A Muse in the Kitchen, the Power of Music, and the Best Peanut Butter Cookies Ever

A guest post by Finn the Cooking Assistant (aka the dog picker)

Some things that go on in this house are over-the-top silly, but now that I have an official title and a permanent place and in the kitchen, I'm not whining. Of course it's just a little rug and the title is questionable, but anything that brings me closer to the chef on a regular basis and gets me scraps destined for the compost heap has my vote.

"We'll have to think of a song for you," the Lady said one day, when I was digging a comfortable spot on my new memory foam rug. "Every kitchen muse has a song."

What's a muse? I'd wondered. I was tempted to lift my leg and start licking but I refrained. As for music, I was glad to hear the kitchen tunes return. It's a sign we're moving on. Seemed like everything shifted after Abe died. Then Badger passed away and it had been eons since we heard music around here. Abe had been the singer among us (and possibly the last muse in the kitchen as far as I know.) Abe's howl was smooth and beautiful like the Barry White of hounds. Who could match that? Not every hound is a born a singer and to make matters worse, the piped in music also came to a halt when Abe died. So when I heard some of the same songs Abe once sang along with, it was a hopeful sign.

Hopeful, because I'd wanted a permanent pass to the kitchen ever since I came to this house as a puppy. My sister Chloe has never been granted a kitchen pass either, but if being a muse was what I had to do, I was all for it to advance my case. Oh sure every once in awhile I'd grabbed apple slices, plums, carrots and celery stalks left loose, but that was petty stuff. And no one wants to feel like a petty thief in his own home. Mostly, I was shown the door with the excuse that it's too dangerous in the kitchen with sharp knives falling, heavy pots of steaming liquids tipping over and an overfilled refrigerator that tossed out food every time the door opened. I couldn't convince the Lady that I loved danger, but now that the kitchen music returned, the mood shifted.

From my new rug I can gaze up at the framed photos of hounds on the walls. Had they been muses, too? Clearly, they must have loved carrots and celery as much as I do, and when I saw this picture I realized collective wisdom can't be ignored.

Well, not every hound was as sharp as I am and not every photo shoot idea is worth repeating.

And I've already learned that not every source outside the pack could be trusted.

The important part was the hounds of the past lived like royalty, and that's exactly the life I wanted, so I figured it would be best to humor Management when it came to silly song ideas.

The Lady went through songs--classic and alternative. The Duke of Earl (Gene Chandler) was already taken by Abe. Also taken were: Just the Two of Us (Bill Withers), With or Without U (U2), and Don't Matter (Akon). The last of the old dogs, Badger got "Wonderful World" by Sam Cook. I couldn't bear to opt for the obvious--Hound Dog (Elvis Presley) or Birddog (Everly Brothers), besides they were a little degrading. The Lady sang a few songs to me. Let humans go on long enough with their quirky ideas and it soon gets over the top. I once saw a bulldog zipped into an enclosed stroller made for dogs. Now that topped ridiculous in my book, but I digress. The lyrics didn't capture my attention until I heard the word "apple" in You Are the Sunshine of My Life (Stevie Wonder). My ears perked-up, and I wagged my tail thinking we'd actually get to enjoy an apple. But it didn't happen.

"That's it," she'd said, "You picked your song."

I'm not sure Management and I are on the same wavelength about the deeper meaning of song lyrics or the job of a muse, but I did score one of these fabulous cookies, and that's what it's really all about. (to be continued)

A note from Management:

This recipe originated in The Joy of Cooking and I'm transitioning it to gluten-free buckwheat flour one baby step at a time. The tapioca or arrowroot helps hold non-gluten flours together. We used freshly ground flour from Nash's Organic Produce, and since these cookies are treats for humans and my muse in the kitchen needs to watch his weight, this stash is kept safely in the freezer.

