Gravy

It was the perfect Sunday dinner, minus the tantrums before hand. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts and carrots. There was even chocolate cake for dessert. There was no gravy.

Half hour before we were to sit down Hubby informs me that he isn't feeling well. That perhaps it is now his turn with the tummy bug making its way through our house. Sigh. It was at that point that I nixed the gravy. Actually, I might have told the gravy to go do something else.

As I realized last week, Hubby really is my audience. The girls could have cared less about a big roast beef dinner. In fact, they only wanted the chocolate cake. But I made them sit with me while Hubby moaned in front of the hockey game. Only one of them ate anything, both spent the entire meal screaming or singing, and I fought tears of frustration over my now cold roast beef. There may have been a tantrum or two as well.

The frustration got to me. One was sent to her room, the other to a quiet spot by the front door. I spent 20 minutes cleaning up after dinner saying, "No, you may not come out yet." Bring on the therapist's bill if it turns out they are gay and I control their honesty by my need to do the dishes in peace.

Honestly folks? I'm just cracking. Too much stress, too much work, too much single parenting, too much whining (on everyone's part). I think it's time to regroup. Anyone have a Mexican vacation they want to give me? A cabin in the woods with a personal chef/masseuse? No? I guess I'll settle for a hot bath, a good scotch, and a trashy book.

It was a good meal. It really was. Maybe, just sometimes, I should give in an let them eat the damn cake and we'd all be happier.

Chaos

Wrapped in a quilt I sit here, wanting to share, to talk, to open some discussions about books. I just can't do it. On my own again this week and I'm dealing with a cold and the stomach flu (me), getting over both (the girls), teething, bad news from family members, a leaking roof plus dishwasher, and winter storms. Frankly, I'm done. I have nothing witty to say, nothing interesting or quilty to share. Please forgive my bit of whining.

Seriously, how do single parents do this all the time?

My whining done, I actually do have something to share. This was the tablecloth I made for Thanksgiving back in October. The rooster fabric is from Alexander Henry. Purchased at Quilt Canada this year its been sitting around and waiting for Thanksgiving. In honour of American Thanksgiving next week I thought I would share it with you. It makes me smile to look at it. Smiles are good things when ginger ale is the only thing on the menu.

Other things making me smile:
... playing my own little game of I Spy with this quilt around my arms
... the chaos of pompoms, pencil crayons, and blocks all over the floor
... my four year old's constant desire to wear her clothes backwards
... the two year old saying to me after playing in the snow, "Mama, let's go inside and have hot cocoa to make our feelings better."
... the cast of sunshine on the foot of fresh snow

Okay, so I guess there isn't that much to whine about.

Love = Chocolate Chip Cookies


For the record, a chocolate chip cookie is not just a chocolate chip cookie. Put aside the preferences for chewy or chunky, nuts or pure, cocoa or not. A chocolate chip cookie at its most basic is pretty much love.

Growing up they are the special treat doled out by Mom, whether she made them or not. Our first forays into adulthood are filled with Mom's replacements where we can get them on the occasion of loneliness, break-ups, girls' nights, and stress. When we get our own kitchen we bake them for our boyfriends and girlfriends and friends to give them comfort and happiness and a morsel of love wrapped in chocolate in butter. Then we have kids and we start the cycle all over, baking together and for them to pass on the love.

No one ever answers cinnamon pinwheel when asked what kind of cookies we should bake.

When the controversy over this post, by a pastry chef no less, blew up on my Twitter Feed all I could think about was chocolate chip cookies. It seems other felt the same way too. Check out this post from Abby Dodge, one from Gail at One Tough Cookie, and another one from Jennifer Perillo.

For days all I thought about were chocolate chip cookies. But Mama's had a bit too much love lately, if you know what I mean. Then Jennie responded and I couldn't not make cookies. And if you're going to to do it, then do it with this recipe and do it a few times.

I've been meaning to test out this concept of letting cookie dough rest since the original New York Times piece came out. Frankly though, there is never a world where I can make cookie dough and not bake it right away. Mama needs her love, as do little girls who helped make the cookies and fully expect one RIGHT NOW.

So, I planned a little experiment. One night, after the girls were asleep, I made the cookie dough, using this recipe from Jennifer Perillo. By far it is the best recipe I've ever made and she's happily letting me share it here.

All but two chunks went into the fridge for their little rest. Seriously, who can make dough and not eat a cookie? Waiting is the hardest part of baking chocolate chip cookies. I baked off two chunks for a late night snack.

