I’m at Panera. I’m writing (obviously), but, I’m pleased to say, it’s efficient writing. So often I procrastinate till I’m bored to death and only then do I begin to string words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs.

Today, however, is different. Today I’m working extra hard because I have a lot to write down, plus I’m feeling a little guilty since I left my husband at home with the four kids and a 300-pound tank to get into the basement and mountains of laundry to hang up in the bitter cold.

He told me to go, though. He said it’s easier for him to do his projects and take care of the kids when I’m gone. He said something about how he hates having to “protect me” when I write at home. The phrase “high maintenance” may have escaped his lips. Humph.

It’s one week and one day till Christmas (like you don’t already know that), and I’m feeling resigned and relaxed and like who gives a big whoop anyway. The tree is up and the kids spend lots of time rearranging the ornaments and dropping them and I don’t really care anymore. Heck, I didn’t even touch the tree except to cut off some boughs for an arrangement: green bits o’ Christmas tree stuck in a milk pitcher along with some violently poke-y red berries I stole from a roadside ditch, fa-la-la, ouch-crap.

I’m sounding more scroogy than I actually am. I throw lots of flour and sugar around in my spare time, and when I venture out, I say Merry Christmas in best holly-jolly fashion. We’re happily ticking off the things on our Christmas to-do list (our next read aloud is The Best Christmas Pageant Ever—have you read it?), and the kids are contented, so all is well.

Peppernuts: they’re my latest obsession.

I read about them on my sister-in-law’s sister’s blog and promptly whipped up a batch. The kids went bonkers for them, which surprised me because I have a vague memory of little turned up noses the last time I made the spicy cookies.

While baking them, I ate a ludicrous amount—my self-control was no match for their tiny peppery selves. Besides, I had to sample each batch to make sure they were the correct hardness. It’s part of the job.

When I finished the baking, my peppernut belly and I went for a walk and then off to a church council dinner where my earlier gluttony prevented me from eating as much as I would’ve liked, and where, when I confessed my reason for not sampling both kinds of soups, I unintentionally sparked a vigorous debate.

Everyone had a strong opinion about the hard cookies. Some professed complete adoration while others couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. One man said, “I think the reason I like them is because they’re not really that good,” (huh?), and when one member of the group admitted complete ignorance to this food, she was attacked by both parties, the peppernut haters waving their arms dismissively and pooh-poohing all the hoopla while the peppernut lovers rolled their eyes and wailed protestations.

Someone, I do believe it was a hater (can my memory be messing with me?), made mention of one member of the congregation who made excellent peppernuts. They have a wonderful bite, she said. (Are the haters bluffing?) So back home, I fired off an email to The Maker of Excellent Peppernuts, begging her recipe. I got it this morning (it varies only slightly from mine), plus a promise of a peppernut sampling party at church tomorrow, yay!

I’m going to go ahead and share the recipe I made this week even though I might not be done experimenting. I can always update with adaptations and variations later, I figure. Besides, according to my family, this recipe is already a winner.

Peppernuts
Adapted from Queenie’s recipe

I swapped in a cup of spelt flour and a cup of whole wheat for part of the white flour—delicious. Next time I’ll increase the whole grains to at least four cups.

1 ½ cups butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
1 cup golden syrup (I used King)
1/3 cup sour milk (I used plain yogurt with milk)
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoons salt
1 ½ teaspoon cinnamon
1 1/4 teaspoons cardamon
1 1/4 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon each nutmeg, ground cloves, ginger
7 cups flour (part whole wheat)

Beat together the butters and sugars. Add the syrup and sour milk. Beat in the remaining ingredients, but only part of the flour. When everything is well-mixed, exchange your beaters for a large wooden spoon, and—because the mixture will be quite thick—stir in the remaining flour by hand.

Shape the dough into skinny ropes, the size of your pinky finger (assuming you’re not a giant) and cut into quarter-inch pieces. Place the peppernuts on an ungreased baking sheet (they will puff only a little, so you can place them fairly close), and bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes, or until golden brown. (They are supposed to be crunchy, so let a few cool to room temperature and then sample to make sure they are hard all the way through. Adjust your oven time accordingly.)

Cool to room temperature before storing in an airtight container or freezing.

Yield: I’m not sure—we ate so many of them while baking! (But I think at least 1 gallon, and maybe 1 ½ gallons.)

This same time, years previous: my baby, scholarly stuff

Remember the salad I made last week? The recipe originally called for bulgur, but I didn’t have any so I tried to use cracked wheat. But the cracked wheat cooked up kind of mushy, so I called my friend and she said bulgur and cracked wheat were basically the same thing but that bulgur was precooked. So I put the mushy cracked wheat in the refrigerator and switched to quinoa for the salad and all was well.