The Best Peanut Butter Cookies Ever

(Makes about 60 1 1/2-inch cookies)

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1/2 cup buckwheat flour

1 tablespoon tapioca or arrowroot flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 egg, beaten or 1/2 mashed ripe banana

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

1 cup peanut butter

1/2 cup butter or Earth Balance Spread

1.Preheat oven to 325F. Place parchment paper on baking sheets.

2. Blend flours and baking powder together, mixing well.

3. Combine brown and white sugar, egg or banana, vanilla, peanut butter and butter or Earth Balance in a medium mixing bowl. Mix dry and liquid ingredients until a stiff batter is formed. Take a teaspoon of dough and roll it into a ball. Place on baking sheet. Fill baking sheet, placing cookies about 2-inches apart.

4. Dip a fork into water and press cookies flat making a cross pattern with the fork. Bake cookies for about 15 minutes or until the bottoms are lightly browned. Remove to cooling rack, then stack on a plate.

What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen.

Balzac's Omelette and locavore fare

A guest post by Finn the Cooking Assistant (aka the dog picker)

I used to wonder why we didn't have eggs more often around here. Then one day I overhead the Lady scolding the Man saying, "They're like buying gold. At $7. a dozen, you don't need to eat them every day." The Man is like me. When he likes something he can't stop eating it. He eats an egg almost every morning, and aside from chile rellenos in the summer, an omelet is the only thing that the Man cooks. The Lady humors him but never calls him a one-trick pony.

I not a fan of special occasion food because there isn't anything left on the plate when the feast is over. I know because one of my chores is plate cleaning. Sister Chloe and I wait in our crates until Management finishes eating. I lay on my side as if I could care less, but as soon as the door opens, I become a race horse. I fly to the kitchen, slide across the floor and quickly devour the treasures on the plate. On the day Management has eggs, I get a plate but the Lady tries to fool me with raw carrots and last nights cold dinner.

I'm not a whiner but could I at least have a bite of eggs?

Speaking of eggs, I found this book this past weekend and here's a news flash: there isn't a recipe in the entire book.

I tried to hide my disappointment as the shutter snapped. Let's just say I wouldn't make a great poker player. The Lady said, "Let's take a picture." I have learned exactly where to sit, and I can strike a pose for anything edible, even those delicacies from the yard beyond the human palate. But this was neither. I say we canine food assistants need a union. And FYI I did read this book, but I'm not over sharing my thoughts about it like a human.

What is the point of a review, except to brag that you read a book? Let me just say, aside from the food descriptions, my favorite sentence in the book was this: "At the end of a meal the butler became a stage manager looking after the sets for his play." A butler, that's what I must be because looking after the remains of a meal is what I do. I am a serious food model and am insulted when Management comes up with crazy props like books.

Speaking of modeling, some dogs have asked, "How did I learn such a profession?" I'm sharp, for one thing. Also it helps that people have low expectations of me. Who can't live up to "oh well, they aren't the brightest dogs on the block," kinds of comments. As for modeling, I went to school as a puppy and I learned my one trick so quickly we left before graduation.

Life is a breeze when expectations are low.

I'll tell you the story of how I learned my "trick."

Dog School and the One Trick Pony

I was doing just fine as a pup in this house, the geezer dogs in residence taught me the basics. My mentor Abe taught me to check every last cupboard door, pocket and bag until I find something edible. Sweatshirts with pockets are often streaked with my inquiries. And when someone leaves a plate unattended, Abe taught me to quickly clean it. Badger showed me how to make off with food from market bags and reminded me to eat as fast as I can so I can check another dog's plate. I also learned to be an emotional sponge for the Lady who over shares every problem, and let me just say it appears she has a boatload with all the hugs I get.

You'd think that's plenty, but humans are difficult to satisfy, and years ago the Lady insisted I attend something called "dog school." I had no say in the matter, so I went along with the program.

We drove to the dog school, which was a building in a park. I had no idea the humiliation that was coming my way as I hung my head out the window, letting the wind whip my ears back. When we arrived, the Lady and I joined a group of humans and dogs all attached to each other with leashes. I'd thought it was some kind of party, but I was forced to sit on a little towel, waiting for biscuits to be doled out. I wondered when we'd get to the "fun" part the Lady had promised but we never did.

