Pumpkin Pie Cobbler

My Aunt Ginny has always been my favorite. She's my mom's older sister, and maybe that's why I always felt a connection with her. She knows what it's like to be the oldest kid and deal with all that comes along with that. Plus, she was smart. She was first a high school math teacher, then a community college professor. And I always thought she was a genius. She understood math. She was witty. And she was really good at putting my mom in her place.

When I was a kid, I was chubby and loud. I was sassy and grubby. I didn't have any interest in being the cute, quiet, sweet little girl that my sister was--she had the market cornered on those traits anyway. I was smart. I was opinionated. I was a pain in the ass, and I knew it. I made no apologies and embraced what I had to work with.

My Aunt Ginny showed me it was ok--even cool--to be smart. She embraced her intelligence and I looked up to her as a strong, capable, smart and funny role model. My mom's emphasis and attention always focused on me being nice, and sweet, and girly and cute. I wasn't any of those things. Maybe it was because my aunt only saw me once or twice a year, or maybe she really understood that I had no interest in being the things my mom thought a little girl should be. Whatever it was, Thanksgiving at Aunt Ginny's house was always something that I looked forward to.

As I've gotten older, our relationship has changed, but not drastically. I still look up to her, admire her. She's still smart and funny and capable and someone that I aspire to be like. I never knew I was going to be a teacher when I was younger, but now it's another similarity that I share with my favorite aunt. I've also grown to, even more than before, appreciate how comfortable my aunt is with who she is.

Perhaps it's a shout out to her love of math, or maybe it's the quest for perfection, but my Aunt Ginny is a pie expert. Every year at Thanksgiving became increasingly more about the different pies she'd made--with the fruits from her trees--rather than the other elements of the meal. And, as a fat kid, of course, I loved this! We used to bring pies on our trek from southern Oregon to the Bay Area, but stopped because Marie Calender couldn't compete with what my Aunt churned out each year.

A love of baking, and creating things that other people enjoy, and constantly trying to improve the "perfect" recipe is another thing that my aunt and I have in common. Maybe it's just an undying drive for perfection, or getting as close to it as we can, that keeps pushing us. More likely, though, I think it is the simply joy of watching others devour something you've created and seeing how happy it makes them.

I've never dreamed of trying to compete with my aunt's pies at Thanksgiving, but this recipe is tempting me to throw down the gauntlet. It's not a pie, and it's not trying to be. But it has all the flavors pumpkin pie, but without trying so hard. It's a little sloppy. Usually kind of lopsided and lumpy. It's less than perfect looking, but the flavor, what counts, is spot on. I first made this for my colleagues a few weeks ago, and it was gone in a day. People have been asking for the recipe ever since.

Pumpkin Pie Cobbler

Adapted from Fast, Easy and Simple: Cooking for Less

For the crust:

• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 4 teaspoons baking powder*
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
• 1/2 teaspoon cardamom (or nutmeg)
• 1 cup almond or coconut milk (you can use regular milk, too)
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon almond extract

For the filling:

• 2 large eggs
• 1 cup evaporated milk
• 2 cans (15 ounces each) 100% pure pumpkin (also called solid-packed pumpkin) or 3 cups cooked mashed pumpkin*
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed 
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

1) Turn on oven to 350 degrees F. Place butter in a 13 X 9-inch baking pan, and place in preheating oven. When butter has melted, about 3 minutes, carefully remove pan from oven, and set aside. Allow oven to continue to preheat.

2) In a medium bowl, mix together remaining crust ingredients, and pour them over melted butter. Do not stir. Set aside.

3) In a large bowl, lightly beat eggs. Add milk and pumpkin, and stir to blend. Stir in remaining filling ingredients, and stir to mix well.

4) Spoon or slowly pour filling evenly over crust batter in pan. (The crust ingredients will almost be completely covered, this is fine.) Do not stir.

5) Bake cobbler, uncovered, for 45 to 50 minutes, or until crust has risen over the sides of filling and is golden brown and bubbly. (The crust will not cover cobbler completely, but this is fine.) Remove pan from oven, and cool for 10 to 15 minutes.Top with cool whip or vanilla bean ice cream.

White Sangria

Other than the glasses of "grape juice" my mom used to give me when I stayed home sick as a kid, I have never really had a palate for wine. But you throw some fruit in my glass, let me pretend it's a healthy fruit cocktail, and I'm sold. 

It probably also helps that I've learned what kinds of wines I do and do not like. I've always had a problem with headaches and migraines, and I've learned that, like many other people, red wine triggers those for me. I've found that I'm a much bigger fan of white wines and embraced my love for light, sweet and fruity flavors. I drink like a girl, bottom line.

In planning for a marathon cooking weekend, I knew that providing some beverages would be key to keep productivity in the kitchen in full swing. I had five girlfriends over and week cooked up a storm--for six hours. We made freezer foods that we could store and save or eat in the next few days. We made pesto. We made pot pies. We made stuff shells. And we drank. Delicious white sangria.

White Sangria

Ingredients

• 3 tablespoons sugar
• 3 shots apple liquor
• 1 lime, sliced
• 1 lemon, sliced
• 2 ripe peaches, cut into wedges
• 3 ripe green apples seeded and cut into wedges
• 1 bottle white dry white wine
• 1 pint raspberries
• Sparkling soda water, for topping off glasses 

Directions

Combine sugar, Calvados, lime, lemon, peaches and apples in a large pitcher. Cover with 1 bottle of wine and chill sangria several hours. To serve, spoon fruits into glasses, adding a few fresh raspberries in each glass, pour wine over top of the fruit. Top glasses of sangria off with a splash of soda water and serve.

Everyone Loves Brussels Sprouts

I don't know why brussels sprouts have such a bad rap. They are like the iconic food that every kid grows up hating, and every adult has scarring memories of being forced to eat. What gives? Brussels sprouts are not only delicious, but they are freaking adorable. They are like little miniature heads of lettuce... And let's be real, pretty much anything in "mini" form is stinkin' cute.

I'm a firm believer that if you hate brussels sprouts, you've just never had them prepared for you in the right way. Because I imagine that gnawing on a little rock of lettuce and trying to choke down gummy bites of a green nemesis would be pretty terrible. But caramelized brussels sprouts? With delicious seasonings? Shredded into pretty ribbons? How could that not be delicious? Have faith.

