Peanut Butter Swirl Brownies

I wanted to make something extra special for my Mummy this year for Mother's Day.

But it needed to be sturdy enough to ship from my tiny Manhattan apartment to my parent's beautiful home nestled snugly between the sky, the mountains and the green pasture where the cows graze lazily throughout the day.

Lemon flavored desserts are usually on my mind around Mother's Day and, while I had lots of dessert ideas using lemon, nothing was really inspiring me.

And then, flipping through my endless, but never complete, collection of cookbooks, I discovered this recipe.

The funny thing is, my mother could take or leave chocolate.  It just isn't something she craves.

But, when you create the deadly combination of chocolate and peanut butter?  Well, that's a whole different story.

For the woman who loves Reese's Peanut Butter cups so much she used to steal them from her own children's Halloween candy stash (don't lie Mum, I forgive you), I couldn't imagine a better treat for Mother's Day.

My Mother's Hands

For as long as I can remember, my mother has always hated her hands. She has a seemingly endless supply of adjectives used to justify why she doesn't like them.

But I love her hands - all hands for that matter. Of all the places on our bodies that can tell the story of our lives, I think hands are the most reflective.

Watching her hands make quick work of a pie crust, her life's work and love is reflected in the small bones and veins flexing and relaxing in a familiar, peaceful rhythm.

The same hands that held me as a baby and cooly took my temperature when I was sick.

The hands that scolded me when I was wrong and comforted me when I was sad.

The hands that taught me to bake long before I could read or understand a recipe.

The hands that encouraged me the night before I moved to New York, as I cried on the couch and asked if I was making a mistake.

The hands I see when I peer down at my own hands, happily covered in a light dusting of flour.

My mother's hands are not perfect and I suspect that is why she does not like them. They show a life of hard work, a few disappointments and an enormous amount of love.

But they reflect everything she taught me about life.

It's not easy. But the simple task of providing nourishment and love to your family is by far the most important and most treasured part of life.

Her hands helped shape and mold me into the woman I am today and will become in the future.

Happy Mother's Day Mummy. Thank you so much for everything. I love you.

Chili Lime Tequila Popcorn

As you might remember, I have a bit of a gripe with stadium food.

I'm not talking about Citi Field, where I could live on Box Frites with the super-addictive bacon sauce.  Although my thighs might protest my diet change.

And I'm not talking about my beloved Fenway Park, where a Fenway Frank somehow tastes gourmet among the atmosphere, game and fans.

I'm talking about just about every other stadium.  The lines.  The prices.  The soggy, flavorless reward.

Luckily, most stadiums will now allow you to bring in a "modest" amount of food.

Here inlies the problem: what is considered a "modest" amount of food?  For 2 people?  What if I'm meeting more people and bringing them food?  Is that then considered an immodest amount of food for one person to bring into the stadium?

Yes, I think/worry about such things.

Yes, my hands begin sweating when I have to hand my bag over to be checked before entering the stadium.

No, I'm not a goody-two shoes.  Why do you ask?

But - once you taste this popcorn, I guarantee the thought of some security guard confiscating this treat might also push you to the edge of hysterics.

After making the popcorn, willing my hand away from eating it all before the game, fitting it securely in the bottom of my Kate Spade (known as just "Kate" around these parts), I was worried 4 quarts of popcorn might be excessive for 2 people.

Is it?  I don't know.

When something tastes this good, it can't be that bad for you.  At least, that's what Mike and I told ourselves as we consumed this popcorn by the fist-full.

Buttery.  Spicy.  Zippy.  Boozy.

Popcorn that begs for a good game and a big margarita.

Rhubarb Crumb Steamed Pudding

After completing my first Daring Baker's challenge last month, and being a bit disappointed about the results, I was anxious for the unveiling of this month's challenge.

The April 2010 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Esther of The Lilac Kitchen. She challenged everyone to make a traditional British pudding using, if possible, a very traditional British ingredient: suet.

I put off completing this challenge for a few weeks for a variety of reasons. Mostly, my time is a wee bit limited nowadays. With no time, I couldn't research traditional British puddings, compare recipes or brainstorm flavor combinations.

