Yes. Somewhere, deep within world spam headquarters, an extremely small-hearted bot decided that Simmer would be a good place to nest. Simmer Till Done is under spam attack. Serious spam. You know the kind I mean – male-pharmaceutical pick-me-up last-for-four-hours spam. Several weeks ago I began seeing unusual search terms. I usually see searches for “spritz cookies” or “Cleo’s pumpkin biscuits” or, may she rest in egg noodle peace, “Aunt Rose’s kugel.” What I don’t see too often: “how do I get free Viagra from Canada?”

What does it mean? It means links to this blog don’t work well, and our subscriber list is shot. It means every word I type* is attached to Internet ads for medical male assistance. It means when legitimate kugel-bakers Google a Simmer recipe, they now find odious pharmaceutical spam. It is most discouraging. What would Aunt Rose think?

Sigh. Let’s just look at latkes.

I feel better already.

The tech elves are working to fix Simmer – but I should note that this is the last post until we’re hack-free. The next time you read Simmer Till Done it will – hopefully – have a new design, spam-free archives and a happy, refreshed writer at the helm. In the meantime, I wish you the happiest of holiday seasons, full of golden potatoes and tart applesauce, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding or a marvelous onion-soaked brisket, like the one Cleo is so interested in, below:

Sigh (second sigh). Why can’t Labradors provide tech support?

* not every word you type, just me. Feel free to add your spam-safe commiseration.

To honor three food-and-tale-filled blogging years, let’s revisit a reader favorite: from May 13, 2009, here’s a story about my friend Andie, and also Andie’s mom and Judy Blume, and what we learned about men from them both.

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MOMS WILL BE MOMS, BUT JUDY IS FOREVER

Original post and comments found here.

{ A Mother’s Day tale }

In 1978 just three types of contraband existed for me and my pal Andie Lerner: shoplifted Bonne Bell makeup, those curious magazines in our brothers’ rooms, and Judy Blume’s teen sex novel, Forever. But at eleven, I feared juvenile cosmetics prison and declined the five-finger discount; despite many examinations of our brothers’ covert reads, Andie and I weren’t quite clear on the attraction; and finally, though we’d heard the title whispered and wanted it desperately, we were not wise to the horizontal goods in Forever. We were not actually wise to anything.

What we were was clueless, but lucky – a copy was circulating in our classroom by day, and pedaling home to bedrooms at night. The smudged paperback moved desk to desk – when Mrs. Endicott turned to the board, one girl slid it to the palms of another, and by the time she turned back, the deal was done. Math resumed with two flushed faces, one triumphant and one hopeful – and one day during fractions, the palms belonged to Andie. It was Friday afternoon, and our eyes locked in telegraphed plan: sleepover, toaster-oven snacks and a cover-to-cover inspection – no falling asleep like last time, Andie - of Forever.

Andie lived two houses down from our split-level, in a rambling old Tudor. Her family snacked on flax bread, and ate lentil soup in hand-thrown pottery crocks. Wide oak stairs led to a sunny living room crammed with macrame plants and art books and an enormous black Steinway, on which Andie’s dad would balance a glass of red wine and frequently bang out jazz. My own dad liked to browse tax law, so I found it all thrilling, right up to the day Mr. Lerner met a young woman and left the grand piano – and Mrs. Lerner – behind. Andie’s mom started wearing bangles and scarves and higher heels, and buying potato chips, and was never home. Mr. Lerner’s unfortunate weakness had built a premier sleepover destination.

So it was in an empty house, in the sitting room that held just a sofabed and television, that we holed up with Forever. Our props meant business: sleeping bags, Twizzlers, root beer, at least a dozen pillows and a few of their Persian cats. The fridge revealed one package of cocktail franks, and I’d brought a can of Wiener Wrap – a kind of processed dough you wrapped and baked around hot dogs. We could bake them in the toaster oven. I could sprinkle them with cheddar, and was excited about that, about sprinkling cheddar on Wiener Wraps.

But first, Forever. We literally tore through it – pulling back and forth – until we finally took turns munching licorice and reading aloud, all about Kath and Michael, and what they were doing. But…what were they doing? An hour later we’d read all the words, laughing – ha ha, he called his member Ralph – and while we knew what Judy Blume was saying, sex on a multicolor rug, we didn’t quite know what sex on a multicolor rug, or any rug, was supposed to mean.

