Shall we talk about something generic like how long January felt? Or how frustrating your commute was today? Or the raging primary and how Klobuchar beat(?) Elizabeth Warren? Or about how I haven’t updated this blog since November?
Oooh! Or we could talk about TV. That’s fun, people like talking about TV. We’re watching Schitt’s Creek, which is only getting funnier as it develops. And Killing Eve, that’s a good show too. Daniel’s getting me to watch Old Star Trek so I can appreciate New Star Trek. And the Oscars, they happened too! White male rage, amiright? Thank goodness for Parasite.
When someone asks “how are ya”, like a barista or a coworker, these are all very good things to bring up. But they don’t really answer how I AM. They talk about how the world is. They’re so much easier than looking the person in the eyes and talking about fear and grief. Of being vulnerable and open and sharing stories.
So, because many of us are internet strangers, and strangers don’t do sadness so well, I give you this recipe without much story. We ate them at my grandma’s house growing up, and I miss them. Endish of story.
I used her recipe and, though they’re close, they’re not perfectly right. But they are delicious and easy and perfectly seasonal. And perhaps when you try them, you too will hear the sound of the harp in the background, and wrinkle your nose about needing to finish dinner before dessert. Or you’ll eat them and think — I know what’s missing, a bowl of strawberries with sugar on top! And tiny vases of fresh cut flowers all over my kitchen. And maybe you’ll hear a creaky old rocking horse in the basement and smell fresh laundry drying in the breeze. I don’t know how to be honest about feelings, but I do know taste memory is real. These bars transport me and comfort me, and I’m glad they’ll live forever on this site.
Now, read any good books lately?
one year ago: sicilian stuffed eggplant roll-ups
two years ago: gochujang roasted squash pasta salad
three years ago: miso ginger kale salad
four years ago: kasha bowl with roasted tomatoes
five years ago: bengali egg curry approximation
Hermits a la Grandma
Makes enough for two people to snack on all week, easily double it for more
6 tablespoons butter, at room temp
½ cup sugar, plus extra for topping
1 egg, beaten
2 tablespoons molasses
1 cup + 2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon ground ginger
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
pinch of salt
½ cup raisins (if old, rehydrate in hot water for 10 minutes before using)
Preheat oven to 375F.
In a stand mixer, cream together butter and sugar until fluffy. Pour in roughly half of your beaten egg (toss the other half or reserve for tomorrow’s scrambled eggs) and the molasses. Mix on medium speed until incorporated, scraping down the bowl as needed.
In a separate medium bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and salt. Add to wet mixture and mix on low speed until incorporated. Stir in raisins.
Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Wet your hands. Scoop up half the cookie batter and form into a long rope, one inch thick, on the baking sheet. Flatten the dough just a bit. Sprinkle with extra sugar. Repeat with other half of dough.
Bake for 10-12 minutes, or until sides are starting to brown but centers remain pliable. Slice on a diagonal when cool. They keep for a very long while in a covered container at room temp.
This is the recipe my mom found and attributes to my grandma. It’s her handwriting at the bottom! A quick google revealed zero hermit recipes from Ruth Reichl, so… who knows the origin of this one.
The Swanky Sweet Potato 