Those two cookies, however, were not going to be enough to let me know the difference between a fresh dough and one that has rested for 36 hours. But they were tasty! That meant another bowl of dough was made. I used the exact same recipe and made them the exact same way. The only difference is that I had a 2 year old helping me the second time.

While The Monster was at preschool we baked trays and trays of cookies. I was worried about telling them apart, but it turns out that isn't a problem. The rested dough gets more golden in the oven and doesn't spread as much as the fresh dough. Difference #1.

Now I certainly don't need 6 dozen chocolate chip cookies in my house. We took most of the cookies to the playground for an after school treat, and an experiment. I walked around to all the parents and the teacher, asking them to try one of each cookie. I wanted to see if they could taste a difference and if so, which one they preferred. (The kids got some too, but they didn't care at all which bag they came from.)

The first surprise to me was that everyone could tell a difference between the two cookies, by taste alone. It was a subtle difference to me when the cookies were warm, at home. At the park, however, the difference was more pronounced. The fresh dough cookies taste sweeter. Difference #2.

People were trying to guess the difference and the guesses ran from the addition to honey or more sugar to potentially more butter in the freshly baked dough. The people who preferred these ones all thought they tasted more rich.

The people who preferred the rested dough cookies, however, often called them more decadent or gourmet. Personally, I found the difference was the cloying sweetness and that the fresh dough was almost a bit acidic, tasting it at the back of my tongue more than anything. The flavour, overall, of the rested dough is more sophisticated and frankly, mature. Difference #3.

What makes them technically different? Resting allows the liquids in the dough to be better absorbed. This results in a drier, firmer dough that bakes better. Hence, less puddling in the rested dough cookies. And a better texture overall when you bake the cookies to a precise just underbaked. It also encouraged better caramelization of the dough.

The remaining dough in my fridge (from both batches) was baked off the next day, topped with a sprinkling of fleur de sel. By far, my favourite version.

It's winter here now, I'm single parenting again, and I already have dough resting in the fridge for some post school and snow romp love.

Jennifer Perillo's Very Best Chocolate Chip Cookies
Makes 36 3 inch cookes (or 4 dozen slightly smaller ones)*

4 cups flour (18 ounces)
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 sticks butter, softened (8 ounces butter) (1 cup)
2 cups sugar (15 ounces)
2 tbsp molasses
3 large eggs, room temperature
1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
12 ounces bittersweet chocolate discs (or chocolate chips)

In large bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt. Beat butter, sugar and molasses until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and vanilla extract. Beat until well mixed. Add the flour mixture and mix until just combined. Stir in the chocolate discs (chips). Let sit in the refrigerator overnight before baking, and may be stored this way for up to two days. Yes, I realize this is the very hard part.

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line baking sheets with silicon mats or parchment paper. Gently form dough into 1 1/2 to 2 inch (1 to 1 1/2 inch) balls and place 2 to 3 inches apart on prepared baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes (13 minutes in my oven) on middle rack. Remove from oven and let cool on pan for 2 more minutes. Transfer cookies to a rack to cool completely if you have any will power left.

*The notes in italics are my personal changes due to ingredients on hand, preferences, and my oven.

Round Robin - Start

Just a simple block. In the next 4 months it should turn into something pretty cool.

You see, I do belong to a traditional guild as well as our Calgary Modern Quilt Guild (Sew Night on this Saturday!). In an effort to push myself outside of my little box of creating, I decided to join this year's round robin. It is really pushing me out of my box as most of these ladies are quite traditional quilters. Amazing work and a very fun group of women, but still quite traditional in quilting style.

This block, mine, will get added to by three others. I gave them free reign on colours and design. Maybe my simplicity and improv block will challenge them too? You know how I love to push people.

I would show you the block I received - lots of triangles in red, beige, and hunter greens - but its in the car. Yup, I'm lazy this morning. First winter storm combined with kids barfing all night and me with a cold. I am not leaving my house today. More time for sewing, painting, and stories.

Oh, and bear with me as I make some changes on the blog. I'm testing some new designs.

For an Audience


Love stories are as varied as the people that make them. We didn't have farts at our engagement, but there was a fair amount of bird poop. Hubby proposed on an outcropping of rocks on the Ingonish beach. What's a few dead crab shells and a pound of poop to commitment?

I've spent the last few days devouring Gluten Free Girl and The Chef. More than a cookbook, it reads like a romance novel, minus the bad hair, pecs, and euphemisms. The subtitle does refer to the love story, and it is. A love story between two people, a love story of food and cooking. It is captivating, very funny, and full of the romance we all need in life. Even if you don't cook you want to read this book. Ask my girls, they've been flipping the page exclaiming YUMMY! at every turn.

