KatyInTheKitchen: Rosemary Shortbread

Oh Sweet Heavens, friends. 

This holiday seasoned, I discovered what might possibly be the most delicious and unexpected treat. Like, ever.

I recently subscribed to Family Circle after realizing how fun it was to get a mag in the mail every month, and this recipe was featured as a homemade Christmas gift. I didn't give any out as a holiday present but I did make it for my tree trimming party and again for my office Christmas potluck.

It's Rosemary Shortbread, and probably going to be my new favorite savory treat to make.

The recipe is quite simple (included below) and it's been a huge hit with everyone I've served it to (besides a few picky eaters). It's flaky, soft, and buttery as expected but with barely any sugar and a healthy dose of salt and rosemary, it's heady and aromatic and oh, so, addictive.

The recipe also suggested a few different salty sweet combos such as thyme and lemons zest and Cayenne pepper and cocoa. I tried the thyme & lemon zest combo and really enjoyed it as well!

Rosemary Shortbread:
(makes 24 cookies)
2 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
2 tbsp chopped fresh rosemary
3/4 tsp salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
2/3 c. confectioners' sugar

Directions

1. In a bowl, whisk together flour, rosemary and salt. In a stand mixer, beat butter and sugar on medium speed until well blended. Reduce speed to low and slowly add in flour mixture; blend until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Gather dough into two balls, wrap both tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

2. Heat oven to 350 degrees . Remove one dough ball and roll out to 1/4-inch thickness on parchment paper. Punch out cookies using a 31/2-inch tree-shaped cookie cutter. Transfer cutouts to a cookie sheet about 2 inches apart; refrigerate for 15 minutes. Repeat with second dough ball. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes. (Do not allow cookies to brown.) Transfer cookies to a cooling rack.

Family Circle recipe here

easy as pie, right? Or, dare I say. . .cookies? 

Seriously

I'm feeling a bit nervous as I write this post, and it's rather strange to me.

A deep breath, and here goes.

New Years resolutions are not really my thing. You may have noticed them absent from my retrospective on the previous year, yesterday. I find that most people don't actually keep or think about their resolutions much longer than it takes to make them. I read in a magazine the other day that most people have given up their resolve by January 10th. That is less than two weeks after making those grand statements. 

Still, there is one thing that's been on my mind for awhile and the promise of a new year had caused me to commit to it, which makes me nervous.

When I started this blog, it was with the viewpoint of sharing my life with a bit of humor. My life at the time was a regular barrel of laughs what with working for the crazy Writer, and so this little place to write my thoughts morphed into mostly a place where I only share the "funny" bits of life. As time has gone on however, I often find myself thinking about serious topics. I've refrained from blogging about them, however, because honestly I think I was scared.

Scared that people would stop reading because it wasn't funny. Or scared that my words just wouldn't be eloquent enough for solemn topics. Mostly, though, I think scared because putting hard or scary or sad thoughts down is a lot harder than making light of the time there was a mouse stuck in your bathtub at one AM and you ended up drowning it because it seemed like the best idea at the time. . .

I've decided that there's no room for that fear anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'll still be writing those funny moments down. It gives me such joy! But don't be surprised to find a serious thought or two around here. Because I'm a person that's about more than making people laugh, and I want to share those parts of me, too.

And it case you wondered, KatyInTheKitchen will be around too! You wouldn't know from my posts, lately, but I've been in the kitchen quite a lot these last few months and, as luck would have it, I've got the most divine new discovery to share with you all tomorrow!

I'm not calling this a resolution, lest it fall by the wayside in the next nine days. I'll just call it opening another door for myself, and see where it goes!

Oh, and because I forgot to say yesterday. Happy New Year all! 

I pray 2013 is good to you. 

2012: A Retrospective

Last night, after a fun dinner at The Cactus Club and a low key evening of movie watching and champagne with friends, I slipped home and was in bed by 1:30. It was just what I'd hoped for my New Year's Eve celebration this year. Unassuming, relaxing, and effortless.

In the calm of the night, it was hard to believe that a year has come and gone since I last joined Boston's many revelers in ringing in this happy event. Starting before the clock struck midnight, my various social media outlets were filled with recalls of the year. The good, the bad, the mostly better. 

As I sat contemplating my own 2012, I was tempted to think that another year had come and gone, and really not much had happened. No new moves, jobs, romances, or status changes. It made me feel a bit antsy. As if maybe I should be picking up and moving to Colorado, or applying for jobs in Paris. But then. . .then, I began to think harder, or perhaps just more intentionally. 

