Cake > Sex

Look! I made a cake! 

Here are a few things you should know about me and this cake, and also cakes in general. 

1. I'm not a huge fan of cake--I'll typically go for something chewier and/or fattier if given the choice.
2. I'm not very good at making cake--they tend to turn into "trifles."
3. This cake was crazy delicious, it was not hideous, and I ate it instead of ice cream for several meals (mostly breakfast, but also lunch...also dessert). 

Typically, the only reason I'll bake a cake is to celebrate the birth of someone I adore. This often results in my humiliation as friends and friends-of-friends offer well-meaning compliments and comments. "It really does taste good though!" "That was such a sweet idea!" "YOU are very, very thoughtful!"

This cake however, was not a token of love and celebration, but rather the debit of a lost wager. The scene was something like this:

 (Liberty's legs can be seen protruding from beneath the couples' bed as Premal quietly reads atop it.)

L: HELP! HELPhelp! Premal! I'm stuck, I can't breath!

(Premal extracts his wife)

P: What were you doing?

L: Trying to plug in our new lamps. 

P: I can do that.

L: You are much bigger and fatter than I am, and it is therefore impossible for you to succeed in this effort where I have failed. 

P: Wanna bet?

L: Yes, I do.

P: Okay, but if I win I want something awesome.

L: Okay. 

P: Not something dumb, like sex. 

L: Okay.

P: I want cake. A carrot cake. With frosting. 

L: Deal.

(Premal reaches the cord behind the mattress, thereby completing the task and winning the wager in mere seconds. --Scene--)   

Pineapple Carrot Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting

note: Obviously walnuts and raisins are optional, except when they're not. Which happens to be the case with this cake. Which is to say, I refuse to endorse the results of the recipe below should you choose to omit these items. xoxo

Cake:

2 c. sugar

1 1/3 c. vegetable oil

3 eggs

1 t. vanilla

2 1/2 c. flour

2 t. cinnamon  

2 t. baking soda

1 1/2 t. salt

1 c. raisins

1 c. walnuts

1 lb. finely grated carrots

1/2 c. fresh pineapple, cubed

1 in. finely grated fresh ginger

Preheat oven to 350 f

Prepare 3 8-inch rounds with parchment, then butter and flour. 

Beat sugar, oil and eggs with mixer fitted with a paddle for 4 minutes. Add vanilla. Sift together flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt--add to wet ingredients. Toss raisins and nuts with a little flour, then fold into batter (it will be quite stiff at this point). Fold in carrots and pineapple. Divide among the pans and bake 50 min. 

Frosting:

2 blocks cream cheese

1 stick butter

2 c. powdered sugar (sifted, please.)

1/4 c. maple syrup

1 pinch salt

Place all ingredients in a mixer. Beat the bejeezus out of it. Wait 'til your cake is actually cool before frosting. 

Peanut butter jelly time!!!!

I first discovered this recipe during my seduction of one P. Trivedi. I was sad and uninterested in my studies. What I was interested in, were baked goods and a boy. Every few days I'd whip up a batch of whatever, and share about half of them with those around me. In hindsight, I know that this obsession was unhealthy on so, so many levels. Then again, I think the end result was far more positive than not. Yes, I gained 20 pounds, yes I could have been more diligent in my school work, and yes, I was filling a void with sugar and butter. But I also gained a trove of fantastic recipes and the gratification of doing something really well. Finally, the fact that I was constantly bringing over immaculate sweets certainly didn't hurt my budding relationship with the young Dr. P, without whom I don't know if I would have ever emerged from that dark place. (Oh, and the weight? It vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.) There are flavors that take you back to a certain place and time. Toasted English muffins, spread with margarine and marmalade will forever remind me of my great grandmother Mamsci's glamorous flat in Vancouver. Ritz crackers are grandmother Marjorie Dick, who lived with our family until she was nearly 104. And these peanut butter blondies, take me back to the earliest days of my relationship with Premal, when we both had very little to offer each other, and yet what we had was just what the other needed.Be warned, these babies are just about perfect. They taste like I always hope peanut butter cookies will--crisp on the outside, rich caramel-chewy within--but seldom do. The batter is really more of a dough, and needs to be patted into the corners of the pan. Finally, make sure your thumbprints aren't too deep, otherwise the blondies will swallow up the preserves (note: this is still very delicious, it just may not be what you were originally going for). 

