Dr. O'Malley's Strawberries and Cream Allergen Pie

In the six years that my boys have been seen by Dr. O'Malley, he has performed circumcisions, given physicals, administered nebulizer treatments, prescribed antibiotics, ordered lab work and made referrals to specialists. But what really makes him so dear to us is that with each visit, he has shown love and compassion for our growing little family. Without hesitation, I can say that we have never felt anything but love and care from Dr. O'Malley - even when we may have been, at times, problem patients.

As a general rule, I'm not much a fan of doctors. In fact, I can't recall ever having a doctor of my own that I even liked on a personal level - much less one that I deemed "pie worthy." But because I know how much our pediatrician loves my boys (and in all fairness - most likely all of his patients), I have complete trust in him and his professional advice, in addition to the utmost respect for him as a person.

Time after time, I have found myself sitting in the examining room, faced with a difficult decision, asking, "What would you do if it was your child?" (And with one of my children in particular, there seem to be more choices than I have ever cared to make.) Even my husband Will, who rarely misses a pediatrician appointment - possibly because of how much he likes Dr. O'Malley, but in all likelihood because he is just such an awesome Daddy - has even voiced that we have two mentors when it comes to parenting: God and Dr. O'Malley.

On a personal level, there are very few people that have seen me as vulnerable as Dr. O'Malley has. Early on in this parenting thing, he reassured Will and I that - despite multiple and successive trips to the ER - our oldest was not in fact going to die from asthma. He comforted me when exclusively breastfeeding my youngest just wasn't in the cards anymore. And he listened patiently through my tears to my increasing frustration over one of my children's (who shall remain nameless) defiant and disruptive behavior. All without making me feel foolish or judged - and for that, I am especially grateful.

So, with an upcoming well-child appointment quickly approaching, I knew it was time to make a pie for Dr. O'Malley. And given our history, an "allergen pie" just seemed to make the most sense. You see, over the years, my oldest son has had allergic reactions to a whole slew of foods. Although most have since resolved, Wilson's diet has at various times been cow's milk, egg and/or nut free. As an infant, there was the blood test that showed positive reactions to cow's milk, egg whites and peanuts. Months later, there was the reaction to the flu shot at the injection site (most likely caused by egg whites). Not to be outdone by hives and dramatically swollen facial features in response to cinnamon and again (only this time with the addition of labored breathing - yeah, that was scary) in response to strawberries. So, what do you get when you mix strawberries, cinnamon and milk? Why, Dr. O'Malley's Strawberries and Cream Allergen Pie, of course!

The obvious choice was to begin with a strawberry pie base and add as many of our known allergy triggers as possible - all the while attempting to keep it tasty, of course.

We began with a graham cracker crust - partially because graham crackers seemed like a natural for a pediatrician - and partially because it would be the perfect vehicle to sneak in the first allergen - cinnamon. 

My little sous chef's began by crushing a whole sleeve of honey graham crackers in the blender, negotiating feverishly for whose turn it was to push the button first. Once we had ourselves a thoroughly ground bowlful of crumbs, we added a dash of cinnamon, a spoonful of cocoa powder and a bit of granulated sugar before stirring in the melted butter. 

When the mixture held together in a moist crumble, we emptied the bowl into a pie dish, using a juice glass to press the crust firmly into the bottom and up the sides of the tin.

While our crust baked and then sat on the counter to cool, the boys and I prepared the pie filling - a riff on strawberries and cream in our attempt to incorporate two more allergens: strawberries and cow's milk. 

My little guys eagerly returned to their favorite Mommy-approved appliance - the blender - to process a pint of ripe, hulled strawberries until finely pureed. 

Then the boys took turns using the handheld mixer (with a fair amount of supervision) to blend sweetened condensed milk - our fancier version of "cow's milk" - with a carton of softened cream cheese, a splash of vanilla extract and the strawberry puree. I just love to watch their confidence and independence in using kitchen appliances grow - a precursor to the allure of power tools, I suppose.

