But…is it fussy, or patient?  I am in fact extremely patient when it comes to pressing sugar into tins and piping swirls on cakes, and doing extremely skilled tasks like making palm trees out of Styrofoam.  But I’m not truly patient, like my mother.  Her diligence is rare even among the patient, no kidding – if you need your necklace untangled or your candlesticks cleaned, she’s your girl.  Her patience is a virtue, and mine is, shall we say…sweet. Frivolous.

Clearly, one’s relationship to the sugar bowl says volumes – packets – about personality. My Grandma Edna had a kitchen cabinet devoted solely to pocketed Sweet-n-Low; Greg likes a two-second pour (no more), and my Dad does not want sugared coffee but does want a big bowl of chocolate ganache, thank you very much.

My father-in-law has been known to tank three sugars into one small tea, but generally prefers the double whammy of sugar icing on sugar cookies. Me – I like one full Splenda – properly wapped around in the air first – sprinkled on cappuccino. My daughter takes a Wonka-esque view – never too much, it’s all good and you know, that gobstopper should be everlasting.

Flavoring sugar and pressing it into darling little shapes takes sweet devotion to a whole new level, true that, but I think once you see – and taste – their sparkly goodness, you’ll convert, at least once.

My inner Queen Elizabeth has always wanted to clutch a violet-blue handbag and say “one lump or two?” when friends come to tea, but as yet no one’s come to tea – um, we go to coffee – and I’m still not living in England. I am here, drinking cappuccino from a large paper cup. Still – I’m so beguiled by this idea, sugar cubes as art, so precious, too civilized. Set aside the Splenda and summon your inner fussy, and all your patience, to make them – because after all, a spoonful (or shape-ful) of sugar, well…you know.

Cinnamon & Chocolate Sugars

1 lb. (16 oz.) superfine sugar*
2 tsp cocoa powder
2 tsp ground cinnamon

In a small bowl, combine half the sugar with cocoa powder, stirring to blend. In a separate bowl, combine the remaining sugar with cinnamon, stirring to blend. Add 2 1/2 tsp cold water to each bowl. Using hands, mix each well, to the consistency of barely wet sand.

Use a spoon to press sugar mixtures tightly into butter/sugar molds, pressing with the back of the spoon to pack. Invert onto parchment-lined backing sheet. Tap to release shapes, and allow sugars to dry at room temperature, at least a few hours, until completely dry and firm.

Sugars will be slightly fragile; to serve, transfer by spoon or spatula. Store in airtight container.

makes about 30

note: you can use miniature tartlet tins to mold the sugars, as shown, or you can also try the flexible silicon mini-molds designed to form candy or butters.

other note:  This idea was originally culled years ago from a now-forgotten or misplaced source.  If you were the first-ever molded sugar-maker, please accept the credit and my compliments.  You’ve done a great service for dentists everywhere.

* superfine sugar note: if you do choose to indulge in this bit of luxurious fussy-craft, I urge you to actually pick up and use the superfine sugar. Regular granulated sugar will produce a more open-grained, less stable shape, and nothing can ruin that “one lump or two?” moment like broken sugar filling your carpet.

Now I also want to have tea in their garden.

I live just a block away but we haven’t met, so I walk past their magnificent house every day with my dog and her pretty red leash – who knows? It’s spring, and Cleo is very shiny in the light. One morning they could step outside, wave and say “my, that’s a sweet dog.”

Cleo blinks like a baby seal.

“You wait there,” friendly brick-lady will say. “I’ll just bring out some tea.”

Then I will play it cool.

“Me – wow, okay! Can you wait like 45 minutes?” I start jogging backwards. “I’ll go home and bake some madeleines…be right back!”

I am a cool customer. “Can I make a centerpiece? Some daffodils?”

Isn’t there always a place we’d like to be invited, but wind up invited somewhere else? Tea in a neighboring garden is where I’d like to be.

Everyone has a happy go-to image – one you summon when you are where you’d rather not be. I have my breezy would-be tea under the trees – two wire chairs in the grass, a plate of cookies on the table, a kind neighbor and the first hours of spring.

Ooh, that is a thought. Time to butter those shell-shaped tins.

Madeleines do make fine introductions. Carry these and every door is open!

Madeleines

Beautiful scalloped madeleine tins are traditionally used for these French cake-like tea cookies, but try shallow mini-muffin pans for a similar effect.

yield: 2 dozen cookies

2/3 cup superfine sugar (granulated sugar is fine)
3 eggs
1 egg yolk
juice of 1/2 lemon
pinch of salt
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, melted

Preheat oven to 350º F and butter or spray 24 madeleine molds.