Hubby has been home for 2 days now. That's 2 days of not working, a first for the last 6 weeks. This means he's exhausted and cranky. I'm bursting with the desire to talk about home renos, preschool gossip, and bedtime routines. Oh, and trying not to run screaming from the house to take a break. What we are doing is retreating, sleeping, and trying to find a little bit of rhythm again. Until he leaves again in another day.

One thing I've realized that with cooking for just me and the girls is that I really, really like cooking for my husband. He's an eater, not a cook. He's my audience.

When I can fill his belly with a warm meal that he didn't have to get from a crappy, small town restaurant I feel great. It isn't about being a good wife, I've already got that down. Food is love and I am totally guilty of showing my love with food.

Inspired by Shauna James Ahern and Daniel Ahern I decided to spend the weekend in the kitchen. Bolognese and cookies yesterday. Sunday, a Braised Pork Stew with Cabbage and Caraway from the book. I followed the recipe exactly this time - not something I do often - thus I'm not comfortable sharing it here. We were all filled with love, or just some lovely herbal, mustardy, and nourishing comfort.

If you want the fart reference and the recipe, then you best buy the book.

Book Review - Freddy and Gwen Collaborate Again

This is the first week of a new series here at Naptime Quilter. I've been reading a lot of books, some old and some new, and I wanted to share them with you. There is a wealth of information in quilt books. Some are definitely better than others as well. These reviews are my opinion only. And if a book was given to me or I was invited on a blog tour I will certainly let you know. Otherwise I'm reviewing books I've either purchased, borrowed, or checked out from the library.

Up first is Freddy and Gwen Collaborate Again, by Gwen Marston and Freddy Moran. Published by Lark Books in 2009.

I'll admit that I've not read their first book, but I will be searching it out again. There is an energy to this book and their work that I've not read anywhere. It isn't just the incredibly bright and bold quilts. The sense of collaboration really comes through in the projects. They refer to it throughout the book and each have had a hand in writing chapters.

One of my favourite parts of the book is that there aren't actually any quilt patterns. Rather, they go over specific techniques or blocks in a section they call The Parts Department. Then, when they profile the quilts they reference which parts they used. They also discuss where the design came from and how they came to certain decisions.

Another interesting tidbit to each quilt discussion is a note about a traditional influence or similarity. That is definitely a nice touch to a book that is quite modern. It is fitting considering the subtitle is Freewheeling Twists on Traditional Quilt Designs.

My guess is that this is not a book for a beginner quilter. If you are just starting out the designs and concepts are certainly inspirational. But if you are still used to precise instructions and nervous about breaking out your own it might be tough to read. If all you want is to make "that quilt" specifically then you will have a hard time with this book. If you want, however, to take in some inspiration from both new and traditional quilts this is a fantastic book.

Two of my favourite quilts from the book:

Liberated Wedding Ring

Spikes

Are there any books you can recommend or would like me to review?

A Run-In, With Eggs

Every now and then you have one of those eerie, weird run-ins with your past. The kind that remind you of just how far you've come in life and how happy you are with that journey. And sometimes you just run into a friend's ex girlfriend.

Sunday morning I gave the girls their bread with butter and honey. That wasn't going to cut it for me. I was also facing a surfeit of eggs. Instead of my usual scrambled eggs with salsa I pulled out a memory from our long ago partying days. We still lived in Edmonton and would drive down to Calgary on a regular basis to go out drinking with friends. For a while there we would stay at the house of our friend's girlfriend. One morning she made us these scrambled eggs.

They were the best scrambled eggs ever.

Normally I shun from such platitudes that involve the expression best ever. More than once I've been disappointed. But I've been more frequently disappointed with bad scrambled eggs.


A's technique was also very simple and perfect for lazy, hungover people. Now, as I'm older and wholly unable to manage a hangover, it is still perfect. Perfect for lazy mornings while the girls sit, mesmerized by Cat in the Hat, and I sip tea. Perfect for long brunches with friends or little girls.

Eggs and butter on low heat. Stir a lot. Cook very slowly. Eat the creamiest scrambled eggs ever.

Now that I'm kind of getting the hang of the single parenting thing I can, without too much stress, take two highly energetic and dramatic girls to the farmers' market by myself. This week we faced our usual challenges of impatience and spilled drinks. But we also embraced the energy of the bouncy castle, meeting an Olympian, loading up on Honeycrisp apples and brussels sprouts, and dancing like maniacs to the buskers. There my kids were, one moving her hips like a 4 year old shouldn't and the other nuzzled into me because it was past naptime, when A walks by.

