Deelish Dish

changes

Hello, all. I've tried and I've tried, but I can't seem to get this blog and motherhood balance quite right. It's not that I don't have the time anymore, I've lost all motivation and interest as well. As a post-college grad, I started this blog in an effort to learn fun domestic things like cooking and crafting. Now, my world has morphed in a thousand different ways and I think it's a good time to wrap it up and say goodbye. And thanks. And it was fun. And I hope our paths cross again soon. And thanks a million times more.

It was a pleasure to be friends, and I hope I can find you again if I one day change my mind.

Good luck in all your adventures. Eat some good for me. Tip back a few in my name.

Much love,

Anja

xoxo

sweet, sweet victory

So guess what, peeps? I have some brag-worthy news for you. Two things: A) I made some muy delicioso strawberry-peach jam. And B) My child now sleeps through the night. 

Did you read that? Through the night. As in, eight consecutive hours of peace for the whole family. Thank you, thank you, sleep training gods. It was nine days of sleep-deprived-hallucinatory-constant-verge-of-tears-guilt-ridden torture but alas, it was worth it. Daytime naps are a cinch and I even feel confident that I can leave for a moms' night out. The faint sweet smell of my old life is in the air and mmmm, it's intoxicating.

On top of this victory, I also conquered some peaches and strawberries. Together, in one jar. And oh my goooodness, my genius knows no boundaries. A peach-perfect pairing. (I'm a loser.)

They aren't the best photos and the process was also not the best documented of all time but take my word for it: capitalize on the summer now and get jamming. Hit the Farmers Market and find the best deal—negotiating towards closing time works wonders. Then grab your supplies, an apron, turn off the phone and the music on, and get working. Neighbors and Christmas-gift-receivers alike will be so thankful you did.

If you decide you can part with a few jars. I don't blame you if you can't.

at the warfront

Hello, friends. How are you? I've missed you. I'm writing this while sitting on my couch, sporting red plaid pajama pants and three-day dirty hair, inhaling my second cup of coffee and cold leftover bread pudding. I don't have the energy for simple things like washing my hair and making breakfast, you see. Why? Because I'm [insert horror movie music] SLEEP TRAINING. So blogging, as you can understand, has sadly been at the bottom of my list. I haven't cooked up anything of interest, nor do I have any news other than...zzzzzzzz. This parenting stuff is kicking my ass.

For those of you with experience, any advice? I'm on Day 4 with my 6-month-old and he's now getting pretty good at falling asleep in his crib within half an hour, but can't seem to stop waking every 2-3 hours in the night. Sometimes he'll fall asleep after I go in and help him find his dummy, or shush him and rub his back. Other times, he won't settle unless I give in and nurse. This is the kicker, I know. We're working on it.

Any tips? 

(By the way, the melodramatic chick in the picture is totally me, minus the curlers. And the sleeping baby.)

happy 4th of july!

This is actually a photo from Bass Lake (near Yosemite), where I used to go every summer for the Fourth of July. Today, I'm in Bend, Oregon and lurrrrvvvinnng the time with my big, crazy family. Babe's doing well (minus a lost binky that cost us hours of screaming in the car), everyone's getting along (minus some healthy beer pong arguments), the weather is just amazing, the BBQs are aplenty and fireworks are legal! It's a much deserved vacation that we are enjoying immensely (she says as she downs some more pinot noir). Say it with me now, AHHHH...

Hope you have a safe, happy holiday as well! 

cranberry oat scones

Scone virgin no more! I can officially cross them off my list of baking accomplishments. Well, maybe accomplishment is not the right word. They were deliciously tasty but a bit amorphous and, if you want full disclosure, boring. 

And I say boring because I think all scones are boring, which is probably why it's taken me until now to make some. I was tempted to jazz things up with some chocolate chips because I think chocolate brings the party to everything, but I guess some morning pastries should be on the less sweet side. For those people with a conscience.