We returned the next few weeks and it was always the same. The treats were excellent but the Lady was always very stingy. I was afraid the Lady wasn't learning anything and then one day the instructor came over said something to me. She held a biscuit over my nose and I leaped for it. She wasn't a good sport. She jerked my leash hard and snapped the biscuit away and she said, "Wait."

I leaped again. The same thing happened. I finally gave up, and wouldn't you know, the woman suddenly handed me a biscuit and said, "Good boy!" It was an epiphany for the lady. She'd finally learned something.

We didn't go back to the class again. Instead, we practiced "Wait." It was a great game, and I say, if you learn one good trick in life, it's enough. And it's more than enough when people have low expectations. I learned if I put my nose on the food, no one else was likely to claim it, either. Don't get me wrong, this is no easy skill, and Management reviewed it with me frequently. I got so good at it, I can now balance and hold a biscuit on my nose and snatch it in mid air. We didn't finish dog school, but we were only there for one trick.

I prefer to stare at food and wait, but I can wait anywhere, and here is what I've learned about humans in just one word--inconsistent.

For example, sometimes the location selection is puzzling. And I wonder what is the point of photos without food? Check this one: It's unsafe to roam the streets unattached to a human and a leash, but it's okay to pose for a touristy shot on the railroad tracks? Seriously, it's not just the politicians in this country who are inconsistent. (to be continued)

I digress. Back to the omelet and the recipe.

This one takes inspiration from Whatcom Locavore Nancy Ging. I read through all the recipes here. Oh how I'd love lick the crumbs from Nancy Ging's kitchen floor!

Her recipes come with a stand and a little calendar and each month has a recipe that features foods from Whatcom Country, Washington.

This was the recipe for January. The two main ingredients are eggs and shiitake mushrooms, from Cascadia Mushrooms. All I found in the market bags this week were greens, potatoes, eggs and shiitake mushrooms. Where were the carrots? It's a good thing spring is just around the corner.

It's sad when I'm the one considered slow and not very bright, yet I'm always waiting for someone who is chronically late with whatever food she mentions. Where is the food for this shot?

Also it isn't fair that I'm the labeled a one-trick pony when look who only cooks one thing in the kitchen. Plus everyone must leave the kitchen while the Man concentrates on his one trick. If I had thumbs I'd have more tricks than he does.

Tom's Mushroom Omelet (adapted from Whatcom Locavore)

(Serves 2)

2 cups sliced mushrooms, for shiitaki remove stems if large and save for stock

1to 2 tablespoons canola or extra-virgin olive oil

1/2 cup finely chopped onion

2 to 3 cloves peeled garlic, sliced

4 extra large eggs, beaten

2 tablespoons water or milk

Chopped Mama Lil's Peppers to taste, or a pinch of ground chile powder

1/4 teaspoon sea salt or to taste

Salsa

Chopped cilantro (optional)

Chopped avocado (optional)

1. Heat a heavy skillet over medium heat. Dry fry the shiitaki mushrooms until they soften. The mushrooms won't lose as much moisture as button or crimini mushrooms.

2. Add half the oil, onion, red pepper and garlic. Stir and cook over medium-low heat until onions and garlic are lightly browned--6 to 7 minutes. Remove from pan and set aside.

3. Beat eggs with water or milk. Stir in the Mama Lil's Peppers and sea salt. Heat the oil in the skillet over medium heat. Pour in the egg mixture and cook until the bottom begins to set. Using the spatula, gently lift the edges and tip the pan to allow the egg for pour underneath. Continue until there is no runny egg left. Stop moving the eggs and continue to cook until they are nearly done, but the top is not set and still looks moist.

4. Spoon the mushroom mixture on one half of the eggs. Gently run a spatula under the other half of the eggs and fold over the filling. Cook until the eggs are done, remove from heat. Garnish with salsa. Sprinkle with cilantro and avocado, if desired.

