Special

My family spent the morning delivering Christmas gifts from our parish’s St. Vincent de Paul Conference to needy families who had requested them. The presents have been gathered over the past month in response to submissions from families and organizations to help make a merrier Christmas for those who might not have seen any gifts under the tree this year.

I won’t soon forget the look on one mother’s face as we showed up to her door with a bag of wrapped gifts and one enormous blue boogie board; her youngest son had requested a sled and blue was a preference.

“Oh, look at that!” she cried in delight. “Isn’t that special!”

It made me think back to the gift I had purchased. It wasn’t a glamorous request. Some toiletries for a teenage girl in prison. As I perused the bath goods shelves at Walgreens with my two little ones in tow, I noticed how Sophia’s eyes kept landing on the most decorative packaging—and anything pink! It got me thinking, sure I could just try to get as many items as possible that fit in my budget, nabbing whatever was cheapest or on sale, but would it light up a young woman’s eyes on Christmas morning? A young woman who might receive nothing more than my meager, anonymous offering of shampoo and deodorant?

No, I decided. I wanted this girl, whoever she was, to get something special. So, I hunted for all the things I would have liked best, were I an African American teenage girl (her ethnicity had been specified in the request card). I got cocoa butter lotion and udder balm, remembering my friends in high school who were constantly complaining about their “ashy” skin, and even grabbed a three-set of pretty hair picks, remembering the ones that were always in my classmates’ bags, ready to share or swap at a moment’s notice.

I know that Christmas is about Christ and not about the presents, but if we’re going to honor the tradition of giving and receiving, I am not of the mindset that any gift should do. No, it doesn’t have to be elaborate or expensive, and any gift ought to be received with graciousness and appreciation, but I think they should also hold something of the delight and wonder that filled that mother’s voice, that I hope will fill my young gift recipient’s eyes this Saturday morning, along with a cry of, “Isn’t that special!”

I wish, dear readers, that I could send a little something special to all of your this holiday season, to let you know what your fellowship has meant to me and to thank you for joining me here in this virtual space. Unfortunately, it’s just not feasible. I don’t know your addresses or even many of your names, yet here we are, connected in community, growing and sharing with each other here at The Apple Cider Mill.

Last week, I had the gift of a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It was given to my husband and me by my mother and her incredible husband in honor of our fifth wedding anniversary. Unexpected and truly special for us, I hope you will accept these captured moments and reflections of a magical evening as my humble little something special to you all.

As I said, dining at the Herbfarm was much more than a meal, it was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. From the moment we entered the restaurant—restaurant seems such a feeble word for it all—the gracious attention of the staff was overwhelming!

The evening began with a garden tour and history of the restaurant given by co-owner, Carrie Van Dyck, as well as a “scratch and sniff” of some of the herbs we’d be sampling that evening. Every dish featured these delightful herbs which truly are grown and picked that day from the lovely kitchen garden just outside the dining room. Our first taste was a Douglas Fir elixir (it’s actually very similar to citrus with a just a subtle peppery bite) mixed into champagne.

After toasts around the European style table where we dined with three other celebratory couples, Ron Zimmerman came out and introduced us to the rest of the phenomenal staff.

Chef Chris Weber, the youngest 5-diamond chef in North America (he’s in that bottom picture in this set of photos; you know they’re not kidding!), introduced us to the menu for the evening. Sommelier Tysan Dutta and pastry chef Cory Barrett then told us about their offerings. It was wonderful to hear how the dishes and wines were chosen and prepared, and I was intrigued to find that everything, from the champagne to the hazelnuts was all sustainably supplied from farmers and vintners in the bountiful Pacific Northwest!

Each course was plated within view of the dining room, and you can see for yourself how they pampered and spoiled us through nine incredible courses. Nine! I know, it sounds tremendous—and it was—but the entire meal took four and a half hours, and the portions were small.

We also took a short digestion break halfway through to go and visit Basil and Borage, the resident pigs of whom the owners and staff are so affectionately proud, as evidenced by the piggy paraphernalia lovingly displayed throughout the restaurant. (Did you catch that, Aunt Lori? We got to dine with piggies!)

Everything was so lovely, from the festive décor to the exquisite food, the friendly staff, the adorable pigs, the wonderful conversation, the live classical guitar, the jolly carolers, the delicious local wines… I don’t think I could possibly pick my favorite dish or moment, but here are just some of the highlights. I’ve included the menu just below, so that you can identify the scrumptious food in the pictures.

And now, I bid all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, as I sign off for the holidays to give my family the most special thing I can cook up: my undivided attention.

God bless you, every one!

On Our Fifth Wedding Anniversary

I remember in vivid clarity the first time I held my husband’s hand. It was a handshake on a noisy, perpetually filthy road, and with it I learned his name. It stood out to me so because of it’s candor, it’s honesty, and it’s refreshing formality in a teenaged world of head nods and half-waves. It seemed somehow grown-up.

I realize only now how very young we were.

We have grown up together. For better or worse, our characters have molded each other like grafted vines forming a knotted hybrid.

When we were courting, we each wore a ring. Mine in Hebrew, his in Latin, they bore the words of Solomon: “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.” On the morning of our wedding day, I slipped the ring into a little box, it’s promise now fulfilled. My right hand felt strangely naked. He put another band on my left hand, and like a reversal of the Fall, that feeling of vulnerability, of loss and nakedness, seemed to disappear.

