Salon: Real Meg Whitman Please Stand Up? News, January 2010

Meg Whitman

Wednesday, Feb 3, 2010 10:04 ET

Will the real Meg Whitman please stand up?

Jerry Brown needs to announce his candidacy while the Republican hopeful remains mired in ugly rumors

By Lisa Stander Horel

AP

This post originally appeared in Lisa Stander Horel's Open Salon blog.

Jerry Brown has not gotten around to announcing that he is actually running for governor. Hands down, he would win, even if he announces his intention at the very last moment. He is that popular in California.
Brown seems to be letting the Republican candidates duke it out in the forum we all have grown to love (like speed bumps), the ever-present media -- the good, the bad and the very naughty.
The very naughty media (that is, Gawker) is running a trio of news blips about Republican hopeful Meg Whitman's sons, Griff and Will, and their alleged racist behavior at Princeton.  One or both seem to have been suspended at various times and allegedly use the billionaire entitlement card as often as possible. This information is supposedly reported by those anonymous people in the know. Does the unsubstantiated behavior of a candidate's adult (sort of) children matter?
Her husband, Griff Harsh IV, a neurosurgeon at Stanford, follows in his father's footsteps.  Griff Harsh III was also a neurosurgeon in Alabama, and his bio reads like that of a true, religion-driven conservative. Nothing wrong with that, except religion usually doesn't merit a mention in a professional bio. How far do apples Harsh IV and V fall from that tree?  And does it matter?
Whitman is well known for her support of Proposition 8 and her disinclination to support gay marriage. Only recently did she disavow any relationship with a former supporter, Santa Clarita Councilman and confirmed racist Bob Kellar. That intersection between disavowed and former supporter may be harder to travel than she thinks. If her Web site comments are any indication, Whitman is attracting the same kind of supremacist type followers that support Kellar.
Whitman's new book, "The Power of Many," ghosted by guest co-author Joan O'C Hamilton, is apparently a folksy read. Some say it is similar in style to another Republican we all know and adore, Sarah Palin. Though it just dropped last week, it languishes at No. 2,800 on Amazon.  The book is full of all kinds of reminders about why Meg is great and others are not.  We could call these Whit-icisms. She critiques Craigslist CEO Jim Buckmaster, going as far as to say that "the Craigslist Killer" is how this wildly popular alternative to eBay will be known in the future.
Moving on to Google, she chastises the founders for setting up a company with wildly attractive employee perks because it is doomed to disappoint when the perks are off the table in lean times. Perhaps no one has invited Meg to a lean-time lunch at Google lately? The perks live long. She sticks to these kinds of great insights throughout the tome.
Whitman recently mentioned her very introspective and reproving disappointment in Citizen Whitman. No. Not her errant children. Her own voting record. Until 2002 she wasn't even a registered voter.   And until 2007 she was registered without claiming a party. Her voting record is spotty. She blames it on her busy life as a wife and mother and moving so frequently.  Somehow the only thing that kind of excuse will elicit is a raised eyebrow from the millions of other moms who manage to vote and take care of their kids and homes. Sorry, Meg. That sucks for you.
As the candidates beat a path to the final stages of the primaries, the dirt is flying in their wake. Are Whitman's allegedly racist children an issue for the voters? Should her lack of civic duty before 2002 matter? Is her inability to firm up a date to debate her Republican primary opponents meaningful? 
And where did the severance contracts for both Whitman (eBay) and Carly Fiorina (Hewlett Packard) say that they should take some of their parachute-millions and run for high office because they were once CEOs? Is there an MBA syllabus that instructs former CEOs to use those millions to run for office even if they’ve never seen the inside of a voting booth?
Jerry Brown is no Martha Coakley, but if he doesn't come out and show his intentions soon, some of us may be relocating to a planet other than California.