So we put the book aside and chugged root beer, and watched TV. They were showing Planet of the Apes, and we were mesmerized by chimp makeup and funny lines. Charlton Heston was yelling about something. “I bet he never had sex on a multicolor rug!” Andie said. I pointed to Roddy McDowell’s ape. “Not him either!” I said. We howled and turned out the lights, and everything on TV was hilarious, and Forever fell to the floor. Eventually we heard a key turn, and a clack-clack down the hallway. “My mom,” Andie shrieked, “get the book!” I reached under the bed for the paperback but couldn’t find it, scrabbling. Mrs. Lerner poked her head in the dark room, then swept in all the way.

“You girls are stillll up,” she said.

“We’re going to sleep, Mom,” said Andie. Mrs. Lerner smelled like sandalwood, and swayed on her heels a little. Instead of leaving, she plunked down on the bed. I breathed in, but inched away. She leaned over. “What’s this?” In one floral-sleeved movement, she brought the book off the carpet.

She took a flashlight from Andie. “What is it?” She shined one spot on the cover. “Oh ho,” she said, “oh yes I do see!” My lungs collapsed. I could run home, I thought, I could bang on the door and I could confess to having the book, but at least I’d be out of here.

Now Mrs. Lerner swung to face us. Andie and I huddled on the sofabed, toward the wall. She turned the flashlight off for a moment, then on again. Then pointed it at us. “So you got this. Okay. Okay. Just tell me one thing, ONE THING.” We held our breaths. “Was it good?”

Was it good. I looked at Andie, who was looking at me. Good? Her mom was still lurching. “Was. It. Good. Was it good for her the first time?”

Oh, now we were truly up a creek. Neither of us had an inkling, but from her wild-eyed jangly look behind the light, we sure needed an answer. Andie looked stricken. So I gave her one.

“Oh yeah, it was great!”

She looked suspicious, pressed the book under her palm. “It was great. The first time.”

It seemed to be working, so I went on. “Yeah, fantastic! Everything was perfect!”

Mrs. Lerner slipped the flashlight off, and was silent for two minutes. I thought she might be asleep.

“Then it’s a LIE!” she yelled. I touched Andie’s arm. “If it was good for her then it is BULL.” She jumped to her feet, and yanked her beaded shawl. “All men are assholes,” she said, “and don’t you forget it.” She reached down, grabbed the book, and left.

Andie and I sat frozen for five minutes. Not until we heard shoes on wood, then shoes hit a wall upstairs, and finally the flump of a body in bed, did we finally start laughing, laughing so hard that root beer came out my nose. We did not discuss Kath and Michael, nor virgins or moms nor multicolor rugs. At two a.m. we went to the kitchen, preheated the toaster oven, and carefully wrapped pink cocktail franks in canned yellow dough. We sat on the brick floor in pajamas and tore open a bag of Oreos, giggling and crumb-faced, waiting for Wiener Wraps.

——————

* no illustration of Wiener Wraps; remember what happened last time?

We see Jenna make dozens of pies, from banana cream to blackberry chocolate, and she names each pie to match her mood, names like “I Can’t Have No Affair Because It’s Wrong And I Don’t Want Earl To Kill Me Pie (vanilla custard with banana, hold the banana)” and “Pregnant Miserable Self Pitying Loser Pie (lumpy oatmeal with fruitcake mashed in).” Waitress is funny, intelligent, delicious and, best of all, features an elderly Andy Griffith as Old Joe, a sly, pie-loving philosopher. See it and you won’t be sorry. Possibly hungry, but not sorry.

In other news, I baked a pie – made for the wonderful cross-blog food event Summer Fest. I’m contributing to this week’s topic, Stone Fruits, and next week’s topic, Tomatoes.  Summer Fest 2010 features more wonderful food bloggers than ever (I had a swell time last year, too), listed at the end of this post. Be sure to visit them all today to check out their marvelous recipes, tips and ideas – and share some of your own.

What did I call my pie? Well, I wasn’t sure, at least not until late afternoon. Despite the presence of good pie, one never does know where the day will lead. Let’s take a look.

“Dopey Marilyn Doesn’t Have a Pitter, So Pal Melanie Helped Her Pit Cherries With A Knife Pie,” also known as “Melanie Was Real Mad At Her Landlord And Took It Out On The Bloody Cherries Pie.”

“Calls From Auto Insurance, Volleyball Coach, Dentist, Piano Teacher and Mom Tryin’ To Keep Me From Rolling Dough Pie.”

“Why Does Melanie Back Away Slow When I Start Cutting Dough Leaves? Pie”

“The Dog’s Breath Smells Like Ginger ‘Cause Half The Crunch Hit The Floor Pie”

and finally,

“Hungry Crabby Tired Back-To-School Josie Got A Fork And That Was All She Wrote Pie.”