Meanwhile, in a separate bowl, we beat heavy whipping cream into soft peaks and gently folded it into the strawberry filling. Of course, there was the usual begging for a "taste" - thank goodness we aren't allergic to strawberries anymore!

We spooned the light and airy strawberry and cream filling into the cooled, pre-baked graham cracker shell and placed the whole pie into the fridge to chill before decorating.

Once cooled, we beat the remaining whipping cream with a bit of powdered sugar to pipe onto the top in a decorative pattern (okay, this was mainly Mommy's job) before topping off the pie with several whole strawberries. 

Preheat your oven to 325 F. Grab a 9″ spring form pan. To make the crust, process the first 5 ingredients (except the butter) in a food processor until finely ground. Transfer 1½ cups to a large bowl, and add the melted butter. Press the crumbs into your pan using the bottom of a ¼ cup measure to evenly press down the mixture. Bake in the oven (center rack) for 10-15 minutes or until lightly golden. Cool completely before adding the filling. Note: store the rest of your graham cracker crumbs in a container or Ziploc bag for later use. For every 1½ cups, add 6 tbsp. of melted unsalted butter and bake as directed. - See more at: http://www.theclevercarrot.com/2013/06/strawberries-cream-tart/#sthash.ODacWEr7.dpuf

Whipped cream

• 1 c. heavy cream
• 1 tbsp. sugar
• 1 tsp. powdered gelatin
• 2 tbsp. water

Garnish

• 2 pints fresh strawberries
• ¼ c. apricot jam, warmed (optional)

- See more at: http://www.theclevercarrot.com/2013/06/strawberries-cream-tart/#sthash.ODacWEr7.dpuf

With the exception of egg whites and peanuts, which I think just might have been a tad bit overboard (although, I did toy with the idea of peanut butter and strawberry jelly...or even strawberry meringue) I think we came up with a little something that symbolizes our appreciation for Dr. O'Malley, while still being edible (fingers crossed).

When you bring these perfect, new, little people home from the hospital - babies that you have hoped for and prayed for and waited for - and then are charged with the task of keeping them alive without really the slightest inclination how actually to do that, a pediatrician that you trust is priceless. Dr. O'Malley has monitored, examined, healed and loved on my children on numerous occasions. But he has also given Will and I the reassurance, support and confidence to continue on in the sometimes daunting and uncertain task of parenting. And I certainly think that deserves a pie.

"People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care." - John C. Maxwell

Shelby's "Wish We Had Samoa You" Samoa Cookie Pie

I distinctly remember my first introduction to Shelby and her family. Will and I were newly engaged and had just begun attending Sunday morning services at a new-to-us church, when it happened - the slightly awkward interaction that takes place between a middle school student and their unsuspecting teacher outside of school hours. I'm sure I waited patiently through the "shop talk," smiled politely and parted with something along the lines of "it was nice to meet you." But, even then, I knew this time was different - Shelby was special. 

Several years, one wedding and the birth of our first son later, it struck me that one of the most significant benefits to having a husband who teaches a hundred or so teenagers each year is a vast babysitting pool from which to choose. However, I quickly learned that I am much pickier than Will about these sorts of things, vetoing several other "good students" before it dawned on me - Shelby! She was perfect - a responsible, Christian girl from a wonderful family...and not too boy crazy (trust me, these things are important in a good sitter). 

And I was right. Shelby was the perfect fit for our entire family and quickly became our go-to sitter. Over the years, she has witnessed Wilson grow from an infant who loved to be read to to a toddler who couldn't get enough train play to a big brother to Henry, who sometimes just needed some extra cuddles when Mommy and Daddy were away. I always felt safe with Shelby in charge. She seemed to have everything under control, the boys put down to bed and the house pulled back together when we returned - which is no small feat with two active little boys underfoot. (I mean, she even ran and emptied the dishwasher for me! It doesn't get much better than that!)

We were all a bit spoiled with Shelby...and then the inevitable happened - she left for college. Although I know this is the natural order of things - growing up and heading out into the world - I admit, I grieved her move a bit. Will and I began to schedule our dates around her school calendar, stocking up on nights out when we knew she would be coming home to visit. But, to be honest, I sometimes feel like we book Shelby as much to catch up on what she has been up to in her time away as we do for some time alone.

