NAT NESTS / PEACH CRUMBLE

Betty Crocker, our oven, recently got to take her maiden voyage as le four de Holbrook. We set her up with a nice peach crumble. They hit it off super well. Expect a save-the-date soon.

I was GOING to make a blueberry cobbler, but not a single blueberry could be found. And I was on bike so hells bells was I going to ride across town to the Rosauers to keep looking.

That's okay though because what I really excel at is orange food.

It was my first real kitchen experience since we moved in, apart from pouring bowls of cereal and stirring pots of oatmeal. She's a cute little kitchen. I killed two spiders! Part-way into it, Huck got it in his head that this should have been a chocolate cake, and all manner of angst and woe ensued. For a while it was looking pretty iffy--Huck would never love another dessert again--but we talked him down and he realized the merits of peaches and butter, and so he promised to give it a go. Just as the crumble was finishing up, about an hour later, Huck came down the stairs with a look of wonder on his face and said, breathlessly, "MOM! What smells so sweet!?" 

"It's the peach crumble, puppy!" I said, and then Huck melted down into another one of his shows of emotional turmoil. Re-opening the wound!!! I say!!! Here's some lemon juice, too!!!

He really is spectacular these days.

When it came time for dessert and it still wasn't chocolate cake, he girded up his loins and had himself a nibble, then perked up in his seat and exclaimed, 

"This is good! And I'm not even pretending!"

Oh, Huck.

EDUCATIONAL ASIDE: I definitely initially intended for this guy to be a peach crisp, but I sort of made things go in a weird direction when I accidentally heavy-handed the brown sugar and way under-did the butter. Later, while researching the differences between crisps and cobblers for this sparklingly informative and educational post, I realized my dessert was actually none of the above! It was a crumble! And there you have it. 

THIS REMINDS ME. Now I'm going to let you in on a little secret: You never need as much butter or granulated sugar as they tell you you need in a recipe. And you should always add way. more. cinnamon. Cinnamon is so underrated. Overdosing on brown sugar almost always leads to magic. In a chocolate chip cookie? I like to leave those chunks of petrified brown sugar intact because it is such a heavenly surprise when you bite into one. 

I hope you are all enjoying my disjointed thoughts on crumbles and cobblers and brown sugar and things, you know, this is what you do in recipe blogs I've noticed. Picture, boring paragraph about something dumb, another picture, another boring paragraph, and you're like "Scroll down scroll down! Dang it! I just want the recipe!"

Well. Brandon has trouble with the texture of peach skins, is my next barely interesting paragraph in this format which I am now sticking to like glue since I'm this far into it already. I sometimes get him a few nectarines when I'm picking up my end-of-summer peach haul, or else I plan to peel his for him (but, ew, slimy), and anyway, isn't that a tragedy? If you ask me, the skins are the best part of the peach and so I like to set mine aside for later. 

Similarly fantastic is the skin of a kiwi. Eat that sucker whole! The fruit, I mean. I am not advocating cannibalizing New Zealanders. 

PEACH CRUMBLE a la Idaho

Cause now it's regional and fancy.

INGREDIENTS /

filling

8-10 ripe fresh peaches, peeled and sliced

topping

1 cup all-purpose flour (you can substitute gluten free Cup 4 Cup if you'd like)

1 3/4 cups oatmeal

1/2 cup granulated sugar

3/4 cup packed brown sugar

1/2 cup butter plus 1/4 cup, cubed 

2tsp cinnamon (go for an even tablespoon, I dare you)

METHOD /

1. preheat your oven to 350ºF

2. peel + slice your fresh peaches (the more ripe the better!) spoon them evenly into the bottom of a casserole dish

3. mix the topping until butter is pea-sized and evenly distributed (i like to use my hands for this bit). be sure to reserve the last 1/4 cup of butter for mid-baking.

4. spread topping mixture over the fruit and bake at 350ºF for 45 minutes. at the 35 minute mark, pull the dish out and sprinkle the remaining cubed butter over the top. give the topping a good smoosh or two with a wooden spoon while you're at it.

5. let sit for fifteen minutes

Serve warm with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, or caramel sauce if you're feeling fancy.

MOTHERHOOD RIGHT NOW / RIP MULLET

Oh is there anything more tragic than a misplaced wad of chewed up bubblegum!!!!???

Poor puppy.

We were at the AT&T store, for some reason. I'm not sure that we accomplished anything particularly important while at the AT&T store now that I think about it, except that I happened to discover a giant wad of stale old bubblegum smooshed into the back of my kid's head while I was absentmindedly running my hands through his rattail.

(We do this sometimes for luck, it's sort of like rubbing a rabbit's foot.)

