snapshot: the food, the stories, the pictures

for those of you who follow me on

twitter - that teeny lot of you -

you know that i've been posting

as much there as i have been here,

save for using my phone to instagram

meals made at home

and

ingredients picked up at the store.

it's just...

it's just that sometimes it's easier to

come home and just make dinner,

you know?

no stopping and starting

with the camera,

with the silent fight larry

and i have as i turn the switch off to

take a picture using natural light as

he flicks it back on because who cooks

with such dimness in the kitchen?

with stopping to wash my hands,

to think about how to make something

that i'm tossing into a bowl,

pretty, instead of tossed into a bowl.

and then there's this:

you wouldn't want to read a lot

about what we've been cooking.

there have been a lot of salads.

a lot of soups.

a lot of things that you make because you have

to eat dinner, instead of things that you make

because they are blog-worthy, irresistible,

cutting edge or even slightly precious.

but, every once in a while,

i put something down on the table and

think, i want to remember this.

and then, instead of pulling out the camera and

turning out the lights, or dragging my food

outside onto the deck, i grab my phone and

take a quick(ish) picture, which

i upload to twitter. it makes me feel like

i'm still connected to...something.

so, if you're in that small twitter group,

you've most likely seen some of these.

but, if not, here's a glimpse into what i've been

cooking and doing the past couple months.

in january, we surprised our youngest sister, erin, with a surprise party (that she totally knew about), at my other sister, blair's, house. almost six months before, at my birthday dinner, erin told me that she wanted banana cupcakes with chocolate cream cheese frosting for her 25th birthday. i made roasted banana cupcakes with the aforementioned chocolate cream cheese frosting (whipped using bittersweet chocolate) and these, which i've taken to making anytime i need a fail safe dessert. as usual, i left out the irish cream frosting and opted for the filling as a glaze. we balanced them on a cardboard tiered platter that we bought at homegoods. it teetered precariously all night, but never collapsed. score.

growing up, my mom made hummus for every holiday dinner. when i needed to bring in a dish for heritage day, i brought in a bowl with carrots. i'm russian and romanian - i'm not even sure hummus was entirely accurate, but nevertheless, it's the first dish of my mom's i regularly made. my mother feels very passionately about tahini-less hummus - hers is a simple blend of chickpeas, chopped onion, lemon juice, garlic, olive oil and paprika for sprinkling. i made a batch when we had friends over, giving the mixture a heavy dose of smoked paprika and aleppo pepper before pressing puree.

it may look like sludge, or optimistically, like deep chocolate hot fudge, but i promise you it was neither. this tangy, slightly spicy cherry ketchup was spread over dried cherry turkey burgers that larry made for a friday night dinner in february. he really wanted to skip the spread, but i decided to make it while he formed the patties. the ketchup was ready and waiting way before the burgers were done (somehow we had every ingredient in the pantry). and even though larry was dubious, he agreed it was important for the meal.

this doesn't look like much (except maybe a mess), but oh my goodness, we loved it. we haven't been eating a lot of pasta around here, but when i found the (new-to-me) blog, post punk kitchen, right around the same time she posted a recipe for these soba noodles, i was pretty sure we'd make it soon. we used green tea noodles, roasted broccoli instead of cauliflower, grilled tofu in place of lentils and scallions, which for me were necessary. commenters were pretty clear that this bowl of food was more than memorable, and even though i made it, i wasn't expecting much from such simple ingredients. i was wrong.

a few weeks ago, several of us at work cooked lunch for the others to help raise money for a final fundraising push. i made those chocolate cupcakes again (fail safe, i promise you), using reduced coffee in place of stout and vanilla extract instead whisky (work event) and, for the second time, i made these salted brown butter rice crispy squares, using homemade marshmallows that i had sitting on the counter and desperately wanted to get rid of, lest they would be eaten or go unnoticed and stale.

my mom visited new orleans in mid-march. larry, innocently - i like to believe - asked her to pick up a bottle of bourbon he enjoyed on our last night in nola. at that table in cochon, he fell in love at first sip, not realizing that that drink was unavailable in, or for shipping to, new jersey. my mom searched the city, unable to uncover a bottle, until one day at restaurant august for lunch, she noticed it on the menu. she inquired, only to find out that only one liquor store in the city sold it. they trekked out there, got the bottle and wrapped it very carefully in a box they had shipped home. when she opened it in front of us, one week later, the buffalo trace was perfectly in tact. it was the jar of pickled okra, next to the bourbon, that had suffered. we made a deal: if i made her pickled okra, we were even. so, i looked at a few recipes before cobbling together my own: cherry peppers, a blend of white and apple cider vinegar, garlic, coriander and red pepper flakes. i think we were both happy with the results.