CHERRY APRICOT PIE with GINGER-ALMOND CRUNCH

1. Make pie dough. Roll crust into pie plate as directed, and chill in refrigerator until ready to fill.

2. Make Ginger-Almond Crunch. Refrigerate until ready to use.

3. Make Cherry Apricot filling. Pour filling into prepared pie crust. Finish and bake as directed, using one of the options below.

If you’ve prepared a fluted pie crust: sprinkle Ginger-Almond Crunch evenly over pie filling, covering fruit. Place pie on a foil-lined baking sheet (wide enough to catch all drips) and set in lower third of preheated 400° oven. Bake approximately 30 minutes, then lower oven temperature to 350° and bake an additional 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and juices are thickened and bubbling. If crust and crunch topping brown too quickly, tent pie loosely with foil and bake until done. Cool completely before slicing. Delicious warm, but expect broken, cobbler-like pieces. Which are also good.

If you’ve prepared for a leaf cutout crust: Remove leaf cutouts from refrigerator. Fill a small bowl with water. Using fingers, moisten the back of one leaf cutout and press it gently but firmly to pie dough rim, adhering to folded edge. Add remaining leaves in an overlapping pattern, moistening and pressing each one to form a natural “wreath” along the rim.

When leaf edge is complete, sprinkle Ginger-Almond Crunch evenly over pie filling, covering fruit. Place pie on a foil-lined baking sheet (wide enough to catch all drips) and set in lower third of preheated 400° oven. Bake approximately 30 minutes, then lower oven temperature to 350° and bake an additional 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and juices are thickened and bubbling. If crust and crunch topping brown too quickly, tent pie loosely with foil and bake until done. Cool completely before slicing. Delicious warm, but expect broken, cobbler-like pieces. Which are also good.

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Pie Crust

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold
3 tablespoons chilled vegetable shortening
1/4 cup ice water

Food processor method: Place flour and salt in processor bowl. Cut butter and shortening in pieces, and sprinkle over flour mixture. Pulse machine on/off to cut butter/shortening into flour, forming coarse crumbs and a few remaining chunks. Trickle ice water over mixture, pulsing until it just comes together as a rough, unformed dough, about 20-30 seconds. Wrap and chill, at least 1 hour.

On a lightly floured work surface, divide pie dough in half, patting each half into a flattened round. (Reserve one half to roll decorative leaf or other cutouts, if desired, or wrap and chill for another use.) Roll first half of dough into a round approximately 1/8″ thick, turning as you roll to prevent sticking. Round size should be slightly larger than your 9″ or 10″ deep-dish pie plate. Transfer round to pie plate, lightly pressing dough to fit, and patching small cracks or tears if necessary. Trim excess dough, leaving about 1″ of overhang.

For fluted rim pie crust: Gently fold overhang up and over pie plate rim, pressing dough with thumb and forefinger as you work around whole plate to form a decorative indented rim. Chill unbaked crust in refrigerator until ready to fill.

For leaf cutout pie crust: Trim overhang to 1/2″, then fold up and over pie plate, pressing into a flat rim all around. Roll second half of dough to 1/8″ thick. Cut leaf shapes 1) with a leaf-shaped cookie cutter or 2) cutting freehand with a paring knife. Cut slightly pointed ovals (irregular is fine!) then use tip of paring knife to lightly score “leaf veining” marks on each one. Leaves will be added to edge after pie is filled, so chill cutouts in refrigerator until ready to use.

Ginger-Almond Crunch

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold
1/2 all-purpose flour
1/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/4 cup whole almonds, toasted
1/4 cup crystallized ginger chunks

Toast almonds in a skillet over medium heat, shaking until golden brown, about 5-6 minutes, OR toast in 350° oven on an ungreased baking sheet, about 10 minutes. Cool almonds completely before using.

Place toasted almonds and crystallized ginger in food processor bowl. Pulse machine on/off until you get small, coarse pieces. Add butter, flour, and brown sugar to bowl. Using on/off pulse again, process together into even, large crumbs. Transfer mixture to a small bowl, and refrigerate until ready to use.

Cherry Apricot Filling

1 1/2 pounds firm ripe apricots, pitted and quartered, about 4 cups
1 1/2 pound cherries, pitted
1 teaspoon lemon juice
3/4 cup sugar
3 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon pure almond extract

In large bowl, gently toss cut apricots and pitted cherries together with lemon juice. In small bowl, combine sugar and cornstarch. Sprinkle mixture over apricots and cherries, turning to coat, then add vanilla and almond extracts, lightly tossing until just mixed. Follow directions above for filling and baking pie.

