I love these herbs. I mean, really. You know how I love default dinners? Well, if ever there was a pile of herbs at my side, ready to join the ranks of my tomato sauce and creamy soups, roasted vegetables and hand-made meatballs: here they are. The herbs on my hip. I should probably invest in a holster.

I now make them in bulk. Yes, I use them that often.

And I am happy to say, these herbs have recently become my ubiquitous kitchen gift giveaway. I go through phases of kitchen-inspired gifts, trinket-y hand-outs that let people know I have so much time on my hands [cough, cough], that I hand-dipped this spoon just for you in chocolate, drizzled it with caramel, rolled it in nuts and tied it up with cellophane and a bow. It is a bad segue into ’so, what did you do today?’

All I am trying to say is, I like making thoughtful—and useful—hand-made gifts from the kitchen. Sometimes it is homemade granola, around the holidays it is most certainly peppermint bark (and you don’ t need time to make that one, you can do it between sips of coffee in the morning), limoncella (okay, yes, that one takes a substantial amount of time plus about 80 days to marinate…) and now: default herbs.

But, I am not close enough to you to hand you a fancy little jar with a hand-written card (sans calligraphy, in this case I printed out a small recipe for this salad dressing and attached it to the jar). Thus, I am giving you the picture, the idea, the recipe for herbs, some recipes that include these herbs (keep reading) and am humbly asking you to make it yourself and then give it to yourself, from me.

Wow, that saves me a ton of time.

I use default herbs in: Buttermilk Parmesan Chicken, as the Italian herbs in this Baked Omelette, instead of all the ‘other’ herbs in my Roasted Romas, and in this fancy but easy to make Eggplant Parmesan, to name just a few.

Default Herbs
1/8 cup dried rosemary
1/4 cup dried oregano
1/4 cup dried basil
1/2 tsp allspice
2 T dried thyme
1 1/2 tsp dried marjoram
1 T fresh ground white pepper
2 T fresh ground black pepper

Process rosemary in a food process, mix all ingredients, store in sealed container. 6 months.

To make the pretty jar, I just used a canning jar, cut a circle of fancy paper and screwed it on between the lid and screw top.

Gamut is a great word. On June 19, 1999 it was the official word of the day. Did you know there was an official word of the day? The word originally referred to the full musical scale (1529); later it was used to explain a range of colors/hues in a similar way. Now, we use it to describe a full range—or reach—of things from human emotion, to political opinion to, well, granola.

And I wouldn’t use the word in the same breath as granola, except for the fact that apparently, it was National Granola Week a few weeks back. I had no idea, but then again ‘granola week’ likely wouldn’t squeeze through the filter of ‘what do I need to know logistically to successfully implement multiple children’s school/work/social/homework/instrument/foreign language schedules for this week’? Who knows, maybe it is just me, but ‘granola week’ would’ve been filtered out, deleted and altogether tossed as an insignificant detail, too trivial to address in our harried-rearing-children-what’s for dinner-sign this field trip form-who is driving to soccer pseudo hyperventilating state. Just a lucky guess: granola would have somehow gone unnoticed.

Not that there isn’t a time and place for the importance of granola to surface, when it should sift to the top of life’s noise. Perhaps that is why someone gave granola it’s own week? (Granted, they didn’t ask me, but if they had it wouldn’t have made the headlines—perhaps not even footnotes—which is probably why they didn’t ask me). Despite someone’s best efforts to bring granola to my attention—it actually does catch my affection from time to time, all on its own:

When I consume it.

Now that might sound easy, but in reality I am often too harried and reeling and moving and taxi-ing that I fail to notice the food that I inhale en route. It is a good resolution then, and in step with a food philosophy I gladly borrow from French Women Don’t Get Fat, to simply notice the flavors and textures of food while it is in my mouth. DO take the time to enjoy your food, by all means, no matter how busy you are. It doesn’t mean you have to dedicate a full week to a good-grained cereal, but when you do pop a spoonful judiciously into your mouth, yes please do savor it. Especially since their is a Gamut of Granola to enjoy.

