I'll Be Home(made) for Christmas

Saltine Toffees

Not so long ago, I looked for the most vivid sights and cheeriest sounds of Christmas in the shopping mall: colorful merchandise displayed in store windows, the swish of a credit card followed by the beep-boop-boop of the cash register and the crackling of shopping bags as they're jostled in the crush of holiday gift-hunters. No virtual shopping for me: I preferred being in the climate-controlled coliseums of consumerism, plunging headlong into the herd of shoppers, purse slung over my shoulder and sharp elbows at the ready. Think the running of the bulls in Pamplona is crazy? Try Christmas Eve shopping at the Mall of America. Buying gifts was nothing less than a thrill . . . until it wasn't anymore.

Well before the recent economic recession, crappy housing market and a self-funded relocation across the globe whittled our Yuletide budget to less than zero, I had begun to feel anxious about Christmas gift-buying. As the list of giftees continued to grow each year, so did my worries: Will she like this? Is that what he wanted? Did I spend too much? Or too little? I fretted over not putting enough thought into picking one present, then fussed about overthinking the choice of another. Most of all, I wondered: what am I actually giving my family and friends?

Can't Buy Me Love?

We give gifts throughout the year, whether or not there is a specific occasion. Our generosity is often by choice but we are also spurred by cultural traditions and social obligations, and for reasons varying from affection to reciprocity to entirely self-serving motives. With each presentation, there is a message: Thinking of you. Thank you. I love you. I owe you. You owe me... The message, like the gift, is personal and yet, it can also project beyond its giver and receiver, and signal outwardly to others an image of the lives of and relationship between the main participants. This is not lost on marketers and advertisers, who fill airwaves and glossy pages with ad campaigns depicting rapturously happy people exchanging luxurious presents, in hopes that viewers might be persuaded to emulate them through their purchases. At the very least, they have succeeded in convincing many people (myself included) that the highest value gifts can only be found in the marketplace.

That's not the Star of Bethlehem guiding the most famous gift-giver of all

What's wrong with that? Only that I sometimes feel as if I am not giving a gift so much as I am simply a conduit for these marketers, who slyly 'suggest' that the best way to show we care is with their products. One past commercial offered up diamonds as a way to "say everything without saying a word." Yet what is more expressive than the straightforward words 'I love you' and costs nothing to boot? Another recent advertisement for a car company dismisses simple gifts, scolding "Let's be honest - no one ever wished for a smaller holiday gift". Well, doesn't that make me feel like a thoughtless, tightfisted Scrooge for not parking a cherry red sports car in the living room for my husband...

Perhaps it is the height of selfishness, but I hope that there is something of me in the presents I give, whether it is store-bought or hand-made. I would like my gifts to reflect a value that I share with others, not one that is assigned by retailers and advertisers. For the past few years, I have been making items - knitted hats and scarves, homebaked treats - to give as presents on holidays and special occasions, and I continue to do so this Christmas. These gifts are tangible, to be enjoyed by taste or by feel, but they also hold intangible wishes for even more cherished things that I hope we all receive in abundance. With just three days left before Christmas, I'd like to share some of these gifts within gifts with you.

Not Quite Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh . . .

Upending the adage that it is better to give than to receive, I was fortunate to have received in order to give! Thanks to fellow food bloggers who shared favorite holiday recipes, I found sweet little ways to hold some big gift wishes for us all this Christmas.

The Gift of Time

There never seems to be enough of it during the holidays, but these Saltine Toffees should help. With just four basic ingredients, they are a snap to make, leaving you time to read Christmas cards, watch a classic Yuletide movie or just put up your feet and relax. When they're ready, I guarantee that you'll find the time to indulge in their sweetness. But be warned: this combination of crisp crackers, buttery toffee and rich chocolate is so addictive, it's also known as Christmas Crack. And it just might stop the clock altogether.

For the complete recipe, please visit Chef Dennis at More Than a Mount Full, where he chronicles his adventures as the chef and director of dining services at an all-girls Catholic high school. With such a tough crowd to please, you know his recipes are not to be missed!

Also known as Christmas Crack for its addictiveness

The Gift of Knowledge

Data, facts, information, wisdom, common sense, learning, experience . . . no matter what it's called, knowledge is infinite and priceless. We can know so much and still not know everything, but the more knowledge we gain, the more we can share. Now that's a gift that keeps on giving! I learned about these confections, known as Les Quatres Mendiants au Chocolat, from writer and historian Cynthia Bertelsen, who shares her extensive knowledge of food history and culture at Gherkins & Tomatoes. Knowing the rich story behind its origins turns these treats of chocolate, dried fruit and nuts from simple candy into a taste of history. For the complete recipe and origins of Les Quatres Mendiants, please visit Cynthia's blog for an all-you-can-learn buffet!