Peanut Butter Blondies

1½ c. flour

1 t. baking powder

½ t. salt

4 T. butter

¼ c. peanut butter (heaping)

1 c. packed brown sugar

½ c. white sugar

2 eggs

1 t. vanilla extract

fruit preserves and chocolate chips (optional)

 Preheat oven to 350. Line 8 in. square pan with parchment. Cream butter, peanut butter, sugars, eggs and vanilla. Add dry ingredients, and mix until combined. Spread dough to edges of pan. Make heart-shaped thumbprints like so, and fill with preserves and chocolate chips. Bake 30 min. If using chocolate chips in your hearts, you might need to swirl them a bit with a skewer after removing the blondies from the oven.  

P.S. These keep really well. Making them perfect for mailing, bake sales, or eating for an entire week.   

St. Polycarp's Day

So, Valentine's Day.

I feel like people have been super into it this year. I started hearing festive murmurs more than two weeks ago, which is keen for Christmas or Flag Day or something really important like that, but strikes me as premature for V-Day. Don't misunderstand me -- I'm not one of those people who can't stand the thought of other people having a special time to show love for each other. In fact, I actually like the idea of an entire holiday dedicated to a special warm feeling!

I'm just not sure about the choice of special warm feeling.

I mean, love is swell and all, but does it deserve a day -- practically an entire month -- when all the other feelings don't even get two moments of silence to rub together? We need a bit of diversity in our emotionally motivated feast days, by jove!

"But Glorianna," you may object "you can't make all of these excellent points and then run off without offering some sort of solution!" That is why I am officially proposing a new holiday -- one to celebrate all of those people who really don't like other people at the moment.

I propose we call it Saint Polycarp's Day.

Mr. Polycarp was a 1st century Smyrnish (ean? (off?)) martyr. He is also the patron saint of earaches, which inspire a dull, constant, boring pain in your head similar to that experienced around people you don't like. The holiday can be today (7 is a prime number and has always struck me as nice and moody), and we can appropriate a lot from it's fuzzier cousin a week nigh: the cutesy color scheme; the excessive amounts of chocolate; I've even mocked up a couple of Polycarp Day cards to distribute to your least favorite people.

I don't know about you, but getting a couple of these in the mail every February 7th would just about ruin my day. And that's a beautiful feeling which should be treasured and celebrated.

So I invite y'all to join with me (but, like, not really) in wishing all of those special people you really despise an extra miserable St Polycarp's Day. (I made a card for that, too:)

Bronco Bites part deux

We TDs are not particularly athletic. In fact, as a very young child, I told my mom my coach had cancer to get out of playing soccer (she discovered my deception after sending soup, the dear lady). And yet, despite our distaste for "the game" we are a fiercely competitive bunch. We'll hoot and holler and tussle over almost any competition we can devise. Cheeks bleed after a couple rounds of chubby-bunny, and don't get me started on the horror that ensues when board games are brought into the mix.

And so, armed with this knowledge, Charity threw down the gauntlet, and challenged us to a color-coded, game-day tournament. A culinary clash, with rivals engaging in comestible warfare. A Super-Supper-Bowl if you will. And so, miz. Sunshine, I see your punkin-dumplins, and I raise you PUDDING (with balls--like footballs, but more smaller and roundish, but I still deserve points for the balls).

Peyton's Puddin Smack-down

(Coconut tapioca with apricot sauce and blueberry compote)

Peyton Puddin (sweet and smooth, just like our guy)

1/3 c. small pearl tapioca

1½ c. coconut milk

1 c. whole milk

1 egg yolk

1/4 c. sugar

1/2 t. salt

1 t. vanilla extract (or seeds from 1 in. vanilla bean segment)

Add milks and pearls to a medium saucepan and let soak for 45 min to an hour. Stir in the remainder of the ingredients and cook over medium heat until pudding reaches thee texture of thick gravy (about 15 min). Pour into serving dishes, and chill.

Manhattan Apricot sauce (like New Jersey, but better?)

