Dark & Stormy (with Ginger Ale)

Dark & Stormy (with Ginger Ale)

Dark & Stormy (with Ginger Ale)

I have been drawn into the Olympics this summer. Traditionally, I've always enjoyed watching the competitions and learning about (and subsequently getting into) the drama surrounding individual athletes, always rooting for Team USA. However, this time around I am faced with finals week in graduate school; while my head should be buried in books, I find my eyes glued to the television instead. It would be easier to handle if the Olympics didn't make hours of my evening mysteriously disappear, as class notes lay scattered and neglected across my lap.

I just can't miss men's swimming or women's gymnastics.

Dark & Stormy (with Ginger Ale)

Though I do enjoy the summer Olympics, the winter games will always steal my heart. I used to be a figure skater, doing jumps and spins on the ice at the local rink. I wore the expensive skates, the sequined uniforms, and dreaded performances as my nerves would find a way to get the best of me. Now I prefer to watch the world's best instead.

Men's figure skating is my favorite event. There is so much drama surrounding so few athletes and, as I follow their competitions through the years, I'm anxious to see how they match up against one another. During the winter games two years ago, I was so excited for the events I convinced my boyfriend (who knew nothing of men's figure skating or, really, skating in general) to brush up on a few years of history between the competitors before we watched the games together. Not only did he surprise me by recognizing the skaters' skill sets, he spouted off facts and figures even I didn't know.

Perhaps that's how you know you've picked a good one.

Dark & Stormy (with Ginger Ale)

This year I held a little get together at my apartment to watch the opening ceremony. There was spaghetti, cupcakes, and these Dark & Stormy cocktails to go around. We watched the ceremony with countless millions from all over the world, united by a common force of good. I find something magical about the Olympic's ability to bring countries and people closer together.

We toasted to the games and ourselves, as my humble living room grew to accommodate a small part of the world.

Dark & Stormy (with Ginger Ale)

Dark & Stormy cocktails are traditionally made with dark rum and ginger beer, but I prefer the clean fizzy flavor of a good ginger ale. The cocktail is simple to prepare, with three ingredients that do not need to be blended or mixed. With a lemon twist, this cocktail manages complex flavors while staying light and bright. Contrary to its namesake, Dark & Stormy cocktails may also be enjoyed on days that are sunny and golden, when friends and family are near.

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Blackberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake

Blackberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake

Blackberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake

Some days I feel as if I've grown up suddenly, my personality changed and shaped by time and the world around me. It's as if I woke up one morning a different person, but I can't seem to pinpoint what those differences may be. Some days I feel the same as ever, my nature indistinguishable from the eight year old girl who walked to school each day with a heavy backpack on her back. As much as I'd like to believe I've grown into a young woman, it's easy to feel like a child posing as an adult, identifying with the Hollywood films where teenagers wake up to a thirty year old body and realize they can eat as much ice cream as they'd like (or, in my case, cake).

I think the truth lies somewhere in between, a mixture of new characters and old habits evolving over time.

Blackberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake

Some days I do things that embarrass me, mortified by the words that came out of my mouth or an action I took in a moment of uncertainty. In the small moments of personal shame that follow, I vow never to do or say such a thing again. Sometimes I have similar moments with similar circumstances (I am, after all, the same person often making the same mistakes as I strive to change), the desire to grow up and be someone else never more present. Some days I surprise myself, doing something brave or confident and, though it seems out of character for a moment, I wonder if this is what it means to mature and grow a little wiser.

When I go back and watch old family movies, it makes me realize how my true nature really hasn't changed as much as I imagined. As I view the home movies with my family, I'll often comment on what's happening, only to have the much younger version of me make the exact same observation using identical words a moment later. Though I often share a kindred spirit with a younger me, it's eerie to visually see how little I've changed over time, at least in some aspects.

Blackberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake

When I was younger I thought I would be a completely new person as each major stage hit my life. I thought I would feel differently somehow, when I went from elementary school to middle and from middle to high school—older, wiser, less shy, more confident. As each new stage approached, I was left with the realization that I wasn't changed in any significant way than before (except, perhaps, I had grown a little taller).

