Almond Cheddar Appetizers

The Japanese maple bare. The kitchen window fogged with dashi steam. Yoga Tuesday and Thursday at the studio. The classes were full. The body was the body.

Miya, 9, can shape onigiri without falling apart. She uses wet hands. She knows the order without being told. I drank miso from Fumiko's chipped bowl. The chip fits my lip. The lip fits the chip. The bowl is the small daily ritual.

Gyoza this weekend. Pork and cabbage filling. Pleated by hand. Fried then steamed. The crisp bottoms. The dipping sauce of soy, vinegar, chili oil.

The chipped bowl. The chain extends.

I read for an hour Sunday night. A book of essays by a Korean-American writer about food and grief. I underlined a paragraph that said exactly what I had been trying to say in the newsletter for months.

The cat was the cat. Mochi at fifteen sleeps most of the day. She still eats with enthusiasm. She still sits at the kitchen window watching the back garden.

Sunday farmers market in the rain. The vendors knew me. The Hood River apple stand had honeycrisps. I bought four pounds.

I texted Miya a photo of the shiso. She texted back a heart and a single word: home.

Tomi watered the garden Saturday morning. The shiso was head-high. The shishito peppers were producing. The kabocha was running on the fence.

I wrote at the kitchen table from six to eight. The newsletter was forming. The opening sentence was the hard sentence — they always are. I rewrote it five times. The fifth time was the right time.

Therapy Tuesday. We talked about the wedding. We talked about Barbara. We talked about Fumiko. The hour passed. The work continues.

Made dashi at five-thirty AM. Ten minutes in the kitchen alone with the kombu and the bonito flakes. The day's first prayer.

The neighbor's dog barked at nothing for twenty minutes Sunday afternoon. The neighbor apologized. I told him I had been writing through it and the white noise was helpful. He laughed.

Miya's old room is now my office. The desk is by the window. The shiso outside. The newsletter in progress. The afternoons are quiet.

A panic flicker Tuesday evening, brief, manageable. I breathed. I drank water. I went outside and walked around the block. The flicker passed. The body did its work.

Yoga Tuesday morning. The studio in Sellwood. Eight students. The class was the class.

A reader sent me a handwritten card this week. Her grandmother had cooked Japanese food in 1970s Boise. She had felt alone in it. The newsletter, she wrote, made her feel less alone. I taped the card to the wall above my desk.

I made onigiri for tomorrow's lunch. Three triangles. Salted plum in the center. Wrapped in nori. The cling wrap. The drawer where I keep them. The system.

Coffee with a friend Saturday morning. We talked about books, about kids, about the way our forties became our fifties. The talking is the thing.

The rain in long sheets Tuesday afternoon. I made tea. I watched it from the porch. The cottonwoods on the next block were silver in the wet.

Miya is in elementary school. The Saturday Japanese school continues. She still complains. She is still going.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. Wiped the counters. Reorganized the drawer where the chopsticks live. Sharpened the knife. The reset was the reset.

I drove to Uwajimaya Wednesday. Kombu, bonito flakes, white miso, a small bag of mochiko for tomorrow's project. The store smells like home.

The gyoza were the centerpiece of the weekend — all that pleating, the sizzle of the pan, the ritual of the dipping sauce — but it was the quieter bites alongside them that I keep thinking about. I had almonds left from the farmers market bag, good sharp cheddar in the drawer, and an hour before anyone arrived. These Almond Cheddar Appetizers are the kind of thing you make with your hands when your hands need something small and purposeful to do — the same instinct that folds gyoza, that shapes onigiri, that tapes a card to the wall above a desk. The chain extends.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 18 min | Total Time: 38 min | Servings: 28 pieces

Ingredients

1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese, packed
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp fine sea salt
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tbsp cold water, as needed
28 whole roasted almonds (about 1/3 cup)

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 350°F (175°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
Cream butter and cheese. In a medium bowl, beat the softened butter and shredded cheddar together with a fork or hand mixer until combined and slightly fluffy, about 2 minutes.
Add the dry ingredients. Add the flour, salt, and cayenne to the butter-cheese mixture. Mix until a crumbly dough forms. If the dough won’t come together, add cold water one teaspoon at a time.
Roll and shape. Pinch off dough into roughly 1-inch balls (about 1 heaping teaspoon each) and place them 1 1/2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets. Gently flatten each ball with your palm.
Press in almonds. Press one whole almond firmly into the center of each round, flattening the dough slightly to about 1/4-inch thickness.
Bake. Bake for 15–18 minutes, rotating pans halfway through, until the edges are lightly golden and the bottoms are set. Do not over-brown.
Cool and serve. Let cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Almond Cheddar Appetizers — The Small Rituals That Hold Us Together