A couple images of Ala-Too Square and AUCA for the weekend. I’m deciding whether or not I’ll continue posting solely on this page or keep it more food-related and post other topics and pictures elsewhere. I’m also working on branching out to get my writing on other publications, so we’ll see how that goes. Loyal readers will, of course, be kept up to date.

Photographers swarm the square to take pictures of families.

It’s hard to tell from this picture, but that flag is one of the biggest in the world.

Nighttime Ramadan fun.

AUCA. There is a second building on campus, not pictured. Farrell and I each have a class held in this mystery second building that 90% of the faculty and students we ask don’t seem to realize exists. They should… it’s where the library and computer labs are located. I can’t understand where the disconnect comes in, but after some frustrating conversations and a couple late arrivals to class, it all seems sorted out now.

Another hurdle conquered, only a trillion more to go.

I had vague intentions of posting this before the grand move to Bishkek, but, uh, you know. Life gets in the way. Camera cords end up in boxes they aren’t supposed to and precious stateside time is withered away trying to squeeze a piano out of the tiny apartment. Sigh. Rather than trying to edit it, straining to make connections between a train of thought I had several weeks ago with the state my life is in now, I’ll simply present the post as it was written on July 30th.

“As you know, you go to war with the army you have, not the army you might want or wish to have at a later time.” Donald Rumsfeld, April 2004

If we replace “go to war” with “make gnocchi” and “army” with “appliances”, then Rummy was spot on in describing my cooking predicament today.

In my limited time left in the states, I’m attempting to stay organized and focused by using a list on TeuxDeux.com. It definitely helps to remind me of things I need/want to do before I leave for Kyrgyzstan, but I’ve noticed that it’s led to some… well, skewed priorities.

For example? Stuck between necessary things to do like “write thank-you cards” and “back up computer files”, I have vague declarations like “work on moving”, wild ambitions like “buy a typewriter”, and bursts of random thought like “OMG make gnocchi”.

The OMG must have been necessary at the time when I first thought of it because I was hungry and overly excited at the thought of eating a meal consisting solely of puffy potatoes.

Anyway. (Here’s where I make a connection to the Rumsfeld quote)

We all know that to make successful gnocchi, the potatoes must be cooked thoroughly, but not take on too much moisture, and then have to be completely mashed. No lumps, and that’s that.

Every recipe I found spoke of this or that wonderfully efficient potato smashing device, like a ricer or what have you, or else there would be a comment about how “a fork worked just fine for me!”

After several frustrating hours of trying to get my mutant bunch of potatoes to soften, a fork was not working just fine for me. I cursed at my bowl of lumpy potatoes and lamented my lack of a potato ricer. I considered waving the white flag, surrendering after a tiring, though half-hearted, battle.

Then the revelation hit: use my freaking food processor, duh! Mere minutes and I had smooth gnocchi dough. After figuring that out it seemed like such an obvious solution. Use the appliances I have, not the ones I wish I had or might have in the future.

Thanks for the wisdom, Rummy!

- Gnocchi with dill-icious sauce - gnocchi adapted from here, sauce adapted from here, lame pun by me
2 lbs potatoes, peeled (this was five tennis ball-sized red-skinned potatoes for me)
1 egg
salt and pepper
1 1/2 cups flour (more might be necessary)

4 tbsp unsalted butter
4 tbsp flour
2 cups water (more or less depending on your desired consistency)
1/2 cup sour cream
3 tbsp dried dill
salt and pepper (to your tastes, probably at least 1 tbsp each)

- Wrap each peeled potato in tin foil, poke a couple times with a fork, and roast for about an hour – an hour and a half at 400 degrees, until potatoes are soft and a fork easily pierces it.
- Smash potatoes to a smooth consistency using forks, a potato ricer, or a food processor.
- Mix potatoes with egg, salt and pepper.
- Add flour 1/2 cup at a time until the dough is no longer sticky, but be careful not to over mix. Divide the dough into five or six sections and roll out about as round as a penny. Cut into little half inch pieces and roll them on a fork to get the cute little notches (or on a gnocchi board, whatever army you have).
- Boil in salted water for about one or two minutes, until they float.