It's delicious. And it's easy. This has become a staple recipe for me, when I grab a bag of brussels sprouts at the store without a plan. This works every time.

Caramelized Brussels Sprouts

Ingredients

• 12-14 large brussels sprouts
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• pinch sea salt
• 2 tbsp brown sugar
• 1/4 cup roughly chopped pecans or walnuts, toasted

Procedure
1. Slice each brussels sprout very thin until you have a mound of feathery brussels sprout ribbons. 

2. Heat the olive oil over medium high in a large skillet and saute the garlic for 30 seconds. 

3. Add the brussels sprouts and continue sauteing for another 4-5 minutes, until bright green and tender. 

4. Add the sea salt and brown sugar and toss together. 

5. Finish by adding the toasted nuts.

Butternut Squash Macaroni & Cheese

There is something about an afternoon spent in the kitchen that relaxes me like nothing else. That feeling of, like, almost serenity, doesn't compare to the high I get from running, the relaxation from a good massage or even the euphoria from the perfect bite of cupcake. Whirling around my kitchen like a spinning top, splattering surfaces with remnants of whatever is on my spatula, stuffing spoonfuls into my boyfriend's mouth for "tastes" (which is just code for validation), puts me at ease. Sure, I make a huge mess, I wear myself out and I end up with a sink full of dishes... But I also feel accomplished. Satisfied. Inspired. And full.

One of the things I love to do is simply open my fridge and my cupboards and see what speaks to me. Lately, my garden has been driving my kitchen activities. I have a butternut squash plant that has been going nuts, so all things squash have been coming out of my kitchen. This recipe is one that I adapted from a much heavier Rachel Ray version... And it didn't last more than 2 days before it was gone.

Butternut Squash Macaroni and Cheese

Ingredients

• 1lb penne or elbow macaroni

• 4 tbsp butter

• ½ medium onion, finely chopped

• 1 clove garlic, minced

• 4 tbsp flour

• 2½ cups milk

• 10 ounces (2½ cups) shredded cheddar cheese, or a combination of cheddar and gruyere

• 1 cup cooked, pureed butternut squash, from ½ medium squash

• ⅛ tsp nutmeg

• ⅛ tsp pepper

• salt, to taste

For topping:

• 1 cup fresh breadcrumbs or panko

• 2 tbsp minced fresh parsley (or 1 tsp dried)

• 1 tsp lemon zest, optional

• 2 tbsp melted butter

• ½ cup shredded cheddar cheese

Procedure:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Cook pasta in a large pot of salted, boiling water until al dente (for elbow macaroni, that’s about 7 minutes, for penne, more like 10). Drain and set aside.
3. Meanwhile, melt butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and cook until softened, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook 30 seconds. Add flour and cook, stirring constantly, 1 minute. Gradually whisk in milk, a bit at a time.
4. Bring sauce to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to low and cook until thickened slightly, about 5 minutes.
5. Add shredded cheese, whisking until smooth. Whisk in butternut squash puree, nutmeg, pepper, and salt to taste. Add pasta to the sauce and stir to evenly coat. Transfer pasta to a buttered 2 quart baking dish.
6. In a medium bowl, combine all topping ingredients and sprinkle evenly over pasta. Transfer dish to oven and bake until topping is golden and sauce is bubbling at edges, about 20 minutes.

Stuffed Shells

When I was younger, I wanted more than anything in the world to have an older brother. There was a boy who lived down the street, who was about a year older than I was, and he was so cool--never mind that I found out later he was moderately down syndrome. He was funny, good at video games, and most importantly, a lego architect genius. My older male cousins, too, were some of the coolest people I knew (granted, my world was pretty limited at five years old). I looked up to Steven and Kevin with adoration and respect, and not just because they each had about a decade and at least a foot on me.

My oldest cousin, Steve, would never hesitate to get down on all fours with us and play dog catcher. My cousins and I would clamor around my aunt's house, yipping and nipping at the adults' ankles, and Steve would go right along with our silly game and chase us, put us in the "pound" and make our little fantasy seem totally legitimate and real... I mean, haven't you ever seen a puppy that sports light up LA Gear, embroidered sweatpants and a lovely lady mullet? (I have my mother to thank for my stellar fashion choices in the mid to late eighties.)

Steve's younger brother, Kevin, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with us younger cousins... Which is perhaps why we got so much pleasure out of tormenting him. He had, arguably, cooler toys than Steve (I'd venture a guess that Steve was probably beyond the "toy" phase by the time our gaggle of toddler and adolescent aged cousins came around)--transformers, legos, a miniature suit of armor... All the kinds of things that three to seven year olds really needed to be playing with. We would "sneak" up on Kevin while he was playing computer games and hiding out in the office of my aunt's house, where he instantly retreated the second we showed up for a visit. Deep down, I'm convinced he actually enjoyed our visits. I mean, who wouldn't want a bunch of squealing, pig tailed blondes invading their personal space for days on end?

My understanding of boys, brothers and where babies come from was rather limited when I was a kid. When my mom was pregnant with my younger sister, I remember people asking if I wanted a little brother or sister... What was wrong with these people? Did they not see the splendor that could be made possible by having an older brother? Someone to reach things off of high shelves? Someone to swing me around? Someone to keep the bigger cousins from picking on me (until my sister came along, I was the youngest, and easiest target)? It would have been phenomenal.

I prayed to Jesus, the Easter Bunny, Barbie and just about any holy entity I could think of as a kid. Please, please, please... Someone bring me an older brother... I'll never ask for dessert again! (Fat chance, I was a tub of lard from day one.) I'll always clean my room when asked! (Or throw a tantrum until my nanny, DeeDee, does it for me.) I'll be the best little sister anyone could ever ask for! (Clearly, I had no idea what I was asking for.)

Spoiler alert: I never got an older brother. Biology (and other branches of science, I imagine) kept that from becoming a reality for me. But you can imagine my disappointment when, at three and a half, after nine months of praying and good behavior, I was rewarded with a shiny, pink, YOUNGER SISTER. Could the Easter Bunny have gotten this MORE WRONG? There was clearly some sort of cosmic injustice happening. Maybe the kid down the street had asked for a baby sister? That was clearly not what I had requested.

I eventually got over my disappointment, although I made sure my little sister, Shannon, knew that she was NOT what I had had in mind. I did this by kicking her in the head through the mesh of her play pen, pinching her when no one was looking and essentially inflicting all sorts of torment on her. Granted, she probably deserved some of it---showing up as I was growing out of my chubby, adorable phase (and just being chubby), and giving everyone something new and cute to coddle. What a brat. A big brother never would have pulled that shit. And I bet he would have stolen cookies off the high shelf for me.

