Here are our far-from-perfect-but-nonetheless-delicious lemon bars, ready to be packed off to school and sold at the bake sale, because such is my life.

I promise that the next time I go to Bakeri I will not complain (even to myself, in secret) about the cost of their tiny and delicious lemon squares. Because they are not easy-peasy to create, like baking brownies for example. One actually needs some skill and mental confidence to pull these babies off.

That said, my daughter and I had a marathon baking session last night in order to make the aforementioned pastries for her school bake sale. The proceeds go to the scholarship fund, so the hard work was worth it, even though I secretly wanted to give up several times along the way.

But I was, as usual, playing the role of responsible, all-knowing, nothing-can-stop-us mom, so I zested the hell out of those lemons (a HUGE pain… if anybody knows a short-cut way to create zest, let him come forward), and patiently let my seven year old measure out flour and corn starch and cut frozen butter into cubes and whisk the lemon mixture on the stovetop until it transformed itself into curd.

And then I removed the pan from the oven every three minutes or so, shaking it to see whether or not it had “set” properly. It never did completely solidify, but I finally took it out of the oven when the center was very very slow to move when I tilted the pan. I then left it to cool down to room temperature, slept for 90 minutes, woke up (at 1:30 am, like a crazy person) and put the pan in the fridge to cool for the rest of the night.

This morning, solid-ass lemon squares were my reward. Ready to be cut, sprinkled with powdered sugar, and sent off to school to be purchased by other members of my kid’s school community. Hallelujah.

We sold them all, which is was very gratifying.

Here is the recipe we followed, from the esteemed Melissa Clark at the New York Times. We used a 9 x 13 inch pan, so we increased the ingredients by 50% and cooked the curd/crust combo for about 30 minutes:

Lemon Bars with Olive Oil and Sea Salt

Ingredients:

FOR THE CRUST:
1 1⁄4 cups/155 grams all-purpose flour
1⁄4 cup/50 grams granulated sugar
3 tablespoons/25 grams confectioners’ sugar, plus more for sprinkling
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
1⁄4 teaspoon fine sea salt 10 tablespoons/142 grams
unsalted butter

FOR THE CURD:
4 to 6 lemons
1 1⁄2 cups/300 grams sugar
2 large eggs plus 3 yolks
1 1⁄2 teaspoons/5 grams cornstarch
Pinch of fine sea salt
4 tablespoons/57 grams cold butter, cut into cubes
1⁄4 cup/60 milliliters fruity extra- virgin olive oil
Confectioners’ sugar Flaky sea salt, for sprinkling

1. Heat oven to 325 degrees and line a 9-by-9-inch baking pan with enough parchment to hang over two of the sides (to be used as handles later to lift the bars out of the pan).

2. To make the shortbread base, pulse together the flour, granulated sugar, confectioners’ sugar, lemon zest and salt in a food processor, or whisk together in a large bowl. Add butter and pulse (or use two knives or your fingers) to cut the butter into the flour until a crumbly dough forms. Press dough into prepared pan and bake until shortbread is pale golden all over, 30 to 35 minutes.

3. While the shortbread is baking, prepare the lemon curd: Grate 1/2 tablespoon zest from lemons and set aside. Squeeze lemons to yield 3/4 cup juice.

4. In a small saucepan, whisk together lemon juice, sugar, eggs and yolks, cornstarch and fine sea salt over medium heat until boiling and thickened, 2 to 5 minutes. Make sure mixture comes to a boil or the cornstarch won’t activate. But once it boils do not cook for longer than 1 minute or you risk the curd thinning out again. Remove from heat and strain into a bowl. Whisk in butter, olive oil and lemon zest.

5. When the shortbread is ready, take it out of the oven and carefully pour the lemon curd onto the shortbread base; return the pan to the oven. Bake until topping is just set, 10 to 15 minutes more. Allow to cool to room temperature, then refrigerate until cold before cutting into bars. Sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar and flaky sea salt right before serving.

The various stages of maple taffy production, clockwise from top left: 1) a plate of snow. 2) the maple syrup, just as it reaches the perfect stage of foaminess (is that a word?) and is ready to be poured. 3) If it gets this dark, it’s pretty much burnt and you should quickly turn off the burner and start again. We weren’t fast enough, and much smoke and sadness ensued. 4) the final result– delectable drops of sweetness (a little blurry, but you get the idea!)

Back in the olden days, when the world was much simpler and Michael Landon was everyone’s favorite dad, winter was a glorious time full of sleigh rides through the big woods to your grandparents’ house where folks would gather to sing, dance, and eat to celebrate the latest maple harvest.

No matter how many times we listen to Cherry Jones reading Little House In The Big Woods (and believe me, we have listened to it many many times…) we can’t bring the good old days back. But we can still make maple candy. And somehow, when you make your own candy, it is a thousand times more delicious than any store bought variety they’re pushing at the corner deli.

All you need is some maple syrup and some snow (I scooped up a jarful during our most recent storm and saved it in the freezer) and you’re good to go.

We started with a small plateful of snow… say about 2 cups full… and a half cup of maple syrup which makes just enough little taffy drops for one hungry kid and her mom to satisfy their sweet teeth for the evening.

Heat the syrup till it’s boiling, and then turn the heat down a bit so it holds steady. Then you basically watch and wait. When the syrup gets all foamy looking (smallish uniform bubbles– see top right photo above) it’s ready to go. This doesn’t take long (maybe 5 minutes or so) and it happens quickly, so you really have to keep your eyes on the pan. Waiting too long (like we did the first time round) will leave you with a horrible black nearly solid mass to scrape off of your pan.

Take the syrup out to your plate of snow and pour it slowly over, in swirls, dots, or whatever suits your fancy… being careful not to overlap too much as you’ll melt the snow before it has a chance to do it’s job. The syrup hardens quickly and in a minute or so is ready to peel off the plate and enjoy.

Just like Laura Ingalls and her cousins.

There are other, more scientific methods for making this stuff that involve candy thermometers, but I prefer doing it by eye. It somehow feels more satisfying, plus you’ve got one less thing to wash in the end.