- Prepare sauce by melting butter over medium-low heat in a saucepan. Stir in flour, making sure no lumps remain. Add water and stir to achieve a thin, smooth sauce. Bring to a simmer and add sour cream, dill, salt and pepper. Continue simmering for about two or three minutes.

During my bout of heinous food poisoning and slow recovery, I had a chance to indulge in countless hours of television. The TV set in our shabby flat flips through a range of numbered channel, well into the 40s, but there are only two watchable channels that are repeated several times and buffered by a few channels of static.

I don’t speak barely any Russian (yet) so the benefit of watching so much TV was just to pass the time in a more stimulating manner than staring at the concrete ceiling. I had convinced myself that it would also help acclimate my hearing to Russian sounds, but thinking this way usually just made me frustrated. “This is obviously not helping me learn Russian, let’s just watch some Real Housewives already.”

Not possible. There are no American TV shows on my two Russian channels and the one weekly American movie is overdubbed. After decades of isolation from American pop culture, which, in my experience, has penetrated almost every other corner of the world, Krygyzstan (and I’m guessing other former Soviet Union states) can only turn to Mother Russia for entertainment.

Lucky me, I found a cooking show.

…well, not exactly a “cooking” show, but a show that featured the preparation of food.

I can’t tell for sure what the name of the show is, but it’s either “Seedk” or “Smak”. Any readers with a more advanced knowledge of Russian typography, please feel free to correct me.

Anyway, this show featured two men, a host and a guest. The two of them lightly bantered throughout the show in hushed, mumbled voices and giggled nervously while they tried to extend their conversation over an entire program. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but it seemed awkward and forced.

The program focused on smoothies, pronounced “smoo-sees”. This is what I meant when I wrote that the show wasn’t really about cooking, per se. The two men spent the majority of the time chopping fruit, blending fruit, and figuring out the pronunciation of the various drinks they were preparing.

First the boys made a “mojito”. This show’s version of a mojito (pronounced “moe-KHEE-toe” with a heavy, hacking sound on the middle syllable) consisted of pieces of banana, kiwi, strawberry, and mint blended together with some ice. As the two men fiddled with adding extra strawberry pieces on top for garnish and tried to out-hack each other’s pronunciation, I was stunned.

I mean, this show made Sandra Lee look like a five-star chef. (minus the alcohol, because Aunt Sandy would never forget the alcohol!)

Next up was a little concoction they called “coco-peach”. From what I could observe, this is how you make it:

First, take a coconut. Roll it around. Talk about it with your guest. Attempt to skewer through the tough outer shell with a knife. Decide that’s a bad idea and smack it with a meat tenderizer. When only half the shell comes off, distract the audience by engaging in some tired small talk with your guest. Remember that you need to peel the rest of the coconut. Whack it again and peel off the shell fragments. Cut it in half and give it to your guest to chop. Both of you cut slowly and nervously as if it were the first time you ever had to do such a chore. When the pieces as big as your palm, throw them in the blender. Gather some peaches and roughly chop with the same uncertainty. Add peach pieces to the blender. Press some random buttons on the blender and make a nervous joke to your friend. Shake the blender a bit when you realize some pieces are not blending properly. Smile. Turn off blender and pour contents into one cup. Realize that you have a friend and scoop some of that into a second cup. Taste concoction… make a weird face upon realizing that gritty, unsweetened coconut does not add the most pleasing texture to a smoo-see.

The last smoo-see (due to their difficult preparation, only three were made) was made with a melon and came out a sick gray color.

And I don’t mean sick as in, “Did you see those shoes? Those heels were sick!” I mean sick as in blech.

