DIVINE LEMON BARS

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This week’s inspiration comes from this colorful antique poster I found at an estate sale.  It was printed in 1911 by James Lee, in Chicago, Illinois, and has the Lord’s Prayer and the Ten Commandments on it.  When my son saw it, he said “I want that.”  I knew he’d say that, too.  Our pastor ends every sermon with the Lord’s Prayer, and I think my son finds comfort in the familiarity of it.  I framed it and hung it in his room.

One of our church’s ministries is an elementary school whose student population is largely underprivileged.  Every year a group of volunteers from the church prepares a luncheon for the teachers to kick off the school year and let them know how much they are appreciated.  Throughout the year, the volunteers provide encouragement and assistance by providing tutoring, performing clerical work, maintaining the gardens, and sprucing up wherever needed.  When the call went out for volunteers to bake for this year’s teacher luncheon, guess who hit the “reply” button with lightning speed?  Yep — in fact, I volunteered to bake TWO desserts.  Because I was inspired by the poster?  No.  Because I really wanted to help?  Maybe.  Because I am full of myself?  Probably.

The organizer, Judye, sent all of the bakers the recipe we would be using, which turned out to be Ina Garten’s Lemon Bars.  I’ve always viewed Lemon Bars as a quintessential Southern dessert.  I picture eating them on a porch with a pitcher of iced tea while wearing a frock.  Except I don’t have a porch or a frock.

If I had known that the recipe called for a CUP of fresh lemon juice, I might not have volunteered to make two.  I was squeezing lemons for what felt like an hour.  On the plus side, my house smelled like I had cleaned it, which of course, I hadn’t because I was busy squeezing a gazillion lemons.

Judye’s instructions said that we were free to use a different recipe for Lemon Bars, but to please use real butter and real lemon juice.  Fair enough, although I chose to use Ina’s recipe.  But to my dismay, halfway through making the recipe I realized I didn’t have enough sugar.  If necessity is the mother of invention, desperation must surely be its half-sister.  I had powdered sugar, and thought maybe I could get away with substituting it for the granulated sugar — after all, Judye didn’t say anything about that. So I looked up the ratio for substituting powdered sugar for granulated sugar (use 1-3/4 cups powdered sugar for a cup of granulated sugar), prayed for forgiveness, and substituted powdered sugar for about 1/3 of the sugar called for in the recipe.

Well, those Lemon Bars came out spectacular.  I have made my share of droopy, gloppy Lemon Bars that wouldn’t cut cleanly and oozed all over the plate.  In fact, I had quit making them because of so many disappointments.  These, however, cut cleanly and the filling was just firm enough to stay put.  I suspect it was the corn starch in the powdered sugar that provided the extra support.  Or maybe it was divine intervention.  Whatever it was, I will forever swap out 1/3 of the sugar in the filling for the appropriate amount of powdered sugar when I make lemon bars.

DIVINE LEMON BARS
Author: 
 
Ingredients
  • FOR THE CRUST:
  • ½ pound butter, softened
  • ½ cup sugar
  • 2 cups flour
  • ⅛ teaspoon salt
  • FOR THE FILLING:
  • 6 extra-large eggs
  • 2 cups sugar
  • 1-3/4 cups powdered sugar, plus extra for sifting over top
  • 2 tablespoons grated lemon zest
  • 1 cup freshly-squeezed lemon juice
  • 1 cup flour
Instructions
  1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
  2. For the crust, cream the butter and sugar using an electric mixer, until light and fluffy. Add the flour and salt and beat on low speed, until just mixed. Press the dough into a 9" x 13" baking pan, building up a ½" edge on all sides. Bake the crust for 15 to 20 minutes, until very lightly browned. Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes.
  3. For the filling, whisk together the eggs, sugar, powdered sugar, lemon zest, lemon juice, and flour. Pour over the crust and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the filling is set. Allow to cool to room temperature. Cut into 20 squares. Sift powdered sugar lightly over the top.

