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Raspberry Nut Pinwheels -- A Sweet Worth Carrying to Every Table

Halloween week. The Filipino Community Halloween Pageant Saturday. Three hundred people. I was on lumpia duty with Lourdes. We made three hundred fifty lumpia in the Mountain View basement on Friday.

Lourdes is 74. She is in the kitchen. She is luminous. Joseph and Suki sent photos of the kids this week.

I made ube halaya Saturday. The purple yam jam. The dessert that is a color before it is a flavor.

I drafted a blog post on Tuesday and almost did not publish it. I published it Friday. The publishing was the practice.

I sat at the kitchen table Sunday night with the bowl in front of me. The bowl was warm. The bowl was the prayer.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

Angela texted me a photo of the kids. I texted back a heart. The exchange took thirty seconds. The thirty seconds was the keeping.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I drove home Tuesday evening and the sun set at three forty-five and the highway was already iced at the bridges and the radio was on a station I did not recognize and I did not change it.

I made tea late at night. The tea was the small comfort. The comfort was the marker.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

When the ube halaya was gone and the lumpia trays were counted and the pageant was over and the kitchen had finally gone quiet, I wanted something I could make in a big batch without thinking too hard — something sweet enough to feel like a reward but simple enough to let my hands rest while my mind kept moving. Raspberry Nut Pinwheels are that recipe for me. They travel well, they feed a crowd without fuss, and there is something about the spiral of them — the way the jam and the nut filling roll together — that reminds me of the chain Lourdes and I are always part of, one hand passing something good to the next.

Raspberry Nut Pinwheels

Prep Time: 20 min + 1 hr chilling | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 1 hr 32 min | Servings: 36 pinwheels

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
  • 4 oz cream cheese, softened
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/3 cup raspberry jam (seedless preferred)
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped walnuts or pecans
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
  • Powdered sugar, for dusting

Instructions

  1. Make the dough. Beat butter and cream cheese together in a large bowl until smooth and fully combined, about 2 minutes. Add flour and salt and mix until a soft dough forms. Shape into a flat disk, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or overnight.
  2. Prepare the filling. Stir together the chopped nuts, granulated sugar, and cinnamon in a small bowl. Set aside.
  3. Roll and fill. On a lightly floured surface, roll the chilled dough into a rectangle approximately 10 by 12 inches and about 1/8 inch thick. Spread the raspberry jam evenly over the surface, leaving a 1/2-inch border on all sides. Sprinkle the nut-and-sugar mixture evenly over the jam.
  4. Roll and chill. Starting from one long edge, roll the dough tightly into a log. Pinch the seam to seal. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes to firm up for clean slicing.
  5. Slice and bake. Preheat oven to 375°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Slice the log into rounds about 1/3 inch thick and arrange 1 inch apart on prepared baking sheets.
  6. Bake. Bake for 11 to 13 minutes, until the edges are lightly golden and the bottoms are set. Watch carefully — the jam can burn quickly at the edges.
  7. Cool and dust. Let pinwheels cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Dust lightly with powdered sugar before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 72 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 6g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 28mg

Grace Santos
About the cook who shared this
Grace Santos
Week 450 of Grace’s 30-year story · Anchorage, Alaska
Grace is a thirty-seven-year-old ER nurse in Anchorage, Alaska — Filipino-American, single, and the person her entire community calls when they need a hundred lumpia for a party or a shoulder to cry on after a hard shift. She cooks to cope with the things she sees in the emergency room, feeding her neighbors and her church and anyone who looks like they need a plate. Her adobo could bring peace to a warring nation. Her schedule could kill a lesser person.

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