A friend who studied abroad in Russia explained to Farrell that Russia lacks a developed restaurant culture and I wonder if the same applies to their cooking shows as well. It has most of the correct elements: a moderately attractive and pseudo-entertaining host, accessible and somewhat appetizing dishes, and a modern kitchen setting.

It’s missing something, though. Maybe a working oven?

Who knows. Farrell and I started official Russian classes today (graduating from the Kirstin and Farrell School of Incorrectly Deciphering Cyrillic Letters), so I bet we’re only a few short months away from understanding all of our new favorite shows, right?

Just a quick post to let the world know I arrived in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. We’re in the process of getting internet in our apartment, which involved calling the internet company to put our request “in line” with the other requests, then calling our landlord to figure out who the building “aunt” or “uncle” is, aka the keeper of the keys to the roof, where the internet guys will install everything. “Aunt Llyuba” (a total babushka by every definition) is only available to give us the keys during certain hours of the day, so let’s hope everything coordinates when the internet guys show up and need to access the roof.

And yes, this is all done in Russian through a girl we met at the university, pretty much our absolute life-saver because she’s helped us with… everything.

So in the meantime, we’re stuck using internet cafes. Expect some more exciting posts in the near future.

I feel like every reader can relate when I say this:

Packing and moving sucks.

This is one exception where the end point really is better than the journey. And of course, the journey is as difficult as we could possibly make it.

Thanks to Aeroflot, there is a definite limit to how much stuff I can drag with me to Bishkek. With all the traveling I’ve done up until now, short and long-term, I’m astonished that I still face so much trouble deciding how to pack effectively. I think my moment of glory for short-term packing came this past weekend, when Farrell and I flew to upstate New York for the wedding of two friends. I managed to take only a messenger bag and, surprising to me, it wasn’t even bursting at the seams. Turns out, you can get away with packing less if you only bring one outfit to wear anytime you won’t be in the company of other people. Sneaky, yes, and sort of scuzzy, but when AirTran started threatening to check baggage against the passengers’ will due to a perceived lack of overhead storage space, I knew I would have no problems. I even had my laptop and a hefty novel.

My smug packing victory was shattered as soon as I arrived home and realized I had to rearrange the contents of my three suitcases in hopes that my clothes wouldn’t burst out of them during what I expect could be a turbulent trip over Siberia. I fully recognize that the easiest way to gain space is to pack less stuff. But, oh, it’s so difficult sometimes. I learned the hard way during my first long-term trip abroad, a semester in Amman, Jordan, that having a decent choice of clothes was vital to my day-to-day happiness. Midway through the semester it was an extra hit to my homesick, culture-shocked morale trying to put together a decent outfit with the same four tops, especially compared to the others girls in my program who just bit the dang bullet with excess baggage charges and were still coming up with new and fabulous looks. One day I even skipped class and went shopping, and even though I dropped over $50 on a single dress, it lifted my spirits immensely.

And then there’s the apartment. My endless supply of kitchen gadgets. Three computers. Four tall bookshelves weighed down with old textbooks and novels, that we both swear we’ll read again someday. A freaking piano. Farrell’s recording equipment: microphones, guitars, a 24-channel mixing board, speakers, amps, pedals, and a tape machine that weighs as much as a black hole. (Uhh, yeah. He’s a bit into music.)

None of it can come with us. Sigh.

It’s tough to try and predict what I would need or want to have with me in Kyrgyzstan and what is and is not available. I’ve had a sewing project on my mind for a while and dropped some serious cash on a gorgeous swath of Liberty of London fabric; do I risk the hassle of bringing my own needles and thread or do I attempt to wander around the market asking for an “игла”? Maybe I can join some sort of babushka sewing circle, a Soviet-style “stitch and bitch”.