I feel so old when I find myself acting maternal toward people in their twenties (and maybe it's time that I just admit that I am officially old), but I couldn't be more proud of the woman that Shelby has become in the nine years since I first met her. She is such a light to those around her - bravely sharing what God is doing in her life and boldly staking out her place in His plan. 

I have come to terms with the increasing likelihood that I will never have a daughter of my own. But I do hold out hope that I might be lucky enough to have daughter-in-laws much like Shelby. I know that, someday, she will make some man (and some mother-in-law) very happy.

Shelby has been long overdue for a pie and her most recent trip home this past Christmas seemed like the perfect opportunity to bless her for the many ways she has blessed us. But when I thought about what type of pie to make for her, nothing felt just right. So I did what I do when I am absolutely, totally stuck with baker's block - I stalked her Pinterest foodie page...and found three knock-off Somoa cookie recipes. And then it came to me - Shelby's "Wish We Had Samoa You" Samoa Cookie Pie! That delicious Girl Scout shortbread cookie, coated in caramel and layered with toasted coconut and fudgy stripes could only get better in pie form.

I began with the shortbread cookie crust, adding a generous helping of butter into a bowlful of powdered sugar, flour, cornstarch, vanilla extract and a bit of salt. I worked the dough through my fingertips until it held together in large crumbs.

Once combined, I patted the dough into the bottom and up the sides of the pie tin in a uniform layer, pricked the bottom with a fork and placed it into a preheated oven to bake until golden.

While the shortbread cookie crust cooled, I set to work on the next layer - the caramel. In previous pie adventures, I had learned how simple (albeit dangerous) homemade caramel could be. So with a little assistance and supervision from my husband, I melted granulated sugar, stirring vigorously with a wooden spoon, until it reached a boil and turned amber in color. Then, I whisked in even more butter and heavy whipping cream until smooth. 

Once cooled, I slathered a thick, sticky layer of rich, homemade caramel over the entire crust (and failed epically at resisting the urge to lick the spoon).

For the next layer - the chocolate coconut custard - I adapted my favorite custard recipe, making minor substitutions here and there and swapping one cup of whole milk for coconut milk. 

To begin, I melted a combination of unsweetened and bittersweet chocolates in a double boiler before whisking in a pad of butter and a splash of vanilla extract. Meanwhile, I heated a combination of granulated sugar, cornstarch, salt, egg yolks, whole milk and coconut milk in a saucepan over medium heat. Once the filling had come to a boil, I reduced the heat and continued to whisk until it reached a pudding-like consistency. Then I married the cooled, melted chocolate and thick, coconut custard and poured the resulting filling into the caramel-lined crust.

Up next - the final and most important layer in recreating the Samoa cookie in pie form - the coconut-caramel topping. I began by toasting sweetened, shredded coconut in the oven until just golden brown. 

Then I added a spoonful of the homemade caramel to the warm, toasted coconut before sprinkling in a generous handful of dark chocolate chips.

I piled the decadent coconut-caramel crumble high over top of the pie.

And, in an attempt to recreate the Samoa's trademark fudge stripes, I melted dark chocolate chips to pipe over top. The result was one large cookie - in pie form.

I am so thankful that God placed Shelby in our path on that summer morning in church so many years ago. I have had the pleasure of watching her grow from an uncertain middle school student to a confident young woman and friend and I can't wait to see what the next chapter of her life holds. My only hope is that as she ventures out into this great big world, the road she travels will lead her home once in a while...because we sure do wish we had "Samoa" her.

"C is for cookie. That's good enough for me." - Cookie Monster

On Thanks and Giving

Sometimes God stops you right in your tracks and forces you to slow down.

A silly misstep down the one and only stair to our backyard patio early last month resulted in one broken foot, one sprained elbow, a giant serving of humility and plenty of time to reflect on what's really important. And while, at times, I admit it's been pretty easy to focus on the negative, this Thanksgiving I am making a choice to be intentional in my gratitude for the blessings unique to this season of life.

