream cheese
    2/3 cup grated fresh Parmesan
    2 eggs
    ½ cup roasted butternut squash puree
    ½ teaspoon salt
    1/4 teaspoon black pepper
    1/4 cup pesto, thinned with olive oil (if necessary), and divided
    1 cup toasted bread crumbs or savory cracker crumbs
    2 tablespoons butter, melted

    For the crust:
    Toss the crumbs with the butter and press into the bottom of a greased, 8-inch springform pan. Pat crumbs firmly to make a bottom crust (no need to worry about the sides), and set aside.

    For the cheesecake:
    Put the cottage cheese into the bowl of your food processor and pulse until creamy smooth. Add the cream cheese, Parmesan, eggs, squash, and salt and pepper and pulse until silky. Taste to check seasonings (I added about another 1/4 teaspoon salt).

    Pour half of the cream cheese batter into the crumb-lined pan. Drizzle half of the pesto over the batter. Carefully pour the remaining batter into the pan and drizzle with the remaining pesto. Using a table knife, gently (and artfully!) swirl the pesto into the batter.

    Bake the cheesecake at 350 degrees for 50-60 minutes. The cake should be puffy, but the middle should still be a little jiggly (just like your tummy will be after you eat it). Turn the oven off and prop open the door by wedging it with the handle of a wooden spoon—let the cake sit in the oven for one hour more.

    Cool the cake to room temperature before covering tightly with plastic and transferring to the refrigerator to cure. After a day or two, serve with crackers.

    This same time, years previous: all a-flutter, apple chutney

  • peppermint lip balm

    **It’s raining. Lamps are on, candles are burning. There will be a fire later (the temperature is dropping).

    **My second and fourth children are Doing My Hair. Lots of brushing, braids, and clips. There was even a scrunchy stuck round my nose.

    **The dishes need to be washed. I have baking projects and some little Christmas gifts up my sleeve. Maybe after my salon appointment is over?

    **The other night I woke up. I woke up because Sweetsie was standing at the foot of our bed. (It was either the second or third time that night, it’s all a blur now.)

    My husband growled, “Go back to bed.” (He’s completely uncivil in the middle of the night.)

    Undeterred, she continued to stand there, sucking her thumb and breathing heavily.

    “What do you need, sweetie?” I asked.

    Her reply came as clear as an out-of-tune bell, “I’m waiting for my instructions.”

    I punched my husband. “She’s sleeping, hon. Take her back to bed.”

    Notice it’s a blue rag now. She’s becoming entirely too flexible.

    **All this rough sleeping makes for a very tired girl at the end of the day.

    It had been quiet for a long time before I finally went in to investigate.

    And a very tired papa. Little brother, too. Heck, it’s bedtime—we should all be tired.

    **I stayed up, foolish woman I am, and watched The Knit Witch on youtube. You guys are right: she’s awesome.

    ***

    Now it is later. The kids are in rest time (except for a daughter that’s downstairs collecting tape and paper) (and except for a son who is downstairs looking for his leftover school work).

    The childrens (that is not a typo) spent the morning making cards for a friend, and Christmas paper chains that look more like Easter paper chains.

    As for me, I made peppermint lip balm and felt all sorts of mother earthy.

    I made this recipe last year but I didn’t follow the instructions to stir until thick, so my balm separated into a waxy top layer and a honey bottom layer. (I’ve been using it all year anyway, despite the over-waxiness.) My failure didn’t stop me from thinking ahead and ordering little lip balm tins for this year.  I’m so glad I did, as having them ready to go made it that much easier to jump into the project.

    It’s really quite simple. Just melt the ingredients together, stir while cooling, and then fill the tins.

    Bonus: it makes the house smell lip-balm-licious.

    I’ll be giving these away as little gifts…maybe. So perhaps it’s foolish to go writing about it here on the blog where everyone can see it? Way to be all hush-hush secretive, Self. But that’s where a no-one-reads-this-blog-anyway mentality comes in handy—all I have to do is tell myself that no one actually reads anyway, so I can get away with saying whatever I want. Illogical, but true.