And my cameras. My trusty Rebel and its three lenses are coming along. I couldn’t imagine standing in the shadows of the Tien Shan mountains without my Diana lens. When I got back from Iraq I convinced myself that I would have time to experiment with an old film camera I bought on Etsy… which, between work, weddings, and general summer life, never happened. That thing might not even work, but I’d feel too guilty packing it away in my Dad’s shed for a year. (Although, in Bishkek-as-I-imagine-it, I’m sure I could find some kitschy vintage Soviet cameras in a dusty antique store.) There’s my point-and-shoot as well, plus all necessary wires, chargers, batteries, film, and memory cards.

All of it in my carry-on, because, hello, I won’t risk losing all of that on the Russian black market. I have a nightmare scenario in my head of arriving to Bishkek only to receive a “sorry-we-lost-all-of-your-possessions” voucher for the equivalent of 23 dollars while some greasy character (I’m imagining Eugene Hutz in Everything is Illuminated) pawns my electronics to buy his girlfriend some hoop earrings.

Err, you know, something like that. Better safe than sorry.

Thinking about what my new expat life in Bishkek will be like has brought up all sorts of questions. Has Lady Gaga arrived to Bishkek, and if so, will it be up-to-date or will all the marshrutkas play “Just Dance” on repeat?

What about baking supplies? Will I be able to find baking soda and baking powder or will there just be “baking carbonate”? Will there be a repeat of baking experiences in Jordan? Do all measuring cups in the former USSR look like this?

And finally, the biggest question, will there be a running (and obsessive) theme of adorable old babushkas in every post from now on?

Probably. Yes. Definitely.

I have one more cooking-related post in the draft pile that will have nothing to do with Kyrgyzstan or babushkas, and then get ready for a year’s worth of “So here’s the thing about Kyrgyzstan…”

Stay tuned.

Let’s put this to rest once and for all:

Sherbet or sherbert?

Maybe it’s another one of those strange colloquialisms that’s now ingrained in my mind as “normal”. I say that it’s pronounced “sherbert“. Farrell is on Team Sherbet. So far several friends agree with me. Wikipedia has proven to be so neutral that it only offers a single line to define sherbet as “an American term for a frozen dessert like sorbet, but containing a small amount of dairy” and sherbert as an alternate spelling.

Ahh, sorbet. With it’s exotic origins in the Middle East and a name that oozes a sing-song sophistication, sherbe(r)t steps in as sorbet’s unrefined, country-folk American cousin. Sorbet is simple; nothing but pure fruit and some extra sweetness. Sherbe(r)t takes the base and stirs in a tangy glug of cream. It’s comforting and still refreshing, taking the posh edge off the sorbet.

I’ve had a serious craving for cold treats after surviving some of the hottest days ever in Nashville and Washington, and the combination of lemon and mint was the perfect starting point during brainstorming.

Being me, I couldn’t just make lemon-mint ice cream. Why not? Ehh… because I must enjoy making things more difficult for myself. Like paying off my student loans by going to work in Iraq, or taking jobs that require a three-hour commute. You know, stuff that sane people would scoff at.

I intended to buy whatever fruit was on sale at the grocery store. Farrell warned me it would likely be blueberries.

Geez, seriously!? Didn’t I just make a trillion things with blueberries? Didn’t I just post them all together because I knew how lame it would be to post so many separate blueberry-themed posts? Yes, I did.

And just like he predicted, we walk into Whole Foods and there’s a big sign advertising a sale on blueberries… for $4.49! Bwugh, too much, Whole Foods, too much.

Cherries? “But they have pits,” says Farrell. Strawberries? Too watery. Raspberries? Not looking too fresh.

Just as I was about to convince myself that maybe just making one frozen dessert at a time did not constitute a failure, I spotted a crate of plump, blushing peaches. Grown in Pennsylvania (what up Philly!) and $1.99 a pound, I was sold.

- Peach sorbet and lemon-mint sherbert - Sorta based on this and this
Juice from 4 large peaches (approximately 2 1/2 cups or 600 ml)
1/2 cup sugar
- Peel peaches, gently cook over medium-low heat for about 10 minutes (with an optional sprinkle of sugar) to break them down. Puree and measure juice.
- Stir 1/2 cup sugar into 2 1/2 cups warm peach puree and chill overnight.

