By Eight weeks. Every milestone is a held breath released. Eight weeks is two weeks past where we lost the first baby. Eight weeks means we are in new territory. We are past the line. We are past the place where the heartbeat stopped last time. This baby is still here. This heartbeat is still drumming.
Megan has morning sickness again — worse this time, she says, which the books say is a good sign. The body is doing what it's supposed to do. The hormones are surging. The baby is growing. The nausea is evidence that everything is working. I keep telling Megan this while she throws up and she says, "Very helpful, Jake," in a tone that suggests it is not helpful at all. She is correct. Nothing I say is helpful. But I say it anyway because I need to say something and "your vomiting is scientifically encouraging" is the best I've got.
I'm cooking bland food again — crackers, toast, plain rice, ginger tea. The flavor palette of our household has narrowed to "things that don't make Megan nauseous," which is a very short list that changes daily. Today she can eat apples. Yesterday she couldn't look at apples. Tomorrow is anyone's guess. I am a chef in a restaurant where the customer changes her order every thirty minutes and I serve with love and without complaint.
Danny's anniversary passed this week. Thirteen years. I went to Holy Cross before work. I told Danny about the baby. The new baby. The second try. I told him we're past eight weeks. I told him we're cautious and hopeful and terrified and grateful. I told him if it's a boy, his name will be in there somewhere. Daniel. Danny. The name that matters most.
The foods Megan could actually keep down at eight weeks fit on a very short list, and almost all of them were dry, pale, and cracker-adjacent — which is exactly where almond rusks live. I found this recipe on a night when I needed to feel useful and couldn’t think of any other way to be, and something about the slow, twice-baked process of making them felt right for a week that was asking us to be patient and careful and steady. They keep for days, they’re easy to nibble slowly first thing in the morning, and they are, blessedly, not a smell that sends anyone to the bathroom.
Almond Rusks
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour + 8 hours drying | Total Time: ~9 hours 20 minutes | Servings: 24 rusks
Ingredients
- 4 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 cup granulated sugar
- 2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
- 2 large eggs
- 1 cup buttermilk
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 cup whole almonds, roughly chopped
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease two 9x5-inch loaf pans and set aside.
- Mix dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined.
- Cream butter and eggs. In a separate bowl, beat softened butter until smooth. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in buttermilk and vanilla extract.
- Combine. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and stir until a soft, shaggy dough forms. Fold in the chopped almonds. Do not overmix.
- Fill pans and bake. Divide the dough evenly between the two prepared pans, smoothing the tops. Bake for 50–60 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the tops are golden. Cool completely in the pans.
- Slice. Once fully cooled (at least 1 hour), turn the loaves out onto a cutting board. Slice each loaf into 12 even fingers or sticks, roughly 1 inch wide.
- Dry the rusks. Reduce oven to 175°F (80°C). Arrange the sliced rusks cut-side up on wire racks set over baking sheets. Place in the oven and dry for 8–10 hours, or overnight, until completely hard and dry all the way through. They should snap cleanly when broken.
- Cool and store. Remove from oven and allow to cool fully before storing in an airtight container. Rusks keep at room temperature for up to 3 weeks.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 155 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 88mg