Summer Fest is an annual online celebration of good food and great ideas, featuring food and garden bloggers from around the globe. Every week we highlight a different seasonal ingredient – corn, stone fruit, tomatoes – and our guest bloggers share wonderful recipes, stories and tips. You can participate by visiting these terrific blogs and leaving links or comments – and if you’re feeling particularly inspired, you can contribute a post of your own. Drop by A Way to Garden for details on how join the party.

THIS WEEK’S LINKS: STONE FRUIT

Sara at Cooking Channel: Savory Stone Fruit recipes.

Todd and Diane of White on Rice Couple: Riesling Poached Pluots.

Margaret at A Way to Garden: What is stone fruit, anyhow? Plus: Clafoutis batter revisited.

Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Ginger and Vanilla Poached Peaches.

The FN Dish: Paula’s Perfect Peach Cobbler.

Alison at Food2: Peachy Party Foods.

Kelly at Just a Taste: Peaches & Cream Cupcakes.

Liz on Healthy Eats: Puttin’ Up Peach Pickles, Compote and More.

Food Network UK: How to Poach a Peach.

Judy of Divina Cucina: Chocolate Amaretti Baked Apricots.

The Gilded Fork: dossier & recipes featuring peaches, apricots, nectarines, plums, cherries, almonds, coconuts.

Cate at Sweetnicks: Blueberry Peach Smoothies.

Tara at Tea & Cookies: Making Peach Jam.

Alana at Eating From the Ground Up: Stone fruit slump.

Caron of San Diego Foodstuff: grilled peach parfait and coconut peach gazpacho.

Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef: gluten-free peach-blueberry buckle.

Paige at The Sister Project: A Summer Fruit Whatchamacallit (not a pie, not a crisp, but delicious).

Marilyn at Simmer Till Done: Cherry Apricot Pie with Ginger-Almond Crunch.

Tigress in a Jam: nectarine preserve with summer savory and white pepper.

I just might be the blogger’s chauffeur, alarm clock, snack provider, ponytail holder-buyer, chief room inspector and summer personal assistant. Also, her proud mom. Be sure to read the first post, 100 Movies of Summer, to see how it all started. Dim the lights and grab the popcorn! I’ll meet you over there.

And no, I’ve not abandoned blogging. I haven’t vanished, nor fallen off the earth or into a ditch by the side of the road. Though certainly, I appreciate the concern – voiced by many of you dear souls – that I could be, I’m not. I am in fact just where we left off: squinting at a laptop, coffee to the left, Cleo near my feet and two steps from the kitchen.

So then, where have I been?

As noted, mostly here. I’ve been working on the work of writing – a few projects, each requiring keyboard, coffee, and 10% nuts-90% chocolate trail mix. Nothing to announce. Just send love, luck, and extra chocolate chips.

We spent Josie’s spring break here:

Of course, not in this spot, not the whole time.

We were also here

And eating, here

And oh please more, here.

We had wonderful meals in NYC and met up with new and old friends, including Amanda and Merrill, the brilliant ladies of food52…

…and surrounded by waves and sky, one great big grande dame.

Back home, Simmer’s been hopping around the web. Both PaulaDeen.com and Flashlight Worthy Books featured our Great Reads for Culinary Kids (and Hungry Adults) lists, and the New York Daily News blog Mothership Meals tapped Two-Bite Jam Tarts as a baking pick for picky kids.

So there we are. How pleasurable to speak fluent Simmer again, an odd language I use when talking to a warm, invisible group that’s not invisible at all. Still simmering, and glad you’re here.

Silly illustration, above, from several years ago. Finally, a place to put it!

This is not new. If given a deliberately vague task I freeze and wait for purpose, which often doesn’t show but finally did, when I carved a mission from this meme-me-me: I’d share seven foods from my past, each with a small story. You, dear reader, pick the one you like – or the least boring, whichever comes first – and the most-voted food gets cooked and blogged here on Simmer, recipe, story and all. Thank you, Susan for your too-kind words and, indirectly, the gift of one blogging day made a little less random.

S’mores Tarts Baking at an upscale Chicago pastry shop, I was expected to devise new desserts for the case. New desserts that would please both customers and our novelty-driven boss who, if he sensed a trend, would have sold chocolate-dipped pig ears and motorized cake. I came up with S’mores tarts, novel in 1995, composed of graham tart shells, milk chocolate ganache and fluffy house-made marshmallows which we would – big finish – set ablaze in front of the crowd. Seemed like a winner, and all went great until we actually blew out flames, and a lady in the window shrieked heavenward that she’d seen our spit hit the tarts. So much for blaze theater.

