Forget the tea - I want the pastry!

I drink tea, green tea to be specific, but mostly because it's healthier than the coffee I love. But what goes great with either of those beverages is a pastry. My favorite pastry, influenced by my English heritage no doubt, is the scone. The sweetness and crumbling density of it is, to me, one of the ultimate comforts. If my life revolved around cleaning bedrooms and baking my cravings into reality, this is what I would have made today:

And I would whipped up one of these to go with:



Mailing Perfection

I spent the morning in court. After my case was called, I filed a brief I had spent the last few days drafting. The law has cultivated in me a sharp-edged writing, to the point, exact, persuasive. No matter how satisfying an argument may be, the only writing that brings tears to my eyes arrives in the mail (old-fashioned, I know) from someone I love with a message just for me. 

That happened to me yesterday. My brother, Nate, sent me a letter, mostly filled with song lyrics from a shared favorite song, but ending with perfection. I miss you. I love you. 

(Nate and I doing some home demolishing of a '70s-style bar in my parent's basement.)

Today's daydream: a beautiful, hand-written, heart-felt note. If I were at home today, that would be my activity of choice. All I need is some beautiful stationary. Maybe something like this (from ohlouisedesigns on etsy.com):



Fresh from the Oven

I'm not hungry, or at least I wasn't hungry, until today's domestic daydream. My mouth is watering at the memory of a smell, the fresh-from-the-oven-made-at-home bread smell. If I wasn't at the office reading Illinois contempt of court case law, I would be home working on a yeasty concoction that would fill the entire house with that smell.

Back in my newly married days, I took on my mom's recipe for Apple Streusel Bread, which is when I took this picture. (I was so proud it looked like hers that I had to send it to her). As kids we called it the "apple ladder loaf" because of the criss-cross pattern on top. Mmmmm . . . the smell this makes.

In my dreams, I have time to make the dough from scratch, knead it and let it rise. But my mom was always practical. This beautiful bread starts with sweet dough from the freezer section at the grocery store. My little domestic heart was satisfied with peeling and cutting the apples to make the filling. The smell, my friend, is not diminshed with a little help from the local Jewel.