Huck had me take a photo of it so he could see what it looked like, which is something he has taken to doing lately any time he is somewhere without a mirror and needs to see something about himself. 

"Mom, take a picture."

I obliged.

The irony here is that just two days prior I was reminding him of the responsibilities that come with being a gum chewer. It was during my bi-weekly request to puh-leeease let me cut your hair, or at least trim it into a tidier shape, but Huck is a man who knows his mind and his mind is liking the mullet, so he said "No, thank you," and I said, "Well just be sure not to get gum in your hair, because if you do, we'll have no choice in the matter." Snip snip.

I'd tell you I said a silent prayer just then that he would get gum stuck in his hair, but that might make me look like a not-so-nice mom, so, I won't. 

(But I did.)

Aren't you glad I thought to take this picture last week to immortalize the rattail in all it's masterful glory?

I am.

(Also, old cowboys eating huckleberry ice cream. Swoon, dammit!)

Huck understood his fate--peanut butter or no peanut butter the hair had to go--so when the time came after we'd pointlessly left the AT&T store and I'd finally located the scissors, he looked at me with a pure fire of courage in his eyes and he said, bravely, "Cut it, mom."

Fiiiiiinally.

And now! Presenting! EmoHuck.

I swear, get that boy some mousse and he's ready to join The Cure. 

I made sure to keep the all-important swoosh safely intact. Huck's pretty thrilled with it. Sometimes I think his new hair reminds me of something, but I can't put my finger on it. 

One of my readers could. She sent me this:

BINGO

Anyway, it's my anniversary today.

I done been married twelve years. How does that make you feel inside? Old? Me too.

But! The good news is that Brandon, Professor The Holbs at WSU, officially a cougar again (go cougs!), will training the brightest young minds this fall in the ways of the Excel spreadsheets, making me the official MILF of the accounting department. (Yes it does.) This means I get to practice my flirting skills on the youth of America again.

Which makes me a cougar, too! (Get it?)

Such a bright spot on my horizon. Add a gold start to my Lucille Bluth chart. 

Anyway, in conclusion, here is my husband looking a bit like Chris Pratt. 

WINNING!

I love you Beebs! Happy ambliversary! 

IN VERMONT / IN PARTNERSHIP WITH EVERYBODY RISE

We had intended to bugger on outta Vermont immediately after staying at Killington, but the owners of the Snapdragon Inn in Windsor, Vermont, contacted me on Instagram + offered us a room for the night if we wanted to stay + poke around a little bit longer. We'd found ourselves completely smitten with all the antiquing + the funny stand-offishness of the locals, not to mention maple ice cream, so we were so excited to accept. 

Killer rootbeer at the Harpoon Brewery!

I miss my mommy!

And my daddy too. :)

Huck behaving rather Huckishly. Completely delightful, isn't it?

yessssssssss

We also visited a glass blowing / clay throwing studio while we were in Windsor and it was THE BEST.  

Oh! We also had dinner at Windsor Station, which was amazing!

When in Rome . . . 

Look at that form! 

Ok wow that was a lot of pictures.

GET ME DRESSED / THE LAST OF THE WHITE WALL

Whatever, it's an outfit post. 

My wall! My wall! Our last stretch of Brooklyn I took full advantage of my white wall and that one electrical box on the corner that perfectly propped my phone up for me while I used + abused the patience of my self-timer app . . . Oh those were the salad days! 

I also wore exclusively blue and white our last days in Brooklyn. Apparently.

That is such a funny expression. Salad days. 

Hey look! 

Turns out I had practically that exact dress back in my Idaho Round-One days, only it was from the Old Navy. Eight years later and all I'm changing up is the color of my sunglasses. I am so boring! Isn't that delightful?

Pardon my bad 'shopping up there as I attempted to blot out some street garbage (shed a tear), but I am getting some serious mileage out of my 3rd grade French braiding skillz these days and I felt that merits some sharing.

tank / sandals / tote bag of the century! (only a few left!)

(top + nevernudes from zara last year, sunnies from a dude on bleecker, shed a tear)

I like to call these shorts my nevernudes, because Tobias Funke would seriously be so proud. Also they are inappropriately too short and I am going to be 33 this year. 

(Paint-by-number splotches all up and down my wrist right there . . . )

As for something I could wear to meet your grandmother . . . 

shirt / pants (on sale!) / birks / market basket

These are the most comfortable pants of my lifetime. 

That attitude, man. 

tee / jeans / clogs / basket 

(sunnies from a dude on bleecker, shed a tear)

I truly think this might be all of my favorite thing to wear of all time. This for the rest of my life, happily. I also think that French braids, like a good meatloaf, are usually even better the following day.

Wow! Well, you made it. The end.