Curried Mushroom Soup In high school Behavioral Science class, we had a semester-long project in which we’d be pretend-married to another student, and live on a budget, and work out issues, and all types of situations designed for maximum teen discomfort. One assignment required hosting a dinner party with other “couples,” and after planting my pink Converse Hi-Tops at mom’s stove to make Curried Mushroom Soup – a mature-sounding dish from her files – I served it in our dining room to twitchy, bickering pairs who’d rather be somewhere else. Dabbing soup off my ripped jeans, I considered that this might be how adults spent their days.

Stuffed Leg of Lamb In a combined young-bride and young-chef disaster, I once pounded, stuffed and rolled a boneless leg of lamb to entertain Greg’s law firm colleagues. The evening started with our crotch-sniffing Dalmatian and a clogged sink, continued with undercooked, untied lamb and finished with a wailing fire alarm. In truth, the mustard-garlic-whatever stuffing was delicious – but who among you would ask me to do it again?

Tortelloni with Gorgonzola Sauce In the post-college summer of 1990, Greg and I backpacked around Italy. One night in Bologna we splurged on a real restaurant, a place called The Black Cat, set on a square with flickering jar candles, wrought-iron tables and people in clean clothes. After slurping cheap red wine we ate carpaccio with parmigiana, lemon and capers, fat cheese-filled tortelloni in Gorgonzola sauce, and tiramisu. It may be the wine, the summer or the fact that an argument caused me to leave, walk away and come back, but it is still, many dinners later, the best I ever had.

Linzer Torte The classic Austrian dessert is just fruit jam under latticed almond crust, but the buttery dough is tricky, melting, fragile. Especially if you’re rolling dough in a small city bakery in July, and daft owner lady won’t pay for air conditioning, and still takes orders for Linzer Torte. You might get heat stroke and threaten to quit, right there over the breaking dough. Yes you might. But you’d never blame a torte this good.

Marjolaine When I ran a catering company, The Happy Ending, I supplied restaurants with Valentine’s Day desserts. One year I filled an order for 300 pieces of Marjolaine, a labor-intensive classic made with hazelnut meringue, genoise, and two buttercreams. At the time I worked out of my house, and with no catering staff and a sleeping toddler, it was just me and Marjolaine in the all-night kitchen. For hours I baked, whipped, stirred, threw spatulas and wept. All the while I Love Lucy played on my tiny kitchen TV, the Scotland episode where Lucy dreams it all. I know this because I saw it three times; I was at my table so long that Nick at Nite ran it three full times before sunrise. Three. If you vote for Marjolaine, rest assured it will be well-planned. One cake, no Lucy and Simmer off to bed.

Spaghetti Carbonara When I returned home on college breaks and my sister was in high school, we liked to whip up this spaghetti-bacon-egg bonanza late at night – and for a short obsessive time, every night. When I picture the bubbling cream and parmigiana and yolks it boggles my mind, a mystery how I made it through those snack years without total stomach collapse, or gaining 500 pounds. Because that would surely happen now if, at 42, I began lounging with midnight TV, two-liter Diet Cokes and pasta straight-from the-pot. Iris was my Carbonara ringleader, insisting the more cheese, more spaghetti, more talk shows the better. Our parents were asleep, we had metabolism on our side and to flop down and share one blue bowl again, even a few strands, my stomach would gladly say yes.

So. One of these memories gets cooked. If it’s Marjolaine or lamb, please give me plenty of notice so I can prepare, respectively, with extra sleep and string.

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Update 1/28: WINNER! S’mores Tarts it is, announced here. Voting over, but if you wish to leave a request – like lamb, oh you people – feel free. And thanks for playing along.

For my part, I spent some time over the year exploring the full landscape of food blogs. I examined them all and eventually came to read success fast, to immediately sniff out where and why a blog had it going on.  Clearly food blog readers throng to sites with recipes, scads of recipes, preferably daily recipes.  It seemed that I should get Simmer to act like a real food blog – as in smile, Simmer, don’t you want everyone to like you?

I attended a huge Chicago-area high school with nearly five thousand students, 1,200 in my graduating class alone.  A place where freshmen might consider popularity for a month, then throw up their hands and do their own thing. You could drown in that ocean or you could shake out your dozen good friends, and share awful pizza in the lunch room, and put your laughing heads together against the crowd.

No, I would not make Simmer dress like a real food blog. It’s crowded, these voice-filled corners on the web. Why be anyone else?  When we tell Josie “be yourself” we mean it, and what’s more she believes it; it seems I should follow and let Simmer grow its own quiet way.

