Can I Have S'More?

A little (personal) history lesson is required before this post is read. The M & M twins are the hooligans I grew up with. Though I had blond blond blond hair as a kid, we tried to convince strangers we were triplets. Obviously M & M were twins, but I'm sure my blond hair was a dead giveaway, but that didn't stop us from our façade. Triplets or not, our collective childhood was spent in the outdoors, whether that be out in the neighborhood on bike rides or weekend camping trips with our families. Though we were happy to explore the neighborhood creek and golf course, camping was much more adventurous (plus, there was fire).

This week was a slice of nostalgic childhood, as sister L and I joined the twins' family for their family reunion campout. Their family is basically my family, so it was peachy to see my pseudo aunts and uncles again. It had been a while.

Though we had packed a tent, it's more fun when you sleep outside under an inky blanket of stars. Softball, volleyball, s'mores, and full on swims in freezing snow-run off were some highlights of the long weekend, which made the trip perfect. Somehow, food always taste better when you are camping, and when you are sitting at home you wouldn't even consider dipping your toes into water that cold, but that inhibition somehow that dissolves when you are out.

Don't be deceived: this water is very pretty, but is freezing cold. That didn't stop anyone from finding a spot deep enough to prove that you too could submerge yourself in icy run-off.


It's nice to unplug and be away from it all, with nothing to distract you from being with people you grew up with....except maybe having another s'more or two.

Farmer's Markets: A Guide

Dozens of little fruit and vegetable stands crop up in the oddest places in the summertime. Chalkboards profess the dates of when you favorite fruits will be in season, and if you are anything like me, you’re tickled at the prospect of wandering rows of beet filled baskets. (I don’t even like beets, but they photograph splendidly well. See below.) Summertime is certainly a season of excellent kitchen experiments. Last week’s apricots were marvelous into an oatmeal crumb bar, and this year’s strawberry season made for many a’ pavlova (and about 4 dozen jars of jam).  During other seasons, the idea of eating locally is always a fantastic idea, until I remember that I live in Utah, and I wouldn’t be able to eat rambutans ever, and a myriad of other tasty things. That being said, I give an honest effort to cook seasonally during the summer time. And farmer’s markets make it that much simpler.

Crunchy and marshmallowy meringue, tart creamy lemon curd and fresh berries. Yes, please. 

I’ve had my fair share of markets and that life trend doesn’t seem to be slowing down.  In college, I looked forward to summertime Saturdays, and not for the reasons you might suspect. You may think college was about wild parties in the summer time, but that has never really been my jam (black current is truly my jam, but that's another post). Regardless of the hour I was up on Friday, I made sure I was up early enough to beat the heat and walk a handful of blocks to the local market, toting well-worn recyclable bags. Naturally, I’d snag breakfast at the Kolaches place on the way to the market (very convenient). 

Even when abroad, I’m a sucker for any sort of outdoor market, especially if there is food available. I had a full on food freak out when I first encountered the spice bazaar in Turkey. I walked away with significantly more in my stomach and with considerably less in my wallet. 

The Provo markets weren’t as spectacular as in Turkey, but after my grownup job, I’m now in spitting distance to the Salt Lake Market: a glorious realm of cheeses, local honey, pastries, pressed cider (in the fall), and salsas which line the paved sidewalk. Combine with bunches, bushels, baskets of local produce and you’ve got yourself quite the farmer’s market. Though a visit to the market is an activity itself, there’s a bit of a guide I follow as I peruse my options.

Step one: I always bring cash, but in two sets. One set is the predetermined amount I am willing to spend. Your second set is for emergencies. Emergencies like “it’s the last week for black currants” or the adorable 4 year old that wants to know if you’d like some buttermilk pancake syrup. This is only to be used in emergencies.

Step two: Buy what looks good, then hit the web. Luckily, a few hip food sites are into the whole eating locally deal, so they will already be featuring recipes for asparagus in early spring, or cherries in July. If all else fails, I’ve never been too upset I’ve had to eat a bucketful of blueberries instead of finding a buckle recipe that tickled my fancy. 

Step three: Go early. You'd think this was because it's blasted hot in the summer (true), and that you want your pick of the crop (also true), but mostly it's so that you can browse all morning while you eat a strawberry handpie AND be there to snag an empanada for lunch. Win Win. 

Oh and one more thing- enjoy the market while it lasts, because as fun as holiday baking is in the winter, it's not the same as browsing the rows and rows of a farmer's market. 

Apricots and America (but mostly butter)

Happy Fourth of July and stuff, America. For the C. family, that means a couple days of good ol' American tradition; BBQ's, parades, fireworks, and sweltering in the heat of July. It's all good fun. Because all us working people had the 3rd off, 2015's celebrations included a heavy dose of nostalgia as we made the trip up to Brigham City for a day at the pool...just like old times. I went there all the time as a kid, so coming back some 14 years later was a flashback straight out of my childhood.

 We left the pool late, snagged some great fried chicken at Maddox, and stopped off at one of the many fruit stands that dot the highway. If that isn't an American afternoon, I don't know what is.

I love those roadside fruit stands. There's something about purchasing fruit that's a little blemished, piled in well worn baskets, right next to the orchard. I'm a big fan of grocery shopping (where else can you ogle at so much food?) but the pristine rows of fruit isn't as charming as the roadside markets and stands. Being early July, apricots are in full swing here, which meant baking something truly lovely for our firework picnic the next day.

Inspiration struck. Apricot & strawberry bars. Though they're not exactly bright red, white, or blue, somehow these bars were still very appropriate for the holiday. I riffed off a recipe for apricot bars I had found online, but added a couple twists. A little lemon zest to brighten up the shortbread, brown sugar instead of white for an extra caramelly taste, and a schmear of strawberry jam below the pitted fruit because that's what was in the fridge. (Sidenote: A few weekends ago, the C. family got gobs and gobs of strawberries and spent loads of time jam-ing and jar-ing, so adding strawberry jam to the slightly tart apricots was an obvious addition.)

Layer shortbread, jam, sliced apricots, and an oat crumble, and test your patience. You'll need to wait while the bars bake and through one agonizing cooling session. Ah, now your patience as been rewarded: Square, package, and tote to the park. Eat while enjoying the scent of bugspray and fireworks in the air, if at all possible.