    The REAL reason I’m writing about the balm is because I thought you might like to give this balm a whirl yourself. (The OTHER real reason is that I can’t resist showing off a little: Look at me! I’m going all down, down, down-to-earth, rah, rah, rah!)

    What’s that you say? You have no cute little tins on hand? No problem. Just dump all the balm into a mug, stick it in the bathroom cabinet, and apply liberally every time you make a trip to the loo. Do this and you’ll be sure-fire guaranteed to have shiny smooth lips till kingdom come.

    Peppermint Lip Balm
    Adapted from Amanda’s recipe on SouleMama

    ½ cup coconut oil
    3 tablespoons beeswax (I used two ice cube-sized chunks)
    1 ½ tablespoons honey
    25-30 drops essential oil of peppermint

    Put the coconut oil, beeswax, and honey in the top part of a double boiler (I used a little metal bowl on top, for easier clean up) filled with simmering water. Stir occasionally until everything is melted and runny (it takes about 15 minutes).

    Remove the bowl from the top of the double boiler and stir in the peppermint oil. Set the bowl in a large pan of cold water and stir until thick and creamy (but not solid hard—you still need to fill the containers, remember). (Actually, the cold water might not be necessary. I tried it that way, and the balm on the edges of the bowl kept getting hard really fast. Just stirring it at room temperature might be good enough.)

    Yield: one dozen ½ ounce containers.

    This same time, years previous: Smashing for Pretty opens (and now we’re closing – check out the 20 percent off sales!)

  • raveled

    I’m still learning to knit. It’s a long and arduous process, made all the more difficult due to my inability to “read” the knitting. I don’t know how to fix my errors, so I knit with the fury and fear of someone walking on the edge of a high cliff—one slip and I plummet to my knitting death below.

    For example, I knit two rows and purl two rows—but oops, I just did three by accident, so I pull out one row of purling, but now I can’t remember if I’m supposed to knit or purl and all the Yarn Staring in the world doesn’t reveal the correct answer. And so I yell at my husband that I’m going into another room and no one may come close or I will unleash all my knitting fury upon their poor heads.

    And knitting is supposed to be a relaxing activity, ha.

    If a stitch gets dropped, oh woe. And whoa. When that happens, I have to set the whole project aside and wait until Sunday when I can take it to church to ask my friend to help me fix it. This friend—a woman who has been known to sheer the sheep, card and dye the wool (whatever that means), and then knits beautiful things with it (bow low, reader friends, bow low), looks at my stringy mess for a mere couple seconds and then says, Oh yes, I see. You knitted that one backwards, so I’ll just reverse that like so and pick up the stitch there, like that, and there you are, all good to go now. I stare at my resurrected project in utter amazement and say stupidly, “I have no idea how you just did that.”

    I’m determined to figure this whole knitting business out. I experiment with my brown yarn, trying different patterns to see the effect, not worrying if I mess up and need to rip it all out. It’s my scrap paper, so to speak. I’m making a red scarf for my youngest daughter (I stole her yarn so I had to repay her somehow). It has mistakes in it, but I don’t think she’ll care.

    During Sunday school yesterday, I sat beside a friend who was knitting a sleeve for a sweater. She had the four needle thing going, plus a washer as a marker (or something). I watched, fascinated. I kind of even understand what she was doing.

    My goal for this winter: learn several different stitches, and learn to make hats, socks, and mittens. Next winter, a sweater, maybe. Am I being completely unrealistic?

    just starting out, adding to one of my old projects

    I’m not the only one getting into the knitting spirit. My little boy has persevered with his knitting. He knows how to cast on and knit row after row. However, his rows kept getting shorter and shorter, thanks to all the stitches he dropped. His knitted creation (too short to be anything) is one step from the garbage, but hey, it kept him happily occupied for many, many minutes so I’m not complaining.

    I even hauled the kids’ knitting projects to church one Sunday. I glanced down the row during the sermon—three of the kids were knitting away in unison. Bliss.