When you host a gathering, you never know what will be The Thing that gets people’s attention. 

At the hot dog roast at my brother’s house during the family gathering, turned out it was a jar of onions that garnered the most chatter. I hadn’t even noticed them (I didn’t eat a hot dog so I didn’t pay attention to the condiment tray), but then I overheard, These are amazing! What is in them? How did you make them? So I had to see what all the fuss was about. 

I scooped some of the onions onto a potato chip to sample. The onions were gently sweet with just a tiny kiss of acid, and they were jammy-soft with a slight crunch. I could’ve spooned them from the jar straight into my mouth. 

After everyone left, my brother texted a photo of the half-full jar of zucchini relish that I’d contributed to the supper. “Want to trade for onion relish?”

Uh … yessss!

And then I made an amazing discovery: grilled cheese stuffed with onion relish. Typically, I love me a thick layer of sweet pickles with my grilled cheese, but these onions, good grief. I couldn’t pack the sandwich full enough. 

I made a batch of onion relish this weekend, and then I made another round of grilled cheese. We also ate the onion relish on our Sunday lunch of beans and rice and my Monday eggs and beans. I imagine it’d be fabulous over scrambled eggs, too, or on a salad, stuffed into subs, on a cheeseburger, etc, etc. 

Onion Relish
Adapted from my brother’s recipe.

All amounts are guesstimates: play around. (Optional variations at the bottom.)

2 cups of chopped onion
¼ cup white vinegar, divided
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon dried basil

Put the chopped onions and 2 tablespoons of the vinegar in a microwaveable bowl and cover with water. Microwave for 2 minutes. Drain the onions, give them a quick rinse, and drain again. 

Place the drained onions in a bowl and add the remaining vinegar, brown sugar, olive oil, and dried basil. Toss to combine. Transfer to a jar and store in the refrigerator. (No idea how long these last in the fridge. Haven’t gotten that far yet.)

Options to play around with, if you so desire: 

• The quantity and type of vinegar — I bet apple cider vinegar would be good
• Different herbs, like oregano, chives, parsley, or go wild and use fresh 
• Cook them a little longer or shorter, depending on the desired crunch level 
• Omit the sugar, or swap it out for white sugar, maple syrup, or honey

This same time, years previous: yoga sol, try and keep up, so much milk, in the bedroom, Black lives matter, the quotidian (6.3.19), mama said, this is us, brown sugar rhubarb muffins, when the studies end, a bunch of stuff, berry almond baked oatmeal.

This past weekend was the Baer Family Gathering of 2025. 

When we started talking about it back in December, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. It was more like, Hey, anyone want to get together this year? We’ll host!

But then we actually started planning the logistics — about 47 people (though 6 of them ended up not making it) for three meals — and we were like, Um … HOW exactly is this going to work? 

It ended up coming together quite nicely (though it did feel like all we did for the last month was get ready). We decided to put all my mom’s siblings at her house so they could snatch some quiet moments away from the throngs, and then we stuffed all the kids in the upstairs of our barn…

… and divided the parents between my brother’s house and our house. The rest of the adults were divvied between my brother’s house, our house, and a neighbor’s house (that my older son and his wife were housesitting for), and one family day-tripped. 

As for meals, we had lunch at my parents’, supper at my brother’s, and then brunch at our place. Travelers brought homemade desserts for Saturday afternoon and fresh fruit for Sunday morning, and locals provided the rest. 

In case you, too, are planning a family gathering and need inspiration, here’s what we ate:

LUNCH: baked potatoes, taco ground beef, sauteed mushrooms, sour cream, cottage cheese, pickled jalapeños, salsa, corn, and collard greens 
AFTERNOON SNACK: homemade desserts, coffee, chocolate milk
SUPPER: hot dogs, zucchini relish, pickled onions, raw veggies and hummus, green salad, potato chips, baked beans, ice cream cones
MORNING (in host homes): toast and coffee
BRUNCH: wholegrain sourdough pancakes, sausage, eggs, fresh fruit, smoothies, orange juice, coffee

In between the eating, there was kickball, a hike to a tidal spring, cornhole, campfires, a group photo, a fireball, a 5K, a hymn sing, card games, trampoline jumping, and lots and lots of talking. 

But the star of the show was the weather. We had two full days of The BEST Weather In The History Of The World: cool nights, shockingly gorgeous sunny days, zero humidity, it was sublime. After months of imagining the worst — and trying to prepare for it and failing (because I simply couldn’t wrap my head around the mayhem of solid rain with 40+ people) — I spent the entire weekend pinching myself.