Salon: Ada's Chocolate Nut Brownies, Guest Chef January 2010

Topic:

Guest Chef

Tuesday, Jan 5, 2010 12:06 ET

Ada's chocolate and nut brownies

She was a fabulous baker -- but then again, her adman husband (and boss) didn't leave her much choice

By Lisa Stander Horel

Open Salon/LuluandPhoebe

A version of this story first appeared on Lulu and Phoebe's Blog.
My mother was married to a vapid version of a "Mad Men" character. Right decade, right self-important attitude, but wrong corporate milieu. My dad was his very own tiny ad agency. We will call him Ad Man. His office was a room in the tiny bungalow they called home for two adults, four children and a dog.
My mother was co-opted into being his assistant without ever the acknowledgment that she worked not only in the home, but in the home office for the Ad Man. He worked not 15 feet from the kitchen, but would yell for her to get him coffee a hundred times a day. He yelled out when it was time for her to make him lunch. He yelled out for her to tell the kids to be quiet when they talked too loudly. Code: anything above a whisper.
I was born into that fray and thought it all perfectly normal until I was in kindergarten. I learned that most dads left the house each day and came home for dinner. I could go over to other houses to play after school, but because of the whisper clause, no one ever came over to my house. Only if the weather was fitting for outside play in the backyard would I be able to host friends. Most of my friends thought I lived in the yard because they never got to see my room, or even believed I had a room inside. That was cemented by the fact that Mom brought us meals outside, too. All that was missing was a tent and a sleeping bag.
As an adult I realized how my mom came to be such a fabulous baker. She lived in the kitchen. She couldn't be in the living room near the Ad Man's office because the swish of the turning pages of her book would bother him. She read books in her bedroom on the other side of the tiny house, where I found her each day after coming home from school. She spent the day baking and relaxing before dinner with a book. Later, I learned that the relaxing had more to do with resting her damaged heart than just chilling.
Mom baked tons of goodies, but none more frequently than her brownies. She was the entire welcome wagon for the growing neighborhood back in the mid-1940s and would bring a plate of brownies to every new family. She baked them when requested and they became popular beyond reason. We loved when she made brownies because the crisp edges had to be carved off before being given away. The four of us fought over each edge though the pan was square. As the youngest, I got first dibs most of the time. I loved teasing my brothers and taking the imaginary largest size edge from the square.
Thankfully, the recipe made its way into print in the 1964 Syracuse Hadassah Cookbook. Otherwise, none of us would have ever known how she made them. Most of her recipes were hand-me-downs and no one ever bothered to write them out. I still wonder how she got her strudel dough so thin and delicate. And while I watched her make rugelach often when I was a tiny kid, I do not know the ingredients list.
Undoubtedly these were oversights on her part, thinking she had lots of time to share them with us. She did not. Mom died from heart failure when I was 10. It is now fast approaching the bend in the road where she will have been gone almost as long as she was alive.
Fortunately, the brownies live on. I followed in her footsteps and made them as welcoming gifts for new neighbors when we lived in places that had neighbors. I make them as gifts. I've updated the recipe to reflect changing chocolate sources, but essentially I leave it alone. Some things deserve to be historic mom-uments, including recipes that have a heritage and taste really good.
Ada's Brownies? That would be the Ad Man's witty headline. When the recipe was to be immortalized in the cookbook, it needed a catchy title. A riff on Ate a Brownie became Ada's Brownies. You cannot imagine how many people ask me about Ada and was that my mother's real name? Um, no. Just the Ad Man's moment of Zen. Which is why he never was a Mad Man.
Happy 49.5 Million Minute birthday, Mom. Your brownies live on, and now they will travel that magic highway, the giant World Wide Web, where they will live on for virtual eternity. Bon appetit.

Ada's Brownies by Anne Stander

1/4 pound of butter
2 squares baking chocolate
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup flour
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup chopped nuts

Melt butter and chocolate and set aside to cool. Cream sugar and eggs. Add vanilla, then flour, salt and nuts. Add butter and chocolate mixture. Bake in greased, floured 9-by-9-inch pan. 350 degrees for 10 minutes, then 300 degrees for about 25 minutes.
My Notes
This is the original recipe written as was. Translated: 1/4 pound butter is one stick of unsalted butter. Two squares baking chocolate is 4 ounces of unsweetened chocolate -- use the best you can find. Cut back on the (white) sugar slightly. Nuts are optional.
For gluten free: Use Bette's Featherlight gf flour blend from Authentic Foods and add 1/4 teaspoon xanthan gum. Under-measure the gf flour just slightly.
Mix everything as little as possible. Brownies don't benefit from overmixing. Less fussing makes them dense and chewy.

