Today I took a hesitant, nervous walk down memory lane. Just last week, I enrolled myself in The Beckett School of Music in Kitchener, hoping to reacquaint myself with my trumpet, which has silently accumulated a layer of dust in my closet.
It has been over four years since I have seriously played. Previously, I had studied music in University, spending hours cooped up in a practice room, playing until it felt like my lips would fall off. For all the physical pain and monotony of scales, there was nothing quite like the feeling of getting on stage and playing before thousands of people. Fellow band members were closer than family and the exhilaration of hearing a piece come to life was indescribable.
Playing a university level was likely the most challenging hurdle that I've tried to overcome. Within my first lesson, it was discovered that my embouchure ( the use of facial muscles and the shaping of the lips to the mouthpiece of woodwind instruments or the mouthpiece of the brass instruments) was completely wrong. My range of notes I could reach was deemed insufficient. I played too tensely. I attacked the notes. Before long, my fortitude crumbled and I began to doubt myself as a musician. It was because of these reasons, that I gently put my trumpet back in its case, closed the lid, and shoved it to not only the back of my closet, but to the back of my mind. For four years my trumpet sat there, only to be dragged out dutifully for Christmas and Easter celebrations at church.
However, the part of me that was passionate about the art of music never died. Those feelings lay dormant inside of me. I believe if it wasn't for J, who told me time and again, to not let that talent die, I would never have unearthed my instrument. And today, I did it. I could barely eat all day. All I could think of was my lesson, looming ahead of me.
I sat on a hard pew bench within the school, my palms sweaty, waiting for my teacher (who turned out to be late). I could smell the metallic of brass, the dusty sheet music, the valve oil spilled on old carpets, and it was euphoric. The lesson was 45 minutes long - probably the fastest 45 minutes of my life. I had been prepared for the worst. I was ready to hear things re-iterated about my lack of skill. My teacher, on the other hand, had high words of praise, deeming me "quite an accomplished player" by the end of the lesson. Of course there are kinks and quirks to work out of the system. My teacher acknowledged that yes, my embouchure was different than perfect form, however, not unable to be worked with. My range was somewhat limited, but the clarity of my notes was excellent. It was true that I somewhat attacked the notes, but my style was lyrical and full of emotion.
I left the lesson today, walking on a cloud. Taking back what I have lost will be a lot of work. My trumpet, though, now sits in the middle of my bedroom floor, where I will have to step over it every time as a constant reminder.
(Want to check out some amazing female trumpet players: Alison Balsom: www.alisonbalsom.com; Tine Thing Helseth: www.teinthinghelseth.com; Cindy Bradley: www.cindybradley.com)
Friday, June 10, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Stylist Sisters
Most people would say that they have a close relationship with their hairstylist. Some would view their stylist as a friend, a confidant, even a therapist. They are the one person who you can count on to not only massage your scalp, style your hair, and update your looks, but also to give you completely undivided attention and a listening ear.
I'm lucky enough to have approximately six stylists like that. Having worked as a hairstylist myself, it's only natural that a fair number of my friends are also my former co-workers. These girls have been there for me during the normal and the mundane, but also for the shining moments:
Last night, I had the opportunity to sit in the stylist chair and let Cristina work her magic on my hair. It's always a strange feeling for me to be the "client" and not the "stylist" at the salon where I previously worked. (Check it out here: www.grottohairstudio.ca and www.youtube.com/user/grottostratford ) At the same time, however, it's like no time has passed. We talk "shop." We gossip. We laugh together. We pray. Sometimes we cry.
These girls, who are more sisters to me than anything else, are timeless friends.
I'm lucky enough to have approximately six stylists like that. Having worked as a hairstylist myself, it's only natural that a fair number of my friends are also my former co-workers. These girls have been there for me during the normal and the mundane, but also for the shining moments:
Last night, I had the opportunity to sit in the stylist chair and let Cristina work her magic on my hair. It's always a strange feeling for me to be the "client" and not the "stylist" at the salon where I previously worked. (Check it out here: www.grottohairstudio.ca and www.youtube.com/user/grottostratford ) At the same time, however, it's like no time has passed. We talk "shop." We gossip. We laugh together. We pray. Sometimes we cry.
