Reflections on a (Baking) Season

Winter Cardinal  via strawberryluna

The children were nustled all snug in their beds/

While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads

To this day, I do not know what the hell sugarplums are. (Oh wait, I just googled them; those look delicious.) Nonetheless, that line in "The Night Before Christmas" has always brought warmth to me. I can't tell you how many nights I fall into an exhausted sleep while images of lattice pie crust and biscuits and crumble topping and cinnamon-sugar sprinkles float in and out of my mind. Last night's reflections got me thinking that this season is unique in that way. 

Never before have I been able to so freely express myself with food. I feel like I'm now able to translate my passion into something concrete - more concrete than poetry or music or feelings shared after a few cocktails - and it feels so liberating. I feel like I have something that is all my own. When I want to promote it, I promote it. When I feel burned out, I let myself reflect and create without judgment. Then I just come back with better stuff.

But, this year, the holiday season has just about chased me down. It feels like I've been stuck in a race with someone just a step faster than me, running on sand to try to keep up. Then I fall asleep and recharge, wake up, do yoga for 90 minutes, drink lots of coffee, work non-stop all day at the publishing company, drive home, and bake until I can't bake anymore. And I kind of love it. 

I enjoy sharing what the holidays have always meant to me: my mother's cooking, long stories shared over long meals, and spending time with my family, who I simultaneously see too often and not enough (what a contradiction). This year, the holidays also mean variations on the traditional baking my mother has always executed so well. Instead, I'm making  the southern food that comes from my family's heart and transforming it into something oh so San Francisco. Some examples: salt-honey pecan pie, persimmon custard tarts, salted dark chocolate almond toffee, ginger-nutmeg southern tea cakes, sweet potato cupcakes, and heavy cream on top of all of the above. 

I may not have the time to relish every second of this season, but I'm basking in the warmth through the food I'm making for others, through the samples I save for myself, and through the endless flow of new ideas that dance through my head as I fall asleep at night, exhausted, ready to start all over again in the morning.

Peanut Butter Cookies: The Cookie of My Heart

I've been spending a lot of time lately thinking about peanut butter cookies. I recently made an order for a friend, and it sent me on a mission through my mom's old recipe box for the perfect combination of ingredients. I made my first test batch a few months ago, and they've only gotten better since then. Now, I use all-natural peanut butter (I literally go to the store where I can press my own peanuts into peanut butter... it's kind of badass), all-butter, White Lily flour, and roll each cookie individually in coarse sugar. It's a bit of a step above what my mom had in mind when she wrote the recipe in her recipe box, but it still has the heart and soul of the cookie of my heart: the classic peanut butter cookie. 

I'm not sure why, but every time I bite into a peanut butter cookie, I think of Atlanta and my childhood. I'm not even sure if my mom made these cookies much when I was little. All I know is that when she did make these cookies, I went crazy. I felt like I was being rewarded for existing. That's what peanut butter cookies are to me: a reward for living on this planet, where peanut butter exists. Because peanut butter is one of the best things on this earth. Really.

Next up is perfecting my peanut butter and jelly cookie recipe. It's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but one hundred times more decadent, only it's about 1/8 of the size, so it's not so bad for you.

The holidays have been so good to me so far. Even though a certain someone *coughcough* left for Los Angeles right as all the stress hit, I've still been taking lots of time to myself. My recipe for success as I'm going through all my recipes for other people: yoga at 5 in the morning, meditation, shopping only during lunch hours at work and avoiding the shopping mall, handmade gift certificates, eating lots of avocados and vegetables, and spending time with friends whenever possible. 

This year has been so much different than any year before it. I've found it hard to believe that it's Christmas already, but it's here whether I'm ready for it or not. I feel so much more whole, so much more determined, so much more accomplished, and like I have so much farther to go. I'm looking forward to Thailand and Paris and weekends with Rob and yoga each morning and baking new things every week and making people smile with butter, sugar, flour, and bacon. Lots and lots of bacon.

My Very Own Virtual Home

After weeks - no, let's be real, months - of procastination and worrying, I have finally gotten my South by San Francisco Facebook page up and running. It is modest yet. But I have big plans: deals, videos, better photos, polls, all that good stuff.

If you haven't, please "like" the page. There is much more to come, as small as it may seem right now.

