the most lovely day...

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep

because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

- Dr. Seuss

That quote has come to mind so many times over the past year, but it was never more true than the night before my wedding.  When giddiness took over exhaustion and I realized that my life was on the verge of changing forever. 

Today marks one month.  How that is possible I could not tell you.  My mind cannot even really process that statement.  I am not sure what has happened over the past four weeks, only that they have been truly splendid and I would live them all over again in a heartbeat...if only I could.

 It's all very emotional.  

That is the only answer I can really give at this point.  That is not to say that I am crying all the time.  I am actually continuing with life much like it has always been this way, but if I stop and think, the only sensation is one of being entirely overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed with joy, thankfulness, excitement, gratitude, and a dull ache for what has been lost.  As I said, it's emotional.  For now, as I still try to process all that has happened, photographs can communicate far more than words.  

I cannot stop staring at our pictures.  They just arrived Monday and I have never loved images more than I love these.  I never want to stop remembering the incredible feelings of that incredible day.  Not ever.  This Thanksgiving, I will have many blessings to give thanks for, but right now, as I gaze with blissful contentment at this computer screen, I am most thankful for the privilege of having moments in time forever frozen through images.  

So, here they are.  Our wedding day, or at least a glimpse of it. 

Pumpkin Chai for the bride, please and thank you. 

These are princess shoes.  Princess shoes that were bought one size too large, but I was determined to wear them regardless because they were just about the most beautiful slippers I have ever seen. 

I believe this was the moment where she finally realized who I was marrying.  Up until that moment she had thought Mr. Pedantic was simply my assistant.  I'm not saying she was wrong... 

If you are feeling down, look into the mind of a three-year-old.  Things are far simpler there. 

We would like to give you a sneak peak of our latest album, "Ashlyn & The Glitterets."

#ILoveMySister 

Glitter skirts.  Dear friends.  Precious memories. 

Something old.  My great grandmother's mink stole. 

Something new.  The dress that I never wanted to take off.

Something borrowed.  My mother's necklace from her own wedding day.

Something blue.  My garter, made by my very talented aunt. 

All the heart eyes. 

One last hug for our smallest of friends. 

We did. 

Happily ever after. 

Sincerely, 

Pedantic Foodie

All photographs were captured by the very talented Matthew Dejesus.  He has frozen so many moments of our lives in time through his incredible work and we will be forever grateful. 

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Pecan Pie Bars with Cranberry Dark Chocolate Shortbread

It has been two weeks since returning from my honeymoon.  That is such a baffling statement.  Friday will mark one month since my wedding.  I do not know what is happening to the time, but my heart is fighting with my mind as I try to enjoy the present, rather than longing for the past.  

But oh, what a wonderful past it is!  

I looked into Mr. Pedantic’s deep brown eyes last evening and whispered “I miss our honeymoon so much it hurts.  I want to go back.” 

The days moved so slowly then.  We packed so much into those blissful twenty-four hour periods that each day felt more like three.  It was wonderful.  I love when Time moves slowly, but it is such a rarity, and one not likely to be enjoyed in the abyss of a busy routine.

I will be sharing some of the many, many snapshots from our ten-day European interlude next week, and I cannot wait to tell you all about the London streets, the most charming hotel, and the darling cabbies whose accents made me giggle with utter delight.  I hope you will find them at least partly as enthralling as I do. 

Real life is still exciting, there is still much that is new.  Our wedding photographs were just released and I cannot stop gazing at them with fond remembrance.  I am planning my hallway “gallery wall,” which will more closely resemble a wedding day shrine, but I am perfectly okay with that.  I am still excited about meal planning, grocery shopping, and dinner-making.  I am still somewhat excited to wake up and make breakfast for my darling husband.  I say somewhat, because, at times, 5:45am seems rather unappealing.  I was always an early riser, but on these chilly mornings the covers beckon more strongly than the frigid kitchen floors. 

Life right now is a melody of the new, the familiar, and constant longing for the nostalgic past.  Much like these bars. 

These squares are irresistible, striking the perfect balance between neoclassicism and tradition.

We greatly enjoyed Scotland’s buttery shortbread on our honeymoon, and I was eager to make a batch of my own when we returned.  This particular shortbread is tender and flakey, and studded with dark chocolate and dried cranberries. 