Toast bones again. Who was that jerk who coined the phrase 'beggers can't be choosy"?

The Best Vegan Oatmeal Cookies and Street Food

A Guest Post by Finn the Cooking Assistant (aka the dog picker)

Recently I overheard Management talking about "street food,"and they mentioned going to a place called "Portland." I wondered where Portland was, and wondered why the Lady never stopped to pick up food finds on our own street. Then last week I found this book.

I pawed through through the book and learned that humans call hot food sold out of little trailers and carts "street food." I find it odd as this food has never actually touched a street. Technically it's trailer or cart food, but I guess since trailers are associated with something called "crack" and "trash," humans consider the "street food" label more chic.

And as for Portland, I have to say, Management (especially the Lady) is either not paying attention on our walks, or they are very slow learners.

I find food on our walks everyday. And that's my motivation for heading out with the Lady and my sister Chloe. As soon as we leave the driveway, we play a game I call, "Is It Street Food?"

The Lady misses many bits that I snap up, so it looks like I am winning this game. She calls us "The Garbage Patrol." That's what she told a neighbor. Old Kleenex, apple cores, bits of bread left for birds are just a few examples of my food finds. I lead the pack when we head out. This way we know who is in charge and of course I often spot the treasures first.

To me the whole world looks delicious; I never know what I'll find, and I'm excited each time we head out. But if the lady sees the treasure first, I'm not allowed to check it out. Oddly, she does not take it for herself. The Lady is a bad sport.

Some bags turn up empty, but that's how it is with Is It Street Food? Other bags harbor treasures that I sometimes regret sampling, but you can't knock free samples--some are fantastic, others burn you.

The best time for street food is Saturday morning. Construction sites can yield tasty results.

The Lady sometimes changes the rules of my game as we go along. If a container is sealed, I'm not allowed to open it. This one smelled of ripe potato salad. The Lady does not realize the object of this game is to eat the street food.

Sometimes the Lady allows me a few bites of bread. But before I can eat it, I sit and wait while she inspects it. I tell you--who knew this was rule? Other times I'm chewing as fast as I can and the Lady prys my mouth open and fishes the food out before I can swallow it. I call this cheating as we both know it's clearly food since I'm eating it!

Seasonal Street Food

I find more lots of plums and pears in the fall, bread, sandwiches and apples in the winter and in the spring I found strawberries that my sister Chloe and I are allowed to pick and eat. In the summer, people sometimes drop chunks of watermelon. Management called this "wasted food." If you ask me, if people wasted a little more food and I'd be happy.

I learned street food was a good thing when I was puppy. After the old bitch died, Abe was very sad and the Lady would go out and hide dog biscuits around the driveway. I sat on a ledge near a window and watched as she put the biscuits behind bushes and near rocks. I tried my best to shove my way out the front door first so I could get the biscuits, but the Lady took my old mentor Abe out and she shut the door in my face.

I returned to my space on ledge. I watched the Lady with Abe shuffling around the driveway. He sniffed and found all the biscuits and the Lady cooed and petted him, but all the Lady said to me when she and Abe returned was: "Mister you need to go to school to learn some manners."

School? Manners? If manners were treats and school was a place where I'd more, I was all for it. (to be continued)

A note from the Management about baking:

The recipe for these cookies originally contained 2 teaspoons of baking soda and 1/2 teaspoon salt. That's a whopping 3,710 mg of sodium, about 103 mg per cookie! Lowering sodium intake isn't for everyone but for sodium sensitive people, it's a great relief, to lower sodium intake and not take blood pressure medication. Also, since many Americans consume way too much sodium, I substituted baking powder for the baking soda and dropped the salt, making the cookies more heart healthy at 660 mg of sodium for the recipe, about 18.3 mg per cookie. Baking powder is always preferable to baking soda if you want to reduce sodium in your diet. To boost the flavor, I added carob. If you don't have dogs who want to sample the cookies, you can use cocoa powder.

