Easy Peach Galette

I had my first peach of the summer the other day. I took the first bite, pulled it away from my mouth and stopped to look at it, while thinking: this is the best f*^king thing I have ever eaten. Peaches are everything that summer is about: sweet and ripe and messy and full of juice, and just don't stick around long enough. This is why people can the crap out of peaches: to catch summer at its peak and enjoy them in February, when things are just plain bleak. A bad peach is a horrible disappointment. I can eat a mediocre strawberry, but I just can't eat a less-than peach.

I've been battling an annoying addiction to the internet and all of its many rabbit-holes, one of them being looking at beautiful food. Do men do this? Look at pictures of food on the internet? My husband thinks it is downright strange that I do this, but I think his scrolling for guitars and music gear is just as weird. We obsess... And then - I notice myself at the fruit market buying a basket of peaches and I realize that I have seen about 537 beautiful pictures of galettes this summer. Galettes. A quick, throw-together, rustic, messy pie of a thing. I finally had a mission and purpose in life: to make a peach galette.

Here is what I did:

Spelt and Cornmeal Pate Brisee:
1 3/4 cups organic light spelt flour
1/2 cup organic yellow cornmeal
1 tsp sea salt
2 tsp raw sugar
2 sticks of ice cold unsalted butter, cut into small squares
1/4 c ice water

Place the flour, cornmeal, salt, and sugar in the bowl of a food processor, and pulse until blended. Next add butter, and pulse again until the butter looks like tiny peas in the flour. Then with the food processor on, add the ice water in a stream and stop as soon as the dough begins to clump, but is still crumbly looking. Shape the dough into a disk with your hands, without handling it very much. Wrap it in saran wrap and put it in your fridge for at least one hour.
When you are ready to make the galette, take the dough out of the fridge, and preheat your oven to 425F.


Peach Filling:
6 medium-ripe peaches (not too ripe), cut into 1/2" wedges
2 tbsp organic light spelt flour
2 tbsp raw sugar
Juice of 1/2 lemon
pinch of cinnamon
pinch of salt
1 tsp vanilla
2 tbsp butter, cut into chunks

Place all these ingredients - except the butter - in a bowl, and toss everything together lightly to coat the peaches.
Roll out your galette by dividing the chilled dough in half, and placing one mound on a rectangle of parchment that matches your cookie tray (mine is 9" x 13"). Sprinkle some cornmeal on the top to ease the rolling. Roll it out to a circle approximately 10" in diameter. Either throw your peaches on there in a big heap, or do it nicely by making neat rows starting 2" in from the edge. Once the fruit is placed, fold the edges over. Try to seal the cracks if any of the dough breaks while folding. Scatter those butter chunks on the top, then transfer the parchment to your cookie tray, and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the edges of the crust look golden-brown.





















We served ours with coconut whipped cream. I can't give you that recipe right now because I'm really hot and tired, but I'm sure you can easily find it on the highly-addictive internet.
Enjoy!

Go for Goodness

See that picture down there? That's my family. If you're anything like me, you might look at that photo and feel a twinge of envy, mainly because you'll assume that one photo tells a story of our lives, as opposed to the one moment we captured. That was a really, really happy moment. That's why I snapped a shot. I can tell you, so very honestly, that those moments don't happen all the time when raising small kids. I just don't snap pictures of myself screaming into pillows or punching walls, or scowling at my spouse for not doing the laundry *right*.
But this, this was a great moment:

Before I had kids, one of my teachers told me that the greatest spiritual growth I would find would be in having and raising kids. It sure sounded glossy to me when she said it, and I know my heart swelled, but flash forward four years from that shared wisdom to me wiping the kitchen floor for the third time today or getting kicked in the eye, or picking up a turd from the carpet that my toddler left behind. There is nothing glossy about it. But she was right - this has been,  and is,  the greatest edge I've ever encountered in my life, and I have grown more as a person than I could have imagined.

I have often wondered about the Creator's Master Plan. It's ironic you know, that one of the main objectives of raising a human is to foster independence. We live a good portion of our lives being independent and full of ego, and doing what we want, when we want, and then BOOM we have kids and all the stuff the ego thrives on gets completely destroyed.
It's not about you anymore. It's not even about them, really. It's about being willing to give to other humans wholeheartedly, and to jump into the abyss of service.