With that I give you the ten top-viewed posts of 2009. Of course numbers don’t tell the whole story; I’d like to think every post has a few friends, cookie bakers, dog lovers, people who don’t mind rambling. Something you enjoyed didn’t make the cut? Wave its flag in the comments and thank you, kind readers, for hanging around another year. You’re a loyal, compassionate bunch of true individuals, and I’m so pleased to share at your table.

1. Retriever Retriever, Pumpkin Eater A staggering number of people tuned into the year’s top post, in which Cleo’s upset stomach leads to pumpkin-brown rice flour biscuits.

2. Upside-Down Tomato Basil Bread In which unlikely sticky-bun logic worked magic on bread and summer tomatoes.

3. Sweet and Low: Caramelized Banana French Toast Josie’s oral surgery, a sweet reason to share this challah-soft treat.

4. French Onion Cider Soup: Take Care Technically from December, 2008, this soup brought warmth home after my father’s funeral, and readers kept it gathering steam all year.

5. Two-Bite Jam Tarts: By Any Other Name Are they tarts, or are they cookies? Munching flaky cream cheese dough and marmalade, it doesn’t really matter.

6. Ginger Peach Pandowdy The tale of one messed-up peach dessert leading to another, plus the word “pandowdy” and how it rings like Kansas.

7. The Secret Life of Oven Mitty I say goodbye to a trusty oven mitt, and kitchen puppetry ensues.

8. Shallot Surprise: Raspberry Basil Caprese The shallot that looked like a mouse, and a surprisingly good salad.

9. The Baker’s Alphabet Words and pictures started way back for baby Josie get completed for an expectant friend.

10. Moms Will Be Moms, But Judy is Forever I was happy to see a not-quite-food-post make the list – a personal favorite, it’s the story of a forbidden book, a drunken divorcee, and Wiener Wraps.

We’ve read so many great descriptions of these much-needed nibbles that I felt a compilation was in order, a sort of snacking index of shame. I again thank my guests for generously sharing secrets – and now it’s your turn. For every comment revealing a secret snack of shame, we will happily donate a can of food to our local food bank. Sweet, savory, or an odd couple combination – spill! Let’s help out and let’s hear what you’ve just got to have.

* In Josie Grills Mom, my daughter did not ask for my secret snack of shame, presumably because she views them openly every day. And I forgot to ask Chocolate & Zucchini’s Clotilde Dusoulier for hers, presumably because she lives in Paris, where shameful food is scarce.

THE SWEET

A veritable candyland where Gummis and Tootsie Rolls rule. Also, crunchy goods in colorful packages.

Todd and Diane, White on Rice Couple: Todd: Tootsie Rolls. I’ll eat the whole bag.  Diane: Banana Twinkies. I’ll eat half the box and hide the rest so that Todd can’t find them. Yes, they’re all mine. He’ll eat all his tootsie rolls and my Twinkies too!

Molly Wizenberg, Orangette: Gummy candies! I LOVE GUMMY CANDIES! Especially the “gummy fruit salad” in the bulk bin at my usual grocery store.

Diana McMillen, Midwest Living: Eating more warm-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies than I should. I guess I could say eating warm-from-the-oven any kind of cookies is my secret shame. They’re too irresistible.

Jenni Sampson, Thirteen11: Keebler Fudge Sticks. But I never buy them, because I can eat the entire package in a day.

Josie Naron: I have many snacks of shame, unfortunately most of them are not so secret.  Jelly beans on bagels with cream cheese, any type of sour gummies, and Tootsie Rolls with raw cranberries are just a few. There are many.

Peabody Rudd, Culinary Concoctions by Peabody: Frozen Twinkies. Honey Buns slightly heated. Strawberry Frosted Pop Tarts.

Julia Knispel, Hooked on Houses: Cocoa Puffs. It’s simply impossible for me to stop at only one bowl. This is my idea of a late-night snack when the kids are in bed and nobody can see me refilling the bowl again…and again…and again… That’s right. I admitted it. I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!

Diana Kuan, Appetite for China: I eat way more gummy bears than a woman my age should. I also love instant ramen in any shape or form.

Sally Jacobs, The Practical Archivist: Oh, dear. Can I preface this by saying I’m not proud of my secret snack of shame? It’s those horrible mini “chocolate” donuts. There is no explaining it…I mean the waxy fake chocolate is awful. And yet? Once a year I have to have them.

Mike Trendel, The Greasy Skillet: Pillsbury Cookie Dough. I’ve also been known to eat pie and cake for breakfast.