Salon: Strawberry Shortcake, Guest Chef May 2010

Topic:

Guest Chef

Tuesday, May 18, 2010 14:50 ET

Strawberry shortcake

Driving to California with two sullen teens? Thank goodness for these roadside treats (recipe included)

By Lisa Horel

Photos from Lulu and Phoebe's Open Salon Blog.

This post originally appeared on Lulu and Phoebe's Open Salon blog.

Half a century ago my family made a cross-country sojourn in the old Ford. Six people were packed into a non-air-conditioned car for thousands of miles in the middle of summer; three of them stinky teenage boys plus one chatty little 4-year-old girl. This is the very stuff that makes warm family memories. Too bad I can’t remember any except the fuzzy-gray traumatic one where we lose my older brother somewhere on a mountain in Colorado. Fortunately there is proof we found him again, evidenced by his bar mitzvah photo the next fall.
Determined to subvert that history, 30 years later we piled our own two preteen girls into the tiny back seat of an air-conditioned Subaru station wagon and took off west. It marked the beginning of the big move to California from Vermont, leaving behind very cold winters to happily bask in the fog and sunshine of San Francisco Bay.
Road food would rule. Motels with pools were the late afternoon destination. Think Route 66, but not nearly as awesome. Also not awesome were the two sullen pre-teenagers and their battery-eating Walkmans that killed the glamour of the road trip more quickly than running out of Dunkin Donuts. We called them the Misses Bickersons not 50 miles into the trip because they argued constantly. The oldest had just declared herself a vegetarian. The youngest had yet to realize that food came in more than the Gulp versions and that 7-11 was not owned by the government nor located at every intersection no matter how many times she asked.
Miss vegetarian Bickerson was getting cranky trying to find something beyond macaroni and cheese or salad to eat. Sadly, even her veggie western omelet (in Denver) was almost sent back because it had touched ham. It probably is fodder for therapy at some point, but we made her eat it anyway. Not one of us could stand her crankiness in the confines of the car for one more day. The girl needed some protein.
In an old keepsake box is the evidence: rules ratified and signed in the very first miles of the trip between the two warring Bickersons. The list is preserved for posterity or the national archives, whichever asks first. On it are classics -- no spitting, burping or other gross bodily functions. No flapping lips unless it is your designated talking minute. No touching the other’s side of the (compact) back seat. No slurping drinks (my rule) and no singing aloud with the Walkman. The best rule? No talking until 7 a.m. Let’s just say that one child was quite cheerfully chatty from the moment her eyes opened, no matter how early. The rest of us needed shots of high-test coffee.
Starting out before dawn to beat the late afternoon triple digit heat, we’d begin driving at 5 a.m. and stop at 3 p.m. to seek the coolness of the pool and some early dessert. Aside from the gallons of really bad coffee we guzzled, almost 786 versions of tired American pie dotted the road-food landscape. Thankfully, there was an alternative. Since it was late June there was also strawberry shortcake. Lots of it.
Sometimes the shortcake was a biscuit -- other times it was pound cake gone awry. And once in a while it was a cross between a scone and a biscuit. The scones won our hearts. Not a summer goes by since then, that as soon as the berries show up at our farmers' markets we are making shortcakes until the supply is gone.
We’ve been thinking about a road trip again and it is almost strawberry season everywhere. This trip, the back seat will be filled by tiny Lulu and Phoebe who sleep when the car is moving. They will gladly eat meat and everything else offered, including strawberries.
The Walkman is long gone, replaced by the iPod -- which magically plugs into the car. Sometimes change is a good thing, just as long as no one messes with strawberry shortcake.
Road Trip Strawberry Shortcake
Ingredients

Scones
2 cups flour (for gluten-free flour, plus 1 teaspoon xanthan gum)
¼ cup sugar
Pinch Salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter very cold, cut into small pieces
1 large egg
1 tablespoon lemon or orange zest
1 cup heavy cream
½ cup currants, dried cranberries, fresh blueberries (optional)
1 tablespoon baking powder
3 tablespoons sugar
Strawberry Filling
2 pints (or more) fresh strawberries cut into quarters
2 tablespoons sugar (1 per pint)
1 tablespoon Grand Marnier
Whipped Cream Topping
1 pint heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon sugar
Splash of vanilla