My two biggest parenting challenges have been:
1) Controlling my temper. 
This means that I blow sometimes. I get full to the brim from sensory overload and frustration and I blow. After I blow I feel like the world's worst mother and I beat myself up for days and days. It's a shitty cycle and it sucks. So I work on it daily: cultivating patience.

2) Knowing what to do with my kids. 
I know that sounds weird, but I have a lot of anxiety around my time alone with them: finding things to do, keeping them occupied, trying new things, getting creative. I realized that I am not confident with my ability to play and be on the spot. So what happens? I get angry (see above) and the cycle continues.
I have told myself that I'm just not good at it. I look at other parents playing with their kids and I compare myself. I zone out when with them, or avoid moments of playtime by doing housework or making busy. Meanwhile, I miss out on all the moments of connection that I long for. 

My older child is almost 4, and it was just a few days ago that I decided to ditch this story of me being a shitty parent and get down on the floor with him and play. What was the hang-up? I've been afraid to fail. Afraid to try things I don't feel good at. Afraid to let go and jump into the moment.

Someone said to me today, "You know what? I think I'm really afraid of failure" to which I replied, "Who isn't?"
I know it's only been a few days, but in deciding to be open to trying new things, to committing to being present and playful with my kids, I feel like someone new. I feel my heart opening. I feel my vulnerability and humanness. I feel like it's okay to suck at this for awhile because then I'll get good at it.

I had a breakthrough.

And here's the wisdom I want to share:
My fear of failure and insecurity showed up in the form of a bad attitude. You know, "I hate playing with them. Playing is so boring. This sucks. I'd rather be doing anything else..."
A bad attitude is like being stuck in stone.
In shifting my attitude, I discovered that the voice of intuition kicks in. This is the voice that knows how to play with my kids, knows what they need, knows how to be present.  It's all there, I just have to keep kicking the shitty voices away.

And hey, look, this is us playing:

I hope I've inspired you to go for some goodness. Seriously, there is awful stuff happening in the world these days. Every act of love matters.

Happy Frankie Day

One year ago, in the very early hours of the morning,  I gave birth to a beautiful girl named Frankie Rose. 
She came into the world as fast as an earthquake, at least it felt like an earthquake...
I woke sometime after one a.m. that night, with the slow ache of contractions in my belly. I waited for some time until waking Brian, and we waited together until after three a.m. with contractions that never picked up too much speed or intensity - I thought it would be the same deal as my first birth, in which there were about twelve hours like that, so I figured I should try to go back to sleep, and stood up to go to the bathroom.
That was when the the earthquake started; it was bigger than me, bigger than my body, bigger than my mind. I couldn't contain the intensity so I let go into it. I've never felt as much like an animal as I did that night.
It was less than thirty minutes like that; back to back contractions as I stood over my father's antique roll-top desk in the den. I couldn't sit or think or stop, I just had to move my hips and breathe and allow for the earthquake to happen.
And then, there she was. The midwife barely caught her. She slipped from her hands and landed on a towel on the floor. I looked down and saw her face for the first time: my daughter. Her cheekbone looked like the moon, like a little crescent moon.
And so it began - I birthed a girl, on the powerful occasion that is International Women's Day.

There is something that happens to me when I look at my daughter. I don't just see a baby, I see a woman in the making.I see the body that will shift and change so dramatically in her lifetime. I see my own dreams - the ones I haven't fulfilled yet, and I see a girl who I hope will not go through a lot of the things I went through in order to find her place on this earth. I finally understand why things between mothers and daughters can be so hard, and so charged, and so full of emotion.  While she is, of course, her own little person, Frankie is also the greatest reminder I have to reach for my potential, birth my dreams, and honour myself. It is easy to look at her and want all those things for her, but if I don't fulfill those desires for myself, I may resent her later on, or grow jealous of her, or compete with her - all the things that run rampant between mothers and daughters.
I don't want those things between us, so that is then my work to do.

Often when I look at her I think of what I want for her, what I really want for her, and it is this: self-worth. Sure I want her to follow her dreams and her truth and have fun and grow and be true to herself, but mostly I want her to feel the value of her being. In feeling and knowing the value of her being, she will not have to go seeking a false sense of womanhood from shady places.