3 oz or 3/8 of a cup water
130 g sugar (5/8 cups)
1 tbsp white wine (optional)
zest of two lemons
big handful of chopped fresh mint (about 1 cup)
225 ml (1 cup or 7.6 oz) milk
juice from two lemons
- Combine water, sugar, white wine (optional), lemon zest and chopped mint in a saucepan. Dissolve sugar over medium-low heat and chill overnight. Strain syrup (to remove leaves and zest) and stir in milk and lemon juice just prior to churning.

Here’s how I swirled the two together:
- Churn one batch, put in a container big enough to hold both batches and put in the freezer as normal. Clean your ice cream machine and re-freeze.
- Wait at least eight hours, it’s a good idea to do this step overnight.
- Take the first batch out of the freezer about 20 minutes before you churn the second one. Use a rubber spatula to soften it up and make sure it’ll be ready to move with the second batch.
- Churn the second batch and immediately pour on top of the frozen-but-slightly-softened first batch. Using the rubber spatula again, gently fold the two together with four or five good swoops. Be careful not to over mix or they’ll just combine (which isn’t a bad thing, but don’t we want the pretty contrast in colors? Yes. Of course.)
- Take the batch to a dinner party and impress your friends. Try to act modest, but know that you are the Queen of Desserts.

I have to admit, after finally being done with my office job and all wedding responsibilities, and with the impending life-changing move around the world on the immediate horizon, I was a bit skeptical about the vacation to Nashville, Tennessee, that Farrell had spontaneously planned for us.

And if I could go back in time to remove any doubt I had about this trip, I totally would.

Nashville is awesome. Equal parts charming and modern, urban and rural, quaint and hip. Farrell’s aunt, uncle and cousins (and some dude who looks a lot like Zac Efron) graciously entertained us for the weekend, showing us around a local farmers market (my fave!), a Bluegrass festival, an outdoor concert on an old plantation (featuring a Jimmy Buffet tribute band)…

…and a flea market, which was the highlight of the weekend, and pretty much the only thing I took pictures of.

creeeepy…

I wanted this so bad! I scoffed a bit when the guy wanted $60 for it, but unfortunately eBay later informed me that was quite a good deal. (Although, I didn’t have $60 with me anyway, so I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I miss you Rolleicord!)

If I thought I could pull it off, I would’ve bought that pattern and attempted that dress. Cause it’s adorable.

This was one of my favorite discoveries. That ancient-looking Polaroid camera weighed as much as a hefty newborn. Those records to the side of it? Huey Lewis and the News is the top one and Eddie Murphy’s hit single “Party All the Time” was underneath that. Pure gold, people. Pure gold.

Aunt Terrie was made aware of my humble blog prior to my arrival and said she was a bit intimated by my baking skills. As modest as I am, I knew I couldn’t pass up a chance to show off… so I made croissants.

I know! I probably could have thrown together something easy… like muffins… scones… cookies… Anything with a prep time of under 12 hours or so. But no, I had to pull out the big guns.

(Also, their gorgeous house is constantly flooded with the most amazing natural light, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to update the old pictures with some prettier ones.)

- Croissants - as before, adapted from Anice & Cannelle
1 1/8 cups water
2 1/2 tsp yeast
scant 1/2 cup sugar
4 to 4 1/2 cups flour
2 tbsp melted butter
1 teaspoon salt
1 2/3 sticks butter for the tournage
1 beaten egg for the egg wash