These girls, who are more sisters to me than anything else, are timeless friends.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Noah's Wife
For our Young Adults Worship Night coming up, we are focusing on some of the miracles within our everyday Bible stories. So often, we, as Christians, take for granted the amazing complexity of the miracles that God has preformed in our forefathers. My task is to reveal the supernatural phenomenon of Noah's flood through a perspective not often thought of - Noah's wife:
THE STORY OF NOAH’S ARK FROM HIS WIFE’S PERSPECTIVE
"For one hundred and twenty years we were scorned. Imagine! One hundred and twenty years! Aaah...it was the best of times, it was the worst of time. (pauses)
My poor husband couldn’t even walk to the market without mockery being hurled at him across the market square. “Hey, Noah! When’s this rainstorm supposed to be coming?” “What do you have there, Noah? More building supplies for your ark?” Still, my husband managed to hold his head high and bravely spoke of the Lord’s coming destruction.
My three sons? (sighs) Oh my poor children! There was a time at the beginning when all the neighbour kids would flock around them, interested in the “building project” that my boys’ father was constructing. It didn’t take long, though, until the children’s parents warned them to stay away from my sons and the monstrous shell of a boat that towered in our fields. Yet, as the years passed on, my sons clung to the promises of the rain and the revenge of our most holy God. I’m amazed, to this day, at the Lord’s goodness for keeping our sons faithful to Him.
As for me, well, there is nothing quite like the gossip of women! And oh, how it spreads! When Noah first started to build the ark, most of the women in my social circle just dismissed it as another “manly” building project. However, once the frame for the ark started to take shape, it threw a shadow over my friendships. I always knew when my family was being talked about, because as I would walk to the well each morning, the other women would stop to stare at me, whisper to each other, smirking as they quickly shuffled out of my way.
It was as if we had a disease! They were hard times, but times that definitely brought us closer together as a family, and closer to God. I smile now when I think of the way we boldly proclaimed the inevitable destruction that God was going to bring upon mankind. We had no shame.
No matter how hard and long we preached to our neighbours, nothing seemed to sink in. It was draining. There was nothing that we wanted more than for our former friends to believe that God’s punishment was coming!
It was an ordinary day when Noah and I awoke to the strangest of sounds. Imagine our disbelief when we looked out our window and saw animals of every kind, spreading out as far as the eye could see, all heading towards our boat. Imagine how it felt when the first rain drops started to fall! Up until that time, we never knew what rain was!
We were ecstatic! God was fulfilling His promise! And yet...I couldn’t help but feel sorrow wash over me as I thought of all our neighbours! Noah and I grew up with some of these people! For close to 600 years we had all toiled and worked the earth together...and now, their evilness had brought upon THIS. (sighs)
I can still hear the echoing thud of the ark’s door as it shut. The chaos of hungry animals and the pelting rain above us could not drown out the cries from outside the ark as the waters rose. What was even worse was the deafening silence after a mere hour of rainfall. I shudder to think of what it must have looked like beyond the sturdy walls of our ark.
It was over a year before we ever saw or walked upon dry ground again. My feet were wobbly as I stepped out of the ark, unsure of the muddy ground beneath my feet. We were exhausted. And yet, in that desolate landscape, all Noah could do was kiss the ground and sing praises to our God. We even erected an altar to thank our Lord for being faithful to us. Just when we were thinking that God could not provide us with any more miracles, we were dazzled by the most beautiful one of all!
The sky was awash with vivid reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues and violets that stretched from east to west. I remember looking at Noah and seeing the glow of this miracle reflected in his face. I recall kicking off my sandals, raising my arms as if to embrace the hues arched above me, and laughing. I twirled around, feeling the mud squish through my toes – thinking it was the most beautiful feeling I had ever felt. And there, on the top of that mountain where we rested, I fell to my knees and thanked God for His faithfulness and His breath-taking hope."
