24 January 2012

Almond-lemon cream scones with crème fraîche for a snowy Sunday morn

      What an idyllic representation of a Sunday morning baking in your pajamas. The pajamas you did not change out of until noon. The bed you climbed back into after stuffing yourself with scones and crème fraîche, and glorious elderflower-marmalade. Which is not as fancy and expensive as you might think. And by " not fancy and expensive" I mean "I bought it in the Ikea foods section." 
      The cat who takes it upon himself to "inspect," and usually devour, all of the food substances you leave unattended on the table. Just last Saturday I walked in to find half of the cream cheese on my bagel on Walter's face. That naughty boy. 
       You could be stricter with him, you say. You could tell him "no" everyone once in a while and quit indulging his kitty-cat fantasies that he is a human. 
       But how can you seriously get mad at him when he pulls faces like this: 

Not fair, Walter. Not fair. 

20 January 2012

peyton and byrne: the greatest new thing to grace my doorstep

Straight from the UK, not even off the presses in America until this spring, with the price even printed and pounds and EVERYTHING came this to my doorstep earliest thist afternoonst: 

The most GLORIOUS, BRILLIANT and BEAUTIFUL compilation of British baking I've yet to lay eyes on. I was honestly caressing it's cover and wiping fingerprints off it's lovely, delicately embossed white doily with a damp towelette.

You know you're serious about a cookbook when you bring out the towelettes. Towelettes are for freaks with greasy fingers and even greasier hair who hang out in sports bars who have not been clothes shopping since the 70's, (those sick pedophiles) not petite bakers with a penchant for make-believing her cat speaks with a Russian accent. (Diary by Walter soon to follow--stay tuned.)

Do you know what the British call their cupcakes? Do you? DO YOU?
FAIRY CAKES! Fairy cakes!!! 

The euphoria is alarming.

There is an entire section entitled A Cup of Tea and a Bun. Could anything be so near and dear to my butter-loving heart than that phrase?

These photos are mere snapshots and do not do the photography in this cookbook justice by any means of the word; my iPhone even takes better pictures than my actual camera. I mean, come on, there is a close-up of a broken egg shell in a plain-old brown egg carton that nearly brought me to tears.

It's sitting on my lap with me and Walter is jealous.

You're judging. So stop. 

10 January 2012

Sunday haven.

 I just adore Sundays. They are my absolute favorite day of the week. Everything about them is divine: waking up mid-morning and sliding into my slippers to tramp out to the frozen porch to retrieve my frozen Sunday paper, and then hunkering back down in bed with said paper and a pot of lovely, lovely English breakfast tea whilst something quiet and Sunday-ish plays on my iTunes. 

After an appropriate amount of time to fully enjoy all that the paper has to offer has passed, (noon or later) and setting the rest aside for lunchtimes later in the week, a trip to the library might be in order. A walk in the brisk air. A leisurely tea. 

And always, always, a big, blowout Sunday dinner with friends and family.

This week's Sunday dinner was roast chicken stuffed with lemon, garlic, tarragon, and dill. Parsnip and celeriac mash was served on the side, along with the carrots that had roasted along side the chicken in my hefty Le Creuset pan. 

Spice tea and shortbread cookies.
Walter attacking said shortbread cookies. 
(Subsequently knocking them all onto the floor and stalking off satisfied with his dessert-fueled deviance)
The herbs, lemon, and, in the background, my new-ish
 (it is an antique store find) wrot-iron cookbook holder!
More herbs and lemon for the chicken. Don't worry--the chicken had a happy life.
Giant flowers at Michael's. 

05 January 2012

what posses me: teatime

Teatime. My favorite time. Without question or exception. 

An occasion, any occasion, to meet with and enjoy company in the cruelest of winter weather (of which we have not seen much here in Salt Lake). An occasion to sit with your thoughts of the budding new year and a good book near the faux-fireplace, listening to eccentric old ladies a'chattering.

Left and top right teatime at the Beehive tearoom. 
Hazelnut tea with orange-cranberry scones.

Bottom left teatime at Mazza. 
Cardamom tea with orange-blossom simple syrup. 
An after-holiday luncheon. To myself. Again.
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