And if you want more tips about how to maintain a healthy heart read this article in The Sound Outlook from Marlene's Market and Deli.

Best Vegan Oatmeal Cookies Ever

(Makes about 3 dozen cookies)

1 1/2 cups whole-wheat pastry flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1 tablespoon carob (optional)

2 1/2 cups old-fashioned oats

3/4 cup brown sugar (or Sucanat)

1/4 cup maple syrup

1/4 cup canola oil

1 mashed banana (about 1/2 cup)

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

3 tablespoons water

1. Preheat oven to 350F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

2. Combine flour, baking powder, cinnamon, carob and oats in a large mixing bowl. Mix well.

In a separate bowl, mix brown sugar, maple syrup, canola oil, mashed banana, vanilla and water. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients. Mixture should be thick but the mixture is too thick, add a little more water. (The consistency should be like chocolate chip cookie dough.)

3. Drop the dough by tablespoon onto the cookie sheet. Flatten the top with a glass dipped in water or the back of a spoon. Bake for 13 minutes. To check to see if they are done, flip one over and it should be lightly browned.

If I put my nose on it, it's mine.

Apple Coleslaw and Raw Food Diets

A Guest Post by Finn the Cooking Assistant (aka the dog picker)

February means cabbage season and fresh cabbage means coleslaw, which the Lady makes and it's always delicious as is everything I eat. I found a recipe in this cookbook and it's now one of my all-time favorites.

True confession: one of my favorite ways to enjoy raw cabbage is by planting myself underneath the cutting board in the kitchen and eagerly starring up. I entertain the Lady as I catch the little pieces of the cabbage core she tosses to me. The Lady often laughs when I catch them. "Good boy!" she sometimes cries. I hate it when the Lady abruptly ends our game saying, "It's time to get out now."

Often the Lady tells me "Raw vegetables are good for dogs, Finn," but she also says, "No way would I ever give another dog of mine one of those raw food diets." This puzzled and worried me that my raw vegetable parade would stop, but just a few weeks ago this newspaper arrived with an article that said we were meant to eat like our ancestors. After the Lady read it, she shook her head and said, "No way, not in this house!" Then she handed me a carrot a few minutes later. Humans, who can figure them out?

Then one day, the Lady left this old City Dog magazine out and I learned what "raw food diet" meant as I read Hunter's story.

Hunter's Story

I'd mentioned in my last post about Hunter--the basset bitch born with such perfect looks and quiet demeanor that everyone who saw her thought she was the perfect dog. Without going to obedience school, Hunter walked on a leash right beside the Lady and she stopped whenever the Lady stopped. People would exclaim, "Oh so obedient!" Near the water bowl, I'd heard "Hunter's gears" turned a lot slower than other dogs. Humans are so impressed when canines follow them like wind-up toys.

When Hunter posed for pictures, she worked the camera like she was born to be a professional model. The overwhelming photos in this house were of Hunter--wearing hats, sunglasses, looking at food and just looking coy.

I pawed through stacks. Here are a few that I found:

She had that "camera ready" look perfected, and I'm not saying she slept her way to the top of the pack, but she scandalously slept with everyone in the house, even puppies and stuffed animals, and no one had a bad word to say about her.

Also it appeared that when when was my age, she was quite the party animal and yet she was still a great sport for early morning photo shoots.

I digress, but I never get tired of digging up dirt on Hunter. She was way too perfect when young, but the City Dog magazine article featured Hunter as an old dog. By the time she was old, she was a white faced tired old hound. Then and on the recommendation from a naturpathic vet, Management fed Hunter a raw meat diet. It was a prepared frozen hunk of meat and not really all raw vegetables like I'd thought, but raw meat. It was supposed to be just like a canine's original diet. The vet had said this diet would perk Hunter up, give her the energy she lacked, but just the opposite happened.

Hunters energy drained drained away. She slept 23 hours a day, yet still woke up for the farmers' market. One winter day at the Market when the Lady and Hunter moved slowly from booth to booth in the drizzling rain, a voice said, "I think I can help your dog."