THE STORY OF NOAH’S ARK FROM HIS WIFE’S PERSPECTIVE
"For one hundred and twenty years we were scorned. Imagine! One hundred and twenty years! Aaah...it was the best of times, it was the worst of time. (pauses)
My poor husband couldn’t even walk to the market without mockery being hurled at him across the market square. “Hey, Noah! When’s this rainstorm supposed to be coming?” “What do you have there, Noah? More building supplies for your ark?” Still, my husband managed to hold his head high and bravely spoke of the Lord’s coming destruction.
My three sons? (sighs) Oh my poor children! There was a time at the beginning when all the neighbour kids would flock around them, interested in the “building project” that my boys’ father was constructing. It didn’t take long, though, until the children’s parents warned them to stay away from my sons and the monstrous shell of a boat that towered in our fields. Yet, as the years passed on, my sons clung to the promises of the rain and the revenge of our most holy God. I’m amazed, to this day, at the Lord’s goodness for keeping our sons faithful to Him.
As for me, well, there is nothing quite like the gossip of women! And oh, how it spreads! When Noah first started to build the ark, most of the women in my social circle just dismissed it as another “manly” building project. However, once the frame for the ark started to take shape, it threw a shadow over my friendships. I always knew when my family was being talked about, because as I would walk to the well each morning, the other women would stop to stare at me, whisper to each other, smirking as they quickly shuffled out of my way.
It was as if we had a disease! They were hard times, but times that definitely brought us closer together as a family, and closer to God. I smile now when I think of the way we boldly proclaimed the inevitable destruction that God was going to bring upon mankind. We had no shame.
No matter how hard and long we preached to our neighbours, nothing seemed to sink in. It was draining. There was nothing that we wanted more than for our former friends to believe that God’s punishment was coming!
It was an ordinary day when Noah and I awoke to the strangest of sounds. Imagine our disbelief when we looked out our window and saw animals of every kind, spreading out as far as the eye could see, all heading towards our boat. Imagine how it felt when the first rain drops started to fall! Up until that time, we never knew what rain was!
We were ecstatic! God was fulfilling His promise! And yet...I couldn’t help but feel sorrow wash over me as I thought of all our neighbours! Noah and I grew up with some of these people! For close to 600 years we had all toiled and worked the earth together...and now, their evilness had brought upon THIS. (sighs)
I can still hear the echoing thud of the ark’s door as it shut. The chaos of hungry animals and the pelting rain above us could not drown out the cries from outside the ark as the waters rose. What was even worse was the deafening silence after a mere hour of rainfall. I shudder to think of what it must have looked like beyond the sturdy walls of our ark.
It was over a year before we ever saw or walked upon dry ground again. My feet were wobbly as I stepped out of the ark, unsure of the muddy ground beneath my feet. We were exhausted. And yet, in that desolate landscape, all Noah could do was kiss the ground and sing praises to our God. We even erected an altar to thank our Lord for being faithful to us. Just when we were thinking that God could not provide us with any more miracles, we were dazzled by the most beautiful one of all!
The sky was awash with vivid reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues and violets that stretched from east to west. I remember looking at Noah and seeing the glow of this miracle reflected in his face. I recall kicking off my sandals, raising my arms as if to embrace the hues arched above me, and laughing. I twirled around, feeling the mud squish through my toes – thinking it was the most beautiful feeling I had ever felt. And there, on the top of that mountain where we rested, I fell to my knees and thanked God for His faithfulness and His breath-taking hope."
Friday, March 4, 2011
Twenty-Three Years!
Not too many people can say they've had the same best friend for the past 23 years. But, today I want to celebrate just that! She has been with me through thick and thin - through our toddler years, into grade school, the awkward high school years, the newness of university, and now, as we both celebrate married life together!
Here are some pictures of our many adventures together over the years:
Happy 24th birthday, my friend! Tonight - let's raise a glass to another 23 years of being BFFs!
Here are some pictures of our many adventures together over the years:
Happy 24th birthday, my friend! Tonight - let's raise a glass to another 23 years of being BFFs!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Bread of Perfection
The golden loaves glowed on my counter top. The comforting aroma of freshly baked bread saturated my kitchen. I couldn't help but feel a little proud as I stood back from the sweltering oven, hands on my hips, and admired my most recent culinary triumph.
