I’m offering you a special coffee treat to make for all the moms in your life. Because we need it. Because we survive on it. Because we deserve it. One sip of this homemade toasted coconut iced coffee and mom will be momentarily transported to a far-flung island with sand and waves and coconut trees, enjoying sweet, highly caffeinated bliss.
I wanted to kick my breakfast game up a notch, as Emeril Lagasse would say, and invoke the flavors of Bananas Foster. But, I had no desire to be setting things aflame in my kitchen at 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning while just sipping my first cup of coffee.
If you’ve grown tired of your hard-boiled egg options, this year I’m offering you an updated local take on the retro egg salad sandwich. Enter: smoked salmon.
Soft-boiled eggs have been making a culinary comeback in recent years, like a vintage classic given new life. However, home cooks tend to be as intimidated of them as poached eggs. I get it. I’ve been intimidated of them my entire life.
I’ve long been a fan of cornmeal in sweet preparations. It’s a habit I picked up from my grandmother who loves to bake fresh blueberries into her buttery cornbread. Today, I’m offering you some delightfully moist cornmeal muffins with blood orange and rosemary.
When I get home from working in the kitchen, I’m eager to wash off the food smells and get off my feet. And then the last thing I want to do is cook. I crave something simple and low-maintenance with a little bit of comfort thrown in.
I can imagine no better Mother’s Day than waking to breakfast in bed prepared by my pajama-clad clan including handwritten notes, strong mugs of coffee, one of my most favorite recipes, big hugs and kisses, and a memorable gift all enjoyed over a leisurely, snuggly morning.
The bread is toasted and golden now, filling the cabin with undeniable aroma of French toast. One slice goes down on the plate, promptly smeared with sweetened cream cheese and layered with fresh strawberries, then topped with another steaming hot slice. The cream cheese begins to fall over the edges, the strawberries peeking out. I dust the plate with powdered sugar like a light snowfall and take it to the table where the syrup is waiting and the light is still pouring in, reflecting back at me in pools of maple.
When I’m at my local library or bookstore, you can most often find me in the cookbook section. Shocker, I know. When I pore over a cookbook, I’m looking for more than just recipe inspiration. I’m taking in the food photography and styling. I’m soaking up the fine design details like the fonts and colors. I’m listening to the author’s voice and seeing if it resonates with my own. I’m familiarizing myself with the weight of the paper, the texture of it, the way it smells when the book is opened.