Blueberry muffin bread with cream cheese filling and fig muffins

 

 

My birthday came and went last week. I would have added quietly, but have you noticed how birthdays are on steroids since the advent of the book of faces? But hey, don't misundertstand me. I am grateful for each and every birthday wish I received. Especially the kind words from that girl I think I knew in nursery school; and from that friend of a friend of a friend that I have never met but that I know goes running three times a week, 8km each time, and whose heart - according to her status - is broken; she would willingly turn back time if only she could, if only he would let her.

But back to more important things. Me.
So, I am a year older and if truth be told, I feel better about myself and my life now than I did in my early twenties. Sure, this feeling of self assuredness comes with some usually-although-not-always well concealed grey hair, a wrinkle or two (thank goodness I can still use single digits for those) and a few extra pounds, but I am not complaining.

 

 

A birthday celebration these days no longer involves two hundred of my very best friends and drunken dancing.

It means meeting up for a quick, unplanned lunch with F and enjoying the guilty pleasure of sushi sans kids, a small beer during my lunch break, almost an hour of uninterrupted talk and holding hands every now and then without squealing and gagging sounds as accompaniment.

 

 

 

 

It means picking up my daughter, who may or may not have forgotten it was my birthday until way after she sulked because I did not agree to invite half of the class over for a playdate. But it doesn't matter, because when she finally did remember, I got a beautiful drawing that  I had watched her and her friends working on hidden behind a secretive wall of backpacks in the school square the day before.

 

 

 

 

It means a simple week night dinner at home, the usual racous, messy affair but the grand finale of a birthday cake complete with candles and presents.

This year, it was exactly what I wanted and all that I needed: an impromptu daytime date with my husband and a simple dinner at home with my family. A quiet, unnoticed affair... well, if it wasn't for FB, that is.

 

 

 

 

Since I didn't bake a cake for my birthday like I have in past years, the only baking that went on over the week end was for this blueberry muffin bread and simple muffins with a fresh fig topping. 

 

 

 

  

I first was inspired to make the blueberry bread when I saw a pin on Pinterest. However, when I was getting ready to make it I realized the recipe actually did not include cream cheese, although I thought it did for some reason when I pinned it. So I started looking up recipes on the Internet and to my surprise found what I was looking for on Anecdotes and Apple Cores, a blog I have been following for quite a few years now. I made some very minor adjustments and also ended up making an extra batch of the batter minus the cream cheese filling for the fig muffins*.

 

Summer tunaloaf

Yesterday I really felt the passing of time, like sand slipping through my fingers, unstoppable. You probably think it is because I am turning *beep* in a couple of weeks. Or because every muscle in my body is killing me after running that extra mile yesterday morning. But that is not it, although come to think of it I feel even older now. That darn sand is slipping way too quickly!

The reason is simple. Yesterday my first child started school. Her career really began when she was barely one and after years of daycare, kindergarden, preschool, summer school - you name it, she went - she is quite the little trooper. But yesterday was the big day, first grade.

I had packed some Kleenex into my bag along with my camera because I have become more weepy than a weeping willow these days but ended up not using it. That however does not mean it was not an emotional day: it actually turned out to be more so than I expected, at a much deeper level. It made me re-examine my life, where I am, where I am coming from and where I am headed. It made me realize that although I feel like a girl at heart, younger generations perceive me as a lady.

Lady, you have a child in school.

I tried not to think about it too much over the summer and only really focused a little last week when I went to buy a backpack and pencil box. By Sunday I was feeling a little nervous and doing my best to hide it, going on and on to my daughter about how big she is, how she will soon be reading and writing, what an exciting time she had ahead of her. When I tucked her in I told her it was ok to feel a little scared, that each and every child would be nervous the next morning. I also told her to remember that to them she was a scary stranger just like they were to her and she giggled and said "Mommy, that's impossible, I am a very sweet girl!". She had been pretty nonchalant about the whole thing for weeks and I wondered how much she was acting excited for our sake and how much she really understood what was happening. I mean, until you've been to school you really don't know what you are getting yourself into, right?

So yesterday she woke up, we took some pictures and set off.


That is when the throbbing began, deep inside my chest. All I could see when I looked at her was a huge, bouncing backpack and little blonde locks sticking out from the top. She was excited and her excitement grew as she found her old friends from last year and they assembled in a squealing group hug. All nervousness was forgotten on her side and I barely saw her for the next 10 minutes. Then a teacher came out and told us to assemble in the courtyard to form the classes. I felt butterflies in my stomach and a cold, little hand slip into mine. In a second I experienced all her anxiety, fear and expectation, I could almost feel her heart thumping in her little ribcage, like a frightened little bird's. I just wanted to protect her, to fold her into my arms and hold her tight. But when it was her turn, she walked right over to her new teachers and classmates without glancing back and up the big stairway they went. By the time us parents followed and reached her classroom she was sitting in the front row with a girl she didn't know instead of choosing an old friend. That's my girl. When we left she was smiling and whispering and comparing pencil cases and I knew she would be fine.

When I picked her up a few hours later I took her out for a special lunch, just the two of us and we both enjoyed the luxury of a week day together. By the evening we were all tired, emotionally drained and in need of a comforting meal. Comfort food in our repertoire is usually hearty food - not really fitting for the last throes of summer. Until now.

Here is a recipe for a summer meatloaf made with pantry staples from a friend and colleague, something most kids will enjoy too. My son had two huge slices, but then again I did watch him down 4 hotdogs (minus the buns) at a BBQ this summer. It is simple but took a little more effort/time than I had imagined to assemble. The thing I hadn't taken into account was the cooling process, which takes longer than you would expect. So give yourself plenty of time to make it. It is a great meal to prepare a day ahead, to bring as a potluck or picnic dish or as an office meal and it gets better as the days pass.

When it has cooled completely, slice and drizzle with some olive oil, a little lemon juice and lots of freshly ground black pepper. I was in a rush and we like grainy texture in our home so I kept it quite rustic, but you can easily process the ingredients to get a smoother texture. There are endless variations: you could add in some mustard or throw in some green beans (keeping them whole) for a Niçoise effect. Let me know what you did with yours.