Erin Nichols, Erin Cooks: If by shame you mean immense feelings of guilt, then I’ll confess to the fact that I have been known to make a batch of cookie dough just to eat the dough. I never feel good about that decision afterwards and neither do my jeans.

Jane from Beach House: As a child I used to eat Bird’s Custard Powder out of the tin mixed with a little cold milk. Cornstarch, sugar and food colouring, the perfect after-school snack. Now that my tastes are so much more sophisticated it’s a pinch of shredded Cheddar and Monterey Jack cheese, straight out of the bag.

Caroline Lubbers, Whipped: Donuts, donuts and more donuts

Jeannie Olson, House in Progress: Girl Scout cookies by the box. Preferably those Samoa things with coconut.

April Phillips, Coal Creek Farm: This is embarrassing, but when I’m premenstrual I turn into The Woman That Buys Cheap Disgusting Snacks From Wal-Mart. All of the sudden the cheapest bagged crap look like the most delicious cookie ever made and who can resist an Oatmeal Cream Pie, Star Crunch or Zebra Cake? Something in me says, “Go buy a box of corn syrup mixed with wax and pour it down your throat, you will feel better.” You know what? It does make me feel better. Oh, and one time I ate a 5-lb bag of Hot Tamales that I bought at Sam’s in the span of five days. I smelled like a Yankee candle.

Melanie from BeanPaste: Frosting.  Final answer.

THE SAVORY

featuring odd combos, pantry staples and a generous dose of salty-cheesy

Tara Austen Weaver, Tea & Cookies: Kraft Mac & Cheese, with the fluorescent orange “cheese” packet.

Julie Van Rosendaal, Dinner With Julie: OK you guys, I’ve never told anyone this, but I love raisins and cheese. Wait, it gets worse.  As a kid I loved the combo so much – and of course melty cheese is always better than the cold stuff – that I would melt cheese in a mug in the microwave, then stir in a handful of raisins and eat it with a spoon.  And – sometimes I still do.

Sara Reddy Coyne, Culinerapy: my all-time favorite snack is not all that scandalous: toasted sourdough bread topped with avocado, salt and pepper. I grew up on three acres of avocado trees, so avocado has a recurring role in my snack fantasies.

Alicia Paulson, Posie Gets Cozy: Elbow macaroni with butter.

Liz Upton, Gastronomy Domine: There is a cupboard in our kitchen called Liz’s Disgusting Things Cupboard. It’s full of the things I like that my fastidious husband wouldn’t touch – dried Malaysian fish spackled with a sweet satay seasoning, tinned sardines (there are lots of those – sardines on toast is a favourite lunch), peanut butter and grape jelly, XO-flavoured ramen – you know, there’s lots to be said for a lunch that costs 30p.

Lydia Walshin, The Perfect Pantry: Egg salad made with Miracle Whip, on Wheat Thins.

Jeannette Ordas, Everybody Likes Sandwiches: When I was little it was yellow mustard spread thinly over buttered toast or margarine mixed with brown sugar to make “frosting” since my parents didn’t keep treats in the house. Now that I’m all grown up, it’s sneaking sips of pickle juice from the jar – actually I did that when I was a kid too!

Francie Baker, Frantic Home Cook: A pickle, mustard and onion “sundae” – mounds of dill pickles, drizzled with mustard and sprinkled with chopped onion. And no, I’m not pregnant.

KianLam Kho, Red Cook: Spam. Maybe growing up in Asia and eating lots of Spam with rice in my lunch box as a child has made me crave for it. I buy six-packs of them from Costco.

Rachel Rappaport, Coconut & Lime: Hmm. Hot dogs?

SWEET and SALTY

as in Nutella and Saltines (oh yes, it’s good) sweet and salty won’t be kept apart.

Jean, Renovation Therapy: Oh man, this could take a while. On the way home last week I bought a Diet Coke and a small bag of Doritos and proclaimed myself “16 again.” When I am stressed out to the MAX…I hit Hostess Cupcakes. Bad. Bad. Bad.

Joanne Asala, The Box House: Nachos with cheese and jalapenos. I can’t enjoy a movie out without them. At home? Chocolate. In cookies. In cakes. Chocolate ice cream. Chocolate bars. Bottles of Hershey’s Syrup flipped open and chugged like a soft drink. Ugh. No wonder it’s been a while since I’ve seen a Size 2. Oh! And cream cheese on Saltines. I blame my mother for introducing me to that one.

Rechelle Malin, My Sister’s Farmhouse: I am a junk food junkie. But the problem is I keep trying to hide my stash from my kids and THEY ALWAYS FIND IT!!!

Monica Bhide, A Life of Spice: I just LOVE chili BBQ chips, and Haagen-Dazs Dulce de Leche ice cream.