Regardless, I eventually grew to appreciate my younger sister. Having someone to beat up on and outsmart was actually rather convenient. And as we got older, we developed a strong friendship. Now, as adults, I consider Shannon one of my best friends. It took me moving out of the house and 1,000 miles away, but we get along, respect and rely on each other. We're in the same corner these days, instead of opposite ones. And really, I've come to accept the fact that a big brother is just not in the cards for this girl.... But if you know anyone with an older brother for sale? Hook it up! There are some cookies on a shelf I can't quite reach.

One of my coworkers recently (as in, like, on Saturday) had her second baby. A girl. Her oldest is a little boy. Is it normal to be phenomenally jealous of an infant? She is set for life! Not only does she have awesomely cool parents, but an older brother to boot! Life... just isn't fair.

And while my knowledge of babies and biology is really limited, I do know that infants are loud and time consuming. And generally messy, annoying blobs of human. So, in order to help my friend out (and ensure that she doesn't forget to feed the older brother, lest someone else be robbed of their dream), I put together some easy freezer meals that are both delicious and (I think) kid-friendly. Kids eat green things, right?

Stuffed Shells

adapted from Taste of Home

24 uncooked pasta shells (jumbo)
1 T olive oil
1 large zucchini, shredded and squeezed dry
1/2 lb. baby portobellos, chopped
1 medium red onion, finely chopped
2 cups ricotta cheese
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup shredded provolone cheese
1/2 cup grated romano cheese
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 t. italian seasoning
1 jar (24 oz) pasta sauce
1/4 grated parmesan cheese

1. Preheat the oven to 350. Cook shells according to package directions until al dente. Drain and cool.

2. Heat oil in large skillet. Add veggies and cook until tender. Remove from heat and transfer to a large bowl. Add ricotta, mozzarella, provolone and Romano cheeses. Stir in egg and seasoning.

3. Spread one cup sauce into the bottom of a 13x9 baking dish, coated with cooking spray. Spoon cheese and vegetable mixture into shells. Place filled shells in baking dish. Top with remaining sauce. Sprinkle parmesan cheese over the top.

4. Bake, unconvered, for 40 minutes. Let stand for 10 minutes before serving.

Ohana Cupcakes

In the past three weeks, I have been in seven different states, teaching at a variety of yearbook and journalism workshops. It was a hectic period of traveling, meeting new kids and advisers and being constantly on the go. When I finally made it home on Monday, I was more than ready for the short break that I will have before I'm off for my next set of camps.

I spent my weeks presenting to students and advisers about a variety of topics, including everything from interviewing and news writing to ice breakers and community building. Despite being constantly on the move and living out of a suitcase for three weeks, I loved every second of my work. Working with kids, whether they were my students or not, is always exciting and rewarding. Networking with other advisers and sharing war stories and feel good moments always reminds me why I love this profession. When I am on campus during the school year, I am the only person who really gets what I do. There isn't another teacher who works with kids the way that I do, runs their classroom the way that I do and oversees the kinds of projects that I do. In a way, that's a blessing--there isn't anyone telling me what to do, or clamoring after my job... But at the same time, it's incredibly isolating. When InDesign does weird things to your text, the school server crashes or the cameras start eating memory cards... There isn't someone next door, or across the hall, or even on the other side of campus that really understands how that impacts your work.

But being able to share my experiences and what I have learned over the years, both with students and other advisers, keeps me going. Sure, I was tired. Sure, losing my voice two days into the first camp made things a little rough. Sure, discovering I have allergies pretty much everywhere except San Diego was an unpleasant surprise... But none of that mattered. I was getting to talk about what I love, with people who get it. People who understand why pizza DURING deadline tastes different that pizza any other time. People who understand why a smile from a snotty teenager can make your day. People who know what it really means to put a project to bed.

Getting to be around so many other dedicated, hard working and motivated people recharges my batteries better than any day by the pool ever could. Since my first workshop in Kansas City, I have been flooded with emails from students and advisers, asking questions, asking me to share my resources and thanking me for reminding them that yearbook (and school) can be fun. I can't deny that I get a little teary eyed every time I read one of those emails. Knowing that drawing a pig, playing rock paper scissors or wrapping clumps of kids in saran wrap made a difference for someone else is rewarding. I have my own kind of crazy, but it works in my classroom. I know it doesn't work for everyone, but I love giving the tools to others so that they can define their own sort of chaos.

I am inspired by the ebb and flow of ideas at the camps I participate it. I get a chance, as a relatively new adviser, to rub elbows with people who have been kicking ass in the yearbook business longer than I've been alive. I get a chance to watch people work their magic with kids, getting them excited about everything--from singing "I'm a little teapot" to going nuts with the "Interlude." I get to see a kind of passion that is, sadly, missing from my day to day work environment. Yearbook people are special people. We're a bunch of crazy weirdos, but we get each other. We support each other. And we get damn excited about fonts, picas, kerning and margins with each other.

Despite the fact that camp after camp after camp is exhausting, I'll never stop doing it. I'll never give up the opportunity to watch others inspire students, or to be inspired by them. I'll never stop sharing my resources or my ideas. I'll never stop loving what I do--because it's never the same. It changes every year, with every new set of kids. Every time I think I have a recipe for a perfect year figured out, I hear a new idea from someone at a workshop, and my mind is blown.

I don't think there is a perfect way to build a yearbook staff. I don't think there is a perfect method for working with teenagers. But I do know that my summers are perfect, just the way they are... Crazy, busy, hectic, frazzled... And inspiring. Not only do I get the opportunity to inspire kids far beyond the confines of my classroom, but I get to work with folks that I have an incredible amount of respect for, and who I look up to.

Since I started advising, many people have taken a chance on me. It started with my administration, being willing to let a new teacher juggle both yearbook and newspaper (on top of an English load). Then my yearbook rep pushed for me to teach at my first workshop--which required a good amount of faith on her part, and a huge leap of faith on behalf of the workshop coordinator. From there, pieces fell into place. JEA allowed me to work with students through their conferences. Other camps opened their doors to me. Other people saw me teach and told me they were impressed, inspired. And that motivated me. It motivated me to keep going, keep doing what I was doing, and keep working to make it better. It's been an amazing experience so far, and I am so grateful for what I've been able to do, because it has made such a difference for the kids in my classroom. From my supporters from my yearbook publishing company, to my fellow advisers, to their students... All of these people have become my extended yearbook family.

