We made it! We may have arrived at 4am, but we made it to Vermont. Our new home is more amazing than I could have imagined - the garden is broad and overgrown, the lawn is expansive and half-marsh, there's a duck pond, and lilacs. Oh, the lilacs. There's a chicken coop, a big chicken coop, desperately in need of some scooping, and scrubbing before some ladies can move in. Did I mention the side yard that will one day be turned into the breakfast patio?

And the view?

We've nicknamed the new place based on what we know of previous renters and the yard: Goat Willow Estate. (The last tenant had some goats.) Things are settling down, we're settling in and it feels as though we're eating better than ever. We've moved in with two of our friends who are both excellent cooks. I believe I've already mentioned Cynthia and her cookie making method, here she is in action:

What's that in the blurry box that she's measuring into her hand? Baking soda.

Oats.

These cookies are badass. Just like Cynthia.

Food quality's been on a roller coaster lately: today there was delicious, lovingly prepared couscous and kale and yesterday there was a bag of Pirate's Booty, Peanut M&M's, and some Vitamin Water. In fact, that's sort of what life's been like lately, and while it's true that life's full of these ups and downs this time it's a little more severe. All my projects were on track, they were big, they were exciting, they were real - not like those projects I just said I was going to finish. I was proud and motivated. Then my dad was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma. The doctor is optimistic, dad is optimistic, I'm optimistic, but optimism doesn't magically lessen his pain or magically transport me home.

So I sulk, I thrash around the house, I putter, I watch a lot of movies and TV on Netflix. This entry of Multiple Myeloma into my life feels like it's a secret, like one of those things that isn't real unless I talk about it. Today I've got a little recap of foods I've made since last we spoke and my favorite cookie recipe to share.

Samosas!

Homemade curry powder made after a trip to Dunkin Donuts!

This is where the curry powder ended up: dal! This must be almost a gallon of lentils, we ate about three quarts before we just couldn't eat any more.

Our prettiest loaf of No-Knead bread yet!

Cookies were an integral part of my youth. My mom's Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies are well known around my old elementary school. Friends used to come over just for the cookies. I've developed my own standard version of the Chocolate Chip Cookie, it's adapted from The Moosewood Restaurant's New Classics and from my friend Cynthia's method. (I say "method" as opposed to "recipe" because she's an eye-baller, you know, "Meeeeh, abooooout this much.")

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Coconut Cookies

3/4 c. butter

1 c. dark brown sugar, packed

2 eggs

1 1/2 c. unbleached white flour

3/4 c. whole wheat pastry flour

1/2-3/4 c. rolled oats

1/4-1/2 c. flaked coconut

1 t. baking soda

1/2 t. cinnamon

1 t. salt

2 t. vanilla extract

2 c. chocolate chips

2 T. water

Preheat oven to 375.

Cream the butter and sugar together until smooth, then beat in the eggs until blended. Add flours, baking soda, salt and cinnamon and mix well. Add oats, coconut, chocolate chips, and vanilla, mix well. If the dough feels too dry or doesn't want to hold together mix in the water.

Scoop the dough into 2-3" balls and place on cookie sheet, bake for up to 10 minutes, checking after 8. The edges should be light brown and the tops golden.

For some variation: use light brown sugar and dried cranberries instead of chocolate chips. They're also delicious with extra coconut.

Last week was lazy. I only amounted to making shortbread, half of which George ate in two days and the other half was given away. It was the sort of shortbread that I took a bite of, put my piece down - saving it for later, but when I went back it was gone. This week's a little more productive, there's actual food and more cookies.

- Kale & Red Pepper Strudel

- Pesto

- Bagels

- Rugelach

My heart was initially only in it for the cookies, but after having to scrounge and scramble for lunches last week I could commit to making something real this time around. Spending these Sundays making things to take for lunch, eat for snack, and sometimes even again for dinner is truly a life-saver. Without it I eat toast three times a day and call them meals, I end up snacking on more and more cake at work, I rely on milk and coffee to propel me through the day, and pasta – lots of pasta for dinner, and sometimes there's sauce.