Secondly, I admit, I was initially not very excited about the challenge. After all, the host described these puddings as "homely". Also, I had absolutely no idea how this "pudding" would taste.

Lastly, the less than plentiful crop of early spring fruits was creating a bit of an obstacle. For the first few weeks in spring, the farmer's market had only potatoes and onions.

But, sometimes, procrastination does pay off. I put this challenge off long enough to be greeted by the bright red stalks of fresh rhubarb. Funny how just the sight of this fruit seems to signal an end to the long winter and gesture in the warmer, happier days of spring.

I purchased just two stalks, as rhubarb is a bit on the expensive side, enough to be poached for the two individual puddings I had decided to create.

I lightly poached the rhubarb in a combination of water, blood orange juice, vanilla and honey. While the poached rhubarb was cooling, I reduced the poaching liquid to the most beautiful, shiny red glaze I had ever seen. There was just enough glaze to be drizzled over the dessert as the final, sweet touch.

As the top layer of the steamed pudding, I incorporated a thin crumb layer, just to add a little extra sweetness to the rhubarb.

Finally, it was time to venture into unmarked territory. It was time to actually create and steam the pudding.

Confession: I whimped out. I did not use suet. I used butter instead. But, I promise you - it will be okay. Butter makes everything better!

Using a small, mesh sieve to rest the pudding on, I could only fit one individual springform pan in the pot. I brought it to a boil, then lowered the heat at let it do it's thing.

I snuck a peek here and there. But nothing seemed to be happening. Just a lot of steam and gurgling.

Most recipes instructed a steaming time of at least two hours, but for a full-sized pudding. So, I checked mine after an hour. I inserted my little cake tester and it emerged with just a few stray crumbs. Time was up!

I might have forgotten I used leavener in the recipe. I might have filled the batter all the way to the top of the pan on accident. But I admit nothing.



It was an easy enough fix after all.

See? Now I had a flat bottom for the steamed pudding and I could taste just a little piece.



It was heavenly. Amazing. The most moist, creamy cake I had ever eaten with a deep, yet light flavor.

I added the cooled, poached rhubarb - now a bright, beautiful pink hue - on top of the creamy, crumb layer and drizzled the reduced poaching liquid over the pudding.



I served the steamed pudding with homemade frozen yogurt, although I think it would have been even better with a tart, lemon sorbet instead.

This month's challenge was a major success on many levels. The visual result was exactly what I had envisioned when I picked up that first stalk of fresh rhubarb. The taste far exceeded my expectations and I created a recipe which I will keep in my repertoire for years to come.

The success of this challenge reminded me how important it is to continally expand your skills, even if you are not overcome with enthusaism at first glace. Thinking about how you can turn a recipe into your own, into a recipe that you are truly proud of, takes time, energy and patience.

But aren't those successes, the ones we didn't see coming, the sweetest?

Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins

Earlier this week, on the train home from work, I sleepily perused this month's issue of Food & Wine.  Magazine reading is just about the extent of what I have the energy to do after a long shift on my feet.

A recipe for banana chocolate chip muffins caught my eye.  Which is kind of funny, since I hate banana muffins.

I'm not quite sure why I detest banana muffins.  I love bananas and a warm slice of banana bread always reminds me of home.

However, the texture of banana muffins always reminds me of baby food - chunky and a little mealy.  Gross.

But, for some reason, I really wanted to make these muffins.  And I just so happened to have a couple overripe bananas - forgotten in the long days since their promising purchase.

To achieve more of the texture I desired, I was sure to not only mash the bananas, but I also paddled them on the mixer until they were a smooth, creamy consistency.

I also added some whole wheat flour and chopped walnuts to the mix, not only because I felt the flavors would blend nicely with the banana, but also to make them a bit healthier.

Warm swirls of steam escaped the muffin as I opened the center.  The taste was homey and comforting, smooth and tender - like no other banana muffin before.

I loved having these around this week, when I woke up in the morning and was just too tired to make anything for breakfast.  They provide a tasty, healthy start to my day - with just a bit of sweetness from the chocolate chips.