- Pour the water, yeast and sugar in a large bowl and let sit for about ten minutes, until yeast is bloomed and fragrant. Add flour (start with 4 cups and add more during the kneading stage if necessary), melted (and cooled) butter, and salt to form a dough.
- Do some push-ups and some stretching. Prep your arms for a workout.
- Knead the dough for about 20-30 minutes until the dough is smooth and elastic. Add water and/or flour as necessary if the dough is too dry or sticky.
- Put the dough ball in a bowl and cover with a clean tea towel. Let rest and rise for between 3-6 hours.
- Form the butter into thin rectangle. Dust it with a bit of flour and gently roll it out between some wax or parchment paper. If it gets too soft, stick it in the freezer for a couple minutes.
- Roll out your dough to a rectangle that is 1/3 longer than your butter slab, with about an inch extra space around the other three sides. Place the butter slab on top, leaving the extra flap of dough along the top.
- Fold the dough down over the butter, covering the top half of it. Fold the bottom third of the dough (and bottom half of the butter) up over the dough you just folded up. Turn the folded dough counter-clockwise so that the fold faces the right, and pinch all of the open ends shut. Gently roll it out to something near its original size and thickness.
- Repeat. Wrap it in plastic and let rest in the fridge for about 40 minutes.
- Another turn, another 40 minute rest. Another turn, another 40 minute rest.
- Roll the dough out into a thin rectangle and cut it into triangles. Slice a little notch in the wide end of the triangle and roll them up, forming the croissant shape.
- Place on a baking sheet, cover with plastic wrap or a tea towel and rest in the fridge for 2-3 more hours.
- Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Brush the croissants with egg wash and bake for about 5 minutes. Lower the temperature to 350 and continue baking for another 7-8 minutes. If you think the tops might get too browned, cover with a piece of tin foil for the last couple minutes.

Another chapter has been shut: I will never return to McLean, VA, ever again. It was strange being the girl that’s leaving when I was only there for barely two months. One of my bosses never learned how to pronounce my name correctly. Another decided that my exit interview would only consist of handing in my building pass.

My dilemma at the end of the day was how to overcome the inevitable awkward good-byes. I hadn’t connected with anybody during my brief stint there, so I spent a better part of my workday discussing with Farrell the ethics of simply leaving without saying anything to anyone (like I would every other day).

In the end, it was a Friday afternoon and most people left before me anyway. The people I did see on my way out wished me well on my move to Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, and Terrorstan (said in complete seriousness, from the guy who brought us Scorpion-Corn). I gave my contact info to one (now former) coworker and rode the elevator out with the only guy to ever invite me to an out-of-office lunch, and I guess that means something. Maybe he’ll say something positive about me when someone brings up That-Girl-Who-Moved-To-Whateverstan.

Well, whatever. Next chapter begins now. Farrell and I have ditched our jobs and are celebrating our freedom with a long weekend in Tennessee. Are there any need-to-see sites or need-to-eat foods that I shouldn’t miss?

Have a fun weekend!

Summer is nearly over, but it feels like it’s just beginning for me. I have one day left at a job that sucks every ounce of motivation and creativity out of me and now I just feel like a kid stuck in class on the last day of school. There’s only three weeks until me and my newly betrothed leave to Kyrgyzstan, most of which will be spent packing and wrapping up my stateside life (yet again), but I’m bursting with excitement at all the free time and pure doses of sunshine that I’ll be soaking in while indulging myself in baking, crafting, and photography (natural light!).

Although, despite being trapped in a cubicle, I have managed to take advantage of summer in the form of all the fresh blueberries I can handle.

And as I discovered, I can handle a lot of blueberries. I had already made two batches of giant blueberry muffins when Farrell brought home a container of blueberries that he bought at the shady corner bodega for 99 cents. Concerned that the cheap, shady berries wouldn’t last long, they became curd.

Silky, delicious blueberry curd with that saturated purple color. Of course, my fingertips were completely stained after dipping my fingers in the finished batch so many times. It reminded me of kindergarten, when we got to smash blueberries to use for “natural tie-dye” and we all learned that sadly, blueberries aren’t the electric artificial blue tone we’d imagined they would be.

Nevertheless, this stuff is just too good. It’s good on toast, stirred into yogurt, or plopped on fresh blueberry scones.