My dear Frankie girl - happy birthday. Happy International Women's Day. Welcome to the sisterhood.  We've got your back.

Welcome to the County

Listen. I want to tell you a story.
A crazy thing happened this summer: I fell in love. Now before you get excited about this married mother of two falling in love, let me tell you that I fell in love with a place.
Sometime in June, probably when it started to get hot in the city and that all-too-familiar feeling of concrete claustrophobia creeped in, I reached out to friends of ours that live in Prince Edward County and crossed my fingers that inviting my family of four to their farmhouse would be accepted. It was. And we went.
When we first arrived to their place, looking all hungover I'm sure from our chaotic life here, the first thing I said to our hostess was, "so what do you guys DO around here?" she shrugged, somewhat dismissive, and said "I don't know, lots of stuff."
We spent three days at their beautiful home, swam in their pond out back, ate elk burgers, had a fish fry on the beach, reveled at our toddlers and how well they got along, ran into James Taylor's son in town, made up a crazy song or two, and laughed more than I had in a long time. On the Sunday morning before we were leaving, I strapped the baby in the carrier and went on a walk down a country road by myself. I saw two houses for sale. Before we left we went into both of those houses, and the next night, when we were back in Toronto, we put an offer in on the one across the road from our friends.
I thought we were just going to hang with our friends for the weekend and escape city life. There hadn't been any discussion of buying a property in the country. But we fell in love. And love makes you do crazy things.

We didn't get that house we put the offer on. It was heartbreaking but like all things that fall through, something better came along and we jumped on it during the most chaotic week of the summer, when I was sure my life was falling off its hinges. In a dramatic sweep of change with bank loan denials and all my staff quitting (yeah, that's a whole other story) and the money falling through and time almost running out but the whole thing coming together in the end, we bought a piece of land in Prince Edward County. Land. A sweet little house. A funky old barn. A stretch of green that my little boy and girl can run in. A perfect escape. A home that lights my heart with warmth and contentedness.

Do you want to know what I learned? Here it is...
Brian and I hadn't been talking about buying a property in the country, but we had been deeply questioning our lifestyle and our reasons for working hard and the madness of the daily grind. We'd been living next door to a now year-and-a-half-in demolition reno that has upset our home life tremendously (newborns and renos do not go together well) and hadn't had a sense of comfort or peace in a long time. I knew our dissatisfaction would make us hunt for peace of mind, whether we liked it or not.
This is how intention works. Intention is like sending a telegram to the Universe - one day it arrives and you get dialed in. On that magical weekend, we were dialed in. We were woken up by our own dream and it was time to act.
When dreams come calling, it's a beautiful thing. It's also messy and chaotic and usually has me flying by the seat of my pants. But I now firmly believe that we are meant to live on the edge of our seats. That's when the telegrams to the universe get a direct flight.

We took possession of our land on September 30th. We are just a month in and already everything feels it has changed, or at the very least has a new purpose.
As we were driving home today on the Loyalist Parkway (which is a drive that soothes my soul) I realized it would be tempting to say that purchasing our land is the last piece of a puzzle, but it's not that; the puzzle is ongoing and will keep me guessing and growing for the rest of my life. However, we found the piece that fits with a bunch of the ones that were lying disconnected and turned over. The County is the piece that connected all those other pieces, and now I am starting to see a picture forming.

Just Give 'Er

If you choose to pay attention, you might just find that events in life often seem to coincide or relate or conspire together to teach you something or give you a nice, firm kick in the butt to take action on something.
Some people call this serendipity, and some people are obsessed with "signs" and that overwhelming sense that the universe is really listening to you, therefore you should definitely make a move. I don't mean it in either of those ways. In fact, I am pretty much over reading-into-everything as a way of decoding life. What I am talking about is the simple putting together of life experience so that it makes sense and so that we see where change is heading. We either change or we die, right?
Let's start with this lovely dinner I had with one of my best friends this week. This woman is incredibly beautiful, intelligent, creative, warm, loving, adventurous - she has it all going for her. But she has been looking for love for quite some time and certainly has her doubts about whether or not it will happen. My first instinct was to tell her to look at herself, to see where she needs to change or open her heart, to essentially "work" on herself. Then I kind of slapped myself in the brain; I realized that I don't think that is true anymore - that we have to continually work on ourselves in order to arrive at some perfect version of who we are in order to have what we desire.