What I found is that this year was full of important moments. Moments that little by little have changed the trajectory of my life. Often, in ways I probably don't fully realize yet. I took a pastry class fulfilling a long time dream (and hopefully will start up again soon!), made new friends, started a book club, took up jogging for the first time in my life, gave up my money trap of a car and didn't lose my independence. I worked toward mending a broken friendship and in it saw the real purpose of forgiveness and reconciliation. I had good friends help me realize that my job is not using me to my potential and show me my strengths and start pushing me out of my comfort zone. 

 I learned valuable lessons about how to be more selfless to my friends, roommate, and family. How to communicate more graciously, and bite my tongue when it doesn't matter.

I turned 25.

It seems, in the great rush of a year, a lot has happened. No, I'm not perfect. I'm not the person I'll always be. But I'm getting there. I'm many steps closer to being the woman I aspire toward. A woman who is gracious, kind, patient, loving, who follows Jesus despite the cost, who cares for those around her even when it seems inconvenient to the all consuming "I". 

I'm still making mistakes. Sometimes I fail and am greedy, impatient, sarcastic, and demanding. But I am praying that in this next year, bursting with possibility, that I will exude more of the former and less of the latter. 

In short, 2013, you have a lot to live up to.

Joyeux Noёl

SNOW, SNOW, SNOW!

I know technically winter just started but I've been waiting and finally we have snow fall. It's coming down quite hard right now, and I think we can expect a couple inches over night!

It seemed like a fitting time to recap 
Christmas 2012. 

This year, it was decided that I would host Christmas Eve 2012 for my mother and younger siblings (my older sister was with her husbands family). My brother arrived Friday night after his finals; he attends school not far from Boston. My mom and sister arrived on Sunday bearing a car full of goodies! I've been planning and scheming since before Thanksgiving for my first year hosting Christmas. My tiny apartment was bursting at the gills but it was so fun to have my family around! We decorated gingerbread cookies, played scrabble (I obviously won, heh heh), watched movies, and even made it downtown for a church service and to see the new light show in Faneuil Hall called BLINK. The lights blink to the sound of the Boston Pops!

Christmas Day saw my siblings and I heading to southern Connecticut to visit my Dad and his family as well as visiting with family friends, who are more like family themselves, that evening for some treats and chatting. 

. . .and now, I can't believe it's all over! 

Countdown to Christmas: Day Four

A few years back, when TVs were still giant boxes, my older sister Mary-Rose had one single wish for Christmas. A TV of her very own. 

As my family didn't even have cable until she was 16 years old this was, really, the first request of it's kind and it had caused quite a stir among all us siblings. 

As luck would have it, though, my parents were able to fulfill her wish that year, and purchased her a TV. While she was out one day, my mother worried aloud to me that she didn't know what to do with the box. After, all she had to wrap it so my sister wouldn't find it tucked away somewhere, but the box was so big that she'd have to bring it upstairs, wrap just the top and sides and let the bottom be. And once that happened, Mary-Rose would surely know what it was. 

One of my mother's favorite lines while I was growing up was "Necessity is the mother of invention" and it was with that imaginative mindset that I took to solving this problem for my mother. 

Finally, I had concocted the perfect plan and presented it to her. My mom could wrap the present and place it under the baby grand piano out of the way as planned with one minor change. 

My name would be on the tag.

With a glee that only cooking up a good Christmas surprise can bring,  we set about the task. When Mary-Rose saw the box under the piano she was thrilled for about 3 seconds: until she my name on it.

A few hushed conversations with me confirmed for her that by some terrible error her greatest wish had been ignored this Christmas. She new that box was a TV, and couldn't conceive of how our parents could be so cruel as to pass her over for me. The actress in me emerged as I assured her that I wanted a TV too and they must have known that. Or maybe that box wasn't a TV at all. She was fooled! 

That year, Christmas morning dawned as exuberantly as always and while we all sat in the living room opening our gifts, drinking cocoa and enjoying family time, Mary-Rose huddled rather sullenly in the family rocking chair. She opened her gifts and gave "thank yous", but clearly her heart was not all the way in it.

Secret glance were cast around the room all morning. The air crackling with excitement. Finally, the moment had come.

My father pushed the box to the center of the room and stood. Mom, Dad, and I all grinning from ear to ear. 

"Katy" my sister ejected hostilely from the rocking chair, "get up and open it already!"

My mother stood, "Mary-Rose," her voice thick with surprise, "this is for you."

For the first time that morning, a smile leapt to my sister's face. She pushed herself out of the chair. "What?"

and made her way over to the box. By now we were all standing or leaning forward in excitement. 

With just a little more coaxing, she was convinced it was, in fact, her gift to open, and grabbed at the paper. It gave with a satisfying r-i-i-i-p, revealing a shiny picture of a Sony television ready for action.

