One Year

I can usually hear the footsteps the second the feet hit the ground. A tiny body sliding out of her giant bed, stepping around the dog sleeping on the floor, blankets and Tiger in hand. She sometimes opens the blinds, the creak of the roller a dead giveaway, just to make sure it's morning. Then she stomps down the hall. It sounds like stomping, even though she barely weighs 30 pounds. Her hand grasps the knob on the door to my room. A short turn and she peeks in. If she sees me awake she quickly pops in the room, slams the door behind her, props her crap on the bed, and climbs in.

She usually doesn't say a word. Not until she is settled and snuggled beside me. Her face is glowing with a morning smile and she practically purrs with delight. We lay like that for a what is probably only seconds. Then she pops her head up.

"Mama, can we bake today?"

*******

One year ago I marked my first day as a stay at home parent. My husband left for work, to return more or less almost 4 months later. I was thrust into the role of full-time parent with no regular paycheque. It was an initiation, almost hazing, that no college student would ever survive. 24 hours a day, alone, with my kids.

Being home with my kids was never a reality I imagined. I was going to either save the world or make a lot of money working hard. For a while I thought I could combine the two. Then these little creatures emerged, growing with me, and encouraging a sense of self I never knew was there. Our family changed and the needs of the whole outweighed my desire to save the world. Instead I needed to work on just saving us.

So, here I am. A year in. Much calmer now - most days - and still working on keeping us all sane. I've had to revise my own expectations about what can be achieved by the family and by me, in our time. I've also blown apart my own thoughts about the pleasure this would bring me and the peace it gives my husband. I still wonder what the hell I'm doing and I don't love it every day. But I like it. A lot.

In this past year I've developed a whole new relationship with the girls, worked to define this new thing with my husband, and searched for a balance to my own desires and goals. It's been HARD. And that's not counting the disappointments, struggles, grief, and disorder that the last year also brought.

And I wouldn't change a thing. As hard as this life is, it is better. Much, much better.

*******

Peach pie, lemon cupcakes, muffins, scones, cookies, bread... We're baking it all. Practically something new every day.

The Monster isn't as thrilled with being in the kitchen as she used to be. If there is the prospect of chocolate she will join us. Otherwise, The Evil Genius pulls up her bright orange chair, rifles through the cupboard for her apron, and says to me, "So, what should we bake today, Chef?"

With the Monster starting Kindergarten this morning I see even more baking in my future. That kid will have the best snacks in her heart covered backpack. Full of love and most likely chocolate.

Nectarine, White Chocolate and Cardamom Scones

(adapted from the basic English Cream Scone recipe in the original Five Roses Flour cookbook)

Makes 16-18 kid-size scones

1 nectarine, chopped into 1/2'' chunks

3 ounces white chocolate, roughly chopped

2 cups flour (you can mix whole wheat with regular, but don't go 100% whole wheat)

1 tbsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground cardamom

1/4 cup cold butter

2 eggs

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 tbsp sugar

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment or a silicon mat.

Make sure your nectarine and white chocolate are chopped. Set aside.

Combine the flour, baking powder, salt, and cardamom in a large bowl. Cut the butter into the flour. Frankly, we use our hands. 3 years olds are very, very good at this. You could also use a pastry cutter. Stir in the nectarine and white chocolate

Reserve 1 tbsp of egg whites in a small bowl, then beat the eggs with the cream. Add to the dry ingredients and mix well. The dough will be wet and sticky. Drop by heaping spoonfuls onto your prepared baking sheet. Leave 1'' between scones.

Brush the tops with reserved egg white and sprinkle with the sugar. Bake for 10-13 minutes until lightly golden.

A Pie for Mikey

You start out with an idea, a concept of where you want to take it. A taste, a feel, a look. A finished product to be savoured and enjoyed. Something to share, to show off, to take pride in.

You gather the things to make it, and you bring them close. You handle them, you edit, you cut, you taste. Add heat, maybe some sizzle, and quite often a long simmer. At many times will you season, highlighting the flavours and subsequent adventure.

Usually it gets messy. You are either the type of person who cleans as they go or the kind that has a third hand following them washing and wiping as you move. It doesn't matter, as long as you address the mess at some point.