Just as I am inspired by my fellow teachers and their students, I am also inspired by other bakers, bloggers and photographers. I follow several cooking blogs, and when I need inspiration or ideas, they are the first place that I look. When I need an idea to run with, I know I can check a few sites and have a meal planned in minutes. I know that my circle of blogging bakers will always come through when I need a recipe... In a way, they've become my virtual, constantly available, kitchen family.

So what better recipe to share than one, to me, says, "Family"? I made these cupcakes to take to yearbook camp last week, so that my Yerd Family could have a homemade treat to enjoy before all of our craziness ensued. The recipe is one that I adapted from one of my fellow baking, blogging diva contacts, so it's a perfect marriage of things I love coming full circle. I've changed the recipe a bit, given it a new name and made something delicious in the process. Just sharing the love for, as Stitch would say, my "Ohana."

Ohana Pinapple Cupcakes

photo provided by cupcakegarden.com

Epic fail on my part... I forgot to take pictures before everyone ate them.

Pineapple Cake:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour*

• 1 1/2 cups sugar*

• 1 tablespoon baking powder*

• 1/2 cup non-fat dry milk*

• 1/3 C. melted butter, cooled

• 3 eggs

• 1 1/4 C. crushed pineapple with juice

• 1 tsp. vanilla extract

• 1 tsp. lemon extract

*These ingredients can be omitted if you would prefer to just buy a box of yellow cake mix. But that is totally cheating and I will judge you for it.

Cream Cheese Frosting:

• 1/2 C. butter, softened
• 8 oz cream cheese, softened
• 1 tsp. vanilla extract
• 3-4 C. powdered sugar
• Dried pineapple for garnish

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees and line pans with cupcake liners.
2. Sift dry cake ingredients into a small bowl and set aside.
3. In a large bowl combine butter, eggs, pineapple and vanilla extract. Mix on high until fluffy.
4. Stir in cake mix until smooth.
5. Fill cupcake liners 3/4 full and bake for 17-22 minute or until and inserted knife comes out clean.
6. Let cool.
7. Frosting: Beat butter and cream cheese for 2 minutes until smooth. Add vanilla extract and slowly add powdered sugar until you reach your desired consistency. If it becomes too thick, whipping cream.
8. Dollop onto cooled cupcakes. 

Chicken Taco Soup

After being gone for about ten days, and knowing that I only had a few precious days at home before my next stint of traveling, I had an overwhelming urge, from the minute I walked in my front door (at 11 PM, mind you) to BAKE ALL THE THINGS. COOK ALL THE THINGS. I just wanted to revel in the glory that was my kitchen, food readily available and of my choosing. Not a hotel catering service. Not a dining hall. Not Easy Mac, stirred with a car key and eaten with a dorm swipe card. 

Before I left, I had embarked on a breakfast adventure--treating my boyfriend to delicious, boozy cinnamon rolls, baked from scratch and topped with a gooey, cream cheese and bourbon frosting. I'd even had the foresight to freeze half the batch and leave him baking instructions, so he could make them on his own without me (obviously, this was a ploy to keep him from getting upset about me taking off for nearly two weeks). This confectionary masterpiece became dubbed as "special breakfast," and it precluded my desire to COOK ALL THE THINGS. You don't get the recipe for that... But it's an important part of this story. That's why I'm telling you. That, and I'm a little bit of a tease.

In another attempt to keep my boyfriend from hating me, my job, my commitments to camps around the country and my inability to say no to a teaching offer, I left presents. Presents and notes. For each day I was gone. Yes, its nauseatingly adorable and you're throwing up in your mouth a little. It's ok.  I would be making gagging faces at myself right now, if I weren't so head over heels in love with this boy. There is some adage that says something about having to have survived the worst to be able to appreciate the best. I've written off my past as an experience I needed to have. A painful, challenging, horrendous learning experience. And now? Now I know that I have something good--someone who cares about me, appreciates my ambition, supports my decisions and balances me. Proof:

Special breakfast was reciprocated. After being gone for what felt like forever, my first morning back home consisted of french toast (from REAL french bread), mimosas and absolutely no work on my part. Watching my boyfriend feverishly stir cinnamon into cold milk, visibly frustrated that it wouldn't dissolve, scrolling through his recipe on his iPad... I melted a little. He was willing to step in to my realm, try his hand at something that I love doing, just to make me feel special. And while I have known for some time that this boy was special, there was definite confirmation that morning.  I felt lucky. Content. Happy. And it was ok that, other than a quick trip to the store, we spent the entire day doing nothing. It's not my MO, but it felt good. I could revel in a day of laziness, because I wasn't going to have to pick up the slack later by myself. 

I have gotten used to taking care of myself. I have needed to know that I can fix things, do things, manage things on my own. But in the past few months, I've slowly gotten comfortable NOT having to do them on my own. My boyfriend may not be an expert on fixing sprinklers, but we figured it out together. He may not be super jazzed to mount my TV or fix a loose hinge, but he'll do it. He may not love to cook, but he'll get up and make me breakfast because he knows I'm exhausted and worn out from traveling. He'll do things not because he wants to, not because he gets anything out of it, not because he has some ulterior motive... He just wants to make me happy. And that makes me the luckiest girl in the whole world (insert gagging noises here). 

And in return, I want to do everything, be everything, bake, cook and clean everything, embody everything that perfect should be. I know what it feels like to be unappreciated, and I want to make sure that I never make another person feel that way. I can't help but have some guilt about my summer spent jumping around from one camp in one city to the next. Being gone for a total of almost an entire month doesn't seem like a thing you do for someone you really care about. So naturally, when I am home, I want to DO ALL THE THINGS that I can to demonstrate my appreciation. 

I've always considered my kitchen abilities to be something of a gift. I just have a knack for throwing things together that work. Which is surprising, because I don't understand any of the science behind it and I often screw up the math. But it still works (further proof that math and science are unnecessary). And as someone with an overwhelming need to help others (hence for years as an RA), putting my gift to work and feeding people is a natural outlet for me. So when we started talking about dinner ideas, after Special Breakfast #2, I knew that this recipe would be a winner. First, it has beer in it. I mean, who doesn't want beer with their dinner? Second, it all goes in a slow cooker... So I could spend the whole day finishing our two bottles of champagne and orange juice, while dinner cooked itself.