This is a picture of a fraction of the show.

Now onto today. Bear with me please, because I am about to bridge this into business. Today I went to a trade show at the Metro Convention Centre. It is called the CHFA and is for manufacturers and distributors in the health food industry who are looking for new business. I roamed the aisles and aisles AND aisles of all things gluten-free and raw and supplemented and fermented and vegan and well - you know I could go on and on. This is a growing industry. So I'm roaming and I'm trying all the cookies, of course, and as I'm eating all these cookies from the many cookie businesses there are out there, I am growing increasingly disheartened and confused. How will I make it when everyone is doing the same thing? What's the point? It got kind of depressing, actually.
Then I thought about my husband, who is a brilliant musician, and how he will be attending a music conference in October. I thought of how many other handsome guitar-playing guys will be there, with songs that are great, with voices that can soothe and belt, and how he also may wonder why and how and what for. 

A picture of my feet at the show.

The question is then, do I stop doing what I do for the fear that there is no place in this world for it? Do I succumb to doubt? Do I give in to the thought that I don't measure up or don't have what it takes or that someone is better than me? Or do I go for it?
I am not perfect. Oh dear, I am so far from it. And my business is not "ready" to go national and be on those big, bright shelves at the supermarket. But it is what is right now.
How does this relate to love, and music, and cookies, and putting all the pieces of life together? Well, I suppose I am a bit scattered and a bit lost these days, but that's what it is. There is no perfect version, there is no waiting to get it all right. Life is messy.
I am not saying that I'm going to sell a crappy product or anything, but maybe my product happens to be good enough to make a whole bunch of people happy. Besides, between you and me - I had some pretty crappy cookies today. Cookies that are sold in supermarkets all over North America. I'm not being a hater, just making a point. 

Number Two, How You Scare Me So

I'll preface this post by saying: I am not pregnant. No, not yet. Haven't started "trying" or anything.  But we had a conversation last week that went something like this:
Bri: So, you wanna make a baby, huh?
Me: Yeah, you?
Bri: Yeah, why not?
And practically in unison: Get 'er done.
Isn't it funny that the first baby is the most incredibly romantic and wonderful idea/thing of all time, and number two is this shafted little being who happens because, well, you can't have just one, or the other needs a sibling, or you know you want two so you may as well get through the debauchery. So you shrug your shoulders and pull the goalie.
All that said, I know there's more to it, and I know that my heart wants a second baby with as much true love as it did for the first. Only difference? I guess I'm just too damn tired to put as much energy into it!
I'm scared though. Not a real scared, but an unsettled anxiety that's creeping around my shoulders these days. We've sort of, kind of, become settled with this one little guy. Bri and I are both back to work in our freelancey ways, and I am starting to have dreams for the bakery again, but here comes Number Two nudging my ovaries.
I've been taking polls from different families. This morning at the coffee shop I asked a friend who has a three year-old and a six month-old what it's like to have two. He said, "twice the beauty, twice the pain." Or there's my other friend who says that having two is not 1+1=2, but 1+1=3.
The consensus is that two is better than one and you may as well have the second one BEFORE you get too used to things like sleeping or having some time to get things done.
All logistics aside, I think I'm scared because those first and many months after Cedar were the most difficult and painful times of my life. I don't want that again. And that's just the truth leaking out now.
Moral of the story: when the heart wants, it wants. Things like Order and Control are always getting messed up by that dirty little heart scoundrel.
My great-grandmother had 9 kids. 8 of them girls. Times have changed, haven't they?

Wake 'N Bake

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I had an epiphany while waiting in line for our coffees at our local cafe. The thought was something like, "why the heck are we standing in line here, and spending almost ten bucks a day on coffee?"
So we went out to the mall (I secretly love the mall - but only at night. It relaxes me. I am strange) and picked up a beautiful stainless steel stovetop espresso maker and this really cool milk frother that you can stick on the stove. The timing for this radical shift (wow, is my life really this domestic?) is perfect because summer is here and that means coffee on the roof deck first thing in the morning.
I know it sounds like a small thing, but I'm telling you - it has changed my life; instead of rushing out the door I have been taking time in the mornings to settle into the day, work on some writing, and have a quiet moment alone. As soon as I am relaxed, my creative forces start doing their thing and bam! I want to make something. So I've been (big surprise) baking in the mornings. Today was fresh berry scones. I guess you want the recipe too, huh?