A man under and over-sized umbrella said he thought Hunter was missing minerals. The man was a medical researcher and he said a hair analysis could reveal which minerals Hunter didn't have. He said that the minerals and toxic metals in the body are deposited in the hair and laid down like tree rings and that the hair analysis can reveal many things about health.

Here is how they do this hair analysis: a little hair is clipped, placed carefully an envelope and mailed off to a place in Texas. At a mysterious place called a "lab" someone burns the hair and another person reads the minerals and toxic elements like lead, mercury or arsenic from the hair remains. Sounds way too much like witchcraft to me.

Apparently minerals run practically everything in the body. Your heart can't beat without sufficient magnesium and calcium, which relax and stimulate muscles including the heart. And as we age, minerals become depleted, creating imbalances. Some humans think minerals imbalances can be corrected by diet, but the researcher said, " To raise a low potassium level it would take something like 500 pounds of bananas." He added, "I'm all for relying on Mother Nature but when she's crippled, give her a cane."

Hunter's hair analysis revealed she was deficient in 18 of the 30 minerals tested. "Give her calcium and magnesium, immediately," the researcher had said.

From that moment on, the Lady frowned whenever someone mentioned "raw food" or paleolithic diet.

The researcher wrote a mineral formula based on Hunter's hair analysis and day by day the geezer basset swallowed home made mineral supplements and became more active for nearly two more years.

I mentioned that a few days after I'd arrived here, Hunter passed away. My mentor Abe howled (in a beautiful way) and hung his head. He shuffled around and stayed close to the Lady for days, refusing to leave her side, even for street food, which is anther story, I'll save for next time. (to be continued)

In the meantime check out this salad.

Apple-Rutabaga Coleslaw with Dried Sour Cherries

(Serves 4)

1/4 cup mayonnaise

1 tablespoon white miso

1 teaspoon honey

1 teaspoon chopped fresh lemon zest

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

3 cups thinly sliced green cabbage

1 rutabaga or golden turnips, grated

1 apple (any variety) grated

1/4 cup dried sour cherries

1/4 cup grated carrots (for garnish)

1. Combine mayonnaise, honey and lemon zest in a small bowl.

2. Blend cabbage, rutabaga, apple and cherries in a medium-size salad bowl. Gently toss in the dressing. Garnish with grated carrots.

Valentine's Day Goes to the Dogs

A Guest Post by Finn the Cooking Assistant (aka the dog picker)

Valentine's Day is my birthday. I say bring on the gifts!

Okay, it's not my real birthday; no one can remember that day. It's my "designated" day as per the Management. I believe I'm five in human years, and I don't care about candles, but since dog years are longer, why isn't my birthday isn't celebrated once a month? This is a point I must present to Management. And would someone please explain the point of holidays without self-indulgent food gifts?

I digress. When I came to this house as a puppy, I saw lots of photos of this pretty girl basset. Her face peered out from practically every frame around the room. As a contrast, I saw only one picture of my old mentor Abe with one blue eye. Who was this perfect girl? Some kind of pin-up hound? She certainly knew how to work the camera. And those soulful eyes . . . The best part was she posed with food in a number of photos. It gave me ideas and set me on my path.

When I found out who she was, I was jealous. Jealousy is an accepted emotion in the canine world, as long as physical fighting isn't involved. I studied the photos, positive I could learn to be coy and work the camera, too--if only the right opportunities were dropped into my lap.

Hunter working the camera.

Hunter the poser

Her name was Hunter--the same old bitch who rode home with me on the first day. Can you believe it? I'd never expected that deaf-as-a post, white-faced dog, who died a few days after I'd arrived in the house, had once been this camera-ready model. I heard no job was too small for her when she was young, but when I knew her, she was sunk into her own world, and when she died, Abe, my cranky mentor, cried and pined for the rest of his life.