The bread was still hot when I sliced thick slabs off, smothered in butter and raspberry jam. Perfection on my plate.
Before I took my first bite, I heard His voice.
"I am the bread of life." He whispered.
Thoughtfully, I chewed upon sustenance, both physical and spiritual:
John 6:48-51 "I am the bread of life. Your forefathers ate the manna in the desert, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that comes down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh which I will give for the life of the world."
My forefathers and I are one and the same. So often, I am content to scrape an existence in the arid desert, comfortable with consuming heaps of manna. From my plate of hard, wafer-like morsels, I can barely lift my eyes to the heavens to taste the Living Bread, broken for me. Instead, I focus on finding, striving, inventing any little way that I can make the manna lying at my feet taste sweet. My efforts to satiate my gnawing hunger is in vain, and it isn't long before my hands grasp at those pieces of manna once again. I cling to those hardened crumbs, forgetful of their failure to sustain me. Oh, I am such a manna eater!
The slop of this world clings to my lips in the form of manna, yet the most beautiful invitation is extended to me, to those who echo the footsteps of the Israelite forefathers. If I stop for but a moment from my vain efforts to sweeten my life on my own, the smell of Perfect Risen Bread wafts down from Heaven and envelopes me.
The taste of manna lies heavy and dry within my being, and yet, I hunger for this Bread - this broken Bread that the very crumbs I am unworthy to eat. With each moment I spend breathing in the Holy Sustenance, I experience the Life living within me. Paltry and measly is the plate of manna that I had been "feasting" upon before. Any traces of my desert fare, I wipe away.
Before me, the table is set. With His nail-printed palms spread, the Inviter entreats me to His simple banquet. With those same mangled hands, He breaks the Living Bread: "Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good."
The bread was still hot when I sliced thick slabs off, smothered in butter and raspberry jam. Perfection on my plate.
Before I took my first bite, I heard His voice.
"I am the bread of life." He whispered.
Thoughtfully, I chewed upon sustenance, both physical and spiritual:
John 6:48-51 "I am the bread of life. Your forefathers ate the manna in the desert, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that comes down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh which I will give for the life of the world."
My forefathers and I are one and the same. So often, I am content to scrape an existence in the arid desert, comfortable with consuming heaps of manna. From my plate of hard, wafer-like morsels, I can barely lift my eyes to the heavens to taste the Living Bread, broken for me. Instead, I focus on finding, striving, inventing any little way that I can make the manna lying at my feet taste sweet. My efforts to satiate my gnawing hunger is in vain, and it isn't long before my hands grasp at those pieces of manna once again. I cling to those hardened crumbs, forgetful of their failure to sustain me. Oh, I am such a manna eater!
The slop of this world clings to my lips in the form of manna, yet the most beautiful invitation is extended to me, to those who echo the footsteps of the Israelite forefathers. If I stop for but a moment from my vain efforts to sweeten my life on my own, the smell of Perfect Risen Bread wafts down from Heaven and envelopes me.
The taste of manna lies heavy and dry within my being, and yet, I hunger for this Bread - this broken Bread that the very crumbs I am unworthy to eat. With each moment I spend breathing in the Holy Sustenance, I experience the Life living within me. Paltry and measly is the plate of manna that I had been "feasting" upon before. Any traces of my desert fare, I wipe away.
Before me, the table is set. With His nail-printed palms spread, the Inviter entreats me to His simple banquet. With those same mangled hands, He breaks the Living Bread: "Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good."
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Faithfulness Shines Through My Window
It's the sacred time between inky blackness and muted morning. Quietness shrouds the house. The hustle and bustle of breakfast and getting J out the door for work has lulled. In the chilly morning air, I've waved from the door, watching J's car slowly pull out of the drive. I follow with my eyes until I can't see his car anymore, only the pools of red reflecting on the pavement as he brakes for the stoplight. And then he's gone. Quietly, I close the door.