 Go put your frock on, and I’ll meet you on the porch. 

 Waiting to go out to the teachers. 

FRIENDSHIP BLUEBERRY MUFFINS

This week’s recipe is inspired by these cast iron Amish figurines from a local estate sale.  I call them Jacob and Sarah, and they are brother and sister.  You can’t really tell by looking at them, but Jacob is humming — it’s barely audible — and Sarah is threatening to tell their mom that Jacob won’t stop humming.  They struck me as a quirky collectible — I’ve heard of people collecting cast iron soldiers, but never cast iron Amish people.  Anyway, it looks like some kid had a lot of fun playing with these well-worn toys.

Inspired by these siblings, I set out to find an Amish recipe.  The recipe that came up in every search was — you guessed it — Friendship Bread, the dreaded chain letter of the world of baked goods.  It’s a quickbread, that ironically, takes 10 days to make.  It begins with sourdough starter in a baggie.  Most of the days simply involve squishing the contents of the bag.  On day 6 you feed your starter with sugar, flour, and milk, and on the 10th day you are ready to bake.  This process creates 5 cups of starter — 1 to bake with, 1 to keep for future squishing, and 3 to share with friends.  I think you’re supposed to leave the baggie full of starter on the doorstep, ring the bell, and then run and hide in the bushes.

Fans of the bread think of it as a way to bond friends by sharing infinite loaves of bread baked in different kitchens that all began from the same starter.  I’m pretty sure my friends are not anxious to be connected to me by a baggie full of starter and bacteria that I bred in my kitchen.  And vice versa.

Friendship Bread should not be confused with the recipe for friendship.  There are lots of variations out there, but they tend to go something like this:

RECIPE FOR FRIENDSHIP

4 cups love

2 cups loyalty

3 cups forgiveness

5 spoons hope

2 spoons tenderness

4 quarts faith

1 barrel laughter

Liberal amounts of understanding

Mix all ingredients together.  Bake with sunshine.  Serve daily.

Now I understand why I have so few friends.  The recipe my friends and I have been using ever since we had kids is more like (1) call once or twice a year to ask a favor, (2) hope you run into each other at the grocery store, (3) “friend” on Facebook, (4) add to contacts list, and (5) exchange Christmas cards.

Anyway, the likelihood that I would spend 10 days baking a loaf of bread for anyone is equal to the likelihood of my kids voluntarily loading the dishwasher.  But I will gladly spend 30 minutes or so baking a batch of Blueberry Muffins.   These are hands down my favorite muffins.  They are almost always a part of what I call a “compassion meal” — the meal I prepare to bring to a friend with a newborn, or who is battling an illness, or who has suffered the loss of a loved one.  I like to include them because they’re great to grab when you’re on the run or don’t have the time or energy to sit and eat a meal.  The recipe was given to me by a friend, and they are, to me, Friendship Muffins in every sense.

FRIENDSHIP BLUEBERRY MUFFINS
Author: 
Recipe type: Muffin
 
Ingredients
  • ½ cup melted butter
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 8 ounces vanilla yogurt*
  • 2 cups flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • ½ teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
  • 1 cup fresh or frozen (not thawed) blueberries
  • Coarse sugar (optional, for sprinkling on top)
Instructions
  1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Place paper liners in 12-cup muffin tin.
  2. Mix together butter, eggs, sugar, and yogurt in a medium bowl. Fold in dry ingredients, mixing just until combined. Gently fold in blueberries. Divide batter among prepared muffin cups, filling each approximately ⅔ full. Sprinkle with coarse sugar, if using. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until golden and tester comes out clean. Cool on racks. Share with friends.
Notes
*Dannon All Natural Vanilla is my favorite. Avoid using yogurt that contains gelatin, such as Yoplait Light--the texture of the finished product will not be as nice.

UPDATE:  Not long after I published this post, I came home to find this bag of starter and bacteria on my front porch from the kitchen of my friend Patricia (and yes, she is my friend on FB and we do exchange Christmas cards).  🙂