While shortbread is delightful on its own, especially alongside a strong Breakfast Blend, I wanted to blend it with my very favorite pecan pie filling.  The two layers meld seamlessly, creating a hefty bar that is rich, without being overly sweet. 

The memories of our Scottish adventures, the decadent layer of a familiar classic - all in one, delightful bite.  A bite that even those of you who fear the world of pie-baking can enjoy. 

If you are a texture nut like myself, you will enjoy the contrast of the crisp shortbread and the gooey pecan filling. 

The past and the present each have their own charms, but together they are truly brilliant.

Sincerely,

Pedantic Foodie

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Pecan Pie Bars with Cranberry Dark Chocolate Shortbread

makes 9 large bars, or 18 “skinny” bars / shortbread recipe adapted from Ina Garten

for the shortbread 

- 1 1/2 sticks butter, softened

- 1/2 cup sugar

- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

- 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

- 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

- 1/2 cup chocolate

- 1/2 cup cranberries

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. 

In the work bowl of your stand mixer, combine butter and granulated sugar.  Using the paddle attachment, beat on medium speed until the fluffy.  Stream in the vanilla extract. 

Sift to combine flour, salt, and ground cinnamon.  Add the sifted dry ingredients to the butter mixture, and mix on low speed until all the flour is incorporated.  The mixture should form a rough mass.  Gently fold in the chocolate and cranberries. 

Press the dough into the bottom of an 8x8 baking pan.  Bake for 20-25 minutes, until the shortbread is just golden.  While the shortbread bakes, prepare the pecan layer. 

(Do not turn off the oven, as you'll be baking the second layer at the same temperature.)

for the pecan pie layer

- 1 cup raw pecan halves

- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

- 1/4 teaspoon cloves

- 3 eggs 

- 1/2 cup corn syrup

- 1/2 cup granulated sugar

- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 

In a medium sauté pan combine pecans, ground cinnamon, and ground cloves.  Place over medium heat and cook, stirring often, until the pecans become fragrant and begin to release their natural oils - about 5-8 minutes.  Remove from heat and chop roughly.  

Sprinkle the spiced nuts evenly over the warm shortbread. 

In a large bowl, whisk to combine corn syrup, eggs, sugar, butter, salt, and vanilla extract.  Pour the filling over the pecans and transfer the pan to the oven.  Bake, at 350 degrees, for 20-30 minutes, or until the pie filling appears set, but jiggles just slightly in the center.

Allow the bars to cool completely (about 4 hours) before slicing and serving.  I know, it is going to require some patience, but the final reward is well worth the few hours of agony.  Enjoy!

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21 Days... [ after ]

It's taken me some good, long hours, turned into contemplative days to write this post.

If you followed along with my countdown posts, you will have witnessed the process unfold. The process, which seemed to last forever, and then in one, short, hazy swoop it was over.  Now here I sit, a candle in front of me, a cup of tea within reach, and an extra ring on my finger.  I kissed my husband goodbye this morning, and sent him off to work.  My husband.  My husband?! It is all still so strange. 

I waited my whole life for October 21st, 2016.  I had dreamt of that day a million-and-one times, and when it came, it was strangely real.  In fact, the strangest part of this whole ordeal has been that it isn't.  It feels oddly normal, as if my whole had not just turned upside down. 
I keep looking at Mr. Pedantic with wonder as I repeat to him, "This should be strange, you know. But somehow, it's not..."  It's just right. 

I'm assuming a greater degree of realization will eventually set in.  As it is, I keep having to remind myself that this is more than a dreamy interlude, upon which I will return to my former, familiar life.  Right now, in addition to being far too busy for any dangerous hours of true contemplation, I bounce in and out of knowing that this - this newness - is truly my life now, and wondering when I am going to wake up. 

The wedding day.  That is what you really care about, isn't it?  I do not blame you, I am a sucker for the gritty, glittery details myself.  So let's get to it! 