The same A that showed me how to make those scrambled eggs. We haven't seen each other in at least 5 years. The relationship with our friend long since ended and our two kids later, it was a somewhat shocking reunion. We chatted and shared a quick story or two. I found myself only mildly freaked out by seeing my history and my past all together there. Mostly I found that I was proud of where I was - a mom with a hardworking husband and my crazy kids. Pleased that I wasn't waking up hungover in a sort of stranger's townhouse anymore, but by two kids bounding in to cry about bad dreams and lost blankies and could I please turn on their shows?

I never told her that I'd made her eggs just that morning.


The Maybe Almost Best Scrambled Eggs Ever
Serves how ever many you want, just multiply the recipe accordingly. Your cooking time will increase with more eggs and you may want to use a pot accordingly sized to the eggs you use.

1 tbsp butter
3 eggs
salt and pepper

1. In a small saucepan on low heat melt the butter. As soon as it is melted crack in your eggs. Stir well with a fork to beat the eggs well.
2. Cook over low heat, stirring quite frequently with the fork. Total cook time may take anywhere from 20-30 minutes.
3. Season with salt and pepper.
4. Optional - top with sauteed mushrooms, greens, or slow roasted tomatoes, if desired. Just please don't top with ketchup.

Love Bird

A little birdy told me that the next issue of Fat Quarterly is out. And guess who has a tiny project in it?

This is a sneak peak of a fussy cutting Design Challenge I participated in for the November issue. Take a favourite fabric from stash and create a block showcasing some fussy cutting. I then turned mine into a little wall hanging. The block, however, could work really well on a large scale as a quilt.

Go here to buy an issue, if you aren't already a subscriber.

Iron Will

He would have loved it.

Steak sandwiches with carmelized onions and radishes. Served on fig and fennel bread from The Bakery at the Market. The last of our CSA beets, roasted and tossed with white balsamic vinegar. Spinach salad with pomegranates.

Hubby is away again. Was he ever home? We all miss him terribly He misses us. Everyone is exhausted and cranky. We have to think big picture for this short term sacrifice of our normal family life. Dammit, it's hard. I was very tempted to serve popcorn for dinner again but steaks that I took out a few days ago needed to be cooked. And I thought we girls needed to sit down to a proper meal. Away from the TV, the computer, and a million library books.

So we sat together over some red meat and songs. And we talked about Daddy.

Dedication

Full disclosure: this is not my quilt. In fact, I've had no hand in making it at all. I did make one suggestion, but it was shot down.

My SIL is making this for her son. In fact, she is making quilts for all her kids for Christmas. Well, in the interest of full disclosure, my brother is helping too. Very dedicated. Her fussy cutting is also dedicated. As is her construction technique - one square, one row at a time.

I'm sharing this (with her permission) to remind us that we all put things together differently. I know how I would make this quilt, but her approach is totally different. When we sew together I'm constantly trying to get her to loosen up and let things happen, and she forces me to to stop and reflect on some of the decisions to make. Her approach works for her. And that's what ultimately matters - in the process she is content and is happier still with the end result.

What do you do when faced with a pile of 3'' squares in blue and white with a snowy/Christmas theme to the piece?

Stand Back


These are the pumpkins we carved on the weekend. And the costumes. The inherent laziness of my efforts at costumes for the kids aside, I'm here today to talk about something important. So begins my rant against helicopter parenting and nearly as bad, helicopter crafting.

I want to start my clarifying I am not a helicopter parent. My kids run wild at the park, too wild for many, many parents who either feel free to admonish me with looks or not so gentle reminders that my tiny 2 year old is hanging from the monkey bars or standing 20 feet up at the playground. My kids are allowed to scream, run, and explore without me following behind. My kids are encouraged and even pushed to try new things, ask questions, and challenge (even when that creates a challenge for us). My kids are learning that if they want something they have to work for it, or if they ask that they answer is quite possibly no and that is okay. My kids do get punished when they break rules, and yes, there are a number of basic rules to follow. Most importantly, my kids are allowed to be kids.

We all have our parenting styles/philosophies. I have friends who are close to being helicopter parents and they are still very good parents. I have friends even more lax than us, or more strict. I'm not judging anyone.

But this weekend I had to stand back and judge myself. We were carving pumpkins and making the girls' costumes. The Monster decided that she was going as a traffic light and her sister would be the car she would make stop. (Oh, that is definite fodder for therapy later in life.) Up first was the pumpkins.


First, there was the insistence on 5 pumpkins and no less. They were cheap and really they are the only decorations I do for Halloween, so I let her get that one. Next we had to decide what kid of face each one would have. The first one was for a surprised face. No problem. I carved an O for a mouth, eyebrows, and rather bad eyes. After that I surveyed the girls for their direction on the second one.

