Saffron & Apricot Goldies MAKES ABOUT 30 BARS
“Like blondies, but infused with saffron for golden, aromatic goodness. Great as an energy snack, a pretty treat for afternoon tea, or warmed up with a scoop of vanilla ice cream for dessert.” –Claire Cheney INGREDIENTS
1 large pinch saffron threads, ground to a powder 2 tsp vanilla extract 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter 2 cups brown sugar, lightly packed 2 large eggs 1/2 tsp salt 1 cup all-purpose flour 3/4 cup whole wheat flour 2 tsp baking powder 1 cup apricots, chopped (unsulphured are best) 1 cup pistachios, chopped or buzzed coarsely in a small food processor DIRECTIONS
Grease a 9"x13" pan and pre-heat oven to 350°F. Grind the saffron threads with a pinch of sugar and add to a tiny bowl with the vanilla to infuse. Set aside. In a small saucepan, melt the butter over low heat. Add the brown sugar and stir until well combined. Transfer to a medium mixing bowl and cool to lukewarm or room temp, then add the rest of the ingredients except the nuts and apricots. Fold in the chopped apricots, then spread in the greased pan and top with the chopped pistachios, distributing evenly. Bake for 35 minutes or until sides are golden and crispy. Cool to room temp before slicing into small bars or squares. OBERLIN ALUMNI MAGAZINE 2021 FALL
PROSE POEM
Reference Point BY DIANE LOUIE ’75
Where we were did not make us who we are, but who we were once filled a sunlit bathroom: one, half the other’s age, seated on a green wooden stool, explaining things to which the elder, then so young, listened in the midst of hairspray, the iron hissing steam, and the younger heard her listening which changed sentences from chatter to virtual space. They kept talking. Filled the yellow kitchen with sorting out and chiming in, bluffs called, shrugs teased, gallon wine from the package store. All that talking. All that mulling over. Filled summer afternoons on the wide front porch, bare toes in the helix of morning glory tendrils trellised on string until bees, pestered from petals, tried to sting. They had their iffy moments. They had their empty stretches. When the Buddha tapped their shoulders ahem ahem they tried to get a hold of which led to out of sight. Which led to letting go, which led to seeing light. On the silk-wrapped pistol underneath the mattress of the elder’s double bed. On the terror of feeling in the younger’s head. All that calling into question to get the gist filled the empty future with bereavement’s genesis.
From Diane “Denny” Louie’s first book of poems, Fractal Shores, which won the 2021 John Pollard Foundation International Poetry Prize and the 2021 Eric Hoffer Award for Poetry. This poem is in memory of Jean Binford (1931-2014), who worked for Oberlin College’s library for 35 years. Reprinted with permission from Fractal Shores: Poems by Diane Louie, selected by Sherod Santos ( © by the University of Georgia Press, 2020). 15