Les Quatres Mendiants au Chocolat

The Gift of Carefree Moments

Having a roadmap is often the only difference between staying on track and driving off the cliff. But once in a while, stepping off the beaten path can lead to something new and fun. For instance, I started to worry about having enough goodies to give away, so I planned to make a large batch of cookies. I had a recipe printed out and all the ingredients on hand when I spotted a can of sweetened condensed milk, some uraro (arrowroot) biscuits and a bottle of rum . . . When the cocoa dust finally settled, the cookies had turned into these soft and crunchy rummy-fudgy bites. With just that bit of spontaneity, what was in danger of becoming a chore became an instance of fun. It's not a monthlong vacation on the beach, but such small carefree moments can be more than enough to revive your energy and spirit. So, for those inevitable days in the New Year when worries start to weigh you down, rip up the recipe and dump everything into the bowl. You never know what sweet surprise might come together.

Chocolate Thingamabobs

This is the treat with no name, borne of a spontaneous amalgam of hazelnut chocolate spread, sweetened condensed milk, biscuit bits, nuts and rum. Though it requires some time in the refrigerator and a food processor would help, there's no need to turn on the mixer, stove or oven. You can even make it your own by sticking to the basic idea but changing up the specific ingredients. It's a carefree Christmas confection . . .

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups uraro biscuits, crushed finely (or any other biscuit/cookie: vanilla wafers, graham crackers, etc.)
1 cup walnuts or nut of your choice, coarsley chopped into small pieces
1/2 cup hazelnut chocolate spread (such as Nutella)
1/2 cup sweetened condensed milk

1 Tbsp butter, melted

1 tsp brown sugar

2 oz rum
Cocoa powder

To make:

In a small bowl, thoroughly combine biscuits, nuts, chocolate spread and condensed milk. Separately, stir butter, sugar and rum together, then add to the biscuit mixture and stir to incorporate. Resulting mixture should have the consistency of a soft cookie dough. Refrigerate for at least one hour or until dough is firm. Form spoonfuls (however much you prefer) into balls and roll in cocoa powder*. Refrigerate to set.

*For my next batch, I plan to dip them in chocolate to make simple truffles.

Wishing you a joyous, wondrous and meaningful Christmas!

Stars of wonder, stars of light
Parols (Christmas lanterns) adorn a garden

Fork in the Road: SoCal Strawberry Cupcakes

Slow-Roasted Strawberry Cupcakes

The Noodle transition from Minnesota hotdish to Philippine palayok is nearly complete! Our stuff has (mostly) arrived, the dog has grudgingly accepted the small balcony that is now our only outdoor space and I'm getting the hang of my half-sized stove and oven. In the few weeks since moving to Manila, I've been exploring the local foodscape and have already found so much to inspire both my cooking and my blogging. So, with the boxes unpacked and the contents tucked into their proper places, I turn my full attention to reviving Tangled Noodle and eagerly look forward to sharing these inspirations with you.

But first, let's pick up where we left off with Fork in the Road, a series of posts in which I recount the places we've been, recreate the most memorable meals we've enjoyed, and rehabilitate the ones we'd otherwise rather forget. Before our big move to the Far East, Mr. Noodle and I embarked on a tour of the Great American West, where we indulged in local fare, such as Navajo frybread in Flagstaff, Arizona. When twinges of homesickness struck, we found the cure by heading into the sunset, toward the Pacific Ocean and the comforts of a family home...

After an exciting yet tiring day of exploration, I want nothing more than a pleasant dinner and a comfortable bed. But when you're on a budget roadtrip, as Mr. Noodle and I were, such small pleasures can prove to be tall orders. For every dish of savory posole at a hidden gem of a restaurant in New Mexico, there is a bowl of microwaveable udon noodles from the Walmart just off a Nebraska interstate highway. For every bed & breakfast suite with a tranquil view of a moonlit Colorado mesa and a serenade of muted calls from wildlife in the distance, there is a ground-floor motel room with curtains tightly drawn against prying eyes and walls too thin to muffle the ecstasy of an amorous couple next door.

I shouldn't complain: after hours spent behind the wheel, staring down an endless ribbon of asphalt while surrounded by the crumpled remains of Goldfish cracker bags and other travel detritus, any hot meal eaten at a standstill and a chance to rest in a horizontal position seem like luxuries. That is, until dawn's early light exposes their inadequacies and magnifies a sudden longing for the comforts of a home that's nearly 2000 miles away. Thank goodness, then, for a home away from home!

Sunset at Redondo Beach Pier

I'm Going Back to Cali, Cali, Cali . . .

Better known as my sister's place in Redondo Beach, just south of Los Angeles, it's where my husband and I found rest and relaxation from our roadtrip R&R, immersing ourselves in everyday life in the midst of vacation life. As with past visits, there are no formalities when Mr. Noodle and I knock on L's door - we know where to stow the luggage, where to find the towels and where she keeps the breakfast cereal. Soon enough, we slip comfortably into their regular routine which, for a few days at least, become our own. We join them in cheering on Nephew at his flag football games and share their pride in Niece's graceful form during ice-skating practice. While my husband accompanies his brother-in-law for a workout at the local gym, I tag along with L to the neighborhood grocery, then help put our purchases away in the freezer, fridge and pantry (to be raided later by me in full make-yourself-at-home mode).