The remnants of a busy morning are scattered. Dishes in the sink, J's towel slung lazily over the bathroom door, the bed unmade. I close my eyes to the clutter and head to the living room.
It's always the same corner of the couch each morning. I wrap my hands around a steaming mug of coffee, bundled beneath a cozy afghan. Here, I wait. I listen. For Him.
The view out my window shows fog pulling its whispery fingers away from rooftops. The murky gray and blue shadows blend into blushed yellows and pinks. There is no shadow of turning with Thee. Each morning the sunrise is different. But each morning, it's a gift from Him that I see unfolded through panes of glass.
Spoken words flow as I pour out my full heart to my Lord, my Renewer of Every Morning. Morning by morning, new mercies I see!
From His Love Letter, I read - His voice reverberating through my fingertips, my mind as I caress each word. As the daylight grows stronger, I gently close His Letter, nurturing His truths in my heart. Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow!
I breathe in the stillness before the routine of my day sets in. Thank You, O God my Father! Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!
Now - I am ready.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Stomach + Heart = Love
I'm a sucker for Valentine's Day. I totally buy into the notions and myths of chubby little cupid with his bow and arrows, tacky heart decorations, flowers, love letters etc...Since yesterday was our first Valentine's together as a married couple, we wanted to make it a little extra special.
For me, all the loving started last week when J came home with my new beloved can opener and chocolates! On Friday he came home carrying a bouquet of 12 long stem roses...absolutely breath-taking!
With painstaking creative genius, on Saturday afternoon J presented me with this:
I was thoroughly impressed! As an engineer, for J to get all "arts and craftsy" was a big leap out of his comfort zone! (Might I add that he even composed the little poem Even though the seasons change, my love for you remains the same.) I was definitely swept off my feet!
However, I was in a frenzy as to what I should do for J for Valentine's Day. Let's face it - Valentine's Day really isn't a day that was invented for men. Unlike myself, J has not bought into the whims and fancies of lavish bouquets and copious love letters. If I were to give him the same beautiful arrangement of roses that he gave me, I know for a fact that his reaction would not be nearly as satisfying as mine. Instead, the age old saying "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" led me to the kitchen, where I was sure that a tasty culinary creation would melt J's very heart strings.
I started first off with making Raspberry Crumble Bars:
Raspberry Crumble Bars
3 cups all purpose flour
1 1/2 cups sugar, divided
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup shortening
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 tablespoon cornstarch
4 cups fresh or frozen raspberries
- In a large bowl, combing the flour, 1 cup sugar, baking powder, salt and cinnamon. Cut in shortening until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in eggs and extract. Press two-thirds of the mixture into a greased 9x13 baking dish.
- In a large bowl, combine cornstarch and remaining sugar; add berries and gently toss. Spoon over crust. Sprinkle with remaining crumb mixture.
- Bake at 375 for 35-45 minutes, or until bubbly and golden brown.
I give these bars two thumbs up! The raspberries keep it fresh and tangy, but the addition of almond extract gives it a rich, buttery flavour that melts in your mouth! Perfect with a cup of strong coffee!
I spent the better half of my day preparing for our meal. Thanks to Taste of Home website, I was able to find delicious Valentine's recipes for two.
We started our meal off with Cranberry Almond Salad with Raspberry Vinaigrette:
Cranberry Almond Salad with Raspberry Vinaigrette
enough mixed spring salad greens for 2 people
sliced mushrooms
dried cranberries
1 tablespoon chopped onion
slivered almonds
Raspberry Vinaigrette dressing:
1/4 cup of olive oil
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon raspberry preserves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon pepper
This salad was nice and light. I was pleasantly surprised with how the dressing turned out. At frist, I thought that it may have had too much olive oil, but I chilled it for a few hours, and the raspberry flavour seemed to infuse quite nicely with the rest of the ingredients.
Followed by our salad, we had Steaks with Molasses-Glazed Onions, Twice Baked-Baked Potatoes, and mixed veggies.