The changes our natures go through as people, as individuals, as children as much as adults, are so small, so modest, that if you weren't paying attention perhaps you'd never notice the transitions. I catch these minute changes when I no longer shy away from conversations with people I don't know. I uncover them when I do something brave and strong that I would have been intimidated with months or years before. Perhaps I notice them most when meeting with old friends I haven't seen in awhile, realizing how different we've both become.

Today, I may be a completely different person than I was yesterday. I think, however, that it's for the better.

Blackberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake

This Blackberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake is a gift to share with friends and family. The cake is moist and light, with a hint of ginger and an abundance of blackberries. The cake is topped with a crumble topping, which lends a bright, sweet brown sugar flavor to the slightly tart berries. With a dusting of powdered sugar, this cake makes a lovely addition to a summer evening.

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French Silk Pie

French Silk Pie

French Silk Pie

In high school, for one brief day, I fancied myself a pastry chef. There was no reason for me to believe this bold statement; this was four years before I discovered a passion for baking (and six years before I baked professionally). Even so, as a friend and I were sitting bored on the couch on a Saturday afternoon, I imagined inventing new recipes couldn't be that hard. Up until this point, my only experience with baking was with box mixes, but I didn't let this simple, though glaring, fact deter me.

Not when I was craving strawberry pie, anyway.

French Silk Pie

My friend and I set out to engineer our own strawberry pie from scratch. For the crust, we pulled out butter, flour, and sugar, wildly throwing amounts into a mixing bowl without regard to measurements (or consulting a real recipe). The dough was greasy and sticky but, with a little elbow grease and a lot of flour, we managed to roll it out into two round circles. It wasn't perfect, but it gave us the confidence we needed to move on to the next step. See? I told you this wouldn't be hard, I remarked to my friend.

We grabbed a package of frozen strawberries for the filling. I wondered how I could elevate the simple pie. Chocolate, I thought wistfully. Chocolate covered strawberries were delicious, so shouldn't they be delicious in a pie? I relayed this to my friend and she agreed. Though unusual, we had high hopes for our little pie. We filled the bottom crust with filling, but, as the juice from the thawing strawberries pooled in the bottom of the pie pan, we thought it may need something more. Would marshmallows soak up the juice? Maybe. We threw a few in for good measure and sealed the top crust with the remaining dough.

French Silk Pie

As it baked in the oven, the house began to swirl with wonderful scents of butter and strawberries affirming our sincere, but completely wrong belief that baking could be done without recipes or any honest knowledge of how ingredients interact to create sinful treats. The first warning sign came when the top crust held the unusual shape of the marshmallows that jutted out from beneath, leaving us to wonder if the marshmallows simply weren't melting. The second warning sign came when the top crust was completely browned only twenty minutes into the oven. Did pies bake in only twenty minutes?, we wondered. Maybe. We pulled the pie from the oven, let it cool for an agonizing length of time, and finally cut into our masterpiece.

The pie immediately sunk. Once the first piece was removed, the strawberry juice began to pool in the bottom of the pan. Our marshmallow trick hadn't worked, it seemed. We hesitantly took our first bites. Though the top crust was overdone, the bottom crust hadn't even begun to bake, leaving raw dough to form the base of the pie. The strawberries were good, but the chocolate flavor wasn't right and the hint of marshmallows was really too much. My friend managed two bites before tossing it out; I managed three.

It seems we weren't quite the pastry chefs we imagined. Despite this obvious setback, I have gotten much better at baking and inventing recipes since then, thank goodness. This French Silk Pie is a little dream, completely worth the effort of putting it together and waiting for it to emerge from the refrigerator in it's subtle, but charming glory.

French Silk Pie

French Silk Pie is a classic for good reason. A flaky pie crust is filled with a seemingly impossible smooth chocolate mousse and chilled until the mousse sets and the flavors develop. The chocolate mousse is just rich enough for this pie to taste sinful and chilled enough to make for a fitting summer dessert. Topped with whipped cream and chocolate curls, this is a pie to share with the boys (and girls) in your life.

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