(See what I'm doing there? Giving them choices on things I don't give a damn about but will matter to them. All part of my parenting philosophy so I can hold that against them when it comes to a choice I actually care about.)

So there I am carving a mean face on pumpkin number 2 when The Monster discovers the Sharpie. She quickly proceeds to draw all over the pumpkin. Hair, another set of eyebrows, freckles, words, and random shapes. My instinct was to snap and give her hell for wrecking the pumpkin. In only a few seconds though, I realized that I was about to lose it over a pumpkin. A pumpkin with a life span of a few days on my front steps.

Why shouldn't she colour it with a Sharpie? Why shouldn't it take on its own life in her hands? She isn't allowed to use the knife, so what else is there for her in pumpkin carving other than facial directions?

Another Sharpie later, a very serious discussion about what can and cannot be coloured with said Sharpie, and I let them go to town on the pumpkins. And we were all happier when I stood back.

By the time we came to costumes I was feeling strong. No problem, I can stand back and let them decorate things. Yeah, not so easy. I fought every instinct to step in and help them paint Smilosaurus' car. Doesn't it need windows? Or complete coverage in one colour? So many times my hands reached out to take a brush. In the end I resorted to sitting on them when not adding paint to the palette. Was I happy with the car? It certainly wasn't what I wanted or expected, but they were happy in the process of creating and the little one was ecstatic to wear it. That makes me happy.



One final challenge came with the traffic light costume. Just felt glued, then sewn, to a yellow t-shirt. Nothing fancy, until the addition of LED lights. And, according to the Monster, not quite finished until she added some completely random marks with a black pen. I'll admit, there was a very sharp name-calling and a lot of internal frustration. Then she said she loved it and thought it was perfect now. Who am I to argue with that?

As parents we need to stand back some time to let our kids be kids, let the mess or the tantrum happen, or let them dress themselves even when they look like a hot mess. As crafters and artists we need to stand back some times to let the piece be or speak. As teachers we need to stand back and let the students' voices ring through. And some times we need to stand back and shut the hell up.

Go! And Stop

"Can I have some candy? I don't care, I'm going to pull down your underwear!"

"Trick or Treat. Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat. Not too big, not too small. Just the size of Montreal!"

These and the the screams of More Candy! More Candy! are echoing in my ear. The girls are off, speeding through the neighbourhod as fast as their costumes and legs will let them, trick-or-treating their hearts out. It may seem a little young at 2 and 4 to let them go. If you've got a problem with that, keep it to yourself.

Besides, who do you think gets all the candy?

Before I sent them out they were fed with a proper dinner. I'd love to say it was quick but, despite their impatience they still spent a half hour chatting and practicing their Halloween chants. This wasn't the night for a huge Sunday dinner. Roast, potatoes, and cake for dessert? Not going to hold the attention of my girls. Or frankly me, after a 10 day stint on single parenting.

Instead, I pulled out a weekday favourite: calzones. With a puffy, light dough that comes together quickly I can make dinner in about 20 minutes of active effort. It only needs an hour to rise and about 10 minutes to bake. The hardest part is waiting for them to cool so you don't burn your tongue on the fillings.

The recipe was developed for an article on after-school snacks for What's Up Families. Since then it's become our go-to pizza crust recipe in addition to the calzones. For pizza, stretch out the dough, top with sauce, tomato marmalade, garlic oil, or pesto and all your favourite toppings.

Calzones
Makes 8 hearty calzones


Fillings
Tomato Sauce
Shredded Mozzarella Cheese
Toppings - peppers, ham, mushrooms, artichoke hearts, fresh tomatoes, onions, olives, pepperoni

1 egg, beaten

1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees F. One section at a time roll into a rectangle about 8 inches by 6 inches. Cut in half at the 4 inch mark.
2. Top each half with a tablespoon of tomato sauce, leaving a half inch without sauce around all the edges. Add a half cup of shredded cheese and toppings of choice.
3. Fold each calzone in half, pinching and rolling over the edges to seal. Brush each calzone with the beaten egg.
4. Bake for 10 minutes. Let cool completely before eating as fillings will be very, very hot.

Doug's Frog Shirt Quilt


Doug's Frog Shirt Quilt
Approximately Twin Sized
August 2004
Stack and Slash, Fusible Applique - Original Design

Considering that I shared my Dad's quilt (Roots) during the last Blogger's Quilt Festival it only seemed appropriate that I share my Father-in-Law's quilt this time around. Sadly, my Father-in-law, Doug, never actually saw this quilt. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and 6 weeks later passed away.