Steaks with Molasses-Glazed Onions
2 bacon strips, diced
2 beef top sirloin steaks (6 ounces each)
1/2 teaspoon salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon pepper, divided
1 large sweet onion, thinly sliced
1 1/2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
1/2 teaspoon molasses
- In a large skillet, cook bacon over medium heat until crisp. Remove the bacon; drain the skillet, reserving 1 1/2 teaspoons drippings in the skillet and 1 1/2 teaspoons drippings in a small bowl.
- Sprinkle steaks with 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. In the skillet, cook steaks over medium heat for 4-6 minutes on each side, or until meat reaches desired doneness. Remove and keep warm.
- Add onion and reserved drippings to the skillet; saute until tender. Add the vinegar, molasses and remaining salt and pepper; heat through. Serve onion mixture with steaks; sprinkle with bacon.
The topping on the steaks was absolutely divine! The onions tasted almost like caramel, with a hint of spicy tang. I will definitely be making this recipe again!
Twice Baked-Baked Potatoes
2 medium baking potatoes
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup 2% milk
1 bacon strip, cooked and crumbled
1 tablespoon finely chopped onion
1 teaspoon minced chives
1/4 teaspoon salt
dash of pepper
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese, divided
- Bake potatoes at 37 for 1 hour or until tender. When cool enough to handle, cut a thin slice off the top of each potato and discard. Scoop out pulp, leaving a thin shell.
- In a small bowl, mash the pulp with butter. Stir in the milk, bacon, onion, chives, salt, pepper and 1/3 cup cheese. Spoon into potato shells. Top with remaining cheese.
- Place on baking sheet. Bake at 375 for 20-25 minutes or until cheese is melted.
These potatoes were to die for! Creamy, rich goodness within a crispy shell, baked to cheesy perfection! Yum!
Let's just say J was extremely excited for his meal:
We finished our meal off with Poached Pears with Raspberry Sauce:
Poached Pears with Raspberry Sauce
1 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup white wine, or white cranberry juice
2 medium pears, peeled and halved
3 tablespoons seedless raspberry spreadable fruit
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
fresh raspberries to garnish
- In a small saucepan, bring the water, sugar and wine to a boil. Reduce heat; carefully add pears. Cover and simmer for -10 minutes or until tender. Remove pears and reserve cooking liquid.
- In a small bowl, combine spreadable fruit and vanilla. Stir in enough cooking liquid to form a sauce consistency. Cover and refrigerate sauce and pears separately until chilled.
- Remove sauce from the refrigerator 15 minutes before serving. Place two pear halves on each dessert plate; top with sauce. Garnish with raspberries.
This dessert was the perfect end to our meal - sweet and light, with a satisfying hint of vanilla flavouring.
At the end of the night, I think the saying holds true - the stomach, when happily fed, will heartily love. At least for my man it does. Mission accomplished.
For me, all the loving started last week when J came home with my new beloved can opener and chocolates! On Friday he came home carrying a bouquet of 12 long stem roses...absolutely breath-taking!
With painstaking creative genius, on Saturday afternoon J presented me with this:
I was thoroughly impressed! As an engineer, for J to get all "arts and craftsy" was a big leap out of his comfort zone! (Might I add that he even composed the little poem Even though the seasons change, my love for you remains the same.) I was definitely swept off my feet!
However, I was in a frenzy as to what I should do for J for Valentine's Day. Let's face it - Valentine's Day really isn't a day that was invented for men. Unlike myself, J has not bought into the whims and fancies of lavish bouquets and copious love letters. If I were to give him the same beautiful arrangement of roses that he gave me, I know for a fact that his reaction would not be nearly as satisfying as mine. Instead, the age old saying "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" led me to the kitchen, where I was sure that a tasty culinary creation would melt J's very heart strings.
I started first off with making Raspberry Crumble Bars:
Raspberry Crumble Bars
3 cups all purpose flour
1 1/2 cups sugar, divided
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup shortening
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 tablespoon cornstarch
4 cups fresh or frozen raspberries
- In a large bowl, combing the flour, 1 cup sugar, baking powder, salt and cinnamon. Cut in shortening until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in eggs and extract. Press two-thirds of the mixture into a greased 9x13 baking dish.
