The evening before, I’d mixed up some rugelach dough – cream cheese dough – planning to make a batch of pick-me-up cookies for a slightly depressed friend.

But I had a slab of incredible pepper bacon sitting around, and unable to resist its black-peppered, smoky goodness, I decided to use half the dough as a base for Tarte Flambee – sort of a bacon and onion pizza – for Friday night’s dinner.

Inspired by my head still in France and modernemama‘s enthusiasm, it was bacony perfection, a license to eat four kinds of fat. Oh my.

Now it was Saturday and I was annoyed in the kitchen. I’d abandoned the white chocolate mess and was huffily munching cold bacon tart. Last I checked I’d come in here to do something, not just eat leftovers. I took another slurp of limeade, grabbed the remaining rugelach dough and looked in the fruit bowl.

Slim pickings. Josie eats drippy nectarines all summer like a fruit bat, and there was only one left.

But with a bit of cream cheese dough for crust, one nectarine turned into four little tarts.

There was still a little dough left. I could make a few rugelach for that sad friend of mine, or – nibbling the last chunk – I could finish it off myself.

Hmm. I had a rapidly decreasing ball of dough, and a few strawberries in the fridge. And a lone kiwi.

After a few minutes of rolling, pressing, more nibbling and baking, there were tart shells.

And the presence of tart shells called for the whipping of cream.

Now I had tart shells, honey whipped cream, strawberries, a peeled kiwi and one bowl of lonely, hardened white chocolate in the corner. I narrowed my eyes.

Please?

Oh, fine. Who wouldn’t forgive white chocolate? You can play too.

So the sad friend led to rugelach which didn’t get made, which led to a tart flambee, four nectarine tarts, some failed white chocolate curls, sliced strawberries, a kiwi and freshly whipped cream.

Finally, it led to a few pretty things at the end of the day. Just for fun, and just to show how when you least expect it, when you are hot and frustrated and sucking down limeade, everything has a way…

…of coming full circle.

Cream Cheese Dough

8 oz cream cheese, cold
8 oz unsalted butter, cold
2 cups all-purpose flour
pinch salt

Place flour and salt in food processor and process a few seconds, to blend. Chunk butter and cream cheese in pieces over flour, then process, using on-off motion, until dough just forms a ball. Turn out onto floured surface and knead lightly into a smooth mass.

Roll, shape and bake into tart crusts, sweet turnovers, rugelach, and other cookies.
Keeps several days wrapped in the refrigerator, and freezes well.

She was a plain-Jane appliance department special with a solid white door and sensible shelves and served us well for years, working in the background as a dowdy but reliable member of the team.

So our choice of fridge for the new old house was a whole new ballgame.

The refrigerator flanks one side of the arch that connects the dining room and the kitchen…

…the pantry is on the other. The island and baking board are both directly across from the fridge, so a high-traffic zone is formed in the “hallway” between them.

That “hallway” meant that even though we had a 36″ fridge opening, we did not want a huge Sub-Zero style door swinging into that walkway. The shallower double doors of a “french door” model fit the bill.

I have known two kinds of refrigerators in my forty years: (a) patient, dull workhorses, like the aforementioned plain Jane, and (b) huge, wet restaurant coolers with chronically broken compressors.

Since I’ve spent plenty of time kicking, tweaking and banging on Type B, we briefly considered a commercial model. But this one was a little smaller, a little more interesting, and a lot friendlier.

And, ostensibly, less leaky.

I’m loving the big space inside the doors, and how you can arrange to have as many “tall” shelves as you like. See how the tall sparkling water peacefully co-exists with the shorter milk and juice?

When I’m not sipping fancy, on-sale Pellegrino, I can get clean water from right inside the door – what will they think of next? Even better, you change the filter cartridge from inside the fridge, a selling point to those of us who could not or would not change their ice filter cartridge for years because, well, it was behind the fridge.

I still giggle when I pull out the freezer drawer. Maybe I won’t be laughing in five years when I’m grabbing my thousandth pack of chicken breasts, but for now it’s freezer euphoria. Just good clean freezer fun.

We wanted to “cabinet-panel” the fridge, but the long modern handles you see on these models were not for us. We decided to use 8″ long versions of our 4″ regular cabinet pulls, the polished chrome “Ephram,” from Restoration Hardware.

They have just as much pull strength, and they look and feel a lot warmer in the new old house. The wonder pulls currently have cookie dough fingerprints, because we’ve opened our refrigerator doors to the world, and now everyone knows…

…that Josie has a sugar-free Jell-O obsession, and I’ve been snacking on…um…rugelach dough.

Doesn’t everyone keep a few handy pounds of cream cheese dough for snacking?

Back to the fridge – if it’s right for your space and family, I heartily recommend the french door model. There’s not quite as much volume storage as some other models, but the storage is all up front, and for me, that’s made a big difference. It’s bright, shallow-shelved and at eye and arm level, so you can’t miss a thing. Tomatoes can’t hide in the back, leftovers won’t grow penicillin, and you are obligated to make that roast you bought three days ago.

French door fridges: bringing you and your cookie dough closer together!