i can't claim to have made this tuscan onion confit from merrill of food52, unless you call cooking toasting the almonds the night before and coming home after 1 1/2 hours of cooking to stir the mixture and drizzle in extra vinegar. i wanted to make it to serve with the turkey my mother was making on easter sunday. (yes, somehow, we missed passover, but celebrated with an easter dinner this year - with several people at the table who do in fact celebrate easter.) however, i had to work the day before - luckily, larry agreed to take ownership of the confit. it was memorable: sticky, sweet, slightly tangy and deeply nutty.

that next night, i had planned to make a snap pea, radish and feta salad, in celebration of spring. but between the turkey, the confit, the matzoh stuffing and homemade applesauce, it just didn't seem like a spring table in need of a cold salad. the day of, i switched my plan to a recipe that was fast, required little prep and most importantly, took up a minimal amount of space in my mother's kitchen and her stove top while she tried to make dinner. i've never prepared radishes any way but raw, but now, i kind of love the tender bite of them braised. one tablespoon of butter doesn't seem like very much for 2 pounds of vegetables, but let me tell you, these radishes from food and wine were buttery. tinted pink, they were pretty, too. my only wish is that i had stirred the sorrel in, instead of sprinkling the greens on top.

and that's that. 3 months. 8 recipes to show for it. 8 pretty good recipes. stories included.

boca negra

2011 was a trying year for my family.

we flitted - or dashed - from family

emergency to family emergency and

spent our time in rest, figuring out

how to handle the situations that kept

smacking us in the face, contemplating

our next moves and crossing our fingers

that the worst was behind us.

needless to say, 2012 is a welcome change.

this is a year we have hung our hats on -

and as i write that, i realize,

my goodness, that's a lot of pressure on

a new year.

but, i think it can handle it -

after all, we have a wedding in july, not

to mention a family bond that's thickened

over the past 12 months and seeds of proof

that things are starting to turn around.

to kick it off with every ounce of

this-year-damn-well-better-be-good we

could muster, we had dinner and watched

the ball drop together, at our house.

larry and i cooked all day on

new year's eve, making appetizers,

prepping eight dungeness crabs for

drowning and roasting in a garlicky

orange sauce, getting ready for

new year's day breakfast (which i

can't wait to tell you about) and,

making this cake.

even though i had, for months,

thought that this new year's was

important to spend together, i hadn't

given the menu much thought. i had

channeled back to this new year's eve

and my mom's birthday and remembered

that crabs are always good for celebrations

and for a crowd. but, i wasn't really sure

if i would be able to get 8 of them, so somewhere

inside, i was thinking lasagna. but i found the crabs

and kind of, sorta, not really figured out the appetizers

as i shopped and saw what was in store.

but, the dessert. i hadn't really thought about that at all.

the day we went grocery shopping,

i quickly searched a few blogs.

then, i thought that i was tired, we had

to leave, we didn't have time for endless hours

of searching. so, i went to dorie greenspan's

web site and scanned the desserts for something

decadent, something celebratory, something...without

a million steps or layers of frosting or 20 bowls.

and, then i found boca negra,

with which a quick read and a glance at the reviews,

i was pretty sure was my dessert.

i asked larry if we owned bourbon -

he countered with maker's mark.

and then, i looked more closely.

things jumped out at me:

six ingredients

made in the food processor

30 minutes exactly.

i added 12 ounces bittersweet chocolate to

our shopping list (and 12 more white chocolate

for the accompanying cream), and didn't look back.

that night - the night before new year's eve -

i made the white chocolate bourbon cream,

in about 5 minutes. boiling heavy cream whirled

together in the blender with the chocolate,

bourbon was added and the whole thing,

thick and fluid and pretty dreamy in flavor,

went into the fridge.

the next day, i was a little more nervous.

after a more careful perusal of the reviews,

i realized that some people had wound up

with a molten cake (instead of the rich,

fudgy texture they were expecting) and that

the cake had to be baked in a water bath.

and.

there was flipping.

of a hot, precious, delicate cake.

twice.

oh whatever.

it was for a new year.

so, when i woke up,

before even sipping my first sip of coffee,

i lined the bottom of my sheet pan

with parchment paper and then realized,

as i often do, that the eggs and butter

needed to be at room temperature.

so, i set them all aside, asked larry to chop

the chocolate and busied myself

making other appetizers.

