• sour candied orange rinds

    This December is shaping up to be, oddly enough, extremely under-scheduled and deliciously relaxed. The calendar is entirely open with no trips and hardly any events, just day after day of ordinary living: hanging out with kids, lots and lots of writing, good books and movies, and, of course, plenty of baking.

    But not too much baking. So far just almond crescents, peppernuts, gingerbread, fig-and-anise pinwheels, and, my most recent sweet experiment, sour candy orange rinds.

    At first I called the candy Adult Sour Patch Orange Rinds, but then my friend was like, Where’s the alcohol? so I had to drop the “adult” from the title, which was probably good because, as my husband pointed out, that title made it sound like candy porn … or something similarly misleading and disturbing. So I’m back to just Sour Candied Orange Rinds. I guess it gets the point across.

    I discovered the recipe while flipping through a Bon Appetit magazine at my children’s allergy appointment. Sour gummy candy from fruit and citric acid? You could eat citric acid straight up and not die?? I was intrigued.

    The method is straightforward enough: triple-boil the rinds to reduce bitterness and then simmer in a sugar syrup before rolling the rinds in sugar that’s been mixed with citric acid. Commenters to the recipe online said that they had trouble with the fruit staying too soft. Me, too. Quick remedy: run the rinds in the dehydrator overnight. Then, because some of the sugar had softened, I tossed them with the leftover sugar-citric acid mix and popped them into jars.

    The candy makes for some serious lip puckering — think sour patch kids but with an edge — but no one has yet to let that stop them from gobbling it up! 

    Sour Candied Orange Rinds
    From the November 2017 issue of Bon Appetit.

    They say that, in place of the oranges, you can also use six limes (or lemons) or three grapefruit.

    Rinds of 4 navel oranges
    3 cups sugar, divided
    2 tablespoons citric acid

    Score the oranges into fourths and peel carefully. Slice the rinds into long, thin slivers.

    Boil four cups of water. Add the orange rinds and boil gently for five minutes. Drain. Repeat two more times, using fresh water each time.

    Return the (thrice-boiled and drained) rinds into the kettle and add two cups of sugar and two cups of water. Bring to a boil and simmer, stirring occasionally, for 30-40 minutes. Drain. Spread the rinds on a cooling rack for 15-30 minutes.

    In a shallow bowl, mix the remaining cup of sugar with the citric acid. Working in batches, toss the rinds in the sugar to coat. Reserve any remaining sugar-citric acid mixture.

    Dehydrate the rinds — either at room temp, or in an oven on the very lowest setting, or in a dehydrator — until no longer wet. Toss with the remaining sugar-citric acid mixture, if desired. Store in airtight glass jars.

    Note: Immediately after dehydrating, my orange rinds were slightly hard, but after a day or two in the glass jars, they had softened a little, turning wonderfully chewy.

    This same time, years previous: science lessons, the quotidian (12.14.15), the quotidian (12.15.14), constant vigilance!, sunrise, sunset, my elephant, crazier than usual, cracked wheat pancakes.

  • in praise of the local arts

    Several of the kids in the neighborhood decided to put on a play, so, off and on, for the last couple weeks, my son has been biking over to his cousins’ house to rehearse. Yesterday was the performance: The Railway Children, in two acts. Parents, grandparents, and siblings gathered in my brother’s house midafternoon. The yard was the stage, and the driveway the auditorium.

    The first act lasted about five minutes (though it took a little longer because one actor didn’t perform according to plan which led to another actor’s meltdown and then a hushed, parent-assisted mediation behind the bushy evergreen marking the edge of stage right). There was a train wreck (for the train, my brother roared in on his little yard tractor), an avalanche (cardboard and tree branches tied together and then drug across the stage yard with a rope), and even an injured child. Such excitement!

    Intermission was twice as long as the first act. While the children changed costumes and set, the adults shivered, visited, and drank the tea that was set out on a little table at the side of the auditorium, all the while imploring the children to hurry, please.

    The second act involved less action and more dialogue (no reading from scripts for this play), as well as honest-to-goodness stage business (sewing while talking!).

    The children finished the production with a big bow and a loudly chorused “We wish you a merry Merry Christmas!”

    Afterward, there was more tea and iced buns (the ones that the dogs didn’t lick), and my brother took all the kids on tractor-wagon rides. The littlest boy distributed flowers to all the actors…

    and there were hugs and high-fives all around.

    The end.

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (12.12.16), Italian wedding soup, hot chocolate mix, stuffing, light painting, the quotidian (12.12.11), Sunday vignettes: human anatomy, gingerbread men.

  • the quotidian (12.11.17)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace



    Almond crescents.

    Pounding for chai.

    For curry.

    Pudding cooling.

    My latest breakfast crush: sourdough toast with butter, cream cheese, and bacon.

    Thanksgiving remix: this time with turkey gravy, stuffing balls, and over-the-top mashed potatoes.

    I bake; he sings.

    And…Velvet’s down: a severe case of laminitis.
    Kitchen apothocary.
    “I feel like I have a baby. She gets sick, I call the doctor, I pay for the meds,
    and then I have to take care of her.”
    Attempted selfie.

    Snow!

    His final paper of the semester and the edits to go with.

    This same time, years previous: yeasted streusel cake with lemon glaze, managing my list habit, okonomiyaki!, in my kitchen (sort of): 4:15 p.m., iced, pimento cheese spread, a family outing, peanut butter cookies, cashew brittle.