Yes, yes. I know this is the wrong time of year to talk about sweet cherries, but I’m eating them now so therefore I’m writing about them. I mean, I’m not eating them now now, but over the last few days and weeks, yes, nom-nom-nom. It’s been delicious.

So to start off, how about some quick c-bounce Q&A? You go first.

Question: What is cherry bounce? 
Answer: It’s pure marvelousness, that’s what. 

Question: No. I mean, what’s it made of.
Answer: Oh, oops! Sweet cherries, sugar, alcohol, and spices.

Question: Is it hard to make?
Answer: Nope. Stuff a bunch of jars full with sweet cherries, top off the jars with a brandy-sugar syrup, and then place the jars in a dark corner until mid winter when you, rather suddenly, remember that you have them. 

Question: How do you eat cherry bounce? 
Answer: There are a variety of ways. For the juice part, just pour it into pretty little glasses and drink it straight. It makes an excellent dessert beverage, or a fantastic little treat to serve to your girlfriends when they show up to chew the fat out on the deck. (Bonus: everyone will simultaneously be smitten with the very fun “Oooo, I feel like Anne of Green Gables drinking cordial with Diana!” vibe.) You can also add the juice to other drinks, like margaritas or piña coladas or lemonade. As for the cherries, eat them straight, spitting out the seeds as you go, or pit a few and a) stir them into brownies, or b) top a bowl of vanilla ice cream with them, followed by a drizzle (or deluge) of juice, or c) create some other luscious concoction of your choosing.

Question: How did you learn about cherry bounce?
Answer: Last summer when I was up to my eyeballs in sweet cherries, I googled different ways to put up cherries and came across a whole bunch of recipes for cherry bounce. I picked the easiest one — ie, the one that didn’t involve pitting them — and whipped up a batch. 

Question: How’d you know you’d like them? 
Answer: I didn’t. I’m not a huge fan of sweet cherries, and cherry beverages tend to make me think of cough syrup. As a result, I was in no rush to use them and they languished in the jelly cupboard for months and months. But then I popped one open, and, well, now I’m almost out. This summer I’ll be making loads more, for sure. I might even switch to gallon jars. Or at least quarts.

Question: How crowd friendly is cherry bounce?
Answer: Very. Everyone I’ve given it to — my husband, my kids (just sips, don’t freak!), my friends — has had similar reactions: a brief moment of silence followed by 1) their eyes popping wide open, and 2) an involuntary expression of intense pleasure. Even my mom who doesn’t like alcohol said she liked it, though she did add that she thinks it’s a bit too sweet.

Question: June is a long way off. Any chance I could use frozen sweet cherries to bounce myself to bliss?
Answer: No idea. Wouldn’t hurt to try!

Cherry Bounce
Adapted from Taste of Home.

Confession: I’m not exactly sure how I made my current batch of cherry bounce. I read so many recipes that, while I’m sure this one was the baseline, I may have thrown in some other spices that I no longer recall, or used a different process. The recipe below is as close to what I think I made as I can remember, but there are loads of ingredient/process variations, should you so choose. For example: 

*use vodka instead of rum and brandy (or use Captain Morgan’s for the rum)
*use cinnamon sticks, cloves, and a whole nutmeg in place of the allspice
*don’t use any spices at all
*use sour cherries instead of sweet
*use cherries that have been pitted and/or mashed
*add the juice and zest of a lemon

In other words, you can do pretty much anything with the basic formula of cherries + sugar + alcohol + a few weeks/months in a cool dark place = cherry bounce. Have at it!

(I’m not sure I cooked the cherries, and if I did, I may have added some water? Also, I wonder if I could put just a cup of the cherries in the bottom of a quart jar and then top off with the sugar-brandy syrup — would it still be cherry-y enough? Thoughts to consider….)

5 pounds sweet cherries, unpitted
2 cups white sugar
½ teaspoon ground allspice
1½ cups brandy
1½ cups rum

Put cherries in a large saucepan and cook over medium heat for about 15 minutes until tender. If the cherries don’t release their juice right away, add a splash of water to keep them from burning. Strain, reserving the juice, and divide the cherries between 6-8 pint jars. 

Return the juice to the sauce pan and add the sugar and allspice. Bring to a boil and then simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cool completely before adding the brandy and rum. 

Pour the syrup over the cherries, lid, and store in a cool, dark place for 1-3 months before using. 