45 minutes later, i came back to it all.

the chocolate was in the food processor.

the butter was cut into 10 pieces.

the eggs were cracked into a measuring

cup. the flour was measured.

i brought bourbon and sugar to a boil,

added it to the chocolate and processed

for about 15 seconds, until the chocolate

inside was no longer bouncing inside

and making noise. as the processor ran,

i added the butter, one piece at a time,

then poured in eggs, again one by one.

after the flour was in, we ran it a few

seconds more and had a very dark batter.

i transferred the batter to the cake plan

and placed it in the roasting pan. then,

i foolishly forgot the trick for adding water

to a roasting pan (but, didn't forget to tell

you, below), and instead, added it using the sink.

it went in the oven and i begged the cake

to please show me a thin, crackly top layer

when the 30 minutes were up, so that i didn't

have to use my own judgement to decide

if the cake was finished or not.

and, it did!

but, then, the unmolding.

and the hot flipping.

twice.

i gently placed a layer of plastic wrap on

top of the cake, as instructed. i topped the

whole thing with a large plate. i held my

breath and flipped. so far so good.

i shimmied the cake plate off and smiled.

i was staring at an empty pan, a whole cake.

and then, i flipped once more, onto the

serving plate. the cake landed slightly askew,

but it was on the plate.

it was safe.

the recipe said the cake could be served

warm or at room temperature, but there was a note

that it could also be served cold, if you're

a fan of fudge. i liked that idea.

but, by that point, our fridge was filled with

bottles of prosecco, sparkling cider, 8 dungeness crabs,

a bowl of proofed dough and many, many

other things. this cake, on its pedestal cake

stand, was destined to be served room temp.

the white chocolate cream!

i almost forgot about it,

that night, and just now, too.

i remembered to check on it,

late afternoon. it was still stunning in

flavor, and satiny in texture, but also,

hard, like the ganache filling on a truffle,

that had spent a day in the fridge.

i would still serve it,

but i can't say that i understood it.

that night,

when the ridiculous amount of appetizers

that we all made had been eaten,

and the crabs cracked,

toasts to a better year, made,

and all of us full,

we sat around our coffee table in the living room,

set the television to dick clark

and pulled out a freshly bought box of apples to apples.

i looked at the clock. it was 11:30 and frankly,

none of us needed cake. or prosecco.

we left the bubbly in the fridge.

but at 11:50,

i pulled the cake from the counter,

sat it in the living room and we ate,

teeny, tiny slivers, of seriously fudgy,

room temperature cake, dotted with

thick white chocolate-bourbon cream.

we toasted in spirit and kissed

each other happy near year, while

giggling over the most recent

apples to apples play.

and that was it.

it was 2012.

we had made the decision to

make '11 end much better

than it had lived.

we laughed.

we ate a messy dinner.

some of us swore we

remembered all the words

to certain 90's rap songs and

some us used pandora to make

them prove it.

we ate cake.

and, for all of that,

we were thankful.

boca negra

adapted from lora brody via dorie greenspan via seriouseats.com

this is a serious cake for serious chocolate lovers. (interestingly enough, that's not me - but, still, i can appreciate it.) it's fudgy, fudgy, fudgy and while the recipe says that it serves 12, we managed to get eight wedges out of just over a quarter of the cake. yes, they were tiny (it was 11:50 at night. we were full.), but it was enough. it is worth noting, however, that even though this cake is rich and dense, it cuts beautifully.

i'm including the recipe for the white chocolate cream, below. it's definitely an interesting addition and, the bourbon nicely unites the two, but i think you could whip some whipped cream with a few drops of bourbon and still be happy.

below, are the directions for making the cake using the food processor. if you prefer to make it by hand (good for you!), or you do not own a food processor, the directions are here.

and, one last thing. we can now tell you that at room temperature, this cake is soft, supple and chocolate almost like a warmed chocolate bar. when chilled, it really is like a piece of fudge, which is how larry preferred it. i think that i've liked this cake the best when removed from the fridge and given 20 minutes to sit before serving.

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped

1 1/3 cups sugar

1/2 cup bourbon

2 sticks (8 ounces each) unsalted butter, at room temperature

5 eggs, at room temperature

1 1/2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

place rack in center of oven. heat oven to 350˚f. lightly butter a 9-inch round baking pan. line bottom of pan with parchment paper. lightly butter parchment paper; set aside.