1/3 c. apricot spread or sauce (I used this stuff , but trader joe's has awesome apricot sauce too)

1 T. rye whiskey

1 t. sweet vermouth

1 dash rhubarb bitters

Mix well.

Sour Grapes Blueberries(?) Compote (Richard Sherman, I'm lookin at you)*

1/2 c. frozen blueberries

1 t. lime juice

Toss and let sit on the counter for 40 min. (Alternatively, microwave it for 40 seconds.)

  

*I definitely deserve extra points for knowing stuff about sports. definitely.

GUYS. Guys. Guys, Halloween Costumes Next Year? Guys?

An afternoon spent mourning Halloween's passing and doing nothing I was supposed to has resulted in whatever this is (I'll tell you what it is: magnificent). For reals though, I feel like dressing up as each other is a pretty good group outfit. The people who get it would think that we're so clever (or just weirdly obsessed with each other (or both of those things at the same time))!

Sisters, can we spend next Halloween together and do this? It would bring me so many giggles.

Other peoples, what was your favorite group costume you saw this Halloween? Hopefully there were some better ideas out there than Miley Cyrus and that creepy rape-y prison escapee. My favorite was Daft Punkin (two sleekly dressed dudes with their heads inside of jack-o-lanterns instead of robo-helmets).

Notes from Montreal

Howdy folks!

On Saturday we had our first baptism! It was wonderful. The little boy (he's 10) was so incredibly excited. And everyone was really supportive. His father (who is not a member) really wanted to be there, but could only make it if the baptism was at 10am. Which is really early for most people. But everyone we invited came! Yup. There were over 30 people there, which, in my ever so humble opinion, is pretty good for a Saturday morning baptism. But we didn't actually think anyone was going to come. And we didn't think we would have food, so we were a little anxious. Here's the thing, baptisms in the Lemoyne ward are kind of a big deal. People love making them into parties. But this baptism didn't really seem like it was going to be a party. And while we would have liked to spend the day before preparing things for the baptism, our schedule was filled with a lot of scheduled service - followed by teaching appointments which we couldn't move. 

So, Friday night after planning I made a big apple crisp and a loaf of bread, we organized the cookies and spreads the family had given us, and hoped for the best. And, despite our low expectations, the baptism was a party. It was perfect. And even though the ward mission leader brought beautiful fruit and pastries, and other members brought exquisite home-made muffins and cookies, everyone was very moved that we - the missionaries - had made offerings, too. AND the apple crisp was a crazy hit. Everyone was a fan. And as long as I'm a missionary, I don't think I will ever stop hearing members tell me that as soon as I get home, I'mma get married 'cause I'm just too cute and I cook too good.' What can I say? They're very sweet...and I still have to work on this humility thing :)

I love you alll tooooooo much! We had Thanksgiving here last week. It was...nice. But not really, because it wasn't American and none of you were here. 

OK. 

Je vous aime plus que beaucoup!!!!!!!!

Chain rxn

Life in Denver has been fraught with unexpected consequences. The results of these little chain-reactions aren't bad, just unforeseen (though also totally predictable, as long as you're noggin is on straight). Take for instance our living situation. We planned to use Momo's house as a landing zone, a place to rest our heads for a moment before finding a place to truly call our own. But here we are, four months in, happy as clams, and feeling more settled in our "temporary housing" with each passing day. Or--also related to housing--there was the time when Momo and I bought almost an entire home's worth of furniture for the place Premal and I were *thisclose* to closing on, but you know how that story ended. This left us with an extra oh... 20-ish pieces of furniture--large pieces--and nowhere to put them. We ended up giving Momo's sunroom a little update, and the results are dreamy. Finally, I've learned that when a recipe calls for 5 egg-yolks it's best to figure out what to do with the accompanying whites beforehand. Otherwise you'll end up with vats of unappetizing translucent gunk crowding up your fridge until you get the wise idea to transform them into magical pavlovas. Which is exactly what I did.

I based mine off of this one from Ina Garten, though I opted for precious individual portions, as I find full-sized pavlovas a tad intimidating. Also, I lost my nerve and jacked up the heat to an uncouth 350 degrees f when they showed no signs of setting after 2.5 hours at the prescribed 180. Perhaps they were more golden than the Contessa would have liked, but they tasted sublime (and I prefer most things a shade or two darker--this is a reference to my husband). Finally, while berry compote is a perfect accompaniment to pavlova, I opted for Charity's caramel sauce, homemade spiced dark-chocolate ice cream, and a sprinkling of fresh raspberries. This was a very, very good idea. 

