by Sam Tackeff | Nov 13, 2014 | Baking, Shopping
If you happen to see a large white rectangular package the size of a record at Trader Joe’s this week, buy it immediately, take it home, and have a party. A KRINGLE party! For some reason, probably because Kringle are shockingly delicious, Trader Joe’s has it seasonally stocked, and I’m here to tell you that you must purchase it. Your life will be better for it. The heck with the party, just eat it all yourself.
{I found this picture on the internet searching for O&H Danish Pastry Kringle, and marveled at those excellent Movember mustaches. And then realized that this picture was probably from the early 80’s, and that was just how facial hair was done, back in the day.}
Kringle, for those uninitiated to the delicacy, is a buttery, flaky, layered pastry, filled with marzipan, and topped with icing. In Denmark, the Kringle was a pretzel shaped pastry (the Danish symbol for a the baker’s guild), but when immigrant bakers moved to Racine, Wisconsin, they reshaped it into an oval. The Kringle is now the official state pastry of Wisconsin. There are two Kringle factories of note: Racine Danish Kringles, and O & H Danish Bakery. There is also a company that makes a Kringle Cream Liquor, which I have not tried, but might taste delicious stirred into morning coffee.
You can enter the contest on O & H Danish Bakery’s website to win a kringle, but if you happen to see one at Trader Joe’s, buy it right away, and thank me later.
West Coasters, apparently they sell Kringle in Solvang. The last time I was in Solvang was on one of our very first date vacations. Our first evening we had the pleasure of eating Stouffers meals that we purchased at the supermarket, and heated in the hotel – because everything in the town closed by seven pm.
by Sam Tackeff | Nov 12, 2014 | Fitness, Soups
Today was the first time in a few months that I felt like I was getting back into a routine. I made myself a single cup of coffee in the morning, and proceeded to reheat it over and over as I worked through the day. Meetings, a webinar, it’s nice feeling immersed in my work, but I suffer when I neglect a good cup of hot coffee. I’m loving my new mug – a hand me down from my friend AA, who moved and left me with a pair of these, and plenty of good tea to brew in them.
For lunch, I made myself a bowl of steel cut oats with a large spoonful of pumpkin butter. Later in the afternoon I ate some canned wild salmon, with a spoonful of mayo, and plenty of cracked black pepper. I was in the mood for the most simple meals I could make today – as usual when I travel, I find myself on the cusp of feeling unwell, and need to take care of myself before anything more sinister develops.
On Wednesdays I try to get into the gym to lift, but I wanted to give myself a little bit more time to rest after my marathon. I’ve been eying the local Core Power Yoga, which offers a free intro week, and decided to sign up. This afternoon I came to the mat with the intention of healing, resting, and restoring.
The yoga instructor, Amanda, was direct, clear, and gave very good guidance. I’ve practiced now for over ten years, and am always pleasantly surprised when an instructor can teach me new things in a class, or help me look at familiar poses in a new way. She was also particularly giving with extra manipulation – a hand to provide guidance, and gentle push into a deeper stretch. I was supremely appreciative of her care in this class.
I returned home with a strong desire to make soup, taking out my Le Creuset for the first time this fall, and making a large pot of pasta e fagioli, Olive Garden style, with ground beef. I’m never too high brow around here, and I’d have killed for some of their breadsticks.
Pasta e fagioli (if you can call it that): my basic recipe was tweaked from a handful of online recipes (most closely following Iowa Girl Eats and Giuliano Hazan): brown a pound of ground beef with some salt and pepper, add a cup of chopped onion, a few sticks worth of chopped celery, and one chopped carrot stick, a few cloves of garlic. Sautée until the vegetables have softened. Add three cups of cooked cranberry beans (or a few cans of cooked beans of your choice), a 15 ounce can of tomato sauce, and a 28 ounce can of crushed fire roasted tomatoes, a teaspoon each of: dried oregano, thyme, and basil. Cover with a few cups of beef stock, and cook for an hour or two. At the end, add a few cups of cooked pasta. I make my pasta ten minutes before I’d like to serve, and stir it in at the very end. You could also par-cook it, and then let it finish in the soup. Serve with Parmigiano-Reggiano. A sprinkle of fresh parsley.
The best part about a big pot of soup, is that you have many a meal for later. Looking forward to eating my way through this for the next few days.
by Sam Tackeff | Nov 11, 2014 | Photography
I spent a few weekends ago at Wellesley, with my best friend Lizzy, participating in the Alumnae Leadership Council, running around our old haunts, and capping off the experience speaking on a panel to prospective students and their parents.
It was one of those weekends that I probably should have taken my fancy camera to try to capture how absolutely stunning it was, but as it happens, your best camera is actually the one you have on you, and I tried to catch as much of the light as I could with my iPhone. A few of these have already landed on my instagram – I’d love for you to take a look over there! – but I wanted to share the rest here, so they don’t languish on my phone like the thousands of other pictures I take every month. It’s crazy how in the age of Facebook, digital photo sites, and more, 95% of my photos stay locked away on a tiny device. I’ve been trying to rectify that. I’m also trying to get out from behind the camera more often. That’s a more challenging proposition.
Here are some of my favorites:
It’s hard to describe what Wellesley means to me – I was so lucky to spend four years in this enchanting place, but I’m even luckier to be part of a community of people shaped by their experiences here, a bond that continues and strengthens long after you graduate and are set free into the world.