(here's how i do it, as shown in pictures, above: i fold a piece of parchment in half, twice. then, i fold the paper, corner to corner to form a triangle. i do that a second time, too. then i place the point in the center of the pan, and mark the spot that the paper hits the inside edge of the pan. cut the remaining paper off, at that mark, in a slightly rounded fashion. when you unfold the triangle, you should have a round that fits in the pan. see how mine was a little too big and went up the sides? sometimes that doesn't matter. this time, it did and resulted in creases in the cake. i would try to avoid that.)

place chopped chocolate in bowl of food processor. in saucepot over medium heat, bring sugar and bourbon to a boil, stirring occasionally. add to chocolate; run processor 15 seconds, or until mixture is smooth. it may look cool and harder than you think it should at this point - don't worry.

with processor running, add butter, one piece at a time, making sure it mixes into the mixture before adding the next piece. add eggs, one at a time, again making sure that the egg is absorbed into the batter before continuing. (i like to crack all eggs into a liquid measuring cup and then pour them, one at a time into the mixture.)

add flour and process 10 seconds.

transfer batter to prepared pan. place cake pan inside roasting pan. place in oven and, using a pitcher, carefully fill roasting pan with water. (you want the water to come up 1" on the cake pan.) bake exactly 30 minutes (the cake should have a thin, crackly-looking top crust).

remove the roasting pan from the oven. carefully remove the cake pan from the roasting pan. i used larry, a spatula and a silicone, waterproof oven mitt - i'm sure there's an easier, more graceful way. wipe cake pan dry. carefully and gently, cover cake surface with plastic wrap. place large flat plate over cake pan; flip over and place plate on work surface. carefully remove cake pan from cake; peel off parchment. place cake plate over cake; carefully flip cake and remove top cake.

serve warm, at room temperature, or cold.

white chocolate bourbon cream

as i said, this mixture is more of a scoopable ball of chocolate than an accompanying cream, but it is interesting and i think it would be fun to use for other desserts. it does need to be made one day ahead of time.

12 ounces white chocolate, finely chopped

1 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup bourbon

place white chocolate in blender. in small saucepot, bring heavy cream to a simmer (small bubbles should form around the sides of the saucepot). pour cream into blender. run blender 1 minutes, or until mixture is smooth. add bourbon; blend to combine. transfer to container. chill 1 day before serving.

lima bean puree

hi. it's me.

you may remember me,

but just in case...

my name is brooke.

i cook and take pictures

of what i've cooked

and write about what i've

cooked and taken pictures of...

when i have time.

and even though cooking,

taking pictures and writing

rank very high on several lists:

(-things i'd prefer to be doing,

-things i love doing,

-things i'm often thinking about doing),

they also fall high on

another list:

-things i often need to ignore to make

way for life and work.

but, i refuse to give up on this little

blog-that-could, um, maybe-can.

and, i hope you don't either.

because even though it's taken me

almost three months to tell you about

this lima bean puree, i've thought

of it often and have been writing this

post in my head for almost as long.

--

larry and i spent our september wedding

anniversary in new orleans. while that might

sound romantic or sweet or well-planned,

it was none of those things. ok, wait. that's not fair.

let me start over.

we spent the summer trying to find one week

to go on vacation. but, suddenly,

it was almost the end of august

and we had not gone away, nor had we found a

week that would work. i looked and saw one free

five day period - starting tuesday afternoon,

that we could run somewhere, anywhere.

i also realized that this was it - if i held out for a

full week, i'd be waiting until after the first of the

year. we found a place with reasonable

fares and jumped into a half-assed vacation, feet first.

and during that time, we recognized that somehow,

our anniversary

fell during that 5 day period. suddenly,

we were going away for our anniversary.

we made many reservations - determined

not to miss out on the barbecued shrimp at Mr. B's,

the incredible steal of a lunch at restaurant august,

the cochon at cochon - but, still, none for the evening

of our anniversary. i researched, trying not to be

ridiculously indulgent, trying to take the night

seriously. and, then, i found mila.

it was a small menu, which ordinarily turns me

off, but everything seemed just right. so, i read

a few reviews, made reservations and knew

that if the meal was a bust, we would probably

still be a little full from lunch, anyway.

the dinner was lovely.

we enjoyed a gorgeously arranged salad featuring

frisee and cornbread croutons and heirloom

tomatoes and large crystals of sea salt.

