• at home

    Last week, I didn’t leave the house from one Sunday to the next. Or, more accurately, I didn’t go to town. I did leave the house a handful of times: to go running and to visit my mother one afternoon, and another afternoon a friend came out to chat. But mostly, I was at home. It was okay. Boring yes, but not torturous.

    And now this week is turning, unintentionally, into a repeat performance. I hosted a writing group meeting on Monday, and Tuesday a new-to-me friend came for a visit, but beyond that, I’m just here. 

    It’s weird, but the more I stay at home, the less I want to go anywhere. A quick trip into town to go the library or pick up groceries begins to feel like a hurdle and I find myself putting it off as long as possible, and then putting it off some more. I can see how a person might become a recluse. Just give in to the suck of inertia.

    So what do I do all day long, you ask?

    Well, mornings are pretty fixed. I run (except for when my ankle swells up for no good reason, humph), shower, and then writewritewrite, only taking breaks to grab breakfast, pee, and do a bit of homeschooling.

    The long afternoons are a little more challenging. I pick raspberries and pop grape eyeballs from their skins and do yet another canner load of tomatoes. I feed my starter and make granola and put a pot of dried beans on to simmer. I tell kids to wash dishes and hang up laundry and sweep the porches and put things away. I read or nap and sometimes, like now, I blog.

    Occasionally I get irrationally grumpy (hello, PMS and Stupid Ankle That Won’t Let Me Run) and then my son pulls a pantyhose over his head and makes me laugh.

    Other simple pleasures that get me through: NPR, Hershey Kisses, and books. Right now, I’m reading Esperanza Rising to my younger son, and to myself: Ask Again, Yes, and Slow Man, which I am, predictably, taking forever to finish. (Of note: last week I whizzed through Three Women and then paced the house wishing I had someone to discuss it with.)

    Evenings are reserved for more reading, sometimes Netflix (Schitt’s Creek, with my younger daughter; The Hunt, with the three younger kids; Barry and season three of Stranger Things, with my husband; and, as of tomorrow, season ten of The Great British Baking Show, whoo-hoooo!!!!!!), and getting all wild and crazy with fruit leather.

    That’s what I did last night, anyway. I made a grape puree as I would for pie filling and then blended up the sauce — no sugar — and went to town. Figuratively speaking.

    clockwise from top left: grape, grape-applesauce, grape-banana, grape-applesauce swirl 

    All of them were a hit, but I liked the grape banana best. Or maybe the plain grape. Or the grape applesauce?

    The swirl version was especially pretty.

    My younger son keeps accidentally calling grape leather fruit “tar.” It does bear a resemblance.

    In other news, my hair is still falling out. This is the handful I got this morning after its twice weekly washing.

    What is wrong with me? I’m taking great care of it — no heat, sulfate-free products only, and minimal washings. I haven’t brushed it for two years, only gently combing through it with a pick about once a day, sometimes less.

    Last Wednesday, four days out from my last wash, it was beginning to feel dry. So of wetting it down and adding my normal creams and potions, I gave it a good oiling to moisturize and condition it. 

    Adding oil to my hair: now there’s something I never thought I’d do.

    And so go my days, the hours spooling endlessly. It’s both tedious and productive, satisfying and dull. I grit my teeth and hunker down, doing my best to take advantage of the quiet. Sooner or later, something will pop up and — poof! — all traces of calm and boredom will instantly vanish.

    Oh, look at that! A bunch of Puerto Ricans just walked in the door!!!

    And we’re off!

    Or at least they are, to go get pizza. I’m at home, typing this.

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (8.27.18), an unlikely tip for runners, a big deal, tomatoes in cream, peach crisp, they’re getting it!, puppy love.

  • the quotidian (8.26.19)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace
    Applesauce fruit leather: thanks, blog reader Katie, for the prompt!

    Puerto Rico on my plate.

    Last minute tests: gearing up

    The table around which they grew….

    …soon to be replaced!

    Tips.

    She’s a digger, this one.

    Breaking horses isn’t always a walk in the park.

    Some days….

    This same time, years previous: full circle, it’s what’s for supper, fresh nectarine galette, the quotidian (8.23.16), on love and leftovers, don’t even get me started, he got me, 16, coming up for air, chocolate malted milk frosting.

  • chocolate cake

    The other day I sent a piece of my latest confectionary treat — a chocolate cake with vanilla bean buttercream, both recipes Yolanda’s — over to my parents’ house for them to try, and then yesterday when I popped in for a visit, my mom handed back my now-empty plate.

    “Thanks for the cake,” she said. “But Jennifer, why do you need another chocolate cake? Our regular one is soooo good!”

    So I tried to explain. Our standby cake is good — dare I say fantastic — but this one has something else. A dark richness. A chocolate density. A solidness that helps it hold up against trimming and layering. (Because I’m all about cake sculptures now, apparently.) Mostly, it’s just a very good, very chocolatey cake.

    Seriously? I needed to explain myself? This was chocolate cake. Enough said.

    leftover half of an egg, filled and iced for a potluck picnic

    I’ve made this cake a bunch of times — mostly in the shape of eggs — but now I’m trying basic layered cakes, too.

    The cakes bake up with a nice, rounded dome. When I trim it off — insider’s secret: the top’s the best part, tender and intensely chocolate — we fight over the scraps.

    Yolanda always drenches her cooled cakes with simple syrup, though she doesn’t say why. I figure it’s just to keep them more moist. To me, dumping water on a cake is counterintuitive, so I’ve yet to drench them as thoroughly as she does.

    However, I’ve noticed that the bottom and edges of the cake do seem a little dry, so maybe I ought to hit them extra hard? Next time, maybe.

    Chocolate Cake 
    Adapted from Yolanda of How To Cake It.

    I’ve always iced this cake (I can’t resist an opportunity to make buttercream!), but it’s not necessary. The cake is sturdy and rich — and chocolatey — enough to hold its own.

    Next time I won’t split the layers: the ratio of icing to cake was too high for our tastes.

    2 sticks butter, room temperature
    2 ½ cups sugar
    4 eggs
    2¾ cups flour
    2 teaspoons baking powder
    1½ teaspoon baking soda
    1 teaspoon salt
    1 cup cocoa powder, Dutch processed
    2 cups boiling water
    1-2 cups simple syrup, optional
    favorite icing, optional

    Cream together the butter and sugar. Beat very well. Add the eggs, two at a time, and beat well, scraping down the sides after each addition. Once it’s well-mixed, beat for another 3-5 minutes to get it nice and fluffy.

    Put the cocoa in a separate bowl, add the boiling water and whisk well. Set aside to cool for a bit (about 20 minutes), or slip into the freezer for a bit, stirring every couple minutes. You just want to take a bit of the heat off.

    Measure the remaining dry ingredients into a third bowl.

    Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture alternating with the warm chocolate, starting and ending with the dry.

    Divide the batter between two greased, wax paper-lined cake pans. Bake at 375 degrees for 30-45 minutes. Cool for ten minutes before running a knife around the sides of the pan and inverting the cakes onto a cooling rack.

    Before icing the cakes, drench thoroughly, tops and bottoms, with simple syrup. Yolanda uses Sir Squeeze A Lot. I use a disposable water bottle into the lid of which my younger son poked lots of holes. It’s not fancy but it works.

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (8.21.17), a new room, sun-dried tomato and basil pesto torte, stewed greens with tomato and chili, grape jelly, two-minute peanut butter chocolate cake.