I waited in line for over an hour to buy some pastries.

In recent years, the bakery line has become an increasingly common sight in Chicago. Sometimes stretching blocks long, these lines have mostly mystified me, as there are perfectly good bakeries with no or minimal lines and I am from a generation that is constitutionally opposed to waiting in lines for things. I had always regarded these lines with the cool detachment of someone observing something that has nothing to do with them, like people playing beach volleyball. The bakeries with these lines all seem to be focused on laminated pastries, and I am not sure why that is or what it means. I suspect TikTok? TikTok has become my (partially joking) answer for why anything perplexing is ever happening. But I do think some of the impetus for enduring a long line for a croissant is to be able to snap a photo or take a video with an impressive pastry. Spoils of war! And people have always seemed especially impressed by laminated doughs even if one of my biggest icks is someone showing me a cross-section of a croissant to impress me with their lamination.

Anyway, I found myself in line in part because my husband had thrown out his back. Not enough that he couldn’t move but enough that most of our plans for the weekend had been cancelled. So we figured, why not wait in line for some pastries? I almost instantly regretted it. In the first half hour of the line, I suggested at least 3 times that we should leave. This is crazy. And then more existentially. What are we doing with our lives? The other people in line were mostly much younger than us and seemed at peace with their decision to spend their morning waiting. A lot of them snapped selfies or photographs of the line itself but they mostly just scrolled on their phones. By the 45 minute mark I had just submitted to my fate. People across the street snapped photos of the line, presumably to send to friends. Can you believe all of these idiots waiting in line? But nothing bothered me at this point. I was a part of the line and it was a part of me. read more+++

It is important for you to know about this bran muffin recipe that was making the rounds a few weeks ago on Instagram. I learned about it from Hailey who learned about it from Camilla. But the origin of the recipe is here.

I don’t know that I have ever had a strong opinion on bran muffins. But Bryan loves them and I have been thinking I would like a reliable recipe. I’m in love with these beauties and if you are at all curious I implore you to give them a try. The real genius of this recipe is that you mix up a batch of the batter and it sits in the fridge for up to two weeks. You can then bake a couple of muffins every morning which means all of your bran muffins are fresh from the oven. It becomes a lifestyle, really. Slathering salted butter on a warm muffin is now just who I am. read more+++

The weird shit I’ve bought during this pandemic! Sadly, there are days when the only way to interact with the world or to feel anything is through commerce and so I find myself buying things I don’t need to feel alive. It doesn’t work! But one of the better impulse buys was a case of Seville oranges from a company in Florida with the wonderfully literal web address floridaorangeshop dot com. I ordered them and kind of forgot about it until they arrived on a snowy day here in the Midwest. To be honest, I was mostly annoyed that I now had an obligation to do something with them and spent the first day avoiding eye contact with the cardboard box that said something like “A Gift of Sunshine for You!” on the side. I started plotting ways to make them disappear in a way that wouldn’t lead to questioning by Bryan. What happened to all of those oranges? Eventually I accepted my destiny and mustered the energy to make some marmalade which in turn gave me momentum and lead to a brief increase in kitchen activity which I do not necessarily regret.

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A quick note to suggest that you all toast your sugar. I learned of the technique from Stella Parks (one of the greats!) over on Serious Eats. She uses granulated sugar in place of beans or pie weights when she is blind baking pie shells. The sugar eventually takes on color and a caramelized flavor. But you don’t need to wait for the next time you’re making pie, toasted sugar can be made anytime. Instructions here. I like the results after about 3 hours. And this stuff is great in a lot of places. Pavlovas! Ice cream! Scones! Cookies!

Speaking of Stella, she recently brought another pastry secret into my life. Her fruity whipped cream technique has you whip heavy cream with some sugar and some freeze-dried fruit in a food processor. The resulting thick and delicious cream (kind of like clotted cream) is super stable and can keep in the fridge for days. It is genius. I especially like raspberry. She explains the whole process here. Sweet!

You need to make these. Add some sour cream to the whipped cream. And maybe sprinkle some flake salt over the whole business.

Recipe: Coffee-Flavored Belgian Waffles

A quick note to say: make these scones! They’re superduper amazing. You should make the whole batch and freeze a bunch to improve future mornings. They are definitely best served hot from the oven.

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Amanda Rockman has left the building.

After a good run in Chicago, she has packed her bags and headed back home to Texas. You may remember Amanda from the famous Gateau Basque recipe she shared on these pages. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of eating a plate of sweets made by this super-talented chef, you probably won’t forget her. If pastry chefs were spirit animals, she’d probably be mine. So, as you might have guessed, I was a little bummed when I heard she was leaving town. So bummed that in her last couple of weeks I’d just show up at Nico and eat all of the desserts for dinner. Amanda’s been an important part of Chicago’s pastry scene for years—but Chicago’s loss is Austin’s gain (Austinites—Amanda will be in charge of all pastry at the soon to open South Congress Hotel, go tell her I said hello), and I am happy for Amanda and excited to see what she does next.

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On one of our first Valentine’s Days together, Bryan and I decided to go out to dinner. He made a reservation at a local French bistro that we ordinarily enjoyed. The thing I remember most about that night was the embarrassing horror of it all—of the spectacle of public displays of romance. We were surrounded by couples trying desperately to have a romantic dinner, everyone was wearing red and awkwardly pulling out chairs for each other. There was this hope in the air that this would all begin to feel really romantic. Which is, of course, that last thing that is going to happen at a restaurant on Valentine’s Day. Romance rarely happens when it is supposed to (the exception perhaps being sunsets?), especially when there are dozens of other couples there trying for the same thing. We survived the dinner, and I remember being really happy that Bryan also found it objectionable. We vowed that year to never go out to dinner on Valentine’s Day, unless we were going to Taco Bell or some other place that can’t help but feel romantic. read more+++

There are a few restaurants in this world that have become iconic for me. Places that manage to provide everything I dream a restaurant could provide. Some of them are in Chicago, and I am grateful for that. Some are further away and I pine for them. A restaurant at the top of my list is Ana Sortun’s Oleana, in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The restaurant has been there for a while and received heaps of praise since its opening, but we only ate there for the first time a few years ago. We were in Massachusetts to be married, and so of course that colors all of our experiences with a warm glow. But the meal blew my mind. Plate after plate of food elicited wows and mmmms and sometimes silent awe from us. It doesn’t hurt that we were sitting in the beautiful garden behind the restaurant and that the service is among the the best I have experienced anywhere. The staff is friendly and charming and eager to teach you about the food. Bryan and I both agreed it was the perfect restaurant.

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Fudge shops are not usually indicators of a rich culinary scene. I associate fudge with tourist-filled fair-weather vacation spots from Monterrey to Saugatuck to Ogunquit. The fudge in any of these shops inexplicably looks the same, thus undermining my faith in the product. It is sometimes sold alongside all forms of gummy/sour candies and ice cream that is crystallizing before your very eyes. Though I frequently enter these shops, they do have their charms and usually are well-air conditioned, I rarely eat anything. read more+++