As a visual reminder of exactly how blessed we really are, our family created a festive gratitude garland for our Thanksgiving mantle. Each evening at dinner, one family member contributes something specific they are thankful for, I write it out on a "leaf" and the boys eagerly pin it to our growing "branch." This simple act of pausing in the middle of our often hectic day to give thanks has been healing for me in so many ways. I am grateful for the opportunity to see the abundant blessings in my life and in the lives of those I love made tangible.

This year I am especially thankful for:

my left foot (and the promise of a slowly healing right foot).
a borrowed scooter and crutches that help keep me connected to the outside world.

maxi skirts.
online shopping.

a comfortable couch from which to heal.

my dear husband, Will, who took three weeks off of his job and life to be full-time nurse and stay at home Daddy.

my oldest son, Wilson, who is always willing to snuggle and read a book with (or to) Mommy.

my youngest son and Disney Junior viewing partner, Henry, whose spunk brings normalcy to our days spent stuck at home together.

amazing women who stop by with warm, delicious meals - thank you Kristin, Jami, Angela, Denise, Kaci, Nikki, Kristina and Tracy!

in-laws who drop everything to bring by food, help build a wheelchair ramp or drive my big boy to school.

new friends and fellow kindergarten mommies who offer rides home from school, swap days helping out in the classroom and understand just how hard that help is for me to accept.

texts of love, support and prayer from far away.
Thanksgiving songs and artwork courtesy of my favorite kindergartener. 

This Thanksgiving, our little family of four will be hosting dinner for the very first time ever. I feel like such a grown up! And with family and close friends coming by to help us celebrate, my favorite sous chef and I decided to live it up with not one, but two, Thanksgiving pie selections - our traditional Missouri Buttermilk Pie (per Will's request) and a new-to-us Brown Sugar and Maple Buttermilk Pie that I've had my eye on since last Thanksgiving. Because you can never have too much good food, good company...or pie. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

"What kind of Thanksgiving dinner is this? Where’s the turkey, Chuck? Don’t you know anything about Thanksgiving dinners? Where’s the mashed potatoes? Where’s the cranberry sauce? Where’s the pumpkin pie?" - Peppermint Patty

"The Ladies with the Cookies" Chocolate Chip Cookie Pies

I'm a creature of habit. Grocery shopping and bills on Mondays...library and laundry on Tuesdays...Henry's gym class and Target run on Wednesdays...well, you get the gist.

The boys and I make our list and head out to do our grocery shopping every Monday morning, precisely (well, give or take a half hour or so due to child compliance, or lack thereof) at 11:00 a.m. Due to the habitual nature of our shopping, we have come to know and love several of the people employed at our favorite local grocery store, Raley's. But there are two lovely ladies that we simply can't pop in without saying hello to - Miss Karen and Miss Shawnna.

Karen is most well known in our family as "The Lady with the Cookies." Nearly a year ago, I began chatting with Karen as I purchased our sun-dried tomato turkey lunch meat week after week at the deli counter. As she sliced and packaged our order, we discussed our weekends and plans for the week ahead. Over time, we talked about everything from vacations to preschool to what the kiddos were asking Santa for at Christmas (kids are the most amazing ice-breaker). As our conversations grew, so too did the way we all felt about Miss Karen. 

Karen offers "her boys" a sugar cookie from the bakery, each and every week - after asking Mommy how they have behaved during that day's outing, that is. Let's face it - some days, after repeatedly pinching your brother, throwing items out of the cart, or otherwise being a difficult three or five year old little boy, you just don't deserve a cookie. This, by the way, has become amazing leverage during our weekly shopping trips: "Uh oh. I don't want to have to tell Miss Karen we can't have a cookie today."

Shawnna, the e-cart clerk, has quickly become another Monday morning favorite. As her own son is just a few years older than Wilson, I find she can readily relate to the various stages of boyhood that we are currently in - everything from birthday parties at the bowling alley to all things train and Lego to hesitations (mainly Mommy's) about heading off to kindergarten. She was an enthusiastic source of advice when planning our first big trip to Disneyland several months ago, asking the boys what rides they were most looking forward to and prepping them with bits and pieces of Disney magic in the weeks leading up to our vacation.