Chicken Taco Soup

• 1 red onion, diced
• 1 (16 oz) can chili beans, drained
• 1 (16 oz) can black beans, drained
• 1 (16 oz) can corn, drained
• 1 (8 oz) can tomato sauce
• 1 (12 oz) bottle of beer
• 1 (10 oz) can diced tomatoes with green chiles
• 1 packet taco seasoning
• 3 whole boneless, skinless chicken breasts
• 1 jalapeño, diced
• 1 red bell pepper, diced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 1 t cayenne
• 1 t garlic salt
• 1 T minced garlic
• 1/2 cup chicken stock
• 1/4 cup cilantro

1. Place all ingredients in a slow cooker, except for the chicken. Stir well.

2. Submerge the chicken breasts in the other ingredients (make sure they are covered).

3. Set slow cooker for low heat and cook for 5 hours.

4. Remove chicken breasts about four hours in. Shred. Return to soup for one more hour.

5. Serve with sliced avocado, crushed tortilla chips and queso fresco.

Cilantro & Lime Sauce

Standing on the stage at James Madison University last weekend, I was staring out into an auditorium full of shiny high school faces... And I didn't know a single one of them. It was a weird feeling for me--to be at yearbook camp, without my kids, getting ready to kick off a weekend of Yerding without the crowd I'm used to doing this with. And for some reason, I was overcome with such crazy self-doubt that I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get through my opening presentation. Maybe my skills don't translate across the country?

Of course, I was being silly. Insecure. I just lost my footing for a minute--a temporary stumble, but I caught myself. I lead things off with a loud (as loud as I could be after losing my voice for the 5th or 6th time in two weeks), "If you can hear my voice clap once..." call out, and we were off. We drew pigs. We made funny faces. We did things in a minute to win it. We ate candy for breakfast. We made it rain. And we yearbooked. A lot. And learned. A lot.

There was one evening, the last night of camp, I think, when I was lounging in the computer lab with one of my fellow instructors and a sales rep from Baltimore. We were chit chatting, talking about all the weirdo kids you find at yearbook camp and in your classroom, and one girl (one of the aforementioned odd balls) came up to ask me some questions about the writing class I had taught earlier in the day. I went over her notes with her and when I was done, she just smiled and said, "Thanks Ms. Young. I learned really good from you. You've got good styles and I think my writing is going to be more better."

The irony of her compliments were not lost on me, but it still melted my heart a little bit. I'm used to being in a classroom with kids for months before I can get them to worship the ground I walk on and hang on every word. But this girl felt like I had made a difference for her in just a few short days. And despite the self doubt that I had felt at the start of camp, I felt invincible. If I can get kids to nerd out on font and page design and King Pica and Adobe Kuler during their summer vacation, then I'm on the right track. It doesn't matter WHERE the kids are--Orange County, San Diego, or the East Coast--I know how to get through to them, even without cupcakes.

And sometimes, I get that same feeling when I tackle a meal in my kitchen. I don't always know what I'm doing when I start out, but somehow, it all comes together in the end. And I might still be unsure of myself, even as I dish it out... But all it takes is one compliment, one "yum," a second helping and a smile for me to know that I did it right. I do know what I am doing in the kitchen, despite not having any sort of actual training (other than watching my dad when I was growing up).

I watch cooking shows (probably more than I'd like to admit), and I think that it is something I would like to try. But then I watch the contestants fillet a fish, or do some sort of fancy mousse or crazy recipe from their memory and I just don't think I can hack it. But when I'm presented with my own mystery box and a flavor that I want to create, I  manage to nail it. Maybe I do have what it takes.

This sauce is something I threw together, while watching Master Chef, and making tacos. After being gone for 10 days, I was itching to cook so I wanted to make everything. As I was setting out the bowls of chopped onions, peppers, shredded chicken, cheese and cilantro, I realized that there wasn't any sauce or salsa. Needless to say, problem solved...

Cilantro & Lime Sauce

• 1 cup fresh cilantro
• 1/4 cup greek yogurt
• 2 T miso paste
• 2 T olive oil
• 1/4 cup lime juice
• 1/4 large avocado
• 1 t garlic salt
• 1 t pepper
• 1 t cayenne

1. Toss in blender/food processor/magic bullet. Blend until smooth.

2. Top your favorite festive dish... Fish, chicken, tacos, chips, etc.

Lemon Dill Potato Salad

Growing up in Smalltown, USA, there are things that inevitably made their way into my life, for better or worse. I've been told before that tiny towns every where are exactly the same. There are certain staples that you would find in Podunk, Oregon that would also surface in Backwoods, Louisiana. From one small town to another, you'll find friendly faces, neighborhood block parties, a crunchy vernacular and staple foods.

It seems that in any small town gathering, at any neighborhood cookout and at 4th of July and Memorial Day, Labor Day and summer BBQs around the country, you'll find tables laden with flavors of Americana. Apple Pie. Burgers. Hot dogs. Macaroni and cheese. Corn on the cob. Berry cobblers. I can get behind most of these things (ok, except the ones made with meat). But there is one cook out staple that I will never understand: potato salad--the mayonnaisey, creamy, buttery kind. How do people eat that? I mean, if that was the flavor and texture you wanted, why not just squirt some mayo on a celery stick, ants on a log style, and go to town? That's basically what you're getting.

Even in my days (ok, decades) as a fat kid, I never loved the flavor of mayo, whether it was smeared on a sandwich or dolloped all over perfectly good potatoes or macaroni. As I've learned to cook, and been able to tailor my dishes to flavors that I like, I've been able to experiment and create--much to the joy of my tastebuds (and the scale).

So, while this recipe may contradict all the things we know about what potato salad is, that doesn't make it any less delicious. I've learned, especially in the last few months, that the commonly accepted prescription for "perfect" isn't always right. Sometimes you have to take what works and run with it--whether it follows your timeline, schedule or BBQ checklist, or not. When it works, it works, right? Don't question it. Just love it.