- In a large bowl, combine cornstarch and remaining sugar; add berries and gently toss. Spoon over crust. Sprinkle with remaining crumb mixture.
- Bake at 375 for 35-45 minutes, or until bubbly and golden brown.
I give these bars two thumbs up! The raspberries keep it fresh and tangy, but the addition of almond extract gives it a rich, buttery flavour that melts in your mouth! Perfect with a cup of strong coffee!
I spent the better half of my day preparing for our meal. Thanks to Taste of Home website, I was able to find delicious Valentine's recipes for two.
We started our meal off with Cranberry Almond Salad with Raspberry Vinaigrette:
Cranberry Almond Salad with Raspberry Vinaigrette
enough mixed spring salad greens for 2 people
sliced mushrooms
dried cranberries
1 tablespoon chopped onion
slivered almonds
Raspberry Vinaigrette dressing:
1/4 cup of olive oil
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon raspberry preserves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon pepper
This salad was nice and light. I was pleasantly surprised with how the dressing turned out. At frist, I thought that it may have had too much olive oil, but I chilled it for a few hours, and the raspberry flavour seemed to infuse quite nicely with the rest of the ingredients.
Followed by our salad, we had Steaks with Molasses-Glazed Onions, Twice Baked-Baked Potatoes, and mixed veggies.
Steaks with Molasses-Glazed Onions
2 bacon strips, diced
2 beef top sirloin steaks (6 ounces each)
1/2 teaspoon salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon pepper, divided
1 large sweet onion, thinly sliced
1 1/2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
1/2 teaspoon molasses
- In a large skillet, cook bacon over medium heat until crisp. Remove the bacon; drain the skillet, reserving 1 1/2 teaspoons drippings in the skillet and 1 1/2 teaspoons drippings in a small bowl.
- Sprinkle steaks with 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. In the skillet, cook steaks over medium heat for 4-6 minutes on each side, or until meat reaches desired doneness. Remove and keep warm.
- Add onion and reserved drippings to the skillet; saute until tender. Add the vinegar, molasses and remaining salt and pepper; heat through. Serve onion mixture with steaks; sprinkle with bacon.
The topping on the steaks was absolutely divine! The onions tasted almost like caramel, with a hint of spicy tang. I will definitely be making this recipe again!
Twice Baked-Baked Potatoes
2 medium baking potatoes
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup 2% milk
1 bacon strip, cooked and crumbled
1 tablespoon finely chopped onion
1 teaspoon minced chives
1/4 teaspoon salt
dash of pepper
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese, divided
- Bake potatoes at 37 for 1 hour or until tender. When cool enough to handle, cut a thin slice off the top of each potato and discard. Scoop out pulp, leaving a thin shell.
- In a small bowl, mash the pulp with butter. Stir in the milk, bacon, onion, chives, salt, pepper and 1/3 cup cheese. Spoon into potato shells. Top with remaining cheese.
- Place on baking sheet. Bake at 375 for 20-25 minutes or until cheese is melted.
These potatoes were to die for! Creamy, rich goodness within a crispy shell, baked to cheesy perfection! Yum!
Let's just say J was extremely excited for his meal:
We finished our meal off with Poached Pears with Raspberry Sauce:
Poached Pears with Raspberry Sauce
1 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup white wine, or white cranberry juice
2 medium pears, peeled and halved
3 tablespoons seedless raspberry spreadable fruit
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
fresh raspberries to garnish
- In a small saucepan, bring the water, sugar and wine to a boil. Reduce heat; carefully add pears. Cover and simmer for -10 minutes or until tender. Remove pears and reserve cooking liquid.
- In a small bowl, combine spreadable fruit and vanilla. Stir in enough cooking liquid to form a sauce consistency. Cover and refrigerate sauce and pears separately until chilled.
- Remove sauce from the refrigerator 15 minutes before serving. Place two pear halves on each dessert plate; top with sauce. Garnish with raspberries.
This dessert was the perfect end to our meal - sweet and light, with a satisfying hint of vanilla flavouring.
At the end of the night, I think the saying holds true - the stomach, when happily fed, will heartily love. At least for my man it does. Mission accomplished.
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