Lemon Yogurt Cake

I’ve seen versions of this desert everywhere from Barefoot Contessa to food blogs to my Martha Stewart cookbook from 1995. The technique is the same and everyone seems to adapt it slightly to make it their own.

I love this desert because it’s fairly light but still decadent tasting. It’s the perfect vehicle for strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and tons of whip cream. Here’s my version:

Lemon Yogurt Cake:

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup plain greek yogurt
1 1/3 cups sugar, divided
3 extra-large eggs
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest (2 lemons)
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
* 1/2 cup vegetable oil (coconut oil is a great swap)
1/3 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice

 

For the glaze:
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease loaf pan.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt into 1 bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the yogurt, 1 cup sugar, the eggs, lemon zest, and vanilla. Slowly whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. With a rubber spatula, fold the oil into the batter, making sure it’s all incorporated. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 50 minutes, or until a cake tester placed in the center of the loaf comes out clean.

Meanwhile, cook the 1/3 cup lemon juice and remaining 1/3 cup sugar in a small pan until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is clear. Set aside.

When the cake is done, allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Carefully place on a baking rack over a sheet pan. While the cake is still warm, pour the lemon-sugar mixture over the cake and allow it to soak in. Cool.

For the glaze, combine the confectioners’ sugar and lemon juice and pour over the cake. (I typically don’t do the glaze…I don’t think the cake needs the sweetness).

Once cooled; slice, top with berries and whip cream and devour.

Little Things

Just a couple of notes for my memory:

Jack

Recited Psalm 23 from memory as part of his end-of-the-school year preschool program. Loving that he learned scripture and a good reminder and encouragement to do more of that at home.

His hair grows so fast. It is floppy and falls in his eyes and as much as he needs a haircut, his wild hair gives him a tiny essence of being ‘little.’ It’s hard to give up.

Has developed hoarding tendencies. The kid fills envelopes, shoe boxes, forgotten cookie tins and anything else he can get his hands on with whatever the days treasures are. Scraps of paper, quarters, pens, little toys, a wayward sock, even my car keys. It is ALL important. It is all HIS.

Sports. All of them, all the time. Forever amen.

Luke

Dimples. Enough said.

Still wants to do all the things his brother does. Misses Jack when he’s at school and hates to be separated. Yet, fight like wild hoodlums almost constantly.

Loves green blankie and his thumb with all his heart.

His imagination has kicked into high gear. We listen to wandering random tales all day long. They could be about anything from the bulldozer we passed in the car to his brother getting in trouble the day before to what his cars/dinosaurs/Legos are doing that very second.

He stutters (a little).

Really loves riding his bike. Took a spin on Jack’s two-wheel (with Daddy’s help). It won’t be long now.

Scarlet

So cute it’s ridiculous.

Lots of babbling. Started waving. LOVES attention.

Crawling. Getting into things. Wants to be where her brothers are.

Has entered the human vacuum stage. Any stray piece of ANYTHING (dropped cheerio, small Lego, random piece of fuzz, MY HAIR) goes directly in the mouth. This is a particularly disgusting stage of babyhood.

Has many opinions. Is known to screech like a dying hyena and growl like a constipated bear. Is still cute.

Needs to sleep through the night, but mama is a lazy weakling.

This Girl

Happy eight months sweet one,

It’s all going too fast. Your babyhood, this first precious year. I know I’m going to have some regrets because life has raced ahead and I’m so easily distracted, frazzled, sometimes even frustrated.

And here you are, all sunshine and sass and full of light. I want to bottle up this stage; your gummy grin, your sweet chubby feet, your downy soft hair, the way you babble and suck your thumb, running your hand over your hair.

You are our caboose, forever the youngest child, my baby. Please stay a baby for just a little longer would you? You seem a little too interested in catching up to your brothers and I’m just not ready for it.

Stop crawling and really stop thinking about pulling yourself up on things. You don’t have to eat all that ‘big kid’ food if you don’t want to. Although, anytime you want to sleep through the night, that would be just fine with me.

More than anything little one, I love you. Every little thing about you. To the moon and back.

(oh, and sorry that your childhood is being documented in grainy instagram photos, but it’s the best I can do these days. The second I think about getting out the big camera, someone falls off a chair or poops on the carpet. You’ll understand in a few years.)

Squeemish

I don’t think I’ve ever watched an entire episode of Fear Factor (remember that show…wait is it still on?). Even Grey’s Anatomy can be a little gross for me. I don’t mind blood, as long as it’s a run of the mill scrape or bruise. Don’t get me started on broken bones, weird rashes and hacking coughs. Oh, and I really hate puke. Like, really hate it.

This does not bode well for motherhood.

I probably should have thought that through a little more before having three kids in rapid fire succession.

Luke woke up a little pale and slow-moving on Sunday. We pushed ahead with getting ready for church until we saw his waffles again. My darling, fearless, completely NOT-squeemish husband took one for the team on that one.

Lu layed around like a limp noodle the rest of the day and then seemed fine. Until today, when the other half of his digestive tract decided to rebel.

In a decidedly violent and surprising way. On the carpet.

Oh parenthood. You humble little devil.

Enter super hot, super helpful, completely wonderful, calm, amazing, (did I mention handsome?) husband who shampoos the carpet. Oh yes he did.

And I know I’m a ridiculous cliché right now. But I don’t care.

He and all his barf-catching, rug-cleaning glory are mine all mine.

Life With Littles

I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time jumping back into this space. I want to write about the kids and mothering and all the wonderful little things going on…but something holds me back, it feels suddenly sort of vulnerable, when it’s never felt that way before. I don’t know.