Go to the page at: Facebook.com/southbysanfrancisco

And that's because, if this holiday season has taught me anything, it is that I am ready for the next step. I thrive on the energy and planning and the love and care that go into each of my orders, especially when things get hectic. So I am taking several large gulps of air, sighing, and closing my eyes as I jump off the deep end. No, no, I'm more like wading into the mid-deep end, feeling my way around there, and then possibly doggie paddling towards the deep end. I'm taking calculated risks here, people. And I am calculating the exponential deliciousness of pie as we hit the bottom of winter and make our way back towards spring sometime soon. Just like the Greeks did at some point. Or something.

Sorry for the dumb joke. Like the page!

My San Francisco Quest for the Perfect Southern Pralines

In case you couldn't tell by my terrible lack of updates, I have been running around like a madwoman this holiday season. I've been expanding my selection to fit some custom orders (peanut butter and jelly cookies anyone? Or how about ginger-nutmeg tea cakes? With handmade candied ginger. BAM! You got it!) as well as trying out my hand at making some southern candy for my own gifts to loved ones.

Take, for instance, these southern pralines:

They're aaalmost where I want them to be. I just have to get them a bit thicker, which means moving a bit faster.

What are southern pralines, you ask? I don't know if they have a comparison to California candies... They taste like caramel-drenched, toasted pecans and are a bit chewy, but more crumbly when you bite into them. Then as you chew them, the sugar melts on your tongue. After you've eaten them, the caramel flavors linger, leaving your mouth warm and full of nutty-syrupy sweetness. Oh my, I'm terribly sorry, I got carried away there... The point is: they're worth trying.

But making them at home is another story. Candy is, after all, serious business. It requires speed, dexterity, and a lot of intuition. Candy thermometers are only so accurate. Sometimes you just have to know. Which is much easier said than done, especially in my case.

Each year, I order a praline gift basket for my mom for Christmas. I always order from Savannah Sweets, a waterfront store that we stepped into one day on a trip to Savannah. They look like this:

So, yes, they are much prettier than mine. But I have faith that I will work up to this in approximately three more tries. In the meantime, all my friends are eating up the leftovers. I also happen to be putting the crumbles on top of my yogurt in the morning. Shhhh...

The recipe I am using is the traditional praline recipe from The Ultimate Southern Living Cookbook. It's deceptively simple. Just make sure you have a candy thermometer. And if you don't, they're like five bucks.

Southern Pralines

Recipe Adapted from The Ultimate Southern Living Cookbook

Makes about 24 pralines (just enough for gift-giving!)

Ingredients
2 cups sugar (I'm thinking of experimenting with other types of sugar, but the verdict is not yet out)
2 cups pecan halves
3/4 cup buttermilk (or use a substitute with whole milk and cream of tartar, vinegar, or lemon juice; just Google it)
2 tbsp unsalted butter
1/8 tsp salt
3/4 tsp baking soda

Directions
1. Combine all ingredients except the baking soda in a large saucepan. Cook over low heat, stirring gently with a wooden spoon until sugar dissolves.
2. Cover and cook over medium heat 2-3 minutes to wash down sugar from the sides of the pan.
3. Uncover and cook to 234F (aka the "soft ball stage"), stirring constantly.
4. Remove from heat and stir in the baking soda quickly.
5. Beat with a wooden spoon just until it begins to thicken. It will lose its gloss.
6. This is where you have to work quickly: Drop by tablespoons onto greased wax paper; let stand until firm. That'll take at least 30 minutes.

New Treat: Double Chocolate-Pecan Toffee

This stuff is no joke. It starts with a thick toffee center, then has a layer of dark chocolate and toasted pecans on one side. I let that set, and then I pour another layer on the other side. So, yes, this is the real deal.

Now being offered for $5.00 by the box, which is five big chunks (that's a whole lotta toffee for you and your friends).

And I'd give the recipe out for this one, but some things are better kept secret. Hmmm...

That's some hot toffee right there.

New Menu Page is Up!

I just set up a new menu page, so you can see what all the seasonal offerings are as well as prices!

Just in time for the holidays! You can see it here: MENU.

Also to come: a Facebook page, complete with an online store, where you can order by credit card. 

Under Construction

This blog is under construction. I'm actually working on a full-fledged website right now, but for the time being, I will update the menu on this here blog until this are up and running.

Thanks for your patience!