Avocado toast had something to do with that. For sure.
Breastfeeding too (still) (sigh), Molly’s granola bars, and lovingly packed family dinner leftovers. Proof croissants and Sidecar doughnuts. Coffee. At some point, Stephan learned how to roast a chicken like a real Frenchman and got way into Japanese yams. But let me tell you about my avocado toast first.
That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, with the book off my shelf and much contented sighing, making this Pflaumenkuchen. That’s German for a pillowy yeasted coffee cake topped with plums. Oh, but I had mostly pluots, so really it was a however-you-say-pluots-in-German-kuchen.
Because he is that much fun (see: Wit & Vinegar), Billy says you can have popsicles for breakfast. So here’s your morning cup of coffee, cold and creamy, on a stick.
Ina always makes me think of my mom. She’s a big fan.
I have, of course, been thinking about my mom a lot lately. She’s always been so breezy, so Ina about motherhood. Even with me who, as a child, loved to draw in her cookbooks and hated taking naps. (So naturally, West is a nap-hater, too.)
I keep wondering when I’m going to feel like a mom. These past few months, I’ve felt more like an unranked player in some sweaty, drooly sport, one where you have to hit the ground running and can be knocked out in any round.
So you have to bring snacks.
The farmers market has been so kind to these new parents. I love when everything is so green and dewy and unfussy. (Baby, take note.)
We’ve been having so many omelettes and salads (like so), because most days, that mid-morning/early afternoon meal needs to be something I can make without thinking.
The other day, though, I don’t know if it was a trickle of creative juice or baby drool I was feeling, but I put a bit more into it and out came this frittata.