All posts filed under: muffins

buckwheat blueberry muffins, plus bonus cute baby animal eye-candy, from A Raisin & A Porpoise

get away

In the blink of an eye, or rather the long, cramped blink of a shuffle through airport security, some hours in an improbably airborne metal device, and another set of shuffles (is that my bag?), we have gone from winter wonderland to tank tops.  This is blessedly disorienting.  It has been quite some time since my last vacation, Father. As always, the period before departure gave me cause to wonder if in some earlier episode I have angered the gods of vacation.  There were the snowstorms, which of course we could not take personally.  Our dog ruptured a tendon in his knee. Our sheep began lambing two months before such an event was anticipated, and into deep snow and freezing temperatures.  And to drive home the point, one lamb was rejected by her mother and left to our attention. It’s a tall order to find good care for such an impressively precarious house of cards. It is also tough to feature how a creature fitting the description of the teeny lamb (winsome, petite, fuzzy, floppy-eared) …

muffins with toasted coriander seed

there is a season

It turns out that it is not especially difficult, as a person (admittedly self-diagnosed) of approximately reasonable levels of functional sanity, to become deeply paranoid and want to stay under the bed.  “The Universe is trying to teach me a lesson” is the kind of thing I might be tempted to think.  “Don’t Tell The Universe I Am Under Here” might be scrawled on a sign propped up by the bed.  Not that I have given the matter much thought. Our community is reeling from the loss of a friend’s 21 year old son over the weekend.  As we are all learning and re-learning and learning some more, you really do see the best of a community at the worst of times. You really do wish you did not need to be reminded in this manner.  You vow to remember it very well, so the Universe will stop feeling the compulsion to teach you again. Here on the farm, reeling continues with the passing of one of the Founding Ewes of our little flock, one …

everyday muffins

shop: a frolic

In college, my roommate knew the sure-fire way to turn my frown upside down was to administer an immediate cream puff.  I am harder to please in this way now, having developed a few objections to eating a cream puff the size of my head, but there is another activity that approximates this level of joy for me. I speak, of course, of the grocery safari.  Holiday shopping fills me with dread and alarm; most shopping, in fact, rapidly loses its luster once it moves from the theoretical to the overheated, over-soundtracked reality.  But give me a cross-cultural food outing any day of the week and I am a happy girl. Last week, on a junket to the Asian grocery that I like in Albany, I tacked on a side trip to an Indian grocery I discovered with my mad Google skills.  This gem happened (cue harps!) to be both a block away from the Asian grocery and in possession of a lunch counter.  When we (I always take a buddy, in case joy overwhelms …