Bear Essentials: Apples ( + Pork and Apple Pie with Cheddar-Sage Crust )

Remember how I told you that I'm completely unimpressed by crust?

There's an exception to every rule.

Bear Essentials: Apples ( + Brown Butter Creamy Apple Pie )

You didn't think I'd leave you without a pie recipe in the middle of Apple Week, did you?

Bear Essentials:Mitten Noms - Michigan Classics( + Pasties )

 

If you're from Michigan, you saw this title and envisioned a meat- and potato-filled pie.  If you're from anywhere else, you might be expecting stripper glitter and tassels.

It's PAAH-sties, folks.  Not PAY-sties.

Bear Essentials: Pineapple ( + Pineapple and Macadamia Nut Tart )

I don't know what's happening around your house...but here in Detroit, Spring has definitely not sprung.  In fact, there's an inch of snow on the ground.  Which, yes, is preferable than having to look at the other things that tend to lay around on the ground in Detroit.  But still.

I've had just about enough of this silliness.

Mommy Kibble(+ Sharp Cheddar Cheese Crackers)

Okay.  I want to show you something, but I don't want you to freak out.  Control yourself.  No gasping.  No squealing.  Definitely no screaming.  Okay, fine, go ahead and scream.  But not if the baby's sleeping.  Or you're in a crowded elevator.  Or you're in the passenger seat, and the driver's of the nervous persuasion, and he's apt to swerve and nearly roll the truck all because you screamed just the eensiest little bit while he happened to be merging onto the freeway.  Please don't ask how I know about that. 

Anyway, here goes. 

I'd like you to meet Hugo.

I KNOW, RIGHT???

The Best Apologies Come with Bacon (+ Quiche Lorraine)

Mr. Bear is basically a saint.  Especially in bed.

Wait, wait.  Don’t go.  This isn’t about to get inappropriate or weird.  Well, inappropriate anyway.  It’s pretty weird.  But just quirky-weird.  Not “I want to curl up like an armadillo and un-know all that stuff about your toe fetish” weird.  This isn’t about our attempt to act out 50 Shades of Grey with lunchmeat hand puppets, or anything.*  It’s about how I’m wired wrong.  I panic at bedtime.

The night always starts off perfectly normally: some halfhearted debate over what time to go to bed, then teethbrushing.  Jammers.  Pills taken.  Face washed - because, let’s face it, the days when I could expect to sleep in my makeup without waking up looking more or less like a moray eel are over.  Thermostat adjusted.  Doors and windows checked.  Decorative bed pillows banished.  I swear there was a time when I just went to bed when I was tired.  Now it seems like preparation for some Olympic sport.  Which is probably an apt comparison, because what's about to happen is like a triathlon of crazy.

*If someone were to do this and put it up on YouTube, I’m pretty sure we’d all become famous.  Just something to think about.

Three Helpful Tips for Newlywed Life (+ Doughnuts with Grapefruit Curd)

It’s July now, which means that we are mired in the blackest depths of wedding season.  (That’s my take, anyway; if you like doing the YMCA in uncomfortable shoes and running interference between your second cousin and “handsy Uncle Leon,” more power to you.)  Since it’s recently been brought to my attention that I’m coming up on my first wedding anniversary, this seems a perfect time to give you soon-to-be brides a few bits of hard-earned wisdom.  There are plenty of books on marriage out there, and plenty of relatives who’d like to give you advice.  The following three matters, however, were never mentioned in any of my sources, and took me completely by surprise.  Lest you be similarly gobsmacked, consider this list my wedding gift to you. 

1.   Nobody Cares About Your Charming Personality 

                (Except Your Husband, and Even His Motives are Suspect)

From the very first second that you are legally married, everyone around you is going to take a sudden and disconcerting interest in your uterus.  If they are especially polite, elderly relatives greeting you at the reception will wait until after they tell you how lovely you look before launching into questions about your sperm-related plans.  But most won’t.

In the weeks and months following the wedding, the behavior of previously rational human beings will become increasingly worrisome.  Potential grandparents with degrees in the field of medicine will try to convince you that pregnancy will help your cramps, your skin, and possibly that ingrown toenail.  Every adult you have ever met, and some whom you have only heard of in passing, will be rooting for you to become impregnated.  This will be mildly confusing, since up to this point your entire life will have consisted of various people warning you not to become impregnated, lest your life be ruined.  Etiquette dictates that you ignore this glaring inconsistency.

The glazed and slightly manic looks on the faces around you and the constant mantra “Baaaaaby.  Baaaaaby.” are going to be unnerving.  You will grow concerned that this is the start of the zombie apocalypse, or possibly some sort of alien virus.  Your first instinct will be to discuss this with your husband, as he is, after all, your partner and helpmeet for all eternity.  Fight this impulse - not because you’re wrong, but because your new spouse probably isn’t going to take kindly to you referring to your in-laws as “the spore people.” 

Unless you actually want to become impregnated, I would suggest bribing an as-yet unattached sibling to become engaged in order to take the attention off of you.  As a long-term measure, you might want to consider adopting a wolverine or some other mostly-feral animal.  One of you may lose a limb or two, but you will develop a reputation for eccentricity that others will feel is incompatible with parenthood; with luck, they may even stop suggesting it altogether.