Directions
Scones

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with a silpat or parchment.
2. In a food processor, pulse together flour, baking powder, sugar and pinch of salt (and xanthan gum if using gf flour). Drop in the cold butter pieces and pulse until it looks like coarse cornmeal. Remove to a large bowl.
3. Pour one cup of cream into a small bowl. Add the egg and mix well. Add the zest and stir. Pour into the dry mix and using a fork mix just until incorporated. Add the optional dried fruit and mix. Dough will be very sticky. Using floured hands, knead the dough a few turns until it is smooth. Cut in half. Roll each half into a ball and place on floured board.
4. Flatten slightly and cut into four pieces. Place on silpat-lined baking sheet. Bake about 18 minutes until lightly brown. Cool.

Strawberries

1. Wash, dry and quarter berries. Mix in sugar and liquor.
2. Cover and refrigerate several hours or overnight. Bring to room temperature before serving.

Whipped Cream

1. Whip the heavy cream with a mixer or by hand after adding sugar and vanilla. Keep cold.

Assembly

1. Using serrated knife, cut the scones in half.
2. Spoon a generous serving of berries and juices onto bottom half of scone.
3. Top with whipped cream and place other half of scone, offset on top.

Bon appétit and happy trails.

Salon: Super Thin Crispy Chocolate Chip Cookies, Guest Chef June 2010

Topic:

Guest Chef

Tuesday, Jun 15, 2010 13:01 ET

Super-thin, crisp chocolate chip cookies

My daughter used to con her way to treats from neighbors. These brought her back from the criminal brink

By Lisa Horel

fritish / CC BY 3.0

Super-thin, crisp chocolate chip cookies

By the time she entered kindergarten, our youngest girl had brilliantly mastered con-artistry -- how to set up a mark where the score usually involved something sweet, gooey and commercially made. Perhaps we shouldn't have skipped curriculum day at her preschool?
At the seashore with their grandchild, the in-laws didn’t heed our warning to watch for the twinkle in her eye when the little con-savant came alive. Locating her mark, a family with the better picnic, she followed that other grandpa into the ocean. Before the elderly guy could blink, the child bobbed up from underwater, grabbed his hand and told him she was a very hungry girl, maybe even an orphan, and could she join their happy family picnic.
Her own grandpa fetched her back before the family could offer a cupcake or adoption papers. Taking her for ice cream, he encouraged her to order coconut. Mid-bite, he whispered that coconut ice cream was really onion ice cream made for little-girl con artists. Dropping it like a hot potato, she burst into tears, and to this day will not eat coconut anything. Payback.
Gooey junk food was mostly absent in our house. Free-range raisins, apples, celery and whole wheat bread were not the stuff that television commercials suggest the child eat, and she reminded us of that repeatedly. Popcorn was probably the most outrageous thing in the cupboard.
The con artist emerged again in mid-term of third grade. Like a country neighbor, the school principal called -- solicitous and concerned -- to ask if we had gotten the packet of information sent home with the girl. "What packet?" I asked.
Apparently the child had been getting sympathy lunch goodies from other kids for weeks. Some marks moms even packed extra to give to that poor girl whose family had no food. By now she was regularly filling up on gooey: soft white bread sandwiches, Twinkies, Hostess cupcakes, packaged cookies, and Jell-o pudding cups (thank you, Bill Cosby).
She tossed her whole wheat sandwich, apple and Fig Newton lunches in the trash before entering school. At lunchtime she'd sit there looking sad and pathetic. Soon the story got around that the family had no food in the house and we were dirt poor, and the children were about to be orphans. The latter, possibly, but the former, not as much: The packet the principal referred to was an application for food stamps and the free lunch program.
Stunned, the only response I could muster was a stifled giggle and a four-letter word. Relieved and laughing too, the principal suggested Juvenile Hall where she could teach art of the lunch con 101.
Instead, she faced the humiliation of having to write an apology note to each kid and mom who had sent extra food for the oh-so-poor waif. The lunch monitor watched her like a hawk.
When all the letters were signed, sealed and delivered and she ate from her own lunch box for the next week, we offered a nudge toward détente. Picking out a favorite cookie of the week, she and I would make a small batch. Chocolate chip. I made so many that I couldn’t stand the sight of chocolate chips for years.
But recently, wandering by Scharffenberger Chocolate at the Ferry Building in San Francisco, I saw a glass-domed plate piled high with the thinnest chocolate chip cookies I’d ever seen. They’re from Robert Scharffenberger’s Chocolate Book. The confection was created by my favorite chocolate teacher, Alice Medrich. I was smitten enough to modify the recipe to gluten-free (though both standard and gluten-free versions are in the recipe), and they are fabulous -- chewy when warm, super-crisp when cooled.
Though she is an adult with little boys of her own these days, I am guessing she would beam that adorable little smile if her mom made her a batch of these chocolate chip thins.
Super thin, crisp chocolate chunk cookies
Adapted from The Chocolate Book by Robert Scharffenberger

