Earlier this week when Mavis posted a recipe for chocolate peanut butter shortbread squares, I was suddenly reminded about her other recipe—a recipe for peanut butter and jelly bars—that I was going to tell you about but then promptly forgot .

Well, not exactly promptly, I suppose. I did make the bars, twice. Photographed them twice, too. But then my camera broke and a bunch of other distractions wedged themselves between the peanut butter bars and my keyboard and that was that. Until Mavis kindly reminded me, that is.

Funny thing is, I’m not crazy about these peanut butter jelly bars. They are good, yes, and I’ve eaten (more than) my fair share of them, but I wasn’t all hog-snortin’ wild about them. And I don’t make it a practice to write about recipes that I’m not hog wild about. However, the children went bloomin’ nuts over those bars.

The first time I made them, our house was filled with a higher-than-average number of children. Almost as soon as I sliced the bars, the kids were crowed around the table, begging and eating and reaching and eating, like you never did see.

One little friend got rather repetitive in expressing her appreciation for them. “These cookies are really good,” she said. “You need to give my mom the recipe.”

pause

“I like these cookies a lot. You should give the recipe to my mom.”

pause

“These are yummy. Can you give the recipe to my mom?”

(I never did give the recipe to her mom.) (Until now.)

The bars are like granola bars, but with a cleaned-up ingredient list: flour, oats, brown sugar, butter, and, of course, peanut butter and jelly. They come together fast and are delicious served still-warm from the oven, washed down with lots of cold milk. This makes them an excellent mid-afternoon snack for those days when your house is overrun with short ruffians.

So it’s for the children (and for the weary adults who have to feed them) that I make an exception to my only-write-about-my-favorite-things rule. These bars turn hungry children into happy children.

So I guess I kind of do love them after all.

Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars
Adapted from Mavis Butterfield’s blog.

2 cups rolled oats
1/3 cup flour
½ cup brown sugar
½ cup butter, melted
3/4 cup peanut butter
1/3 cup jelly (I used grape)

Combine the oats, flour, and sugar in a bowl. Add the butter and peanut butter and stir to combine. Set aside ½ cup of the oat mixture.

Press the oat mixture (except for the ½ cup that I just told you to set aside, duh) into an 8×8-inch baking dish that has been lined with parchment paper. Spread the jelly over the dough. Sprinkle the reserved oat mixture over the jelly layer.

Bake the bars at 350 degrees for 20-30 minutes, or until the edges are lightly browned and the jelly is bubbling. Cool completely before cutting the bars (unless you want to eat them slightly warm, with a glass of milk, which I suggest you do).

I made you a cake.

Just kidding. I made myself a cake, ha. The recipe jumped out at me from one of the more recent Cook’s Illustrated magazines (‘course, according to them, it’s the best almond cake in all the history of almond cakes, but I’ve already said enough about that, and ‘sides, I’m not above adjectiving my recipes with bold strokes upon ‘cassion), so come last Saturday, I was in the mood for some ‘sperimentin’, never mind you that I still had half a carrot cake imprisoned in the glass cake stand atop the kitchen table.

(‘Sup with all the half words anyway? Weird. Moving right along…)

So I whipped up the cake. It’s a simple affair. One layer, no icing, and everything gets ground, beaten, and blended in the food processor. The resulting cake is dense and straightforward, nubbly with bits of blended-up almonds and capped with a crunchy lid of slivered almonds and lemon sugar.

It’s the kind of cake that:

*belongs in a picnic basket (not that I have a picnic basket) and then eaten out of hand with juicy, freshly-picked berries (because berry picking is what’s supposed to happen on picnics).
*pairs perfectly with a cup of morning tea.
*gets on fabulously with a big thermal mug of milky coffee.
*holds up under whipped cream and the scrutiny of an uppity guest (not that I ever have those).
*keeps well, should you have to set it aside to finish up The Other Cake.
*is underappreciated by children which means that you can hoard it without feeling guilty (not that I would ever feel guilty about hiding a cake that my children loved) (because I wouldn’t).
*feels like a hearty breakfast in a dainty dessert’s body, if that makes any sense.

Almond Cake
Adapted from the January-February 2014 issue of Cook’s Illustrated magazine.

The recipe calls for blanched, sliced, toasted almonds. The Cook’s Illustrated folks claim to be annoyed by the flecks of brown in the cake that come from the almond skins. Plus, they say the skins give the cake a bitter flavor. I used a mix of sliced almonds (not blanched) and whole almonds. I did not toast them. I’m not sophisticated enough to notice a bitter flavor, and I find the brown flecks enchanting. My recommendation: use whole, untoasted almonds and be done with it.

for the batter:
1½ cups almonds
3/4 cup flour
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
4 eggs
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 tablespoon lemon zest
3/4 teaspoon almond extract
5 tablespoons butter, melted
1/3 cup canola oil

Put the almonds, flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda in the food processor and pulse until the almonds are finely ground. Transfer to a bowl.

Put the eggs, sugar, zest, and extract in the now-empty processor and blend on high for about 2 minutes. With the processor still running, add the butter and oil. As soon as the fats are incorporated into the batter, add the dry ingredients and pulse several times to combine. Pour the batter into a greased and wax paper-lined 9-inch springform pan.

for the topping:
2 tablespoons sugar
½ – 1 teaspoon lemon zest
1/3 cup sliced almonds

With your fingers, mix the sugar with the zest until combined—about 10 seconds. (Lick your fingers clean.)

Sprinkle the almonds over the batter and top with the lemon sugar.

Bake the cake at 300 degrees for 50-65 minutes. Let cool for ten minutes before running a knife around the edge of the cake. Cool completely and serve. This cake keeps well, covered with plastic, at room temperature.