And in the same vein, be vain about your granola. Pick a good one; be snobbish about the nutrition, the taste, the personalization of your granola. You are eating it after all, and if it is made in my kitchen, I will be bagging it and sharing it with my friends. So it is important to be selective about your granola. And thanks to all who were aware of this national week of granola dedication, we now have the gamut of flavors and profiles and grains and sweets and gluten-free and good-as-gravy granola you can possibly imagine. Or that all of them have imagined. But together, despite the fact that granola may have been lost on you or on me, we have this lovely opportunity to benefit from the gamut of granola-making gurus all across the web:

• Granola overview from USAweekend
• Random excerpt on the History of Granola
• Making granola with Mark Bittman, NYTimes
• Great list of granola recipes from Alanna Kellog via Blogher
• Uncle Austin’s Granola from Homesick Texan
• Pumpkin Butter and Pepita Granola from Smitten Kitchen
• Blessings Granola from One Hungry Soul
• Laura Dot cooks… granola!
• Your kids will like Peanut Butter & Chocolate Granola from Life, Love, and Food
• Wikipedia weighs in on Granola

And here is the most recent granola that I made, savored, begged-for-the-recipe, and shared:

Connie’s Granola*
4 cups oats
1 cup coconut
1 cup nuts (walnuts, pecans)
1/3 cup wheat germ
1/3 cup honey
1/3 cup oil
1/3 cup brown sugar

Bake at 275 for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. When finished, stir in 1 cup raisins or craisins.*Connie: you know who you are. Thanks for sharing—and giving me permission to share—this granola recipe!

It is Christmas time. And my [extended] family, probably not unlike others, struggle year upon year about whether to give big gifts or little gifts, pile grab bag gifts or make homemade gifts. Are the gifts getting too expensive? Is the family getting so big that we still buy gifts for everyone? How about an exchange? Couple gifts? Family gifts? No gifts? What does your family do?

And yet, it is nice to give gifts, to show someone you care. Whether gifts are bought or made, expensive or not, at least once a year it is nice to say: here is a gift for you, from me.

Often, I make gifts from my kitchen: jars of blueberry chutney, a bag of peppermint bark wrapped with tinsel and a home-made card, a sangria kit or limoncella that has rested and readied itself for 80-some-odd-days.

Some years, I spend more money and less time. Other years, I spend more time [making gifts] and less money. In fact, I like to mix it up: some years I have time, energy and good ideas. Others, I see something in a store that grabs my attention—that seems so fitting and perfect—I can’t help myself. And there are years when I have little energy, even less time and my mind has been consumed otherwise. During these times, I buy gifts instead of making them; it fits with that chapter of my life—and still tells those around me that I care.

This year, one of my brothers encouraged us to all spend under $15, and make gifts for each couple. It was a good suggestion, and I was amused and touched that each member of my own family-of-four embraced the challenge. My youngest son is a talented artist, and sketched pictures—or symbols rather—that reminded him of each family member. My 12 year old son, who received a rock polisher for his birthday, spent weeks upon weeks engaged in the process of cleaning, switching, grinding and processing—then chose one rock for each person. He might share with each person why the rock, with all its intricate details—reminded him of them.

While touring a farmer’s market this summer (picture me grinning ridiculously, as farmer’s markets are my candy store. disclaimer: because they are my candy store, I tend to be overly distracted by the baskets of apricots, the mounds of squash, the unique peppers and enormous tomatoes: I will most likely walk right into you), my husband and I saw some ingenious bird houses—made from recycled wood and license plates. And the idea stayed with us. So for Christmas, we he made some. Well, I scavenged for the old, paint-pealing dresser that cost near nothing, and found old latches at second hand stores, but he actually did all the take-apart, sand, saw, measure, nail, screw, design, be-patient-with-the-kids-while-making-birdhouses routine.

And then there is this [pictured top] wreath. I am like many mothers, often awestruck by my child’s brain or thinking or way of engaging the world. And this wreath was one of those moments.

My 11 year old was home, sick, for 4-5 days. And homework kept coming home; one assignment was to make an ornament made from recycled material (p.s. I adore this project). So, after announcing the assignment, he goes upstairs for 20 minutes—presumably perusing his ’special box’ of trinkets, treasures and keepsakes. Awhile later, I am wrapping presents in the dining room (okay, I have taken over the dining room, my husband remarking that the room is beginning to resemble Santa’s workshop). He comes in and sees the tissue paper: and asks for a whole green and part of a red sheet. I hand over the requested materials.

Soon I find him with a slinky, on the carpet with pieces of tissue here and there. To myself I am thinking: what is he making? what can he possibly make with a slinky? how can that become an ornament? you have to be kidding me. And then… I hope he is happy with what he makes… I hope he doesn’t get frustrated… should I offer to help? offer suggestions? no, he looks intent, I will leave him be unless he asks… and not long after: this wreath was formed. Mom: do you have a hook for me?

Lest this writeup be sans food, my gifts this season were of the sugar and sweet variety. I didn’t make birdhouses: I made cookies. And then some: snowball cookies, wreath cookies, thumb print cookies, peppermint bark, some toffee and [see photo of] peanut butter cookies dipped in chocolate. (Any classic peanut butter cookie will do; once cool, dip in chocolate, drizzle with white chocolate, let harden).