If you know my boys, you know they can be very shy with new adults, but Shawnna has always related to them with a gentleness and warmth that they have really responded to. And it doesn't hurt that she is always there to offer a cookie (or in some cases, a second). 

What I find to be so special about these pies is that in the forty-something pies I have baked in the past year and a half, these are the very first initiated by my children. A couple of months ago, as we were heading home from the grocery store, Wilson announced in a very matter of fact way that Miss Karen and Miss Shawnna needed their own pies. And he even knew just what to make them - cookie pies, of course! So the three of us set out to whip up a couple of "The Ladies with the Cookies" Chocolate Chip Cookie Pies.

We began by preparing a double batch of my traditional flaky pie crust recipe, sifting butter, shortening, salt and chilled flour through our fingers before adding ice water to bring it together. Then we rolled out two sheets of dough, carefully draping one over each of the pie tins before trimming and crimping the edges (well, okay...Mommy did that part).

While the dough chilled, my sous chefs eagerly (and not so patiently) awaited their turn with the hand-held mixer, helping to beat eggs fresh from our coop before adding in flour, salt, granulated sugar, light brown sugar, vanilla extract and softened butter. 

Finally, we stirred in two heaping cupfuls of semi-sweet chocolate chips (with samples snagged by eager hands straight out of the bag) before dividing the filling evenly between the two tins.

Just over an hour in the oven and we had not one, but two, beautiful cookie pies. And the entire house smelled of warm chocolate chip cookies to boot.

Our little family has grown to care an awful lot about Miss Karen and Miss Shawnna. On the days that their shifts don't align with our shopping schedule, we find ourselves missing their friendly smiles, warm chitchat, occasional hugs...and cookies, of course.

It is so easy to go through our lives busy, rushing from one task or errand to another. And for many of us - myself included - grocery shopping does not rank at the top of our list of enjoyable activities. But, when you stop to appreciate the people God has put in your path - to really get to know the heart of the people behind those familiar faces you see week after week - you realize that friendships can be formed just about anywhere...even behind the deli counter. 

"Cookies are made of butter and love." - Norwegian Proverb

Cassandra's "Just Between Friends" Coconut Cream Pie

I have a hard time with stuff. Or more specifically, I have a hard time parting with it.

My father was notorious for tucking away orphaned screws, bolts and tire weights in empty coffee cans and yogurt tubs "just in case," and it is safe to say I have inherited his inability to purge. Although "collecting" has been part of my life for as long as I can remember, I never struggled with it as much as I did becoming a mother. Suddenly, everything had intense meaning - the onesies the boys wore as babies, the board books they had long ago outgrown and the rattles discarded in a basket at the bottom of a bookcase were all dripping with sentimentality.

At the same time, I have experienced firsthand the stress that comes with having more. A small house with two adults, two boys and two cats doesn't leave a lot of room for unnecessary extras. Pushed largely by my husband (who actually asserted that the attic would fall in if I put one more tub of outgrown baby clothes up there), I bit the bullet and decided it was time to part with a few things.

I opted to consign our baby items with a local children's consignment event, Just Between Friends. But I knew I wouldn't be able to price each piece myself. First off, I had approximately 300 clothing items boxed up and ready to head out on the next leg of their journey. Secondly, that sleeper that kept my precious winter babies warm all night - the one with the sweet yellow ducks on the front - well, it was worth more like $4 than the priceless value it had to me. So, I signed up online to have my items priced by a third party - a valet tagger - all the while secretly hoping that there wouldn't be anyone available and I would just have to keep all that stuff a little while longer. 

Then came the call - from a lovely lady named Cassandra. As I fed my kiddos their lunch that afternoon, I spilled my guts out to a woman I had never before met. I told her how difficult it was for me to part with these things. I told her how, honestly, I just wanted to cry at the very thought of parting with anything. And I told her how badly I wished for a third baby - and that maybe that meant I should just keep it all.