Lemon Dill Potato Salad

Adapted from Food Magazine

2 pounds rainbow potatoes (regular ones work too, but the colored ones are so much more fun)
1 cup celery, diced
1 cup red onion, diced
1 lemon's zest
2 tablespoons capers
2 cups kale, deribbed and sliced into ribbons
2 tablespoons garlic, minced
1/4 cup olive oil
3 tablespoons lemon juice
2 teaspoons dill (fresh preferred)
1 teaspoon smoked sea salt
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1. Heat water to a boil.
2. Wash and cut potatoes to uniform size, about 1/4 inch thick.
3. Boil potatoes until they are tender. Drain and transfer to a bowl.
4. Stir the celery, onion, capers and kale into the potatoes.
5. Whisk together the remaining ingredients.
6. Drizzle the lemon and olive oil mixture over the potato mixture. Toss to evenly coat.
7. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Chocolate Chip Pudding Cookies

There are some natural combinations in life that just work. Peanut butter and jelly. Mac and cheese. Sunshine and flip flops. Romey & Michelle. They are duos that have roots so deep that trying to separate them just doesn't make sense—they go together (cue the closing dance scene and music from Grease). These combos have become ingrained in the way we pack our lunches, they ways we survived the poverty of college, the way we dress ourselves and the way we define our friendships.

Even if mac and cheese or a perfect beach day aren’t in your repertoire, chances are you have pairings of your own that have come to define the way you do things.  Something feels wrong, out of balance, if your duo isn’t complete. Your mojo is totally out of whack if you don’t have the perfect shimmy to go with your shake.

When you are introduced the perfect pairing, it’s like an epiphany. How did harmony ever exist before this combination was defined? It’s one of those things that you didn’t know you needed—but now that you have it? There is no chance you could live happily without it.

Not every match in my life is material. As I’ve mulled over this idea of sweet harmonies, I’ve realized that the concept extends far beyond my culinary, pop culture and fashion realms.  My personal life is full of things that I didn’t know that I needed, but now that I’ve experienced them, I’m not sure I can survive without them. My friends run the gamut of personality types, from over protective and motherly, to something of a loose cannon here and there. And each one of them offers me something, some aspect of themselves, which I can’t live without.

Since the Fall I’ve seriously struggled with understanding who I am and what I want. I made a lot of choices in my personal life that I wasn’t proud of, but I was not thinking long-term or practically. I was thinking, ‘What will make me feel better, right now?” I guess I was an embodiment of the instant gratification generation. I didn’t want to wait to heal. I wanted my life to implode, to sweep up the pieces into a tidy pile, forget it ever happened and instantly go back to being Jess. I didn’t need to grieve, or process or recoup… Or so I thought.

Turns out, running full speed ahead, without a break, without a breath to process, without time for yourself means you basically slam into a brick wall that you never saw coming. And that hurts. Probably more than what set you off running in the first place. I hit that wall after the New Year and I realized that if I didn’t chill the fuck out I was going to miss out on the chance to let something good happen for me.

What I had to realize was that I needed to LET it happen. I had to get out of my own way and for, probably the first time in my adult life, stop planning everything and just let my life happen to me. I needed to experience my own life, instead of driving it. And once I accepted that I can’t plan for every what-if scenario and guard myself against every emotion I may experience, good things started happening.

And now? I’ve discovered all kinds of things that I didn't know I needed in my life, but now they have the perfect place. You could say I have all the things I knew I wanted (and deserved), plus all kinds of bonus stuff. And the bonus stuff? It’s the best part.

When things finally go right, after they've felt wrong and forced for so long, it’s better than an epiphany. It’s like taking a huge breath, when you didn't realize you’d been holding yours in for who knows how long. You don’t always know that it’s right, until you stop trying to figure out what it is and just let it be. And then, if you’re lucky, the pieces fall into place… And you find yourself happier than you knew you could be, with your life going in a direction you never fathomed you’d have the courage to face again.

Relationships aren’t supposed to be hard. Connecting with another person is supposed to be sort of a basic instinct, right? We want companionship. So why do we make it so complicated? Why do we concoct a complicated formula for what should really be a simple, perfect pair? And when we finally find that match, why question it? Let it be. When you find that one thing that you didn’t know you were missing, but suddenly you have and can’t imagine life without? Don’t fuck it up.

I’ve had this recipe for chocolate chip cookies for ages. I’ve understood the concept of a cookie since I started baking in middle school. But I never found the perfect balance of ingredients until I started playing with this recipe. And once I stumbled across the addition of pudding to the mix, I realized I had a winning combination. And I don’t mess with that. You never knew you needed pudding in your cookies, but once you have it, you’ll never turn back. The chocolate chips are just the bonus stuff.

Pudding Plus Chocolate Chip Cookies

Adapted from Allrecipes.com

Ingredients

• 4.5 cups flour
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 2 cups butter, softened
• 1.5 cups brown sugar
• .5 cups sugar
• 2 (3.4 oz) packages instant pudding mix (whatever flavor you fancy... I usually use vanilla or butterscotch)
• 4 eggs
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 4 cups chocolate chips

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Sift the flour and baking soda together. Set aside.
3. In a large bowl, cream the butter until light and fluffy. Add the sugars.
4. Beat in the eggs, one at a time.
5. Add the pudding. Blend in the flour mixture.
6. Stir in the chocolate chips.
7. Drop cookies by rounded spoonfuls onto an ungreased cookie sheet.
8. Bake for 9—12 minutes. 

Friendship Bread

A shiny, pink, plastic orb used to answer all my questions about the future. With a couple shakes and some patience while the bubbles and glitter settled, guidance would take form as a triangular beacon of wisdom. When my biggest life challenges were as simple as, “Should I eat a red popsicle or a blue one?” and “Should I watch ‘Saved by the Bell’ or ‘Full House’ first?” it didn’t seem  absurd to put all my faith in a Pink Glam Magic Eight Ball. But 20-something years later? Asking a children’s toy for life advice is, arguably, ridiculous. Despite this, I find myself longing for the solace that could be found in a vigorous shake, a cloud of glittery water and a vague answer bobbing to the surface.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that perhaps pinning all your hopes on the completely random responses of the Glam Ball is not all that realistic. Instead, I transitioned into much more mature methods for charting my destiny—flower petals (he loves me, he loves me not), wishies (your wish only comes true if you blow off all the fuzzy white things) and digital clock readings (11:11—make a wish!). Of course, moving from the sticks to an urban area has made it much harder to find the appropriate greenery needed, and my preaching to kids to stop watching the clock during class makes it hard for me to not look like a hypocrite for doing the same.

