Author: Guest of The Kitchn

Living 3,000 miles away from home can be hard on your heart. Not to mention your stomach. Do you ever crave something that you can only get in one place? In my case, I miss the Italian Sub from the White House Sub Shop on Arctic Avenue in Atlantic City. In New Jersey subs are a way of life. There is something about the combination of Italian meats, Provolone cheese, Jersey tomatoes, onions, oregano, oil and vinegar, and the bread. Oh, the bread. You cannot get bread like this anywhere else in the world.

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I am a snacker by nature. In fact, I cannot imagine living on 3 meals a day alone. I mean seriously? Afternoons would lose any and all appeal if I didn’t think I could relish a 3pm snack and a cup of tea or coffee. That 3pm break is what gets me through the day — every day. I’ve already had to give up naptime, but I in no shape or form am willing to give up snack time. And snack time, while often occurring at home or at work, can sometimes happen on the fly. At the park, in the middle of a hiking trail, on the bus, in the car and on the street. Hunger strikes and snack time saves the day. And so, I always try to leave the house prepared.

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For many, the most intimidating part of canning is all the specialty equipment necessary. Happily, I’ve found that when you’re first getting started, you can cobble together everything you need to safely process a batch of jam or pickles from what you already have in your kitchen!

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Well folks, it’s over. The hustle is no longer hustling and the stockings are waiting to be packed up for the next go ’round. An ungodly amount of See’s Candy has been consumed, and we’re slowly making our way through leftovers and the last dregs of eggnog. Now if you’re anything like me (read: efficient first child), you’ve broken down boxes, recycled wrapping paper, and put your new gifts away. Heck, maybe you’ve even got your thank you notes ready to roll.

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Pretty much every holiday has some kind of yin-yang emotional struggle attached to it. Well, okay, maybe not President’s Day or Groundhog’s Day, they’re fairly Switzerland-like as far as holidays go. I’ve never heard of someone say, “Groundhog’s Day makes me cringe; I always associate it with my Uncle Ed fighting with his third wife, and everyone drinking too much and regressing to their worst adolescent selves.”

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Figuring out what to do for New Year’s Eve is always a fraught decision. Do you go to the big party? Do you make reservations at your favorite restaurant? Do you stay in and watch the ball drop in Times Square? Do you actually make the trek to Times Square?

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It all started at the mall. I was doing some holiday shopping last month and went into Nordstrom. There was a girl near the door handing out samples of the roasted garlic and potato soup that they were featuring that day in the café. I wouldn’t normally accept a sample, but the smell was too wonderful to resist.

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It’s Christmas time in Burgundy and I am surrounded by all the reasons I moved to France: friends, family and a life rich in simplicity. It’s hard to believe that we have just a couple more days until Christmas and then in a flash, 2009 will be over. To add to the Christmas spirit, we’ve been blessed with several days of snow and Beaune is festively lit with garland and twinkle lights that illuminate the cobblestone streets.

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At some point in my childhood, my parents became the proud owners of an electric fork.

Not an electric knife — a commonplace item by the mid-70s, every modern kitchen had one — but an electric fork. It looks a lot like any other gadget of its era, but unlike my mom’s pastel pink Sunbeam rotary mixer or our avocado green General Electric automatic can opener, this kitchen tool was (and is) a rather convincing fake.

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In addition to decorating mountains of gingerbread and sugar cookies, a beloved Christmas tradition in my family was eating lefse on Christmas Eve. My Norwegian Great Grandmother would cook the thin potato pancakes every year in her tiny apartment on a piping hot griddle. As soon as the pancake was golden and toasted, we would slather on some salty butter and sprinkle a bit of crunchy sugar.

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One of my favorite parts about the holiday season is making homemade gifts for friends. Ninth grade marked the beginning of this tradition, when I handed out clear bags of my simple chocolate-covered toffee to classmates. Doing this made me realize that giving handcrafted gifts with a personal touch felt more unique and heartfelt than anything I could buy at the store. I know my friends agreed. I received requests for that toffee every Christmas until graduation, and we all remain close to this day.

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Throwing a holiday party is one of my favorite things to do. The holidays provide excellent opportunities to cook up wonderful recipes and share good food with friends. The only problem is the expense. Holiday parties can be pricey. Luckily, my partner and I have devised ways to keep our costs down without sacrificing holiday cheer!

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I’m honored to be a guest at The Kitchn. I’ve gleaned so much useful information over the years from The Kitchn, Apartment Therapy: Chicago, and the rest of the sites, and from their friendly and intelligent community of followers. I could name many instances when, because of the sites, I’ve learned something useful or bought this or that to make my house more pleasant and organized. I’d even say that my life has become a little more enjoyable from the non-material things that I’ve absorbed from their ideas and feedback.

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This cake was hilariously disastrous.

I’ll start from the beginning: I was making this cake as a test for my annual prime rib Christmas dinner with friends. Since sweets are my thing, I try to make something different every year.

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Croquembouche, a spun sugar tower of cream puffs, is French for “crunch in the mouth.” Of course it’s French – who else would concoct such a perilous pile of pastries?

Traditionally served at weddings and holidays, it’s made of cream-filled pâte à choux pastry and anchored with caramel. And, along with most things having to do with weddings or French pastry, I have always considered cream puffs firmly outside my area of expertise.

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Here in Portugal we have many traditions of holiday food, but from North to South, at the Christmas Eve table, there’s something that you can’t miss: King Cake and Codfish Boiled With Potatoes, Eggs and Cabbage (dried and salted codfish). When I was a child I just hated both! I still don’t eat the King’s Cake candied fruits. And when a child sees a table sprinkled with sweets and all sorts of tempting food, and is told to eat boiled fish with cabbage at dinner, what a sacrifice it is!

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This Christmas will be my first with homemade Christmas ornaments. Growing up, I always had the most perfect Christmas trees complete with dozens of ornaments my mother had collected from various trips around the world: they were always perfectly color-coordinated and so beautifully lit that it would break your heart to see the Christmas season go.

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I know I’ve only just arrived here at The Kitchn and I was raised to always be a polite guest, but I’m going to start this guest post out on a note that could ruffle some feathers. I’m a mug of spiked hot mulled cider in and I’m feeling a little daring, so here goes nothing: I don’t much like Christmas cookies. Blasphemous, I know. Especially for a food blogger. Writing a holiday guest post. Mere days before Christmas.

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In the past few years, our family has ‘modernized’ our Christmas feast. The whole turkey, potatoes and pie menu seems tired following on the coattails of Thanksgiving, so we try to make it more fun. This year we’re doing grilled pizzas (I realize this is a blessing that comes with living on the Southern West Coast) and I’m experimenting with a few different treats. Serving individual desserts feels personal, as though I am passing on an edible gift to the loved ones at my table.

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I am not exactly sure what most people eat for breakfast on Christmas morning. There is often a lot of talk about dinner: roasts and hams, traditional side dishes, and glittering desserts. But the day has to start somehow; you can’t dig through stockings and unwrap presents on an empty stomach. And it’s Christmas, so it better be special. That means no bowls of cold cereal or skimpy slices of toast.

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