I never would have guessed this was the same dog. But botox and hair dyes aren't status symbols in the canine community. And don't even get me going about face lifts. An eye lift might not be bad for old basset hounds, but it's a good thing canines are more impressed with scents than looks.

Eventually I noticed that Hunter had appeared in calendars and books. And the calendars haven't stopped coming. Just a few months ago a calender featuring her modeling a yamaka arrived with a letter that said, "Congratulations, your dog has been selected . . . " That dog should be me, but canines can't compete with a ghost.

Barks around the water bowl had revealed that Hunter had been Management's favorite dog for years. No surprise with all those framed photos.

Hunter had gone to show school as a puppy, but had no interest in beauty pageants. She took a job sitting near a demo table in pet stores and on weekends she cruised the farmers' markets with the Management. Hunter ran with her pack at the dog park on Wednesdays. Her every whim was indulged--prime position under the dining table and the word around the house was she slept with Management to get her position. But people were crazy about the way she looked, unlike Abe ( Hunter's "brother") who frightened little children and barked at the drop of a paw.

When I was a puppy, I'd gone to a farmers' market and I overhead someone above me say, "I wish Hunter was still around." The remark didn't bother me, I was there for the carrots under tables, but if I'd been a Yorkie, I might have been devastated.

Sadly, there is much prejudice against dogs at farmers' markets today and not even sweet Hunter could bark her way in to most of them.

Here's a picture Hunter in this cookbook I found. That's where this dog biscuit recipe originated.

Apparently she was the inspiration for this canine biscuit section in this book, because Hunter was very sensitive to many foods. Much of this section is about alternative flour and how to use it. For me, the "Healthy Canine Dog Biscuit" chapter was most amazing section in this entire cookbook.

She was also featured in this old magazine--had a big two page spread.

All I could think about at the time was if this is the stairway to the easy life, I could smell my life's path stretching out before me. (to be continued)

The Biscuits

These biscuits come out quite crisp. One friend cuts back the amount of tapioca flour, but I like them crisp. And if you want to make them with Northwest ingredients, the word is Nash's Organic Produce has grains on sale this month. Freshly ground buckwheat flour is on sale for $7.50 for (I think) 3 pounds. Pastry, hard wheat, triticale and rye flours are also on sale at the farm store or Seattle farmers' markets. Also you could substitute Holmquist hazelnut butter, and if you are thinking of sharing these with humans as we do here, realize that they are very, very crisp. They could possibly be the most perfect teething cookies ever.

Peanut Butter Buckwheat Biscuits (or Crackers)

(Makes about 76 biscuits)

3 to 4 cups buckwheat flour

1/2 cup tapioca flour

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 cup mashed yam, sweet potato or pumpkin

1 cup peanut butter

1/4 cup honey or molasses

1 cup boiling water

1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese (Optional)

1. Combine dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl.

2. Place yam, peanut butter and molasses in a blender and puree, gradually adding the hot water. Stir liquid ingredients into dry ingredients, adding more hot water, if necessary. Continue stirring until a stiff dough is formed. (FYI: Oil your hands before attempting to work with the dough.)

3. Place the dough in a covered container or plastic bag for up to a week if you want. When you are ready to work with it, preheat oven to 350F. Flour a cutting board. (FYI: It's easier to work with half of the dough at a time.)

4. Roll out to 1/4-inch and cut in your favorite shapes. (FYI: These biscuits are easier to cut if the cutters are simple like hearts and not complex like tiny hands or animals with tails.)

4. Place parchment paper over a baking sheet and fit as many biscuits as you can on the sheet. Bake for 30 minutes. Reduce heat to 250 and continue to bake for 25 minutes. Turn off the oven and allow the cookies to cool before removing them. These crisp cookies keep well for a week, but for long term storage place them in the freezer.

We don't need long term biscuit storage around here.

Much better than a cake with silly candles. Go ahead share them with friends if you want.

Birthday and Valentine's Day--you can't beat that!

Best gift so far was a giant bag of tiny carrots with plenty for me and my favorite sister Chloe.