Eventually you sit to enjoy. It isn't necessarily what you expected it to be. Sometimes it doesn't work and you have to start over tomorrow. Quite often it's better. Much better than expected.

One day it explodes. The pleasure is insatiable. The joy immeasurable. On another day it is more subtle, simple. It is good, but not great. The pleasure and peace, however, is there. It's lingering and comforting. Perfect.

At least, this is how my marriage feels.

My husband is my best friend and an incredible man. Kind, generous, a little bit wicked. Committed, driven, and horribly sarcastic. He owns his own business and used to race mountain bikes. But I always thought I'd marry a professor or snooty intellectual. We'd live in an old house filled with books and no kids. Obviously that isn't what I've got.

My man in my life and our marriage came about like a farmers' market dinner. One day you find something that looks fantastic and you go with it. And so we have, experimenting along the way. Some days it explodes with pleasure and some days it is lingering and comforting. Perfect.

Imagining a life without my husband nearly stops my breath. Cold.

And now there is a colleague, a friend I met through blogging, who is living this fresh hell right now. Her husband, the father of her two little girls, suddenly collapsed and died last week. She is feeling the immeasurable pain of loss, the unimaginable.

This pie is for Mikey, for her, for their girls. This pie was his favourite and it deserves a celebration. As does he, as does the love he and Jennie shared. Their recipe gave the world this pie. Let's celebrate.

The food blogging community - including those who live close to Jennie and are lucky enough to share a drink and pizza with her - are gathering around her right now. This is community. Today we are making pie. People the world over are taking Jennie and Mike's pie and making it for their own loved ones. They are adapting the pie for themselves, making the recipe for their own loves. In doing so we celebrate a man, relationships, and the spirit of adventure in love, cooking, and life.

A pie for Mikey.

Fireside Pyrohy

Glamping it ain't.

We went camping on the weekend. Our first time with the girls. A stunningly gorgeous spot in the mountains, right above the river. No facilities. That is - no water, no outhouses, no nothing. And it was awesome.

We had a chainsaw, bacon, kids, dirt, fire, toilet paper on a tree, fleece, and more bacon. Not much more is required for camping in our books.

Now we can also add fireside pyrohy to our camping must-haves. Boil the pyrohy at home. Toss with some canola or vegetable oil to keep them from sticking. Pack in the cooler, along with some chopped onion and perhaps a mess of swiss chard or kale with some garlic sausage. At the campsite it all comes together.

Because there is no camping without bacon, there will be bacon grease. In our case I was frying away for the little kids. Instead of dumping the bacon grease in the firepit I tossed in my onions and chard. After a minute I added the pryohy and sausage to fry up for colour and heat. Then I served it on my daughter's Lightening McQueen plate.

Good fuel for hiking, throwing rocks, and all the fun stuff on a camping trip.

Just Icing

Icing on a spoon.

Having been to my fair share of preschool birthday parties this year I've noticed that very few kids eat the cake when served to them. Sure, they are beyond excited when you take them away from their play with a call for cake. They eagerly sing Happy Birthday and watch the star blow out the candle. Then using fingers or fork or just their tongue all the icing disappears from the cake. All that's left is a soggy, messy pile of crumbs.

It doesn't matter that you stayed up until 2 am to make them the princess or pirate cake they begged for. It doesn't matter that you baked a gorgeous vanilla cherry cake with a recipe from Martha or Dorie Greenspan. All they want is the icing, or frosting, if that's what you call it. And then it doesn't matter if it is a gorgeous buttercream or from a can.

Instead of having wasted cake, get proactive. Just give them the icing on a spoon. Trust me, everyone is happy with this solution. Well, except maybe some parents who get worked up about sugar. But they are counterbalanced by those who are eager for a spoon of their own.

You might still need a cake because I haven't solved the problem of where to put the candles. Besides, they'll always be that one kid who hates icing.

With great thanks to some of my Twitter pals for the influence and egging on my icing only idea.

And Happy Birthday to my Mom, Brother, Brother-in-Law, and Sister-in-Law's Mum this week!