As soon as he was diagnosed I pulled the fabric. It was all inspired by t-shirt he had. This pretty ugly batik t-shirt, known as the Frog Shirt. That t-shirt was, as far as I know, the only source of tension between he and I. My teasing was a bit much, but we got past it quickly. So, in homage to that shirt and him I took it as my inspiration.

The top was pieced with the Stack and Slash concept in rectangular blocks. I picked the black sashing for a few reasons. Number 1, the frog shirt was black. Number 2, it went well with the rest of the fabrics, setting them off nicely. And Number 3, it was kind of symbolic. Cancer can be a sentence - as it was for him - so it is rather like bars holding in the chaos of cancer in the blocks.

The frogs, of course, needed to be on there. Each frog represents his wife, my amazing Mother-in-Law, and their three kids. Even the grandkids, of which there were only two at the time, are given their place on the backs of the frogs.

The quilting was an all-over stipple with random fern and plant motifs added in. I used a Sulky variegated on my old 1960s Brother machine.

Sadly, I never got the chance to finish the quilt before he passed. Then the overwhelming world of grief took away my quilting desires. But in time for what would have been his birthday that year I finished the quilt and presented it to the family. Initially I'd hoped it could roam the family and provide some comfort where necessary, but it has always stayed with my Mother-in-Law. And there is nothing wrong with that.

Doug has been gone for over 6 years now and I still miss him terribly. He would have adored his new granddaughters and been proud of his son. He still lives on in his family and in the memories. Those never go away. Neither will the quilt, which I pet every time I visit my Mother-in-Law.

  • Amy's Creative Side - Blogger's Quilt Festival

Hot Cocoa for Brett

Not surprisingly, it snowed in Alberta this week. Saskatchewan too. (Hubby is snowed in there right now.) For all the grumbling of my mom and mother-in-law, it is actually expected. I remember more Halloween's with snow than without.

Snow means snowsuits, snow forts, snowball fights, wet mittens, and hot cocoa upon re-entry to the centrally heated house. Most kids these days are quite used to the package of hot chocolate, full of sugar and preservatives. Well, they don't know the last part, but they are used to the packaged taste.

I was watching some of my nephews and niece yesterday. All five kids ventured into the snow as soon as school was out. When the four youngest came in I set to making them a little treat. It was all for them, I swear. My 6 year old niece and Smilosaurus were keen on helping. I hope my brother doesn't mind them sitting on the counter. But they were quite into the whole process. I'm writing this post so my niece has the recipe for cocoa, she was trying really hard to memorize it yesterday.

Hot Cocoa - The Basics
1 serving

1 cup milk
1 tbsp cocoa
1 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla

1. Heat the milk in a pot on the stove (ask Mom or Dad to help if Auntie isn't around)
2. In a small bowl, stir together the cocoa and sugar. Add a few tablespoons of warm milk. Stir well to make a runny paste.
3. Stir the cocoa and sugar paste into the hot milk. Add vanilla. Serve with marshmallows.

If you want to make this a little fancy, try some garam masala, chai spices, peppermint extract, orange zest, or raspberry syrup. And definitely add marshmallows. Personally, I am a huge fan of these ones from Aimee.


Conquering my Fear

Handquilting is something I've tried a sum total of three times. The first time was on my third quilt ever. And only because I was terrified of free-motion quilting. The second and third times were earlier this year. That makes a 10 year break between efforts.

I'm trying it again. I would be talking out of my ass if I didn't confront my own fears after that last post on Fear. In my case, I was afraid that I would mess up this project with bad stitching. And the wealth of excellent examples on-line seriously intimidated me. But I can't sit around in fear, I just can't. It isn't my nature, although it is certainly easier. But I would be a hypocrite to you, my faithful readers, if I didn't challenge myself.

I would also be a hypocrite to my kids. You see, The Monster is a very intense child. If she can't do things perfectly the very first time she does something then the world essentially ends for her. Last summer, at 3, she tried her tricycle for the first time. When she couldn't figure out the notion of pedalling in the first 30 seconds she quite promptly got off the bike, picked it up, and threw it.

She gets that from me.

So, if I am working every day with her and her sister to get them to understand the notion of practice, work, and simply trying something even if you aren't perfect at it, then I need to do that myself. Enter handquilting.

Each of the 27 circles on my low-volume circles quilt will be handquilted. This is in contrast with the straight lines I'm doing on the background. It seemed an appropriate approach since the circles were done entirely by hand shortly after I injured my knees in January.

Now, I'm only three circles in. And it certainly isn't pretty. But each one looks progressively better. Seeing improvements certainly helps the confidence level. Regardless, I'm committed to the process and the product.