Not too long after making the curd, blueberries were back in my fridge again. In the post-wedding chaos we had several people crashing on our couch/floor; cooking meals for the hosts turned into currency for rent. Blueberries were purchased in exchange for a few nights on an air mattress, and those precious orbs were folded into scone batter for a leisurely Sunday morning breakfast.

(No pictures of those, which is unfortunate, because they were perfect. The recipe is below though.)

But still more berries remained. I had to brainstorm what to do with those stray dregs at the bottom of the carton.

That’s when I realized I hadn’t baked anything with chocolate lately. A travesty that had to be solved.

Also a travesty? Processed carbs, apparently. My new husband reminded me after my fourth scone that white flour isn’t that healthy, even when mixed with antioxidant-filled blueberries.

Well, okay. The next project was going to involve blueberries, chocolate, and whole wheat flour.

Turns out, this might just be my greatest experiment to date. There’s no trace of toughness from the whole wheat flour, only a perfect balance of fudge and cake brownie. Deeply chocolatey, not too sweet, with a subtle blueberry flavor that buzzes on your tongue. So good. Soooo good. This chocolate and blueberry combination will have to be explored more in the future.

So if you happen to find yourself with a lot of blueberries, here are three recipes for you to take advantage of them, shady or otherwise.

- Blueberry Curd - adapted from Tigress in a Jam
1 pint of fresh blueberries
zest and juice of one large lemon
4 tbsp unsalted butter, cubed
3/4 cup granulated sugar (this can be adjusted according to your taste)
2 eggs, beaten

- Heat blueberries, lemon juice and zest in a saucepan over medium heat for about ten minutes, until berries are broken down.
- Remove berries from heat and strain all the juice and mushed bits into a double boiler (or, just a regular bowl to be set over a pot of simmering water).
- Set up the double boiler over simmering water. Add sugar to the berry juice and stir to dissolve. Stir in butter cubes.
- Whisk vigorously as you slowly add the beaten eggs (to prevent scrambling them). Continue to cook the curd until it thickens, about fifteen more minutes.
- Curd can be stored in the fridge for up to two weeks or in the freezer up to six months.

- Blueberry scones - adapted from Orangette
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
3 tbsp granulated sugar
1/2 tsp salt
4 tbsp cold unsalted butter, cubed
1/2 cup fresh blueberries
1/2 cup half-and-half
1 large egg

- Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
- Combine flour, baking powder, sugar and salt in a bowl. Add butter cubes and rub into flour, using a pastry cutter, fork, or your fingers.
- Add blueberries to flour+butter mixture.
- In a separate bowl, whisk together half-and-half and the egg. Add to flour+butter+blueberry mixture (reserving about one tbsp of liquid) and fold together to form a shaggy dough. Knead a couple times, only to bring the dough together into a more cohesive ball.
- Form the dough into a long rectangle and cut into eight triangles. Brush with remaining half-and-half and sprinkle with a bit of granulated sugar (optional).
- Bake on a baking sheet or silpat for 12-14 minutes, until the bottoms are browned and the tops are lightly browned.

- Blueberry whole wheat brownies - adapted from two recipes found here and here
1 cup blueberries, cooked down
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups light brown sugar
3/4 cup cocoa powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour

- Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Prepare a 9 x 9 baking dish with butter or canola oil.
- Cook berries over medium heat for about ten minutes to break down and reduce berries to a slightly thicker (not syrupy) juice. Set aside and cool.
- Either on the stovetop or in the microwave, slowly heat butter and sugar until most of the sugar is dissolved. Cool.
- Add blueberry mush to butter+sugar and whisk to combine.
- Add cocoa powder, baking powder, and vanilla extract and stir well. Add eggs one at a time and stir well to completely incorporate.
- Add whole wheat flour and mix until just combined, but very few lumps (if any) remain.
- Bake for 30 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean and the top is puffed and split.