And for the boring-scone-loving folks, these are for you. Flaky, oaty, with a tang of chewy cranberry in every bite, they've got a moist, buttery crumb that just melts in your mouth.

You don't want to be dipping them in your coffee...or hell, maybe you do. 

seven up

In 1964, a British filmmaker chose a group of 14 children and followed their lives, documenting them every seven years. The effects of social class, education, money, divorce, etc. were examined as determinants for each child's future. It's so interesting—and many times sad—to see what happens. Have you seen this series? What do you think about it? It's currently on Netflix Instant Watch and I encourage you all to check it out.

happy father's day!

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there! Here's a great new book I've just started about the pleasures and perils of a father's first year. It's quick and fun, and a great gift for a new dad. We spent Lovah's first Father's Day in the park with a picnic, bocce ball, and family. Hope you all enjoyed a sunny, love-filled day too! 

his & hers bread pudding

I hate wasting food. A big beef roast on Sunday night means I'll be eating steak sandwiches for a week. Too many bananas turning brown means we'll be having banana bread with our afternoon tea. And bread gone stale means the warm smell of cinnamon and nutmeg drifting from the oven: bread pudding. The most delicious form of leftovers yet.

Marrying a Scotsman requires knowing how to make a good bread pudding. It's a staple for them; every woman has her trusty recipe. A few trips back, my mother-in-law made her own "bread and butter pudding", as she called it, whipped up in seconds and left to soak the entire day.

It was amazing and, I think, an intimidation tactic. Her question of "Do you know how to make bread pudding?" was meant to be read as "Do you want to marry my son?" Ha...hee...gulp. No one told me the key to a happy marriage would be the ability to replicate his mother's cooking.

There is only one little problem when it comes to my baking of bread pudding...I hate raisins. Knowing that it's more than sacrilegious to take out raisins from the traditional recipe, I came up with my own solution.

Half dried cranberries, half raisins! His and hers bread pudding! G-g-g-genius.

If I were to make a batch for solely myself I would have swapped it all for chocolate chips, but that's just preposterous. And a world only I live in. A chocolate-crazed, over-indulgent, delicious world. 

So we scooped our pieces of pudding, dusted with a delicate snowfall of powdered sugar. Me with my cranberry half, his with his raisins. Lovah devoured the bowl in silence, licked his lips and said, "Mmm, that was just like Mum's."

happy friday!

This is what my weekend looks like...hot DAMN! Or should I just say, HOT. I melt in this kind of weather but at the same time...summer is here! I plan on hikes, BBQs, and cold bubbly drinks.

How about you? What are y'all up to this weekend?

yellow cake + chocolate frosting = my kryptonite

Do you have a food vice? A really serious one? One so bad that it could single-handedly bring you down if you let it? I'm talking the kind of thing you won't even think of buying because if you did, it would not make it to the pantry shelves but become wholly devoured within seconds of leaving the market. If they're lucky!

Insert me with a blurred face on A&E's Intervention: "Hi, my name is Anja, A-n-j-a, and I'm addicted to yellow cake with chocolate frosting."

I'm not kidding, the stuff truly is my kryptonite. In layer, bundt, cupcake, batter form...I don't discriminate. But it has to be yellow—not vanilla or white!—and it has to have chocolate frosting. 

If you make chocolate cupcakes, I'll eat them, sure. If you make vanilla ones, I'll pick and nibble. If you go the ungodly route and make yellow with chocolate, you're forcing me to eat 5-6 in one sitting. It's a problem.

My family knows what to make come birthday month. My old coworkers whipped one up for my baby shower. And if it's your birthday and I made one for you, you'll know that it wasn't really for you. You were just a pawn in my game of indulgence. Denial isn't just a river in Egypt.

And that's just what happened last week, when I made about 25 of these babies for a friend's birthday. Funny thing is, she got a tupperware container of about 8. Where did the rest go?