Full confession though, I'm stabbing these stitches, not using the traditional rocking motion. I know that isn't the correct way, but it is working for me. I believe that counts for a lot. Besides, on my recent trip to Nova Scotia I had the opportunity to snuggle by the fire under an incredible handstitched quilt that was entirely stab stitched. That was enough to motivate me to tackle my quilt. I don't know if I'll ever be as good as the artist, but I won't know if I don't try.

Fear

Fear holds a lot of people back. Not only in life, but also in quilting. Fear of a new technique, fear of messing up, fear of being less than perfect, even fear of not being liked (the work, that is). I'm here to tell you to stop being afraid.

(I feel evangelical just typing that. Maybe I should be on a stage with a tiny microphone on my face and gesticulating calmly as I speak. You know, projecting a voice of inspired energy and turning you over to my side?)

This is a bee block. Just a simple wonky star with a twist was requested. I can get those directions, play around with the fabric given, and come up with something a bit different from the typical stars seen out there. For another person, those directions can simply stop them in their tracks. For one, saying wonky paralyses many. Must have a straight lines... And two, this begs for improvisation. Must have a pattern... Finally, what if the recipient doesn't like what I do?

For a long time I didn't understand these fears. In my case it was because I happen to like a challenge and actually sewing that way. But then people asked me to sew very precise things in their bees, with very specific instructions. Definitely not my go-to-choice for a project. But I'd made the commitment to the bee and my fellow participants. And I wasn't afraid so much as less than excited. But it's one block, what's the big deal?

But one block can be a big deal to a beginner, or to someone whose never made a triangle or not worked with a pattern. I don't want it to be a big deal though. I want people to look past those fears and relish the challenge. Why not try something new? Do you want to make log cabins or simple patchwork for the rest of your life?

Okay, maybe you do. Maybe you would be really happy churning out those quilts. And that's fine. But then stay away from on-line bees and expect other people to get bored with your work if you choose to share it with a very public audience. That's all good if you are happy doing what you are doing.

Looking for more, though? Feeling inspired by all you see on-line or at guild? Then it is time to set aside some fear. Here are some tips to get you moving past the fear:

- Join an on-line bee. This will force you to try new techniques and meet other quilters. Alternatively, join a round robin or guild bee.

- Play. You can just sew for the sake of sewing, it doesn't have to turn into anything.

- Don't blog about it. If you are worried about what people think, then don't share it.

- Blog about it. Push yourself to put it out there, flaws (perceived or real) and all.

- When in doubt about that one fabric, include it. If it still niggles at you once you've used it, then take it out. It is only fabric.

- Ask for help. Whether from an in-person friend or by posting on-line, seek input from others (like we did with the Workshop in Progress).

- Challenge yourself. Set up regular goals to try new techniques or colours.

- Stop reading blogs and books for a little while. It can be demoralizing for many to see so much inspiring work. That is, we think we can't be good enough or think it is beyond us. So take a little retreat for yourself and turn off the computer and stay away from the stack of books. Fondle your fabric and sew for yourself.

- Colour. Stuck when it comes to fabric? Then pull out the crayons, markers, or pencils and just colour. Even if it is just a colouring book, go for it. Give people blue skin, colour the trees purple, or make polka-dotted dogs.

Keep in mind that if you are stuck there is no need to make an entire quilt to move past the fear. Make one block, just play for a bit. This reduces the commitment and moves your forward one step, one block at a time.

What other tips do you have for facing the fear?

Friday Favourites - Channeling Baba

As I learn to embrace my domesticity I find myself clinging to objects that celebrate my Baba. She was the stereotypical Baba - tiny, barely spoke a word of English, a garden the envy of Martha Stewart, and she thought everyone was too skinny. All summer she gardened and put food up for winter. All winter she cross-stitched and cooked. I'll never live up to her gardening, but I can embrace her other domestics arts.

This was her apron, just a cheap, commercial thing probably purchased at the Nu-Way store in tiny Hafford, Saskatchewan. Maybe she made it from material from the store? It's machine stitched, though, so I doubt it. She added her own flare with the extra large cross-stitch. I have two of these and I wear one every day. I would probably wear it all day but it is quite likely that I would forget I had it on when I went to pick up The Monster at preschool.

And the measuring cups are a new addition to the kitchen, purchased by a dear friend to celebrate my recent domesticity. They are such a fun treat in the kitchen and using them does indeed make me think of my Baba. With three dolls in the Matryoshka set I like to think it is three generations cooking together.