Better-than-Breakfast Spelt Berry Scones












*preheat your oven to 375F
1 1/2 cups organic white spelt flour
1/2 cup wheat germ
3 tbsp milled brown flax seed
1/2 cup quick oats
1 tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp sea salt
** Sift and stir all this stuff into a bowl, then add:
1/3 cup coconut oil (or sunflower oil, or whatever you have...)
1/3 cup pure maple syrup
1/4 cup almond milk
1 tsp vanilla
**stir it again until it becomes a batter, and pulls away from the sides of the bowl
Then throw in half a cup of berries and stir it again.
Grease a baking sheet, or line it with parchment paper. Drop your batter onto the sheet into little, messy scone-y shaped things. Bake for 15 mins, or until golden on top.
Eat them warm, maybe by yourself or with someone you like a lot. Take a moment.

xo BB

Money For Nothing

In business, there is always the drive to "make more money". Money can easily be the thing that shows success or failure, that gives the business a measure. It is easy to want more money, but what do I want it for?

I've been buzzing around in my mind wondering what to do next to make more $ - especially with the reality of the economy right now. Thinking about different ways to get cookies to the people, and to keep New Moon healthy and happy. My mind is a non-stop machine and I've been thinking around the clock; brainstorming myriad ways to market and sell the cookies.
Sometimes this can feel manic - sometimes it's not time to "sell" but time to dream, imagine, create.
Yesterday I took a really hard Yoga Class - I thought my hips were going to snap or something, and while in the resting at the end of class, with my eyes closed in the dark,  I realized this: Money has to have a clear purpose in order to be acquired. Money is energy, and energy is not static.
In my wanting for more I simply wanted more, but it was directionless. I can say "I want more money to be more successful, or to show more revenue" but what the heck does that mean anyway?
Ever notice when you need money to "pay the rent" or "take a trip to mexico" or "buy the blue coat with buttons" it seems to come?
That's because an intent was stated of what is desired. Intent is an arrow that needs to be cast into the future, to give the present some context.

The clarity in that moment nearly bowled me over;  I have to be clear of what I want money for, and the acquisition has to have a purpose - and better yet, if that purpose is something that creates goodness and balance - then whoa, that is ideal.

I want to move the bakery to a new home. New Moon needs a new space. We're outgrowing what we have and our current space does not reflect our maturity and evolution as a company.
So ya see - it's not actually money I want - it's change (I don't mean nickles and dimes, people). Money just happens to be the currency.

Hear that, Universe??

Is There a Better Gift than Cookies?

Well, this year I FINALLY decided to do what other companies do: capitalize off of the Holidays...
(not really - you know Baker Babe is not a capitalist).
In actual fact - I decided to create a product that is the anti-thesis of the typical xmas gift.
I don't know about you - but I feel grossed out by how much waste is created in one single month of the year. Wrapping paper alone is enough to make any environmentalist balk.
So here at New Moon we are offering a gift that leaves no trace. That's right... eat the cookies and compost the container.
Guilt-free on so many levels - and since it's the New Year and all, we need to have as little guilt as possible riding on our coattails.

For those of you who are new to my posts - I will let you in on a little secret: I love creative projects! So these STARS cookies have been fun all-around.
First off - after I got the idea, I asked my baking team (the AMAZING Courtney & Helen duo) to do the R&D on the product. So they got busy baking and testing.
Then the lovely Toni at the order desk was offered a commission on every case she sells.
AND THEN - I decided that we would donate a portion of the profits (10%) to a local neighbourhood charity (the Stop Community Food Centre).

Not to be a total cornball - but this is actually a gift that gives. I think it's so cool that at this point in the game I can do stuff like this with the company, that it's not just about "making money" to get by or pay the rent, but about involving the team, being creative, and giving back to our community.

Did I mention that these are really yummy cookies too?? cute little chocolate and vanilla stars - spelt, dairy-free - you know the drill.
YUM.

Now go get some.

Signed,
Capitalist Extraordinare
xo