Fortunately, my life has brought new, increasingly accurate and significantly more intelligent guidance into my life. The friends I have made, especially in the last decade, deserve so much of the credit for the person I have become.  Friends that loved me enough to tell me when I was being a huge bitch, while helping me pick up the pieces when my life fell apart, have made me realize the value of solid confidants.

My friends that date back to my senior year of high school are distant, but my changing relationship with them taught me so much about what it takes to become a functioning adult. Despite the fact that we aren’t talk-every-day kind of friends, I know that if I had a moment of need, they would be there. When we do reconnect in person, you’d never know that we hadn’t had a face-to-face conversation in years. They are good at reminding me where I come from—a small town in the middle of nowhere, where people talk a little more slowly and life moves at a different pace. Values are different. Priorities take on new meaning. Traditions are strong, allegiances run deep and grudges are like gridlock.

Since moving to San Diego, I’ve managed to create such a strong network of friends that I honestly can’t imagine my life without them. Some friends have come and gone, but from each person I have learned. My friends have shown me what unconditional love is. They have shown me what tough love is. They have given me a good “momming” a time or two (I still stand by my skirt argument, ladies!). I know I’ve written plenty about how much I appreciate them and all they have done for me, but I don’t think it can be said enough. They swooped in and helped me hold it together and picked up the pieces when I fell apart. They let me make mistakes, but make sure that I learned from them. And when something finally went right, they helped me be brave. They encouraged me, they supported me and they reassured me that I could put faith in something new and I would be ok. And when they were right, it wasn’t, “I told you so,” but rather, “I’m happy for you.”

And while some of my friends may argue that I have other motives, I do my best to show my appreciation to those that love me. Usually this is done through baked goods (which, conveniently, guilt some friends into logging miles with me). And what is more perfect than Friendship Bread to show the people I love how much they mean to me?

Amish Friendship Bread

Adapted From Allrecipes.com

• 1 cup Friendship Bread Starter (see previous post)
• ½ cup vegetable oil
• ½ cup applesauce
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 3 eggs
• ½ cup milk
• 2 cups flour
• 1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
• ½ teaspoon baking soda
• ½ teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons cardamom
• 2 tablespoons of sugar (for dusting)
• 1 (5 ounce) package pudding mix (choose your flavor based on what kind of bread you want)
• 1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)
• 1 cup shredded carrots, zucchini, chopped apples, mashed bananas or other addition of your choice (totally optional, but can add flavor and texture to the bread)

              1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F (165 degrees C). Lightly grease two 9x5 inch loaf pans.

      2. In a large bowl, stir together Amish Friendship Starter, oil, applesauce, sugar, vanilla, eggs and milk.

      3. Sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon.
4. Stir into the starter mixture.
5. Mix in the vanilla pudding mix.
6. Fold in the chopped nuts and/or other additives.
7. Pour the batter evenly into the prepared pans.
9. Sprinkle the tops of each loaf with sugar
10. Bake for 60 minutes in the preheated oven, until a knife inserted comes out clean.
11. Cool for 10 minutes in pans before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.

Amish Friendship Bread (Starter)

RIP: every serious relationship I’ve had. Long live the lessons I have learned, the experiences I have gathered and the self respect I have gained. I won’t forget to remember the times that were good, the obstacles we overcame and the ways my life has changed. There are times when I see things that remind me of a life I used to live, and my heart gets heavy. I can feel my cheeks prickle with pink and tears burn in my eyes.  Sometimes, I think about the way I thought my life was supposed to be—the things I was supposed to be doing by now, the milestones I wanted to have achieved, they family I wanted to be a part of—and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a mistake. Sometimes, I come across an old picture, or a scribbled sentiment on a sticky note or I see a familiar face out in public and it hurts. It hurts in a way that I can’t explain. It hurts in a way that makes me want to scream and cry and run and punch someone and curl up in the fetal position and eat ice cream and puke all at the same time.  

When I think of the good things, I want them back. I miss knowing someone is going to be there when I come home. I miss knowing that someone was unconditionally proud of me, no matter what. I miss knowing that there was someone who appreciated my flaws and loved my quirks. I miss holding hands and hold you me. I miss falling asleep on the couch, snuggled in a perfect way. I miss talking about next week, next month, next year, next generation.  I miss the idea of forever.

But the second I let myself revel in those old memories, the bad comes flooding back. The unkept promises. The lies. The messes. The hurt. The tears. The emptiness. The fake. The pretending. The disappointment. All of the things I swore I’d never settle for, after watching my parents’ loveless marriage. It’s easy to say, “It wasn’t meant to be,” but where does that leave me now? And after all of the turmoil and carnage my heart, my feelings, my courage and my ego have survived, can I risk that all again?

I don’t know the answer. And that makes me uncomfortable. It makes me scared. It makes me feel… vulnerable. It makes me feel not at all like the strong, capable, determined and fearless woman the past six months have helped me become.  I feel like I’m teetering on the verge of something new, toeing the line of taking a big risk, but every time I abandon my apprehensions and take a big step forward, every ounce of logic in me pulls me back so quickly I feel like I’m suffering from emotional whiplash.

But if I’ve learned anything over the past several months, it’s that with challenges comes change. And sometimes, that challenge is not knowing. It’s not having a plan, not having an idea of what the outcome is going to be. Sometimes you have to let go, have faith, a little blind ambition and just believe that everything will come out ok.

There are times when I encounter recipes that are the same way. I read the ingredients, I think about the flavors and then I wonder… people eat that? But, more often than not, when I put my faith (and skills!) behind a recipe, everything comes out ok. Sometimes it takes some tweaking, some patience, but in the end, it all comes out delicious.

Amish Friendship Bread Starter

Ingredients

1 packet (.25 ounce) dry active yeast

¼ cup warm water

3 cups flour, divided

3 cups sugar, divided

3 cups milk

Directions

1. 1.      In a small bowl, dissolve yeast in water. Let stand 10 minutes. In a 2 quart container glass, plastic or ceramic container, combine 1 cup flour and 1 cup sugar. Mix thoroughly or flour will lump when milk is added. Slowly stir in 1 cup milk and dissolved yeast mixture. Cover loosely and let stand until bubbly. Consider this day 1 of the 10 day cycle. Leave loosely covered at room temperature.
2. 2.      On days 2 thru 4; stir starter with a spoon. Day 5; stir in 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar and 1 cup milk. Days 6 thru 9; stir only.
3. 3.      Day 10; stir in 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar and 1 cup milk. Remove 1 cup to make your first bread, give 2 cups to friends along with this recipe, and your favorite Amish Bread recipe. Store the remaining 1 cup starter in a container in the refrigerator, or begin the 10 day process over again (beginning with step 2).