Cassandra listened and validated and empathized with my struggle...and I felt strangely safe handing my items over to her. 

So, several weeks later we loaded the truck to the brim with boxes and bags of clothing, books, toys and baby equipment and drove the whole lot to Cassandra's house. On the ride there, tears filled my eyes and a lump formed in my throat as I began to second guess this crazy venture. It was starting to feel a little too much like saying goodbye to my babies for my liking.

But, when I met Cassandra face to face in her driveway that day, I knew my things were safe. I recognized that God had put her in my life for a reason - that out of all the taggers and all the sellers, we were divinely paired together. She told me she would take good care of all of those things that held so many memories for me and I trusted her. I hugged her goodbye and drove down the hill from her house, sentimental but also keenly aware that I could breathe better under the weight of less stuff.

Over the next few weeks, Cassandra reached out to reassure me several times. In one particular email, she wrote, "I know this was hard for you to choose to sell these items. I prayed for you this morning and God put it on my heart to tell you that sometimes He may ask you to give up something in order to give you an even greater blessing later. Thank you for trusting me with your items. They will be well cared for as I continue tagging."

Cassandra has been such a blessing in my life. She has prayed for me and helped me find peace when I felt so unsettled. She has shared scripture with me when I have struggled. I have been uplifted and renewed by her Biblical knowledge and willingness to lovingly speak truth into my life countless times. I so admire the woman of God that she is and strive to be more like her to those He places in my life. 

Since that first meeting, I have sold items with Cassandra several times, and although I still find it difficult to separate the thing from the memory, it has gotten a wee bit easier every time. I have made a small amount of money and freed up that space in the attic. But, most importantly, I have made a friend. And if that isn't pie worthy, then I don't know what is.

When I began dreaming up the perfect pie for Cassandra, I found myself returning over and over to the idea of coconut cream. Largely, I think, because I had not yet made my own version of this classic pie and also because there is just something about coconut layered with meringue that connotes summertime and fresh starts. So, I set out to create Cassandra's "Just Between Friends" Coconut Cream Pie.

I began with my tried and true pie crust recipe, cutting equal parts butter and shortening into a bowlful of chilled flour and salt before adding iced water to combine.

After the dough had chilled, I liberally floured down my butcher block, rolled the disk into a uniform sheet of pastry and transferred it into the tin with the aid of my rolling pin. I then trimmed and crimped my way around the perimeter. 

While the chilled crust baked under a layer of parchment paper and dried beans, I gathered the ingredients for the filling - coconut milk, whole milk, granulated sugar and salt.

As the milk mixture simmered on the stovetop, I whisked together several egg yolks, cornstarch and additional sugar in a separate bowl. 

I tempered the yolks with the warm milk to avoid scrambling and added them to the saucepan, stirring until bubbles formed and the custard had thickened into a pudding-like consistency. I removed the custard from the heat and added a couple of pats of butter, a dash each of vanilla and coconut extracts and a hefty handful of unsweetened shredded coconut.

Once cooled, I poured the coconut cream filling into the blind-baked crust and placed the pie into the refrigerator to chill until firm.

Finally for the meringue - that airy, sticky, glossy cloud on top that is the crowning glory of this pie. Using my handheld mixer, I beat together egg whites, cream of tartar and vanilla extract before gradually adding in the granulated sugar, a spoonful at a time, until stiff peaks formed.

I spooned the meringue over top of the custard, using the back of the wooden spoon to create a series of random peaks, before dousing the entire pie with a generous amount of unsweetened coconut flakes. 

Then, into the oven...just until slightly golden and toasty.

I readily admit that change and letting go are not my strong suits. Yet, I have found time and time again that taking that first uncertain step often results in unexpected riches. When Cassandra sent that beautiful reminder my way that "sometimes He may ask you to give up something in order to give you an even greater blessing later," maybe, just maybe, she was hinting at the blessing of a new friendship as well. And for friendship and pie, I will always make room.

"The two basic items necessary to sustain life are sunshine and coconut milk." - Dustin Hoffman