they brought us out celebratory glasses of

champagne, that we never would have thought

to order on our own, and i ate a pasta dish that

was decent, if not sorely in need of a squeeze

of lemon.

but, what i fixated on that evening,

and what i continued to talk about in the same

breath as those barbecued shrimp when we got

home, was the lima bean puree that they served

in a little cast iron skillet,

alongside cornbread and sweet potato biscuits,

when we first sat down.

it was so simple.

warm lima beans blended into silkiness,

and lightly flavored with...i had no idea.

i preach that i love crazy combinations and

bold impressions. but, this puree was

neither and i couldn't get enough of

the subtle mystery flavor.

i asked the waiter - who was more than

happy to talk to us after learning that we

were from new jersey, too.

he came back and gave me this:

the lima beans were steamed.

they were then pureed with a pepper vinegar.

hmmm.

that was not it.

i talked about the puree on the walk back

to the hotel, on the plane ride home and

in the grocery store when i bought a bag

of dried lima beans to begin operation recreation.

i researched the recipe and found nothing.

i thought about calling the restaurant, but

let's be honest - i chickened out.

and, then i decided that i had to get started

or kiss my lima bean puree-obsession, goodbye.

for attempt number one, i decided to use

hot chile peppers. i'm not sure why - the puree

wasn't even slightly spicy. but, i really cannot

stand the flavor of bell peppers and i was pretty

sure that if they used them to make the

vinegar, i would have been able to taste it.

yet, i was pretty sure i was barking up the wrong

tree with the fresnos.

i cut the peppers into 1/2" pieces,

crushed a couple large cloves of garlic and

tossed both into white distilled vinegar.

the next day, i simmered the soaked beans

until they were ultra tender and then transferred

them, still warm into the food processor.

(was that a mistake? would limas get pasty like

potatoes? should i have been using a masher?)

and even though it seemed like it was too simple,

i didn't have any other jumping points.

so, i poured in a few tablespoons of the limas'

cooking liquid, a couple of the very spicy vinegar

and a couple of olive oil. i blended with my eyes

half closed and when the mixture seemed smooth,

i gave it a taste. it was...close. very close.

i added another tablespoon of the spicy vinegar,

and then one more for good measure, sprinkled

in a few more pinches of salt and blended again.

oh my goodness.

i did it.

first try.

blind guessing.

completely confused about the crazy spicy vinegar

that gave the lima beans a touch of mystery.

but, here it was, in my food processor.

hot and craving

a sweet potato biscuit.

i made larry - who i think enjoyed the puree

a normal amount the first time - try it.

he confirmed it tasted like mila's.

i was shocked. still am, if you can't tell.

and, then i realized:

no pictures. it had never even occurred to

me to take out the camera for what i assumed

would be a non-event. that was the beginning of october.

it took me until two sundays ago to make them

again, to serve alongside a turkey meatloaf and

shredded lemony brussels sprouts.

i was worried that i wouldn't like it as much.

that i wouldn't be able to get it right again,

that the flavor wouldn't ring true or stand out.

but, from the moment that i tested one lima bean

to make sure it was tender enough to blend, i knew

we'd be ok. better than ok.

i still loved it - subtle, unexpected,

but somehow just right.

just like our anniversary trip this year.

lima bean puree

(kind of adapted from mila's)

i have to warn you one last time, this puree will not knock you over with its uniqueness or its shocking lingering flavor. but, it is a lovely mixture to serve with the intention of slathering on warm bread, or served alongside chicken, fish, or as we did on this night, meatloaf. also - know this: this puree will probably not be your best friend at a dinner party. while, you can keep it in the food processor covered for quite a while, if you try to serve it too early, it does form a bit of a crust on top, as it did at mila.

i reserved extra lima bean cooking liquid and stirred into leftovers the next night before reheating. the flavor and texture were pretty spot-on from the night before.

puree

1 bag (16 ounces) dried lima beans, picked over

1/4-1/3 cup spicy vinegar (recipe below)

3-5 tablespoons lima bean cooking liquid

3 tablespoons olive oil

salt and pepper

place lima beans in large bowl; cover with at least 3 inches cold water. stir to make sure all beans are submerged. let sit 6-8 hours (you can put them under water before you leave for work and make the puree when you get home).