4.      Friendship bread recipe to follow!

Vegetable Lasagna with Cashew Cheese

After two weeks of Spring Break, a lot of traveling, a week of newspaper deadline and more than a little emotional and physical stress, I'm finally starting to feel normal again. I've slowly made my way back in to my routine, to a certain extent, and my body is remembering what it is like to have to eat and pee on a bell schedule.

And while the break from work was much needed, as was the lapse from reality, my body is still reeling from the effects of too much alcohol, not enough sleep and not nearly enough exercise. As someone who has battled weight issues since I was a kid, I think I will always feel fat. I will always see myself as a fat kid. It's become clear to me that where other people see curves, I see rolls. Where other people see muscles, I see unsightly bulges. I've gotten better at dealing and coping with my body dysmorphia, when I break my routine and am lax in my exercise and food choices, I start to beat up on myself more than the average individual.

Beyond dealing with the mental image I have of myself, I also find myself fighting an emotional struggle that revolves around my appearance. I've been the Amazing Shrinking Jess for almost six years now. People who have met me in the last two of three years have no idea that I used to look much differently. Even when I started working at my current job, I was heavier than I am now, but no where near where I was back in college. My weight loss isn't something that I readily share with other people. It wasn't until this year that I openly talked about it with some of my coworkers. My friends, on the other hand, have been along for the crazy ride. And now that I've started dating again? Yeah, that's a can of worms I haven't opened with many of the people I've gone out with.

Reason tells me that it is silly to think that people will judge me because of person I used to be. That it is ridiculous to assume that someone will like or care about me less because I have had challenges with my body image. I mean, what girl, today, hasn't ever felt fat, right? But there is something about dropping that, "Oh, hey, justsoyouknowaboutfiveorsixyearsagoiusedtoweighahundredandtwentypoundsmorethanidonow," bomb and not expecting some sort of reaction. I've experienced both--people who are congratulatory, want to know how I did it, and people who give me a look of disgust and want to know what was wrong with me.  I've simply gotten to a point where I avoid the subject. I don't talk about it and I don't bring it up... Because I don't want to deal with the reaction, the judgement or the conversation. I know how far I've come and when I feel safe, sometimes I share. But usually? I feel like I have a big, fat secret.

And so every now and then, when my routine gets disrupted, when life happens, or when cookies happen, I find myself retreating to something of an ugly place. I catch glimpses in the mirror, and rather than being proud of what I see, my eyes zero in on the imperfections that I perceive. I often find myself in a rut when, despite pushing my limits and trying to make smart choices, I can't seem to get to where I want to be. And while I've gotten better at coping with the ruts, the ups and the downs, there are times when I feel smothered by my own self doubt.

There isn't anything that really fixes those feelings, other than dragging my butt back to the gym, running harder or longer, and focusing on making better choices. I think I have effectively sweat, digested and processed all of the alcohol out of my system. I don't feel like I smell like a PB bar when I'm working out. I don't feel like I've been fueling my body with total trash. Part of what helped clean things up was a partial detox that I implemented for myself. And I decided that perhaps my meals should consisted of green things, other than the mint in my mojito. I may have shocked my body, but I'm back on the veggie bandwagon!

Vegetable Lasagna With Cashew Cheese (Vegan)

Adapted from Clean Living

Noodles
2 medium sized summer squash OR zucchini, cut into wide strips that are roughly ¼ inch thick
sea salt, a few sprinkles
freshly ground black pepper

Vegetables
2 portobello mushrooms, gills scooped out with a spoon, sliced into ½ inch thick strips
2 cups crimini (or white) mushrooms, sliced
1 medium zucchini, cut into ¼ inch thick rounds
1 leek, the bottom white part only, sliced into ¼ inch rounds

1 yellow bell pepper, sliced

2 garlic cloves, peeled and minced
1 bunch of swiss chard, de-stemmed and roughly chopped

Sauce
1 cup cashews
juice of 1 lemon
1 heaping tablespoon miso paste
1 teaspoon garlic granules
1-2 teaspoons sea salt

For the lasagna:

1. Preheat oven to 350.
2. To make the noodles, slice the squash since these are being steamed, and need to be slightly thicker than if you were to use a vegetable peeler. A mandolin will make the slices too thin and they will pretty much just fall apart.
3. Place the long summer squash slices into a bowl and toss with a fair amount of sea salt and black pepper, enough to coat.
4. Transfer to a saute pan with a ¼ cup of water.
5. Cover the pan and gently steam until just tender (when you can lightly pierce with a fork). Remove from heat and allow to cool to room temperature, uncovered.
6. In another saute pan, melt a tablespoon of coconut oil over medium high heat.
7. Add the leeks and cook for 2-3 minutes before adding the sliced mushrooms and zucchini.
8. Cook for an additional 3-4 minutes then add the garlic and chard.
9. Use tongs to gently swirl in the pan so the chard wilts without browning.
10. Season with sea salt (to taste) and set aside.

For the sauce:

1. Place the cashews in a high speed blender with the other sauce ingredients (lemon juice, miso, garlic powder, and sea salt).
2. Slowly drizzle in up to ½ cup of water as needed to create a smooth, creamy, cheese-like sauce. It’s best to keep it on the thicker side so it stays put between the layers when baking.

To Assemble:

1. Use a medium (a square 8×8 works well) sized pan (anything you’d normally make lasagna in).
2. Now create your layers.

• Spread a small amount of sauce on the bottom of the pan.
• Lay out a layer of long steamed squash pieces, side by side.
• Spread some cashew cheese sauce over those pieces as consistent as you can and thick as you like.
• Sprinkle the vegetable mixture over the cheese layer.
• Add another layer of cashew cheese.
• Repeat until all the ingredients are used up. There’s really no wrong way, some people layer the long squash “noodles” first, it’s up to you really; any way you do it will turn out delicious!
• To finish: bake in the oven for 30 minutes, check for cashew cheese browning on the top, and all layers softening and melting together. Let it cool a tiny bit, until you can slice it with a sharp knife (serrated steak knives often work best for this) into squares and then lift onto plates with a spatula. It may fall apart... But guess what? It will still taste the same!