You have seen them out there: individually cellophane wrapped chocolate covered nut-sprinkled spoons. But for the price of $10 each, I figured it worth my time to make my own. Besides, it isn’t that difficult to melt chocolate and cover a spoon. And if you do—and present it as a hostess or teacher gift—you will certainly gain accolades. Oh, it was nothing, you will say. They will be impressed and not believe you, they will feel rightly special, and you shall feel appropriately smug.

It was nothing in terms of time and effort; but it was something in the gesture and delivery: a spoonful of special.

Buy plastic spoons. Or if you choose: use antique spoons, buy individual silver spoons from a kitchen store, go trendy vintage or for top-shelf special, use heirloom spoons from grandma’s collection. But get spoons. If plastic, pick gray or black, red or green for the season. Make peppermint bark, or melt chocolate and drizzle on contrasting chocolate, then drop on chards of peppermint or candied nuts.The truth is: this gift is ALL about the packaging. Wrap in a special box, on a simple melamine plate, in cellophane, with a bow. By all means, add a bow to the top of the spoon. The goal here is: you are special. It brings the silver spoon treaty to a whole new level: this one is sugar-coated. You want a coffee? How about a chocolate toffee covered, bow-topped, melt-into-your-drink-and-your-mouth spoon to go with that?

Have you ever had a chocolate covered spoon? If not, then by all means make one for yourself: the chocolate is melted, the spoon is dipped, the chocolate hardens on the spoon. Sprinkle on some crushed candy cane, or toffee. Stir into your next cup of coffee or hot chocolate. (Chop up chocolate into 1/2 inch cubes, melt in microwave in 30 second increments; stir vigorously between each 30 second interval; don’t burn the chocolate).

I made peppermint bark again this year. We all adore it; it is so simple to make, it hurts. My twist this year was to dip spoons into the just-melted bark to make ‘peppermint bark spoons.’ Then I drizzled some melted dark chocolate over, tied on a bow and attached gift cards. I also melted dark chocolate, dipped in some spoons and—while still wet—sprinkled some candied pecans onto the spoon.

Today at lunch, I handed individually wrapped spoons to two friends. They are special friends, and sometimes that message is nice to deliver by the sugary spoonful.

Happy stirring!

Things to do today: buy Christmas gifts for kids’ coaches & teachers, buy packaging tape and boxes, call eye doctor, clean out email in box, make eggnog. Top priority: make eggnog.

When I read Brandon Eats‘ message to make your eggnog now or it is too late, I knew I had to put it on top of my ‘to-do list.’ It takes a minimum of three weeks for the eggnog flavors to marry and marinate in your fridge… or up to a year. So in theory, I could have started my Christmas Nog in July.

If my mom is reading this, she is smiling, because I DO have a tendency to begin planning for Christmas in July. But not this year. This year I really did leave the Christmas planning/buying/frenzy for December (other frenzies were a priority in their respective months; July was consumed with selling our house).

But back to December: I have always wanted to make eggnog from scratch. So when I was alerted to this recipe (from CHOW), I knew I needed to grab my just-emptied glass jug (the apple cider was delish), and start cracking… eggs that is.

And then wait.

I think I am a sucker for drinks that take time to mellow and perfect; my limoncella recipe takes 80 days. And it is divine. Last year I actually DID start making that in July, and even had a bottle or two left in December for Christmas gifts (a hazard of beginning Christmas limoncella in July is that come September when it is ripe and ready one feels the need to taste it, share it, re-taste it and otherwise fail to save it until Christmas). You can only wait so long. And that was too long.

But if you make this eggnog now, it will be perfect for New Year’s Eve. OR if you are not a waiter, crack it open a bit early, perhaps on the eve of Christmas (just save some for later, to taste when it is in its prime). If you do, know that I am too. A few big cubes of ice, a short glass and cheers: to Christmas and to You!

EGGNOG worth waiting for
12 large eggs
2 cups sugar
1 cup heavy cream
1 quart whole milk (4 cups)
1 liter (about 4 cups) bourbon
1/2 cup Meyer’s dark rum
1/2 - 1 cup good Cognac or brandy
pinch kosher salt

To serve (optional—depends on your ability to wait even longer):
one whole nutmeg
10 egg whites
1 1/2 cups heavy cream

Separate yolks and whites; discard whites or use for something else. Mix yolks and sugar until creamy; add remaining ingredients. Bottle right away and refrigerate. Stir or shake occasionally. Serve on rocks with freshly ground nutmeg. Optional: whip 10 egg whites and 1 1/2 cups cream to soft peaks and fold into eggnog. Serve garnished with fresh nutmeg.