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (2.11.19), no more Luna, opening, what will I wish I had done differently?, adventuring, the quotidian (3.12.12), all by himself, for all we know, dunging out, blondies and breakdowns, let’s talk.

Sunday evening I got an email inviting me to get the Moderna vaccine. I whooped and hollered — Ahhhh, VACCINE! I’m getting the vaccine!!! — and then I turned jittery frantic, racing to sign up before all the available slots disappeared. 

My husband was miffed. How do you know that invitation was for you? Was the email addressed to you? Are you sure it wasn’t for me? 

So together we read through the email again, and no, it wasn’t addressed to me, and yes, it was for food service workers (so ME), and no it wasn’t for my younger daughter because you have to be 18 to get the vaccine and my daughter’s only 17 and will have to wait for a Pfizer (so, me again). 

Mullified, my husband dropped the subject — his wife did, apparently, know how to read an email after all — but he was still jealous. He even said as much.  And truth is, I’m bummed that he’s not getting it first, or at least with me. Because of his asthma, I’ve always considered him higher priority. 

But! If you get an invitation, YOU TAKE THE FREAKING INVITATION. 

I’ve heard people express feelings of jealousy of everyone’s happy I-got-my-vaccine photos (or guilt about getting theirs when others couldn’t), and while I understand the feeling (and have even had mild twinges, especially when I see a younger person getting the vax before me), mostly I’ve just felt excited and joyful, and relieved, in an anticipatory sort of way: Yes! [fist bump] One more person safe. Hurry, hurry, hurry, HURRY.

***

After I signed up, I got nervous. What if I signed up wrong? What if I couldn’t find the location? What if I ran into traffic and was late? What if I got there and didn’t have the right paperwork? After a year of dreaming and waiting for this very moment — A COVID VACCINE HALLELUJAH — it felt almost too good to be true. 

All day yesterday, I had the words from this song — Have the new jab, have the new jab. Have the new jab. Have the new–eew–eew jab — running through my head.

(I recommend turning the volume way up, closing your eyes, and gently swaying from side to side. Crying optional.)

(A word about all the vaccine resistance, conspiracy theories, etc: Oh, come on. I know I’m supposed to be all understanding and tolerant of the hesistancy and [sometimes justified] skepticism — and regarding vaccines in general, confession: I’ve had my moments — but we’re in the middle of a freaking pandemic, people, so how about we lose the Dark Ages Vibe, ‘kay?)

Also on repeat in my head yesterday: Dolly’s song. The sun was shining and I was going to get my shot. MY SHOT.

I considered chilling a bottle of champagne (but didn’t).

***

At the vaccination center — I didn’t get lost and I wasn’t late — everything was smooth and cheery and pleasant. I didn’t even need my license, but they did, however, say I needed proof of employment which I didn’t have (I don’t have email on my phone), but I just told the guy that I worked in a bakery and had all the text messages to show for it, and he waved me right through. I guess that means I must look like a baker?

I was super impressed by the whole set-up. Greeters at every step along the way, lines that moved along at a pleasant clip, dozens of vaccine givers, and tons of people just moving through the system, one shot at a time.

Looking around the huge room, I felt overcome. This year has been so hard and now here we are. It made me want to stand up on my chair and shout WE’RE DOING IT, PEOPLE. WE’RE DOING IT.

Instead I quietly moved to the observation area and busied myself filling out the registration for my follow-up shot.

***

Now that the vaccination process is right here, right now, I’ve been hungrily reading (and re-reading) the CDC’s new guidelines for what vaccinated people can and can’t do, and soaking up all the NPR reports and latest scientific updates. It feels a little like I’m standing on my tippy toes on the bench in a jail cell, straining to see through the tiny barred window to the rest of the world: blue skies, trees, sunshine, balloons, FREEDOM.

The rest of my family is in varying stages of vaccining (new word alert). My parents get their second shot this week. My younger son is too young for any of the vaccines (hurry up, Makers of a Child’s Vaccine!), my younger daughter is itching to get her vaccine but has to wait for the Pfizer, my older son is done done DONE, my husband is waiting, and up in Massachusetts registration isn’t even open yet to people in my older daughter’s age group. 

But it’s happening. Bit by bit, we’re inching forward. The end is in sight. 

Hallelujah indeed.

