In Closing
At the back of the house is a gaping hole of a room full of potential, with three broken square windows facing due East toward the river and the sunrise. We hope to have a bedroom there one day, but in the meantime we mostly visit it to check how badly the chimney flashing has leaked (pretty badly) and to try, again, to close up the windows to the elements. The cold wind blows onto our achy knuckles and the sills are full of wasp remains, but I don't ask Ned which elements, exactly, he hopes to be keeping out, because some logic is better left unexamined.
Witness, for example, how just one day before, Ned did not ask why I felt compelled to test three different date bar recipes, documenting each version with notes and photos and orchestrating a detailed taste test within our pandemic bubble. All good! We decided, before selecting a clear favorite.
My paternal grandmother spoke reverently of tomato aspic, which I think is like Bloody Mary jello, and my maternal grandma will ever be associated with circus peanuts, a candy even my sweet tooth could not find its way to appreciate. I've never felt too nostalgic for those. But I spent a good part of 2020 thinking about date bars, which Nana Tana reportedly used to make on the regular, I imagine to be snacked on with tea while making a list, to be offered to neighbors when they come sit at the kitchen counter, at a time when counter-sitting is not reserved for those with nihilistic tendencies.
The winner, in case you're looking to fuel your own list-making or want to join in envisioning a more hospitable, post-pandemic future, was inspired by the Smitten Kitchen version, and goes like this:
Nana Bars
Melt 1 stick unsalted butter and allow to cool.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Line an 8x8 square baking pan with parchment.
In a small saucepan, mix 1 1/2 cups chopped pitted dates, 3/4 cups water, and the zest of one orange. Simmer over low-medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the dates have absorbed the liquid and the mixture has thickened a bit. Remove pan from heat and set fruit mixture aside while preparing the bar crumble.
In a large bowl, mix together with a spatula or wooden spoon: 2 Tablespoons dark brown sugar, 1/4 raw sugar, the butter, 3/4 cup old-fashioned rolled oats, 1/4 cup plus 2 Tablespoons whole wheat flour, 1/2 cup all-purpose flour, 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon, a few gratings of fresh nutmeg, a pinch of ground cloves, 1/4 teaspoon baking soda, and 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt. Stir until you have a lumpy crumble and enjoy the smell.
Dump half the crumble mixture into the pan and press it gently into a layer to cover the bottom, relatively evenly but it doesn't need to be perfect. Spread the date mixture in a relatively even layer over the crumble base. Sprinkle remaining crumble over the date mixture, press gently with the back of the spoon or spatula, but don't fret if some date mixture is peeking through.
Bake for 25 minutes, until edges are starting to brown, and set the pan on a wire rack to cool. Cut into bars and store, at room temperature is fine.
When Ned was done tinkering with broken windows, we headed to Bonnie's to drop off some date bars, inspired by her stories of her mother's kitchen. "Can you come in for a visit?" she asked at the door, which coming from Bonnie seemed less like a death wish and more like an unbreakable neighborly instinct. Someday we can!, we promise, from behind masks, at a safe distance, worrying about the heat exiting the open door, before driving away and discussing, at length, with the seat warmers on high, how we can keep making slow headway on the Project, even in the biting winter months ahead.
Someday we can: broken windows mended, cookie jars full, friends seated at the kitchen counter.
Happy New Year from the Tiller Project.