I've never used phyllo (filo, fillo) dough for anything. It's flaky, it's used for strudels, baklava, Spanikopita. That's about the extent of what I know about it. This Kale & Red Pepper Strudel is like Spanikopita but with a different set of vegetables and cheeses. Here's what I've learned about phyllo dough: it's really thin and delicate. It's so delicate that when I unrolled the package I thought the dough was actually parchment around the dough. I can't imagine making this stuff from scratch. I've also learned that it's a bit of a pain in the ass. It's so thin it's like it almost doesn't exist. How is this not going to completely fall apart? I layed out the dough as directed: on a 10” x 14” sheet pan, and oiled between every two layers. Then I put the filling in the middle and supposedly could fold up the edges of the dough to hold in the filling and then place the rest of the dough on top like a little dough hat. This wasn't exactly the case and wasn't going to go well – I could feel it.

I finished assembling and then I made a bold move: I trusted my instincts. When I make a recipe for the first time I'm sort of stick in the mud and I like to follow the recipe – blindly trusting that whoever wrote it in the first place isn't leading me down a path of frustration to disappointment. I like to think that following the written recipe will give me a basic understanding of what's supposed to happen and how things are supposed to go, and then, armed with that knowledge I can make whatever it is better. (Yes, I believe I can make it better. Every. Single. Time.) Today, though, I deviated. The dough was only 9” x 13”, it wasn't folding up over the filling well, it was absolutely going to spill out all over the pan and burn and be ugly. It wasn't going to happen on my watch, not today. I buttered my 9” x 13” Pyrex, I place it over the assembled strudel and flipped it all over. That's right, I put it into a smaller pan with taller edges than the recipe told me to.

This is the larger lesson I've been working on lately: to trust myself. It's like baking cake (everything is like baking cake for me, these days,) regardless of how long that carrot cake's been in the oven if the knife comes out with a few crumbs and it doesn't spring back when I gently press on the top – it's not done. If I can't remember whether the vegan pumpkin cupcakes should get a little more than one scoop or not but am pretty they should because the vegan chocolate cupcakes do – they probably do. If the cassaroley thing looks like it's going to turn into a huge cheesey mess if left on the baking sheet that the recipe told me to use – it's probably going to turn into a huge cheesey mess. After cooking for myself for 10 years, I'm proud to say that I've learned a few things, things I trust and know to be true from experience.

Maybe it was the pesto making that set me up for the crazy move to use a different pan than specified. The temperatures in Asheville are reaching down in the 30s at night and while we've been neglecting the garden for a least a month, George was good enough to harvest the rest of basil before it was too late. We had about 10 cups of basil and no recollection of which pesto recipe we used last time, I just knew it was really good and it wasn't from The Moosewood or Joy. We then assumed it was from Best Recipes in the World, but pesto wasn't even in the index. I told George he was in charge of the pesto and to make it however he liked. I was nervous, trying to be helpful without being a squasher*. It was difficult. In the end, I'm happy to say that the pesto turned out deliciously.

Pesto

10 c. fresh basil leaves

2/3 c. pine nuts

1/3 c. walnuts

1 c. grated Parmesan

1 c. olive oil

salt to taste

Put everything except the oil into a food processor, pulse a few times to start combining the ingredients. Turn the processor on and add the oil through the feed tube stopping to scrape down the sides if necessary.

So the rugelach. It's a Jewish cookie which is more like a pastry. Butter and cream cheese are cut into the flour and there's a little wet (I used half & half) to hold it together. It's rolled out and chilled in the freezer for half an hour - a crucial part, I assure you. After it's good and cold, cinnamon and sugar are sprinkled on, followed by chopped walnuts, sometimes raisins, sometimes chocolate, I used almonds. Next you roll the dough up into a swirly, cinnamony log and cut each cookie about an inch wide and chill them in the freezer for another 15 minutes - a crucial part, I assure you. It's like making the pie dough flaky - the cold butter serves as a place holder for the air space between the layers of flour. If the butter is allowed to melt into the flour prematurely the cookies will come out flatter and sadder, but just as tasty.

(I was going to take a picture showing the difference between cookies chilled long and enough and not long enough, but we ate all the sad ones first.)

* squasher: one who prevents fun