Best of all are the boisterous get-togethers at the house when my other sisters join us - baby sister P and her husband (and occasionally, her stepkids), and eldest sib M, who can be counted on to bring abundant good eats, from pizza to sushi, for whatever the occasion. One such recent illustrious event (ahem) was my birthday, which Mr. Noodle and I had already celebrated a few days before in New Mexico. But how could I possibly disappoint my lovely siblings by turning down a small fête in my honor, especially when it involves cupcakes?

Birthday Sprinkles

The cupcake craze may be on the decline, but true to form, I'm chasing after the bandwagon as it rolls downhill. It's not that I was oblivious to the trend; after all, my meet-up spot of choice in Minneapolis was a bakery/café called Cupcake. Quite frankly, I find paying close to $3 apiece a tough crumb to swallow. But if someone else is treating . . . well, that's a whole 'nother bowl of batter.

(Photo credit: Rachel Kramer Bussel)

After months of emails and tweets from M dangling the temptations of LA's famous Sprinkles Cupcakes, she made good on her promise to provide said goodies when Mr. Noodle and I returned to Redondo. True to her word, big sister brought an assorted dozen of the cupcakery's most scrumptious flavors: milk chocolate, strawberry and red velvet. And they certainly lived up to their hyped reputation - the cake was satisfyingly moist and substantial while the thick frosting was sweet without being sugary and so velvety smooth. I could even be persuaded to pry open my purse for more of these treats, if I hadn't found an economic and equally satisfying alternative on hand.

Roadtrip Dinner Redux: Better-Than-Sprinkles Strawberry Cupcakes

My favorite among the aforementioned flavor trio was strawberry, of which I would've ordered a dozen for the road if only Mr. Noodle, spooked by the thought of me, twelve cupcakes and the resultant sugar highs (and lows) in an enclosed vehicle, hadn't nixed the idea. Back in Minnesota, I went into an extended pout upon learning that the closest Sprinkles location was in Chicago, until I came across a recipe for these very same strawberry cupcakes from none other than the company's founder, Candace Nelson.

To tangle a venerable proverb: If Noodle can't go to the cupcake, let the cupcake come to Noodle.

Decorated by Niece and Nephew

The icing on this cupcake story is that I had the priceless opportunity to make them at my sister's house with my darling Niece and Nephew at a particularly bittersweet time. Mr. Noodle and I had just packed up all of our worldly goods, sold our dream home and left behind dear family in Minnesota to begin anew in the Philippines. At a time when we were in limbo, without a home to call our own for the time being, I baked these in our home away from home. It was a joy to make them with the most terrific kids in the world and to share them with the people I love best. These are small pleasures, now forever treasured.

Slow Roasted Strawberry Cupcakes

I don't consider it a redux if it isn't just a bit different from the original experience. So, while these cupcakes adhere closely to the recipe shared by Sprinkles' Candace Nelson, they are given an extra intensity of flavor courtesy of Adrienne at Gastroanthropology and her recipe for Slow Roasted Strawberries. The additional time required in Adrienne's process is worth every minute as these simply sweet cupcakes achieve a depth of strawberry-ness that may be lacking from plain fresh or frozen berries. The purée made from the slow-roasted fruit is used in both the cake batter and the icing, but the flavor really shines in the latter. Happily, the frosting recipe yields more than enough for a dozen cupcakes, so lay it on thick or eat it by the spoonful - either way, it's pink-hued bliss!

Slow Roasted Strawberry Purée

For complete ingredients and instructions, please see Adrienne's recipe at Gastroanthropology.

Melted butter and vanilla extract are mixed together, then spread evenly on the bottom of a glass baking dish. Whole hulled strawberries are then tossed with brown sugar and placed cut side down in the dish, to be roasted in a 'low' oven (about 200°F) for several hours until the strawberries, as Adrienne notes, shrivel and 'slump into what looks like a Hershey kiss'. After cooling completely, the roasted strawberries can then be processed in a blender or food processor until achieving a smooth purée.

Strawberry Cupcake and Frosting

For complete ingredients and instructions, please see Candace Nelson's recipe for the cake and the frosting online at Martha Stewart Living.

For the cupcake:

In one bowl, all-purpose flour, baking powder and coarse salt are whisked together, while in another bowl, whole milk, vanilla extract and slow-roasted strawberry purée (see above) are combined. With an electric mixer, unsalted butter is whipped until light and fluffy, to which sugar is gradually added until well combined. Then, a whole egg and egg whites are added, followed by half of the dry ingredients, the milk mixture and finally, the remaining dry ingredients. After baking, the cupcakes should be cooled completely before being frosted.

For the frosting:

Unsalted butter and coarse salt are beaten together until light and fluffy. At a lowered mixer speed, confectioner's sugar is gradually added, followed by vanilla extract and roasted strawberry purée (see above); the ingredients are well-blended but not overmixed. According to the original recipe, the frosting should be result in a texture that is 'dense and creamy, like ice cream'.