Ingredients

• 1 ¼ cups flour (or gluten free flour with pinch of xanthan gum)
• generous ½ teaspoon baking soda
• 10 tablespoons unsalted butter
• scant ½ cup toasted oats (Bob's Red Mill for gluten-free oats)
• heaping ½ cup white sugar
• packed ¼ cup brown sugar
• 2 ½ tablespoons light corn syrup
• 2 tablespoons cream
• pinch salt
• splash of vanilla
• 1 bag of Scharffenberger semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate chunks or 7 ounces of chocolate chunked with a knife

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Line three baking sheets with foil.
2. Mix flour, salt and baking soda together in a small bowl. Set aside.
3. Melt butter in microwave and let cool slightly. In a large bowl mix toasted oats and melted butter. Stir in sugar, corn syrup, cream, vanilla and mix well. Stir in the flour mixture until incorporated. Make sure the dough is room temperature or cooler before adding the chocolate chunks, or they will melt.
4. Use a ¼ cup scoop and no more than 5 to a cookie sheet. They spread. Using a piece of plastic wrap over the dough, flatten the cookies to about 3 inches wide.
5. Bake about 18-20 minutes until lightly brown but not shiny. Rotate the sheets halfway. Slide the foil carefully onto cooling racks without touching the cookies. Peel the cookies from the foil only when cooled completely.

Salon: Berry Mascarpone Tart, Guest Chef May 2010

Topic:

Guest Chef

Tuesday, May 4, 2010 13:01 ET

Berry mascarpone tart from my three mothers

A dessert made from memories of the guiding women in my life, but you don't have to know them to love it

By Lisa Horel

Open Salon/LuluandPhoebe

Blame the twisted super-boondoggle called fate, but I was the first kid on the block to grow up with (my) three moms. I love them all, and there is not one I would trade for another. But the one who can always find Hostess HoHos in a blizzard might have a slight edge.
Mom 1.0 was a quintessential Brooklyn girl by way of old Romania and eventually became a stalwart '50s housewife, which included the wearing of pillbox hats on special occasions. She was already at work teaching me how to make the old Jewish family recipes when all I could manage was to toddle by her fabulous red shoes on the kitchen floor. It was never too soon to learn the heart and soul of those old recipes along with handy kitchen skills that serve me still. She could roll strudel pastry so thin you could see through it, without tearing the dough.
She baked special Valentine cupcakes and provided mom-made matching clothing for both of us that was as good as couture. She inherited the dressmaking gene from her mother and aunts. Frail and ill, she died way too young and missed out on the best years with her children and grandchildren.
But her kitchen spirit carries on in my heart every time I bake Ada's brownies, or when I roll out her strudel dough. And sometimes I swear I can see her snicker smile as I add one more giant spoonful of chocolate to her brownie recipe.
The Ad Man remarried just a year after my mother died. Enter the very young, but determined Stepmother. Mom 2.0 arrived just as I was turning into a pubescent cacophony of attitude-ness. If ever there was a poster child for wicked stepdaughter, it would have been me. I give her a standing ovation for patience and fortitude, along with a medal of valor for keeping the worst of my dirty tricks from my father. I took away more pearls of wisdom from Mom 2.0 than I've ever admitted. I learned that women could work in the outside world and be equal to men, especially in the Ad Man's world. That the art of a negotiation is nothing without charm, grace and kindness -- all attributes she taught me.
I also learned supermarket 101; shop early and there will always be HoHos. That red Jell-O mixed with Cool Whip was a dessert that never went bad, even if stored in the back of the refrigerator for weeks. And brisket has a sense of humor. She taught me the biggest lesson of all: that I could count on her to have my back. I call it a mom thing.
And then along came the lemon-loving in-laws and mom 3.0: the Granola Version. I've known my mother-in-law since I was 15 years old. Even back in the day when no one was sure that our teenage marriage would last the length of a teenage attention span, she was there. She introduced me to natural foods, co-ops, bread baking, homemade yogurt, granola and raspberries fresh from the backyard bushes.
She taught me how to warp a loom, which I promptly forgot. She tried to teach me to sew, sure that latent DNA would kick in. It did not. So she created mom-made clothes for her granddaughters so they wouldn't be embarrassed with stuff I tried to make. She taught me how to bake a pie. She showed me how both mayonnaise and lemon could partner with almost every food and make it oddly better. She gave me my first Christmas stocking with trinkets that made all my childhood Santa dreams come true. But most of all, she gave me her son -- willingly.
I honor my three moms this Mother's Day with a pastry that has something for each of them. For Mom 1.0 this contains a stellar crust similar to her old-fashioned rugelach, but with a twist. For Mom 2.0 it has a fabulous raspberry-mascarpone whip, sort of like that red Jell-O with Cool Whip, but tastier and with a shorter, more natural shelf life. And for Mom 3.0, the mascarpone is loaded with lots of her favorite condiment, lemon.
My Three Moms Mascarpone-Berry Tart
Tart Shell
Makes two 9-inch shells