Marilyn, Simmer Till Done: Saltines, butter and honey. Life without this trusty trio, impossible.

THE UNASHAMED

if you love something, set its snacking powers free.

Sara Reddy Coyne, Culinerapy: Oh, honey, I have no shame. You’re talking to a grown woman who openly admits that one of her favorite meals is chili cheese fries. I regularly eat ice cream in the middle of the day straight from the carton, and I dip my pizza crust in bottled ranch dressing.

Francis Lam, food writer: Screw that. You like something, own up to it.

Tara Austen Weaver, Tea & Cookies: I’m also a sucker for Jelly Belly jelly beans, but I’m not ashamed of that. I try to find the packet with the largest number of black beans, which are my favorite.  I also have a fondness for sour gummy things, licorice chalk, and onion rings.  I also eat an indecent amount of pickles.  I’m not ashamed of that either.

Grace Mannon, A Southern Grace:I refuse to be ashamed by my snacking. That said, I hide my candy corn and circus peanuts like they’re illegal. Truth be told, they probably should be.

Cookbook author Carole Walter: Brownies

CHOOSY SNACKERS CHOOSE PB

Peanut butter figures largely into secret snacking. My sister often unscrewed a jar of Skippy, stirred in M & M’s, chocolate chips and mini Rold Gold pretzels, then spooned.

Sandy, Foodhoe: I like fat with my fat and when I’m alone in the house, I’ll park at the table with a jar of Adam’s crunchy peanut butter and scoop piles of it onto any kind of chocolate

Gwen Ashley Walters, Pen & Fork: Peanut butter — on a spoon, straight from the jar.

THE BIG DIPPER

Eddie Ross: Ruffles dipped in Temp-Tee cream cheese.

THE GROSS BUT YOU KNOW WANT IT

Julie Van Rosendaal, Dinner With Julie: Slightly less disgusting: my mom used to make us cheese sandwiches on raisin bread, and now I make grilled cheese sandwiches on raisin bread.  You should try it – especially with old white cheddar or Gouda.  Yum.

The ultimate sweet and salty, for mom.
What’s your secret snack of shame?

All young ones have their growing pains, I know. Fortunately, Josie never really showed us Terrible Two’s – oh, she had a few Nightmare Days of Three, and now we’re in the Testy Try-Me Teens, but none of the normal hubbub that usually accompanies two.

Simmer, on the other hand, is my problem child. At first it grew beautifully, zooming all the way to 350-plus posts before the warning signs: refusal to open files, back-talking error codes and finally, total tech meltdown. I stood firm, doling out tough love and new codes, and we did sort it out, but also learned this: much the way a kid sleeps in too-loose footie pajamas and wakes up in them too tight, Simmer has outgrown its clothes. I believe we’re headed for a redesign, something a bit bigger but not too big, just enough space for growth spurts and tantrums and a lot of good eats.

Please know that I appreciate every one of you out there, from early house blog readers to those first dropping in today. You’ve made raising a blog more fun. Some days I look at posts and think, oh dear, that was supposed to be funny and it’s sad, and that one’s sort of sad but giggly, and that, well that was just plain spastic. And then you show up anyway, and keep reading, and it occurs to me that a sort of controlled babbling sound isn’t so bad on a blog, not if people connect.

In one of my favorite movies, 1962′s The Music Man, wily Professor Harold Hill (Robert Preston) inspires a reluctant barbershop quartet by telling them “singing is just sustained…talking…” Of course he sings that line, and I sing like a dead frog, but point taken; if singing is sustained talking, blogging is just sustained typing. Some songs are better than others, but gosh darn it, people keep typing and people keep reading, and the next thing you know there’s 76 trombones and a parade down Main Street.

Yeesh. Two sentences too far but you got that, right? Wait – I am reading it again to see if I got it.

All typing and trombones aside, thank you for following me into the kitchen and on the page for lo these two years. I know you’ll join me in my birthday wish for Simmer: a redesign free of glitches and growing pains. May it emerge as a well-groomed, obedient blog trained only to dispense madeleines and serve coffee. Now why didn’t I wish that for Josie?

Oh, look! While I was yammering, someone brought in cupcakes.  These are for my dear mother-in-law, Marsha…
…who shares a September birthday with Simmer, prompting us to use her cake as co-celebrant last year, too.

What’s your favorite birthday cake? Does your family have an heirloom recipe that gets baked no matter what, or a ten-layer confection from a special bakery? Celebrate Simmer’s 2nd birthday by sharing your favorite in the comments – and again, thanks for hanging around.