Gingerbread Cheesecake

Gingerbread Cheesecake

gingerbread cheesecake

I never want to eat again.

I don't want to eat food, make food, or look at it. If I see one more dirty dish, I might just cry. This is a lie and I'm sure I will take it all back tomorrow (though I am very serious about the dishes bit). After spending most of a week feasting and spending endless hours in the kitchen, I'm exhausted. The holiday season has taken its toll on me, as evidenced by my sore feet and expanding waistline. There is no other time in the year where I would consider a bowl of puppy chow and a few sugar cookies a legitimate breakfast. And the season isn't even over yet.

gingerbread cheesecake

I have more leftovers than I care to mention. Try as I might, I can't escape from the cookies, cakes, and sweets. They taunt me from the counter tops. They quietly hide in the refrigerator. They are even stacked up in the garage, becoming the first sight I see when I enter the house and the last before I leave. I have a massive sugar infestation.

... Help me!

Tomorrow I am going to eat a thoroughly healthy breakfast... and then I will break out the cookies and milk. Five more days before the new year (and before I have to feel guilty about it)!

gingerbread cheesecake

I originally made this cheesecake in a 10-inch springform pan but, due to unforeseen and tragic circumstances, this is not what the fates had in mind. May it never be said that I cannot salvage a cheesecake. As it turns out, these gingerbread cheesecakes are delicious in bite-sized proportions. The gingerbread flavor is loud and proud, though the sour cream topping keeps it in check. It's dense, it's delicious. Do yourself a favor and make this before the holiday season officially ends.

gingerbread cheesecake

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Sugar Cookies

sugar cookies

I moved back home, got miserably ill, spent several days on the couch, drank gallons of chicken soup, but I'm back! This may be the longest I've gone without posting since... ever. It feels weird. I've missed you.

Even though I've been listening to Christmas music for a solid month, the Christmas season still managed to sneak up on me. I knew it was coming (as we seem to be forcefully reminded every few minutes) and I managed to finish my Christmas shopping weeks in advance. Still, I was blindsided. I woke up this morning and suddenly realized it's less than three days to the Big Day and I haven't done any baking. None. This may be the ultimate sin for a baker. 'Tis the season for gluttony!

santa claus cookie

Every Christmas, for as long as I can remember, my sister and I have made and decorated sugar cookies for Santa. It's a tradition we've kept even now, though we are much older and know all about St. Nick's big secret. I think it is the perfect place to kick off my Christmas baking.

reindeer cookie
red and white cookies

My sister and I have very different decorating styles. I like to pull out the pastry bags, the gel food coloring, a variety of pastry tips, and sit for hours decorating cookies. I tend to get a bit upset when one of my lines is not straight enough or the frosting seeps out of my perfectly outlined shapes. My sister scoffs at this. Her decorating style is to dig into the frosting with a knife, smear it on, throw on a few sprinkles and call it good. She decorates only a handful before getting bored of the elves or reindeer and running off to do something else. I feel slightly ashamed in admitting her cookies look just as deliciously beautiful as my carefully constructed ones.

rocking horse cookies

On Christmas Eve, we gather the crème de la crème of the batch, place them carefully on a plate, and leave them out on the fireplace with a tall glass of milk for Santa. Occasionally my mother will suggest, after eating our Christmas Eve feast, that we should leave out fewer cookies or a smaller glass of milk (you know, because "Santa" will already have hundreds of thousands of cookies to eat tonight). One year my sister thought that it would be a good idea to leave out a cookie for each of the reindeer too. My mother tried to convince us that reindeer didn't like butter and sugar (which I think is a bit of nonsense, everything likes butter and sugar), but her desperate pleas eventually won out.

In the morning, all that's left of our Santa treats are a few crumbs, a good dose of sprinkles, and an empty glass of milk. Sugar cookies have become a well loved tradition in my family, a tradition that I hope will continue as we grow older. Do you have any holiday traditions?

sugar cookies

These sugar cookies are simple and classic. This recipe is easy to work with and produces a clean, even surface for decorating. These cookies are soft and would melt in your mouth if you let them. There is a strong vanilla flavor, which I love, but you can always opt for a less strong cookie, if desired.

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Chocolate Truffles

Chocolate Truffles

chocolate truffles

Moving has always been a bittersweet process for me. It is an ending as much as a beginning, the close of one chapter of my life and the opening of another. In the last five years, I have moved 14 times. Between summer internships, studying abroad, attending university, and moving back home for a month here or there, it adds up. Even as I sit here writing this, I still find it hard to believe. 14 times? How is that even possible?

3 countries, 7 cities, 5 years.

chocolate truffles

Every time I move, I acquire new things to add to my life, whether it be a new pair of shoes, a new tart pan, or a new set of clothes. Every time I move, I have to leave small parts of my life behind. My suitcase is a fixed size. If something new stays, something old must go. To make room for who I have become, I must part with some of the older pieces of myself. It might be a pair of beat up sneakers that were worn when I backpacked through Europe. An overused cookie sheet that produced such baked love during its lifetime. A favorite dress that fit when I was ten pounds lighter.

My suitcase has grown to represent change. Certainly a suitcase embodies an inherent change in setting, of people and places. But for me, my suitcase represents a very deep and personal level of change. My entire life fits neatly into that suitcase. All of my material possessions are held within its zippered walls. Every time I pack it, it shows me a visual representation of the objects that have grown to define me, that I have chosen to define myself. My suitcase shows me where I have been and who I have become.

chocolate truffles

Tomorrow I must say farewell to Montréal to follow my pastry dreams. For once, I'm not ready to leave. I feel like I have unfinished business. I fell in love with this city and the people and culture that surround it. Montreal allowed me to realize my heart wasn't in studying physics. It let me embrace my passion for baking and all things sweet. It gave me a taste of city life and forced me to learn a little French. I think I will miss the metro commutes and the intimate greetings, with a kiss on each cheek, from both strangers and friends most of all.

I have said goodbye to my wonderful friends, my suitcase is packed, and a new chapter of my life is just visible on the horizon. It is time to move on.

I am thankful memories and experiences pack lightly.

Au revoir, Montréal. Vous serez manqué.

chocolate truffles

Chocolate truffles represent much of my current emotions. Though truffles are undeniably decadent, they hold a bittersweet quality. You must break through the bitter, unsweetened cocoa exterior before you can reach the smooth, sweet chocolate interior. Or, in so many words, I have to say my final goodbyes to Montréal, however sad or bitter they may be, before I can embark on a new adventure, a journey filled with sweetness and sugar. So make these truffles to share with friends and family or send them to loved ones far away. Truffles travel well.
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