I awoke Friday morning sometime around 4am.  My sister told me to go back to sleep.  I did.  We both awoke for the second time around 6am, whispered our giddy exclamations, and fell asleep for another half hour before beginning what would be the most tremendous day of my life.  I finished the last detail of Mr. Pedantic's gift, gathered for a time of sweet prayer with my family, and then my beloved sister and I raced out the door, hair undone, makeup-less, eager, and in great need of fuel.  We somehow balanced our multiple trays of coffee, and were off to our hotel rooms for preparation.  The hours to follow were filled with good food, lots of laughter, and an unbelievable amount of hairspray.  Somewhere in those wonderful, wedding-day moments, my sister handed me a gift from my husband-to-be, as if the diamond ring and a European honeymoon were not enough.  The most beautiful ruby earrings were in that tiny box for just a short time before they were hung in my ears.  During all that excitement, during all the bustling and shuffling of bobby pins and lipstick, my friends, mother, and family showered me with more love than my heart could hold.  After the dress was on and my hair was completed, I walked down a long hallway and tapped gently on my father's shoulder.  My father has seen me in a great many dresses, and told me I look beautiful a great many times, but I think I can safely say, that was by far the most momentous, for both of us.  His tears were happy ones.  Happy and proud. 

After pictures and lunch (where I suddenly realized that sitting down in my dress was nearly impossible), it was time for final touch-ups.  I believe it was then, as I took one last selfie with my Mama as an unmarried woman, that the shaking began.  I felt as though my heart was in one of those vibrating chairs that you pass by in the mall, except this particular model was seriously malfunctioning and on the cusp of eruption.  My stomach was cramping like never before - likely due to the increasingly painful stays in my dress, and I was a very panicky blushing bride.  I was happy, so very happy.  In the deepest and truest parts of my heart, I was ecstatic, but every other hair-sprayed ounce of me was terrified.  I was the bride.  I was going to be a wife.  It was then that the weight of what was really happening set in, and I turned to my friend with shaking hands and asked if it was okay to feel nauseous.  She said yes.  I found a wall to lean on. 

Once I found my place on my father's arm, his coaching began.  I looked at him in the candid, jejune way that I had for so long as a child and squeaked out a timid, "I'm scared."  He held my hand tighter and reminded me to breathe, something I was not doing enough of, and that nearly led to me being a fainting bride in the first moments of the ceremony.  When my hands were at last placed in Mr. Pedantic's, and the pastor was just beginning our service, I looked out at the many rows of chairs.  So many smiling, expectant faces, so many loving and beloved friends.  So many individuals who had touched our lives in unique and precious ways.  I was overcome.  They were there for us.  Because they love us. 

The ceremony was a blur.  I kept looking into his eyes and reminding myself to breathe and "for goodness sake do not lock your knees!"  Partway through my vows my heart could no longer contain the emotions that had been building for days, and the tears began to flow.  That was when my sweet almost-husband slipped a handkerchief into my shaking hand - a handkerchief that my father had given him just for that purpose.  That little square of lipstick-stained cloth will be forever precious to me. 

The rain began just as the wedding party stepped outside for pictures, but I did not care one little bit.  I barely heard the questions being asked or the suggestions being made.  I was a wife - his wife - and nothing else mattered.  The pictures were taken indoors, and the rain faded just in time for me and my new husband to snatch a few shots under the clearing, golden skies. 

The reception flew by in what felt like a matter of moments.  So many warm embraces, so many heartfelt wishes given, and not nearly enough time with those dearly-loved individuals who had come from near and far just to support us in these life-altering moments.  Just before leaving, I snuck away to steal a few solitary moments with my parents.  And with that, we were off and I was in utter disbelief - entirely overcome by all that had happened.  My heart overflowed with joy, thankfulness, and a deep, sinking grief over the fact that my long-awaited day was nearly over.  

We entered our new apartment, him holding me in his arms as we stepped over the threshold.  I did my best to hold back the tears as we opened and read each one of the cards we had received, but it was to little avail.  Those written words only reiterated the great load of love that had hung about me all day long.  Thankfully, Mr. Pedantic does not mind tears because even now, I cannot talk much about the wedding without the flood of emotions returning.  They are not tears of sadness - quite the contrary.  I just have simply never felt so loved and so treasured as I did that day, and my heart is still bursting at the seams with the deepest and truest kind of thankfulness. 

Now we are three weeks into this joyous new life and I am still training myself to accept the fact that the wedding I planned for so long is at an end, and that it is okay.  The excitement is not over, it's really just beginning.  Our wedding was the beautiful, capturing prologue which will open up into dozens of thrilling chapters, and I cannot wait to write them.  As one dear friend reminded me at the reception, life is not simply about the mountain peaks - it is really the valleys we trod to reach them that matter the most.   

I appreciate your patience and grace as I readjust to life and embrace the wonderful new privileges and responsibilities that wifehood brings.  Cookies to come. 

Sincerely, 

Pedantic Foodie