drain beans. place soaked lima beans in large saucepot; cover with at least two inches water. bring to a boil; reduce heat to a bare simmer and let cook 45 minutes-1 hour, or until beans are very tender, skimming off foam as necessary. (to test beans, halve bean and look: you don't want the center to be any darker than the center. if the bean is the same color all the way through, it's a good sign you're ready to go. then taste it. there shouldn't be any resistance. but, for your most sure-on bet, use this trick i learned from anne burrell: after the first one is tender, check four more. if all five are soft and cooked through, it's time).

before draining beans, ladle out a cupful of cooking liquid. drain beans; let lima sit 10 minutes. transfer beans to bowl of food processor; add 1/4 cup spicy vinegar, 3 tablespoons cooking liquid and olive oil. process 30 seconds, or until smooth. taste; and adjust seasoning, adding more vinegar if the puree tastes too flat or more cooking liquid to smooth it out; season with salt and pepper. blend again, tasting and adjusting as necessary.

fresno pepper and garlic vinegar

5 large fresno chile peppers

3-4 large cloves garlic

1 1/2 cups distilled white vinegar

cut peppers into 1/2" pieces. smash garlic with back of knife. transfer peppers and garlic to glass jar or container; cover with vinegar and stir to combine. let sit at least one day before using. (note: the next day, the vinegar will be extremely spicy. that's ok - don't let it stop you from using it in the puree.)

for love. and peanut butter pie.

over six years ago,

we were visiting colleen and christian

when i got the kind of call you

never want to get. not ever.

and not in the house of your

friend's boyfriend, no matter how wonderful

they are. it was my mother,

telling me that my ex-boyfriend - the

ex-boyfriend, who i dated for six years,

starting one month into our freshman

year of college - had died. we hadn't

spoken since one month after our

break up. to me - to everyone - the horrible

accident came out of nowhere.

had we still been a couple, i'm not

sure how i would have managed. if i'm being

honest, i still don't think i've fully recovered.

from that phone call.

from his accident.

from knowing that even though we would never have

been remembering together anymore,

i am now the only one who can know our memories.

--

to say that i was an immense worrier before

his death, would be fair. i have always been

fearful of things large and small.

but after that, everything was elevated.

i dream about him, about trying to stop him from

stepping into an elevator or leaving the room.

when i wake up, i panic for my family.

when i haven't heard from or can't reach

my mom,

my dad,

my sisters,

my grandmother,

larry,

i hate myself for it, but i obsess over the worst.

i hate myself for allowing myself to think things

that are not doing anyone any good.

my mind is set to catastrophe.

--

on monday morning,

the first thing that i saw were three

tweets, in a row, with the message that

a food blogger had lost her husband

unexpectedly to a heart attack the day before.

i follow jennifer perillo on twitter.

i read her blog.

i've known her as an active member of food52.

the closest i've ever been to her, was making

her homemade manicotti for larry last winter.

but, when i saw the tweet, i was unable to focus

on anything else. i drove to work shaken and

all day my mind wandered back to jennie and

her two daughters. when larry got home from work,

i tried to tell him what happened

and shocked both of us

when i started crying uncontrollably.

when i calmed, i hugged him. hard.

then, i told him about jennie and her

two young daughters and how we really don't

know each other, but through her tweets,

i knew about her date nights and that i've

been meaning to try her lentil-ricotta meatballs

and that the hardest thing for me - and i've come

to find out, others - to see, was that her last tweet

before she lost her husband, was about canning

marinara and getting ready for their vacation

to cape cod in 13 days. i felt for jennie in a way

that i did not know i could feel for someone

who i did not personally know.

jennie posted last week,

talking about her husband in a way i believe

few of us would have the courage to do. and,

in a time when i think many of us who know

her peripherally, felt helpless, jennie asked for

us to make her husband, mikey's, favorite dessert,

a peanut butter pie, on friday, to honor

him and those who we love the most in our lives.

and, so i did.

i made the recipe exactly as it was

written. i tried not to sweat it when my crust

crumbled a little into the melted chocolate

layer, knowing that was not the point. the point

was that even on friday, five days later, jennie, her

husband and her daughters were still on the forefront

of my mind and, because, my family was even closer. i

made it for the people who i love and have loved.

and, i served it to my family tonight.

i told them the story of our dessert and

about the hundreds of food bloggers who came together

to make peanut butter pies for our families, and in

our hearts, for a family who many of us do not know.

as we ate, i showed them this video

that has brought me to tears each

time i've watched it. and, we talked about showing

the people that you love, that you love them, always.

--

for the pie recipe, to see more about the

amazing food community that rallied or

to learn more about jennifer's strength,

visit in jennie's kitchen.