We laughed. Mary-Rose joined in the merriment tearing more paper aside, Christmas wish fulfilled. And then we all talked at once, giving up the ruse, sitting in the wrapping paper mess and grinning madly at her enjoyment. That's the best part of Christmas, really. 

The surprising.

Countdown to Christmas: Day Three

Panicked shrieks fill the air, followed by a babble of incoherent shouts. Pounding steps sound on the stairs as Emily rounds into the kitchen nearly in tears. Terror thuds through my chest as I ask her what's happened, sure some terrible thing has befallen one of my other two siblings upstairs.

Emily is barely able to get the words out but, finally, it all starts to make sense. Our baby brother Tim, all sweet chubby cheeks, pouty lips and three year old impishness has apparently found the presents Mary-Rose, Emily, and I had wrapped oh-so-carefully in preparation for Christmas.

And he tore open every. single. one.

The earrings Emily purchased for Mary-Rose seemed to be missing. And-the most horrible of horrible things.

The perfect surprise I found for my brother: Indeed, the one I'd been giddy with excitement over him opening had been exposed amid all the other gifts. 

 In the all the chaos, the large Mr. Potato Head pillow inspired by Toy Story, one of my little brother's current obsessions was lying willy-nilly in the wrapping paper, looking rather forlorn and shamed.

We yelled, we scolded. There were tears and a panicked search for the missing earrings. My mother was inundated with tattling, wailing, and cries for justice the moment we could make her aware of this most egregious act.

Yet, despite it all, the truth remained. We could not take back time. Those presents, no matter how beautifully re-wrapped, had already been opened. 

The Christmas bloom rubbed off.

Mom assured us Christmas morning would still be just as special. That Tim had only ruined Christmas for himself, and would realize his mistake and, likely, never make it again.

On Christmas morning, amid all the excitement,  my brother unwrapped Mr. Potato Head and, with barely a glance, tossed it over his shoulder and scootched closer to the tree for his next present. 

And to this day, I still feel a pinch of disappointment at the memory. 

(Though not as strongly now that a few years have passed. ahemsixteenahem)

Thanks a lot baby bro. . .you're lucky you still get any presents, at all.

Countdown to Christmas: Day Two

My eyes pop open into the dark night. I lay flat on my back, then flip to my side, my stomach, my back again.

"Fall asleep!" I tell my ten year old brain.

"The faster you do, the faster you wake up and it will be Christmas!"

Tossing around once more, I know I can't take it anymore. Stealthily, I creep out of my bed and through my sister's side of the room. I tiptoe down our cranky stairs. Each creak and moan seems to reverberate through the whole house; a scream in the silence. Sweating, I make it to the bottom of the stairs and walk through the living room. This is the only night of the year I don't mind coming downstairs to the bathroom. Lights from the street shine eerily into the windows, and for a moment even the giant hulk of our tree frightens me. But then, I feel safe; the kind of safe only Christmas Eve can bring.

I make my way slowly through the room, my eyes always on the tree. Mom had warned us that this had been a rough year, we shouldn't be disappointed if we didn't get a ton of "stuff" on Christmas morning. The mound of presents under the tree sends a thrill of excitement up my body, though. She must have been tricking us!

After going to the bathroom, I open the door, and hear the stairs start to creaking again. Too light to be my parents. I hold my breath and my younger sister, Emily, comes into view.

I take an imperious tone and ask her what she's doing up in the night. She has to go to the bathroom too. . .

When she returns to the living room, we huddle together, giggling quietly as we gaze down at the presents. Carefully nudging a few, to see whose name is on the tag. We get the brilliant idea that we will spend the rest of the night snuggled together under the tree. Gathering blankets and throw pillows from the couch we bed down as close to the presents as we dare. The prickly tree branches reach out toward us, but we are completely safe.  I'm cold and a little uncomfortable but I ignore my discomfort and close my eyes, careful not to squish any gifts. 

We are not there long when the stairs shout that a third set of feet are making their way downstairs. I huddle against Emily, hoping it's not Mom.

But it is and, as she rounds the corner, I imagine her start of fright at two large lumps clustered next to the tree. She approaches and asks us what we're doing.

"We're sleeping under the tree" we tell her innocently. Duh.

"No," she tells us, "you need to go back upstairs and sleep in your beds. It'll be Christmas morning soon enough."

Looking back now I wonder what my mother must have been thinking in that moment. Was she laughing inside at her silly little girls, squeezed by the tree on the cold living room floor? She must have fought to keep a smile off of her face as she ordered us back upstairs. Our shoulders drooping slightly in defeat as we hoofed it back up the grumpy steps and to our warm beds.

Once we are back in our room, I get in bed and lay flat on my back.

"Fall asleep!" I  chant to myself again. 

"The faster you do, the faster you wake up and it will be Christmas!"