Sunday afternoon as families began peeling away one by one, I turned verklempt, almost weepy. The last 24 hours had been so full — so absolutely packed with bodies and energy and noise — and then, just like that, it was over.

It was too much too fast, like emotional whiplash. I felt a little shellshocked. As I wandered through the house and yard collecting left behind socks and toothbrushes and phone chargers, I kept thinking of all the questions I wished I’d asked and the conversations I wished I’d had.

But that’s the nature of big family gatherings, I suppose: random snatches of deeper conversations amidst chaos. Mostly, the point is just about being together. 

And it’s kinda mind boggling, really. Even though we don’t all know each other all that well, and some of us go years without seeing each other, here we are for this one weekend choosing to be family to each other. 

For this small cluster of ordinary, glorious people who make up my family, I am so grateful my heart hurts.

This same time, years previous: what’s your number one breakfast?, the butter conundrum, sugar-crusted popovers, stuffed poblanos, about that house (and some news!), a few fun things, butter chicken, the hard part, the quotidian (5.26.14), down to the river to play, the reason why.

Last week we gathered for my daughter-in-law’s birthday celebration.

I’d asked my son what she might like for supper and he said “Mediterranean.”

Also: pasta with Asian influence.
Also: just pasta in general. 

I went with Mediterranean, Virginia-style ‘cause I’ve never been anywhere near the Mediterranean so I don’t know of what I speak — or cook: chicken shawarma, Moroccan carrot salad (I could live on this stuff), kale tabbouleh, homemade cottage cheese, olive muffalata (from Costco), leafy greens dressed in lemon and oil from the olives, and herbed flatbreads. 

The colors were spectacular — so many herbs! so much green! — and the flavors were dreamy and fresh. Which begs the question: why don’t I cook like this more often?

The dessert was a surprise. 

I’d never made a cake for my daughter-in-law, and for weeks I racked my brain about what kind of cake would be fitting. My daughter-in-law has extensive and varied interests (and the energy to match), but no single idea rose to the top. 

And then I saw photos of candles, and knew that was it.

That girl is a light — calm, steady, warm, inviting, bright. She lights up our family in so many wonderful ways. So I made her a whole bunch of candles (and then I told everyone to bring her a candle for a gift). 

I realized, too late, that the short fat candle looked more like a roll of toilet paper.

The cake itself was carrot, probably because this was over Easter and I had carrot cake on my brain. (Later, it occurred to me that it’d be fun to do a bunch of different kinds of cake, but by then I was running out of time.) I used cutters to make cake rings and then stacked them up, using a new (best EVER) cream cheese frosting to sandwich them together. I cut cake out of the top layer so there’s be a little hole for a tea light.

For the small votive cake candles, I used birthday candles, not tea lights. Just stabbed them into the cake. 

The wax drips are made from a white chocolate ganache. I was nervous that the chocolate would seize up (white chocolate has always been tricky for me) but I had zero problems. I dribbled the chocolate over the edges of the cakes, chilled them, and then repeated — over and over again. 

My husband cut a board for the candles to sit on, and my younger daughter brought the flowers, and voilà — we had cake candles for the birthday girl.

P.S. The white chocolate and cream cheese combo was spot on.
P.P.S. I made sour cherry and white chocolate scones with orange zest this weekend and drizzled them more of that white chocolate ganache. The combo worked.

New Favorite Cream Cheese Frosting
Adapted from Vaughn’s recipe at the NYTimes.

1 stick (4 ounces) butter, room temperature
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon lemon zest
300 grams confectioners sugar
1 pound cream cheese, room temperature

Beat the butter until creamy. Add the salt, zest, and sugar, and beat very well. Add the cream cheese, an ounce at a time, beating all the while. (Incrementally adding the cream cheese is key to getting luscious results. Don’t shortcut this step.)

White Chocolate Ganache

2 ounces heavy whipping cream
6 ounces white chocolate chips

Put the chocolate and cream in the top part of a double boiler. Once the chocolate has softened, stir until smooth. Drizzle over cakes, scones, biscotti, etc. 

When chilled, the ganache will become firm, but it will never harden. 

This same time, years previous: multigrain sourdough, currently, perimenopause: Jo, age 52, strawberry syrup, the coronavirus diaries: week seven, the quotidian (4.29.19), graduated!, besties, back to normal, the quotidian (4.27.15), learning to play, church of the Sunday sofa, Sunday somethings.