This same time, years previous: kitchen concert, homemade pepperoni, family weekending, the quotidian (3.10.14), work, now, creamy potato soup with bacon and boiled eggs.

On Sunday it’ll be the fourteenth — 3.14 — which is, for those who (like me) don’t closely follow fabricated celebratory dates, otherwise known as Pi Day, and because pi has to do with circles and sounds like “pie,” we’re all supposed to make pie that day. Or at least eat it. Or, if one isn’t much into food (weirdo), read Life Of Pi instead. (I made that last one up, but it’s a good book so you totally should.)

I don’t generally do anything for Pi Day — at least not intentionally — but since I now work in a bakery and am in charge of pies and we have customers who want to buy lots of pie, Pi Day is kinda A Thing. Except at the bakery we’re making it a Pi Weekend, all the better to sell you more pies, my dear!

red raspberry

Anyway. I’ve been meaning to share a bakery update, which, because my tasks revolve around pies is actually is more of a pie update and since it’s Pi Weekend, I figured now is the right time.

bourbon for the chocolate pies

Lie. 
Truth: I’m only just now getting around to it. 

Anway. PIES.

Tourtière, or French-Canadian Pork Pie

This whole year has been a huge learning curve. First, it was the bakery itself — learning how to make the pastries and breads and run the cash register (still learning) and to remember to clock in, etc. Then I shifted to pies and had to learn to bake them in our huge ovens and tweak recipes and source ingredients and please customers. Now, ever since the new year, I’ve been working to craft a pie-making system that works for our customers and our shift schedules and the diner and our teeny-tiny bakery space. This means a lot of trial and error, a bit (okay, okay, sometimes a ton) of chaos, frustration, excitement, and lots of creativity and deliciousness.

Dutch apple

Dutch apple mini

I won’t bore you with the details — and stuff is always in flux as we grow and adapt to demand — but here’s how things stand now. Thursday afternoon I come into the bakery with an assistant (which up until now has been my younger daughter) to prep. I sheet out the crusts and parbake everything. We cook the pie fillings and juice lemons and mix crumble toppings and chop fruit, etc. 

roasted butternut, caramelized onion, and goat cheese galette

triple citrus

Friday morning I bake up all the pies that have been preordered, as well as a bunch of extras, including test recipes and whatever. Customers pick up their orders in the afternoon, and we sell the extras out the door. 

fresh pineapple galette

mini peanut butter creams

Monday mornings, I bake the pies for the diner (and/or prep the components for another baker to bake off some pies mid-week) and do my planning for the next week.

while pies bake: beer and paperwork

A few other pie-related implementations:

For the customers…
*A flyer with our monthly pie schedule. Customers can grab one to stick on their fridge, and when we package pies, we slip one into each pie box.
*A weekly pie-news email for those who’ve signed up.
*Regular social media posts.
*The monthly pie schedule on the diner website.

For the bakery team…
*A weekly pie-related email with what’s available to sell, special instructions, notes, etc.
*A pie folder with ingredient lists and instructions.
*A pie pricing sheet, which is constantly being amended and updated.

It doesn’t sound like much, but each little thing takes planning, execution, and follow-up — (I’m in awe of people who run large-scale operations; there’s so much to think about!) — and everything at the bakery is such a team effort. In the case of the pies, other bakers make the dough, pick up groceries, keep the egg wash stocked, make certain pie fillings, craft the social media posts, pull stuff from the freezers in preparation for my shift, etc. Like I said, it’s team work.

whole lemon tart

As I grow comfortable with the recipes — and as customers learn to know what to expect — I become more relaxed and confident. And I gain freedeom, because with established systems, it’s easier to teach and share responsibilities which, in turn, gives me more time to branch out. 

test: macademia tart

test: blueberries and cream

test: blackberry

And that, to me, is the most exciting part of baking: the creativity. And creativity plus baking, I think, is pretty much the cat’s meow.

(And yes, I did actually wear this to work. It was a cat-loving coworker’s birthday and we were all supposed to wear something cat-related to celebrate, and because my mom just happened to have a cat suit [because she’s awesome like that], I went all out. My older daughter was delighted, my older son horrified. My husband just shook his head and moaned. Meow.)

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (3.9.20), another adventure!, Shannon’s creamy broccoli soup, the quotidian (3.9.15), in which I (attempt to) turn my children into a mob of merry maids, perfect pretzels, with a side of poison.