8 tablespoons cold unsalted butter
4 tablespoons vegetable shortening
1 cup almond flour
1 cup flour (or gluten-free flour, plus a pinch of xanthan gum)
¼ cup ice-cold water (more if necessary)

Filling

1 cup mascarpone cheese
1/3 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon almond flavoring
zest of one large lemon
2-4 pints fresh, very ripe berries (I like raspberries)

For the tart shell:

1. In a food processor pulse together flour and almond meal. Cut shortening and butter into small pieces and add. Pulse in short bursts until it resembles cornmeal. Add ice water (not actual ice!) a little at a time. Pulse until it comes together in a ball.
2. Remove to parchment paper and gather dough until it is all incorporated. Split into two equal pieces. Flatten each ball slightly, wrap in plastic or parchment and refrigerate for at least an hour. Dough will keep for a few days in the refrigerator and longer in the freezer.
3. Remove one disk from refrigerator and rest 20 minutes at room temperature. Place in 9-inch tart pan or in several small tart pans. Press to fit. Place on cookie sheet. Freeze for 20 minutes.
4. Preheat oven to 350. Bake straight from freezer about 30 minutes or until lightly brown. Remove and cool completely.

For the filling:

1. Put all the ingredients except berries in a bowl and whisk until fluffy. Add in about 1/3 of the berries and fold with a spatula until incorporated, but some berries remain whole. Spoon a thin layer into cooled tart shell(s). Top with whole or cut berries.
2. Fill the same day you are serving. Shells can be baked a day ahead. Store in a tin.
3. Refrigerate filled tarts. Let rest at room temperature for 30 minutes before serving.

Serve plain or with whipped cream.
Note: You can also find tart shells in the freezer at the grocery. Bake and cool before filling.
Optional: Drizzle honey or spoon macerated berries over the top.
Bon appétit and Happy Mother's Day.

Salon: Rocky Road Squares, Guest Chef April 2010

Topic:

Guest Chef

Tuesday, Apr 6, 2010 11:07 ET

Rocky road squares with coconut (Gluten-free)

I was making the chocolate and marshmallow treats when one daughter decided to throw another off the second floor