Beat the sugar, whole eggs, egg yolk, lemon juice, and salt in an electric mixer bowl on low speed until well-blended. Fold in the flour until well-combined. Slowly add the melted butter to the mixture, and stir to blend.

Spoon the batter into the molds, filling no more than 2/3 full.

Bake the cookies for 20-25 minutes, or until slightly golden. Unmold cookies and cool on wire racks. Sift powdered sugar lightly over madeleines and serve, preferably warm.

from The Charms of Tea, Reminiscences and Recipes

It was also chilly – but autumn – a few years back when we pulled up to Polly’s Pancake Parlor in Sugar Hill, New Hampshire. But in that rambling old breakfast palace, it was cold – and then warm – in the best possible way.

In my life there are but two places that qualify as “perfect breakfast.” The foremost morning meal is at Walker Bros. in my hometown of Wilmette, Illinois. The second is at Polly’s.

At Polly’s, you gaze between bites at a clear, green view of mountains and valleys; your plate is graced by endlessly light hotcakes, buckwheat waffles, crackling local bacon and maple syrup straight from the trees.

Today, on a snow day, Polly’s is just a sticky empty plate in the back of our minds. On these days, a warm memory and a quick favorite is required.

So we will make pancakes with Josie’s favorite pancake topper, a sort of fast-track warm fruit compote. A quick-cooked mix of apples and whatever other fruit is handy, it’s cheekily called “fruit compost” around here. Apple Cranberry Compost.

**Attention Alert: if you are a patience-challenged blog reader and don’t wish to see mouthwatering, screen-clawing photos of buttery apples, stop here and just enjoy the Polly’s mug. Otherwise, enjoy!**

Apple Cranberry “Compost”

This is not the most formal recipe you’ll ever read. Let your breakfast ideas loose; if you have blueberries, use blueberries. Or dried cherries. If it doesn’t look thick enough for you, add more corn starch. Nothing about this can go wrong.

It is delicious in any form, including straight from the pan.

Peel and dice a Granny Smith apple or two. This is not diced. This is the prettier photo of the not-yet-diced apples.

Make sure a black lab eats apple peel right at your elbow, or it won’t come out right.

Saute your apples in a little butter over low-medium heat.

Toss in a generous handful of dried cranberries and about 1/2 cup of sugar. You can also add a dash of cinnamon, clove or nutmeg. Or all of them, if you’re feeling spicy.

Cook, stirring, until the fruit is delectably soft, buttery, and shiny.

It will be a beautiful sight. But now you will cover this beautiful sight, and leave it covered for about 5 minutes.

When you peek and it looks like this, you’re close. Uncover and stir.

Pour in approximately one juice glass full of orange juice. Also throw in a sprinkling of corn starch, and a pat or two of butter. How much juice, corn starch, and butter you use will make it as thick – or as thin – as you wish, so add accordingly.

Have I mentioned that nothing cannot be improved by butter?

At this point things will look a little odd – but smell incredible. Stick with it! Stir and stir until those apples begin to break down in earnest.

When it resembles chunky, ruby-studded applesauce, it’s done.

Trust me – the pancakes will thank you.

Everyone nearby, and outside, and down the street will thank you.

And a few happy snow day diners in PJ’s…

…will put you in the breakfast hall of fame – like Polly.

They balance each other out.

Today’s Steaming Sunday is brought to you by the Maine Diner in Wells, Maine – home to some of the finest, butteriest, tastiest lobster rolls you will ever eat. They also provided a pressed penny for my collection, and I’m forever devoted to a place with a pressed penny machine. This is a diner where you wait a long time -but you do so cheerfully, because it smells like five hundred lobsters with your name on them are waiting in the back.

The place forces you to leave your cholesterol numbers at the door and abandon yourself to pure lobster pleasure. I can taste that juicy shellfish sandwich like it was yesterday. As a matter of fact, I wish it was yesterday.

All this steamy butter talk…I believe I feel a photo flashback coming on.

Lobster rolls at the Maine Diner, 2005. Sides of butter are mandatory.

If you are driving the beautiful, rocky southern coast of Maine, do not miss the chance to enjoy lobster, Indian pudding, and heaven-sent downy white rolls with melted, salty butter at the Maine Diner.

The mugs are nicely hefty, too. Take one home, and in the cold dead of winter, you too can remember juicy, drippy lobster meat – and have your own quiet steaming Sunday.