The inscribed band is still in its box, and now I have another in its place, a Swedish tradition that marks me as a mother, as if somehow the living reminders would not proclaim loudly or widely enough the miracle of the fulfillment of those Hebrew words, now inscribed upon my life: I am his his and he is mine and we are one and our one became three and then four.

Then came the day when I realized that his hand touching mine no longer brought fireworks or imprinting clarity…

…because, like the rings I wear, his hand feels like a part of my own body. The absence of it would be the remarkable thing.

Celebration Applesauce Cake

For their honeymoon, my parents loaded up their car and drove the northeast coast, stopping off at bed & breakfasts sprinkled along their path and getting to know their own native corner of this great country of ours. I wasn’t conceived on that trip, but I think something of the spirit of it made its way into my genes. I have always loved bed & breakfasts far and away above any other traveling accommodations. You could offer me the penthouse suite at the Waldorf Astoria, but I would trade you every time for a family-run establishment in a gingerbread Victorian with homemade cinnamon rolls on the breakfast table.

When Brian and I were married—more than thirty years after my parents’ New England trip—we had what we termed a whirlwind honeymoon! Squeezed between final exams (which ended 48 hours before our wedding!) and Christmas back in my hometown (7 days following the wedding), we found time to squirrel ourselves away in the San Bernardino Mountains for exactly 72 hours.

I’m not sure what my favorite part was. The fact that a snow-loving native New Yorker and a mountain-loving Idahoan found snow in California for their honeymoon. Or, the roaring fire in the hearth next to our bed. The switchback drive up the mountain the night of the wedding while we chatted and dreamed about all the years ahead. Maybe the sweet gentlemen at church the next day who were so delighted that we attended service the morning after our wedding that they treated us to lunch at their favorite soup-and-sandwich joint! Or maybe it was just being able to rest easy in a homey place, secluded and cozy, just the two of us for a whole 72 hours before life turned up again and started making demands.

This Friday will mark Brian’s and my 5th anniversary! I’m not sure if that seems like a long time (wasn’t it only just yesterday he slipped the ring on my finger?) or a short time (isn’t it like we’ve always been together?), but it certainly is significant.

We made one more bed & breakfast trip about a year-and-a-half after the honeymoon, slipping in just under the wire of parenthood. This was our “babymoon”—and I was nearly eight months pregnant with Sophia. That time, we drove up to Anacortes, Washington and took the ferry over to Orcas Island. We stayed at the Turtleback Farm and enjoyed long walks on the grounds and up to the watchtower in Moran State Park, as well as a famer’s market festival, a summer movie at an old-time theater, and the most fantastic granola I have ever tasted—I got the recipe so I could recreate it at home!

We never really got away again without the kids, and it seemed our bed & breakfast days were put on hiatus. But this year, we will be celebrating with a weekend away in Seattle. We’ve got some plans—a reservation at a bed & breakfast on Capitol Hill (I know, there really is such a place!), a tour of Theo’s Chocolate Factory, tickets to the Picasso exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum, and capping it off with what may be the most incredible dinner of our lives—but the great thing about a weekend at a bed & breakfast is all the surprises.

And, in conclusion and in celebration, I want to give you all a little gift for my anniversary: the most surprisingly, cozily luscious applesauce cake you will ever come across. It comes straight from one of the very bed & breakfasts that my own parents visited on their honeymoon all those years ago in Mystic Seaport, Connecticut. (Sorry, Mom, am I making you feel old?) It made it’s transcontinental way in my suitcase to college, and now has found a loving home in the Pacific Northwest, enchanting a whole new generation of eager little tummies.

Be warned, though. Despite the fact that it is chock full of nutritious goodies—homemade applesauce, raisins, walnuts—this is one of the most sinfully decadent cakes you will ever taste and probably packs more calories per bite than just about anything that finds its way into or out of my kitchen. But, hey? Indulgence is what celebration is all about, right?

And, if you want to hear a naughty little secret: I once served up slices of it for breakfast! Is it really that much worse than a Starbucks pumpkin scone? (I ran the nutritional information and it is not.) Regardless, I think my *bed &* breakfast-loving parents would have approved.

Applesauce Cake
barely adapted from the All Seasons Cookbook by Connie Colom and The Mystic Seaport Museum

2 sticks butter, softened
2 c. sugar
2 eggs
3 c. flour
1 1/2 t. nutmeg
1 T cinnamon
1 t. cloves
1 T baking soda
2 1/2 c. applesauce
2 T corn syrup
1 c. raisins
1 c. chopped walnuts

Caramel Sauce:
1 stick butter
1 c. brown sugar, packed
2 T cream
2 t. vanilla extract
1/2 c.+ confectioners’ sugar
chopped walnuts

Preheat oven to 300F. Grease and flour a bundt pan. Cream together butter and sugar until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Sift together flour, spices, and baking soda. Combine applesauce and corn syrup; add to creamed mixture alternately with dry ingredients. Fold in raisins and nuts. Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake 1 1/2 hours in a convection over and up to 2 hours in a standard, until cake tests done when tester is inserted. Cool cake in pan on wire rack 10 minutes. Remove from pan and cool completely.

After cake has cooled, make the caramel sauce by heating the butter, brown sugar, and cream in a saucepan over low heat until melted. Remove from heat. Whisk in vanilla, then whisk in confectioners’ sugar, adding enough to achieve a sauce the consistency of thick frosting. Pour sauce over the cooled cake and immediately sprinkle with the chopped walnuts, so that they will adhere to the sauce; it solidifies very quickly.

The original recipe says this yields 12-14 servings, but it’s so rich, our family cuts this cake up for 20.