By Lisa Horel

Lisa Horel

A version of this post first appeared on LuluandPhoebe's Open Salon blog

One old house and a crumbling barn were all that remained of the original 150 year old farmstead. For all the wrong reasons we bought the place. Located on the curb of a busy intersection, there was little privacy. Windows, open all summer let in the traffic noise and odor. The plows constantly piled up the snow so that shoveling a small path to the door was an exercise in futility. With little insulation it was a freezing in the winter. No energy stars for that old house.
But even with all the quirks and general disrepair it was a whimsical little home. The front had two separate porches. One led to the front door, the other to the kitchen door. People often came soliciting to both doors thinking the house was two apartments. Weren’t they surprised when the same little girl(s) opened both doors?
Upstairs, we fixed up a tiny space with a window overlooking newly planted shrubs and turned it into a sunny dollhouse-sized playroom. The old house had a hole from the dollhouse room floor into the kitchen to migrate the heat from the single woodstove located downstairs. The hole had an old iron grate, and was big enough for the cats to drop through onto the kitchen table. While we were used to the cats jumping through the hole, it did startle visitors when a gray and white fur ball came flying through the ceiling.
Baking brownies with tiny marshmallows one fall day, I lost track of the chatter from the two little girls above. That is, until I heard a deafening screech that certainly sounded like a feline, but was not. A child ran into the kitchen from the back porch. You can’t actually get outside except through the kitchen from upstairs. My brain addled through the logic. The conclusion was heart stopping.
1. Children upstairs.
2. Children now outside.
3. Hole in ceiling only big enough for cat.
4. Did not exit, apparently, through any door (or hole).
5. Craptastic.
The story was revealed through giggles and tears. Tossing your sister out the 2nd story window was the theme of the day. And I have those lemon loving in-laws to thank for that. Since they could never remember the words to all the traditional nursery rhymes, they ended each the same way. And taught the little girls every single rhyme with this ending:

Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet eating her curds and whey.
Along came a spider, sat down beside her & threw her out the window.
The window. The 2nd story window.

Turns out one girl threw the other and then jumped after her. Landing in those most forgiving shrubs saved both from breaking their little necks. The poor shrubs took it on the chin and survived and even seemed to thrive.
Though we carefully discussed why tossing someone out a 2nd story window was not such a peachy idea, I am pretty sure they continued to jump out that window based on the condition of the shrubs throughout the fall. I can only imagine what passing motorists thought when they were treated to the flying sisters’ act. I’m grateful no one called child services.
The last Google earth picture of the house shows that the porches finally fell off and weren’t replaced. But those shrubs are still there, bigger than ever.
Any time I bake with marshmallows I think of the two small flying Wallenda peanuts, the old house that will probably still never receive any energy stars, and most of all, those wonderful little shrubs.
I’m also quite grateful that the lemon loving in-laws redacted the 2nd story window ending to all things nursery rhyme.
Rocky Road Squares with Coconut, Gluten Free
(adapted from Alice Medrich’s Cookies and Brownie Book)

1 cup of graham cracker crumbs (Gluten Free Girl Recipe here)
½ cup finely shredded unsweetened coconut
 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
 2-3 tablespoons sugar
1 cup coarsely chopped nuts
1 cup bittersweet chocolate chips
2 cups mini marshmallows (make sure they're gluten free)

1. Preheat oven to 350. In a small bowl combine the coconut, graham cracker crumbs, sugar and stir in melted butter. Pour into an 8x8 pan lined with a foil or parchment liner that comes up the sides and press firmly. Bake 15-20 minutes until lightly browned.
2. Remove from oven. Place one cup of the marshmallows on the crust. Alternate the nuts and chocolate and remaining marshmallows on top and return to the oven. Bake until chocolate is soft and marshmallows are slightly toasted and melted.
3. Cool in the pan until stone cold! Using the parchment or foil liner remove from the pan. Cut into 16 squares using a serrated knife.

Notes: Gluten Free Girl and the Chef’s website is full of wonderful recipes and information for celiacs and the gluten intolerant. For her graham cracker recipe, I use brown sugar to replace most of the honey, although you should keep some in the recipe – it adds a nice flavor. I double the recipe. I leave out the final sugar cinnamon dusting. Best gluten free graham cracker recipe out there!