***

I’m reading a book on nurturing boys and another on breaking the bonds of entitlement. That should give a window into what goes on behind closed doors. I’m craving wisdom and knowledge and as many resources as I can get my hands on these days.

Today the boys played outside, rode bikes in the driveway and we made a trip to the park. We did a few counting worksheets, we watched a little Curious George, we weeded the garden and they made a huge mud puddle while I chose to look the other way.

But they also unloaded the silverware from the dishwasher and got their own shoes and cups of water. They picked up sticks for me in the backyard, fed the dog and I even had Jack help me pick up dog poop. I am refreshed and thankful for their help as the evening winds down instead of exhausted and a little frustrated. They were so proud of themselves and I was legitimately grateful.

I think the books are helping.

Scarlet is in my most favorite baby stage ever. Happy, interactive, yet mostly immobile. She is moments away from officially crawling. She can sit up from a laying down position and has started to try to pull up on things. She is endearingly sweet and even a little silly. She LOVES attention and will screech and squawk at you from across the room until you acknowledge her. She has a beaming gummy smile for just about everyone.

She turns into a screaming tearful mess when she gets overtired. We are learning this the hard way, pushing her happy self to the brink of exhaustion. We pay for it ten fold at 3am, so we are trying to be more aware of her need for sleep. Ironic that I never would have let Jack or even Luke skip a nap or stay up past bedtime. Poor third child.

***

I’m not working much these days. A little freelance project here and there, an article in our local magazine and that’s about it. It’s weird how this was always what I was striving for and yet as I step farther and farther away from ‘working’, I realize just how how much my identity is attached to working. Which is laughable because my ‘career’ isn’t much to write home about to begin with.

Anyway, all this to say, there’s been a lot to think about. Shifting my perspective and opening my mind and heart in so many new ways. How to raise boys…shoot how to just understand boys a little better. How to mother to the very best of my ability. How to let go. How to embrace and celebrate each new season of life.

We had some family photos taken a couple of weeks ago in honor of Aaron’s grandmother’s 75th birthday. They make me laugh and smile for a 100 reasons, but mostly because I love that we finally have a (decent, non-hospital room) picture of the five of us. Our completed family. It makes me happy every time I look at it.

Pasta with Brussel Sprouts and Bacon

Hands-down my favorite meal right now. I crave it. I make it. We devour it. Lather, rinse, repeat. Can Not Get Enough.

Here is my version of THIS recipe:

I altered the ingredients slightly to make it quick and easy. I don’t always have pancetta or a jalapeno on hand…but I almost always have bacon and red pepper flakes.

Sea salt

8 ounces penne

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, more for drizzling

3 or 4 slices of center cut bacon

1 large rosemary sprig

1 heaping teaspoon of chopped garlic

Generous sprinkling of red pepper flakes

Freshly ground black pepper

8 ounces brussels sprouts, thinly sliced

2 teaspoons butter

Fresh squeeze of lemon

Parmesan cheese

PREPARATION

1. Bring large pot heavily salted water to a boil. Add the penne and cook until pasta is just al dente. Do not overcook…repeat, DO NOT OVERCOOK.

2. Meanwhile, heat large sauté pan over high heat and add the olive oil. When oil is hot, add the bacon and rosemary, and sauté until the fat on the bacon starts to turn translucent and very lightly brown, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic, red pepper flakes and freshly ground black pepper to taste, and sauté until garlic and bacon turn richly brown, about 3 minutes. Add the brussels sprouts, a large pinch of salt and a splash of water to pan, and sauté until sprouts just start to soften, about 2 minutes. Spread sprouts mixture in pan and press down to flatten. Let it sear for a minute, then stir it up and repeat. This helps brown the sprouts. Add the butter and squeeze half a lemon over the dish, sauté for another minute.

3. Drain penne and add it to pan with brussels sprouts mixture. Cook, tossing, until everything is well mixed. Spoon into pasta bowls and top with parmesan cheese.

One quick note:

Read the recipe! I stumbled on the recipe from Domestic Reflections and in the half-dozen times I’ve made this recipe the last couple months, I never caught that the brussel sprouts should be slices thinly! Duh! They can’t cook in three minutes, if they are only halved. I sliced them much thinner last night and they were delicious.

Enjoy!

Is This Thing On?

tap tap…cough…ummm…hi??

That perfect storm of lack-of-sleep + busyness + three small children + freelance work (i.e. getting paid to write things) = no blog (oh and no dinner, or laundry or general hygiene, but that’s sort of a given right?).

And then that stupid thing happens where once you go a little while without stopping for a few minutes to document the everyday, the little joys, the hard stuff, a good meal…it all blends together and nothing stands out.

That’s the thing I love about this little space, it makes me take note, it helps me remember.

Anne Lamott wrote a beautiful essay last week where she quoted a line by Barry Lopez: everyone is held together by stories. That is all that is holding us together, stories and compassion.

I loved that statement. I think that’s why blogs and facebook and instagram are so popular (addictive?). Little stories that bring us together, shining a little light into each others life.

So with that little burst of inspiration, I’m back. Rusty for sure. But back.

A story from today not to be forgotten:

Jack and Scarlet sit on the carpet in the tv room. The windows and sliding door are open, sunshine is pouring in. Jack grabs a book (about drag racing of course) he got from the library yesterday, scoots to sit directly in front of Scarlet and begins ‘reading’ to her. He carefully turns each page, pointing out objects and telling her all about the cars. He goes through a stack of books as she watches completely enthralled with her brother.