Her Name, Big

Please ignore the odd shape of the M. Coming up on 4 weeks of more or less solid single parenting. I get the odd break with a babysitter or Hubby unpredictably arriving home, only to leave again a day or two later. But he's working the whole time he's here too. Needless to say, exhaustion and crankiness are evident.

That being said, it is all the more managed now that I am home with the girls instead of in an office. I had a particularly bad day last week and in between crying and fighting with Hubby on the phone he commented that quitting my job was supposed to make this better. So the wrong thing to say. But I was somehow lucid enough to calmly (or so I think) point out that at least this was only one day. Prior to quitting my job that would have been everyday.

And having the opportunity to quilt nearly everyday during naptime (whether I take it or not) goes a long way towards keeping my mental health in check. A long, long way.

This afternoon saw me finish the main part of one of the girls' quilt tops. Our oldest asked for a quilt with her name on it, all over. Like a good artist who takes every commission with a grain of salt I modified her request. I went for her name once, and made it big! This will cover nearly an entire twin mattress. All that is left is to sew the rest of the top to this.

Oh, and actually get the twin mattress and the bed it is supposed to go on. Pretty sure I'm winning the race.

Backseat Adventure - Halifax Seaport Market


Scaling the steps and the crowds of the Halifax Farmers' Market in the Alexander Keith's Brewery is where I turned into a farmers' market regular. The stone hallways, dark corridors, over-crowded landing spaces, the cacophony of vendors and buyers, and the refuge of steps where I ate my noodles at the end of the trip combined to make a comforting and chaotic shopping experience.

Every Saturday in University I would empty my forest green Eddie Bauer backpack, leftover from high school, and make my way from one end of the peninsula that is Halifax to the other. I could only fill that backpack, using student transportation - my feet - as I was. Except in the fall when a pumpkin was in order. On those days I would carry my pumpkin in front of me, a harbinger of pregnancy much later in life.

There was the Polish spot where I could get some garlic sausage and a pretty passable pyrohy. One man selling mushrooms from his dark barns. The 50 cent piece of maple fudge I got every week. My loaf of bread, always purchased last, even though it meant backtracking. (Walking the market was like walking in IKEA, minus the arrows on the floor.) And I always ended where I could buy brioche and apples. The eggiest of brioche and the most wonderful apples that 14 years after leaving Halifax I desperately miss.

It was with more than a little nostalgia that I planned a market visit on our recent trip to Nova Scotia. We were staying at the Westin, right across from the recently redeveloped Seaport area. I thought it was just the cruise ship terminal and Pier 21. The signs for the farmers' market thoroughly confused me.

Halifax Farmers' Market is the oldest market in North America. And these signs were proclaiming that. But it was for the Seaport market. What about the Brewery? A little digging turns out that the new market is the old market, just moved, but the Brewery Market is still open. Confused? I was, so I committed to checking out the new market.

The completely updated Pier 20, located right next to the cruise ship terminal, housing the Halifax Seaport Market is a green building. Solar panels, windmills, and a garden on the roof And a living wall inside plus geothermal heat make it a very green building. A large open space, divided into the main floor and a second floor loft make up one immense shopping area.

There is still the cacophony of sound, and the crowds were even more ridiculous than in the Brewery, but the energy was not lacking. Nor were the vendors. Four long rows of vendors selling seafood, meat, fruit, cheese, tea, crafts, coffee, wool, jam, bread, vegetables nearly to the rafters, and a unique Nova Scotia kindness as you walked by. Not a single fruit reseller to be seen, and a lot of dirty fingernails on the folks passing you your change.

I spoke to a few of the vendors about the move, the ones I can remember from 14 years ago or from more recent trips to Halifax. They said it was certainly an adjustment, but they were happy with the move. They were already seeing more sales at the new market because there were bigger crowds and accessibility was easier. Some maintained a presence at both markets - the Brewery Market is still open and now competing with the Seaport market, only blocks away. One vendor, though, confided that the new market was better and they were going to give up the old one.

It will take some time to settle into the new space. They need another ATM or two, better power hook-ups for vendors, and eventually they will be open more days of the week (only Saturday for now). Judging from the crowds, however, Halifax has already warmly welcomed the new space.

As for me, I was sad to miss my beloved russet apples (too early in the season). A few samples of wine and scotch from Nova Scotia made up for that. So did people watching from the second story loft while I munched on the best dolmades I've ever had and a fine baklava from competing Lebanese and Egyptian vendors. Then there was the delicate seaglass necklace I found and the aptly names Dragon's Breath blue cheese I carried home on the plane. I'll admit that did miss the mysterious corridors of the Brewery, but not enough to complain. And the new market was enough to make me renew my fantasies of moving back to Halifax.