Salon: Little Valentine Cupcake, Guest Chef February 2010

Topic:

Guest Chef

Wednesday, Feb 10, 2010 12:11 ET

Little Valentine cocoa cupcakes (gluten free)

With Mom's chocolate cupcakes, of course (recipe included)

By Lisa Horel

Lisa Horel

A version of this story first appeared on Lulu and Phoebe.
There are few things more humbling than finding out what your kindergarten teacher really thinks of you. Even more embarrassing is finding out that she thinks one fewer cookie might be good for you. Mrs. C. was the first person in my life to point out that I was a little large for a kindergartener. Tall by more than what is reasonable, I was built like a little tank. Not zaftig exactly, but certainly not a pixie, either.
My clothes were always a hair short or a smidgeon tight because I grew so fast, and my mother, who sewed all of them, could not keep up for so many reasons. Still, I was happily oblivious until that one fateful Feb. 14, a party day in the kindergarten, where you hang decorated paper bags and each classmate (hopefully) fills the other bags with dreamy (read: stupid) little sentimental cards.
We gathered on the floor in a circle and the teacher handed each of us a single heart-shaped, frosted sugar cookie to take home in our Valentine card bags.
Mrs. C. instructed us to collect our stuff from the cubbies for dismissal then clapped her hands, startling us into a herd running from thunder. The kid next to me jumped at the sound and stomped my bag.
I could hear the cookie crumble through the noise of the herd thumping to the cubbies. These were not the kind of cookies my mother made. I had rarely seen rolled sugar cookies with frosting and this was a really special treat. One that I wouldn't have to share with three brothers. That is, until the cookie met its demise from a little boy's shoe.
I was probably crying when I went up to the teacher to show her my footprint-smeared bag and cookie crumbs. She looked at me and sighed as she shook her head. There were no more cookies and even so, it probably was good that I not eat one anyway. I really didn't need the sweets. I must have looked puzzled because she tweaked the waistband of my skirt to show me that it was a little bit small. Or I was too big.
My best friend came up to stand next to me just that moment. We walked home together. I was half again taller than her, though we were just a few months apart in age. The teacher smiled at her and frowned at me, shaking her head. For the first time ever, I looked at my friend in a new light and understood that school life would be a picnic for that adorable pixie and I might be in for a challenge. A bit of a smartass comic was born that day.
At home it was hard to hide my disappointment. My mother effortlessly coaxed it out of me. Before I could get my coat and boots off and put away, she had mysteriously delivered a single cupcake, white with a little bit of pink frosting and a tiny little red heart on top -- right into my hands. She gave me a kiss and told me I was her littlest Valentine and this was just for me.
Although I cannot thank my kindergarten teacher for many things, I can thank Mrs. C. for creating one of the best traditions ever. There isn't a Valentine's Day that goes by where a cupcake is not front and center.
This year, easy, fabulously light, and seriously rich-tasting cocoa cupcakes will make their way to our table, topped with a dash of freshly whipped cream and a sweet little cherry.
This recipe is an adaptation from "The Essence of Chocolate" by Scharffenberger/Steinberg with Stephanie Hersh.
Little Valentine Cocoa Cupcakes
Makes 8 cupcakes

2½ tablespoons Valrhona unsweetened cocoa
1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter cut in cubes
½ cup filtered water
1 scant cup white sugar
½ cup cake flour
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 large egg
¼ cup full fat sour cream (don't skimp)
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
Heavy cream for whipping
8 cherries or raspberries

For gluten-free variation, substitute flour with:

½ cup gluten-free flour
½ teaspoon xanthan gum

1. Preheat oven to 350.
2. Place the cocoa, water and butter in a saucepan and simmer on low heat just until the butter is melted. Using a whisk, combine everything thoroughly. Add the sugar off heat and stir with the whisk until fully incorporated.
3. In a small bowl, mix the flour, xanthan gum (if gluten-free), and baking soda and combine with fork. Add to the pot and blend with a whisk. Add the egg and incorporate. Add the sour cream and mix well. Add the vanilla and mix well.
4. Let the batter sit for exactly 20 minutes without stirring (skip this resting period if using regular flour). Using a regular-size cupcake tin, place paper liners in 8 cups, and fill each about ¾ full. Bake for about 15 minutes and check. Remove from oven as soon as a toothpick comes out mostly clean. Using the toothpick, loosen any edges that baked over the rims but leave them to cool in the pan for about 15 minutes.
5. Remove to a wire rack. When cool, top with whipped cream and add a cherry or raspberry on top.

Notes: Use any gluten-free flour you like, but I like the Authentic Featherlight for cakes like this. Using excellent quality cocoa makes a big difference. You can find Valrhona cocoa at Whole Foods or other specialty markets. When loosening the edges after baking, try to spin the cupcake in place to make sure it is totally loose.
Happy Valentine's Day.