Saturday morning came and with it an urge for pancakes. Saturday mornings are supposed to be lazy, slow affairs punctuated with multiple cups of coffee and a carb-heavy kick-off. Or is that Sunday morning? Not sure on that one, but in either case, I’m a failure. The first weekend day, my husband is raring to jump into his projects, and the second one, we’re trying to get out the door without killing each other. So I usually dump granola in bowls and call it good.

But this Saturday morning was different. My husband was chomping at the bit even more than normal: he had a hot date with three other guys to get those panels on the roof right after lunch and there was lots of prep work to do. But I had time and a fair bit of energy despite my sore throat and head cold. I could handle standing by the stove with a spatula in my hand, I decided. Plus, that cooked cracked wheat was begging to be dealt with.

Intermission: solar panels
My husband submitted an application for a grant and we were accepted. The whole project is supposed to be done before Christmas so now he’s running around like crazy, punching holes in walls and ceilings, moving the freezers around, zipping up and down ladders. It kind of gives me a headache (but I’m not complaining).

Saturday was the big Haul The Lunkers Up On The Roof Day. The guys got it done in an hour and a half, no sweat.

The hardest part (from my perspective) (and from my husband’s, he just informed me) was keeping my littlest from going up on the roof with them.

See these two guys sitting pretty in the sky with my husband?

These are the guys my husband spends his days with. The one up higher is the boss, and the one down lower joined up with them a couple years ago. There’s so much I could say about these guys—like how the one enjoys throwing rocks at the porta-potty when my husband is inside it, or how the other rides his bike everywhere, two kitty litter buckets attached to either side, saddlebag fashion—but I’ll spare you all the gory details and give you two little tidbits instead:

Tidbit One: a couple days ago, the bearded guy called me to talk bread. He’d gotten some of my starter and was getting ready to wake it up and go to Baking Town but first had some questions regarding wheat and such. He hasn’t made a peep about the bread since then, so maybe it flopped and he’s not telling me because he doesn’t want to give me a sourdough starter complex?

Tidbit Two: When I walked out of the house to take pictures of the whole operation, Boss Man accosted me with a “Hey, Jennifer. I need a good gluten-free granola recipe. Do you have one?” I went back in the house and emailed him what I had, and the next afternoon I got a reply email: “Thanks Jennifer,  Here goes!” I haven’t heard a peep out of him since then, so maybe it went downhill?

My point: I’m surrounded by guys that bake.
My other point: my husband works with guys that willingly, graciously, generously come out to our house in the middle of their Saturday to help with our project.
My final point: I’m glad the panels are on the roof.

P.S. I spent this intermission mostly talking about my husband’s co-workers, but my brother also busted up his Saturday and put his life on the line (i.e. his butt on our roof) for our solar project. You should know, since we’re talking about bread and bikes and such, that my brother bakes with ease, and he rides his bike to work, too.

End of intermission and back to the pancakes.

I took Luisa’s Oatmeal Pancake recipe (that I’d already made once before), did some swapping and substituting, and came up with a splendiferous Saturday (or Sunday) morning pancake: hearty and filling, with a delightfully nutty texture from the cracked wheat.

The kids, however, took a few bites and eyed their pancakes suspiciously. They said things like, What’s in these, Mama? And, I like the other kind better. They ate them then, but there was no pigging out. I bagged up the leftovers and stuck them in the freezer.

I eat a pancake each morning for my breakfast. I heat the pancake in the microwave and then top it with a dab of butter and a glug of syrup. I cut my cake into small pieces with my fork, and swirl each bite over the plate to mop up the syrup drips. Chewing slowly, contemplatively, I savor the complex textures, the depth of flavor. I’ve actually become rather protective of my pancake stash.

And wouldn’t you know, now all my mornings feel like Saturday morning!

(Just kidding. It seemed like the appropriate ending, though, so I had to say it.)

Cracked Wheat Pancakes
Adapted from Luisa’s blog The Wednesday Chef, and she, in turn, got it from Kim Boyce’s book Good to the Grain (that I ordered last night!)

Updated February 2016: I make this recipe frequently, subbing leftover cooked oatmeal for the cooked cracked wheat. I also omit the white flour and use all freshly-ground whole wheat pastry flour. A double batch makes enough to feed six people.

1 cup whole wheat or spelt flour
3/4 cup white flour
2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons butter, melted
1 1/4 cups buttermilk (or regular milk)
1 cup cooked cracked wheat (see below)
1 tablespoon molasses
2 eggs, beaten

In a large bowl, stir together the dry ingredients. Add the wet ingredients and stir lightly to combine. The batter will be thick.

Fry the pancakes, making sure to spread the batter out with the back of the ladle as soon as it hits the hot skillet. Serve with butter and syrup.

to cook the cracked wheat:
Place one cup of cracked wheat in a small saucepan and cover with 1 1/4 cups water. Bring to a gentle boil, stirring once or twice. Reduce the heat to low and simmer without stirring, uncovered, for about 15 minutes, or until all the water has evaporated. Fluff with a fork.

This same time, years previous: gingerbread men