P.S. THIS is my unofficial soundtrack for this gif

The cure for a whiney heart

Ugh. So, I know I said "exciting things were in the works(!)," but it appears I spoke too soon. Premal and I have been looking for a home to call own own since moving to Denver in July, and it seemed as though we had finally found one. It was a stately town home in the city center, blocks away from the Capitol, art museum, and some of our very favorite eateries. The finishes were classic, and the kitchen had been designed by a chef. I loved it. And so, we dug in.Contracts were drawn up, and read, and signed, and shared, and returned, and read and signed. And then we exhaled, and smiled nervously at one another. Then, lenders and owners and inspectors and neighbors were called and called and called. Then more contracts came, and I read all the small print, then we signed and returned, and wrote checks. And as I worked from our living room in the basement of my mother's home, workers broke ground outside my window digging a tremendous hole that will someday form a patio and passage into this space. We'd share smiles though the glass throughout the day, comrades in adjoined trenches boring our way through the tasks at hand. Then suddenly, both the workers and I stopped. Their reason was quite simple, the hole was dug, and it was time to move on to other tasks. I, on the other hand had come upon the dark underbelly of my dream home, and we deemed the venture too risky.In the aftermath, I felt a lot like this. What did I have to show for my weeks of work? I stood by my window, envious of the tangibility of the completed task on the other side, and the satisfaction that comes from a physical task well done. I wanted to wallow, but I did not want to stagnate. So I decided to make something--and nurse my heavy heart while I was at it.   

Premal has been hankering for some homemade ice cream for a while, and we figured nothing goes together like self pity, and a pint of frozen deliciousness. The recipe is based on this keeper from David Leboitz, reworked with a modern twist on traditional Indian flavors.

Saffron Ice Cream with Candied Pistachios 

(or Kesar Pista)

• 1 c.  whole milk
• pinch of salt
• 3/4 c. sugar
• 15-ish strands saffron (I bought mine at Costco)
• 2 c. heavy cream
• 5 egg yolks (it's a lot, but you won't be sorry)
• 1/2 t. vanilla extract
• 1/2 c. shelled pistachios--roughly chopped
• 1 t. butter
• 2 T. brown sugar
• pinch salt 

Heat the milk, salt, and sugar in a saucepan until sugar dissolves. Add saffron, remove from heat and let steep covered while you watch an episode of Breaking Bad. Pour cream in a bowl (DL says to put said bowl in an ice bath. I don't know why, but I still did it). Rewarm milk mixture, and temper yolks by adding a small amount of milk mixture to them while whisking. Add tempered yolks to milk mix and cook over low heat, stirring constantly and scraping the bottom with a heat-resistant spatula, until the custard thickens enough to coat the spatula. Strain the custard into the heavy cream. Stir until cool, add the vanilla extract, then chill thoroughly (overnight if in the fridge, or approx. one more episode of Breaking Bad if you throw it in the freezer. Guess which I did?) 

Meanwhile, candy your pistachios by melting butter in a small saucepan, add brown sugar and 1 T. water. Bring to boil (should be quick) add nuts and salt. Stir till all nuts are coated evenly, remove from heat and spread on a non-stick surface to cool. 

Retrieve custard from the freezer and freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions, adding nuts towards the end of the freezing process. 

Life is just a bowl of (sour) cherries

What's that, you ask? Just some insanely delicious, super authentic, chilled Hungarian fruit soup made with sour cherries I grew on my very own tree in northeast Washington, D.C. No big deal. Oh? you'd like to try some yourself? That is a most excellent idea. Because it might just be the Best Thing Ever.  And, if you can track down tart cherries (either on your own tree, or elsewhere), it's really quite easy to make.



Recipe after the jump!

In All Likelihood the Most Supremely Delightful and Delectable Banana Sundae Puffs You Will Ever Consume

Preparation-time: 10 minutes           Bake-time: 20 minutes          Servings: 6

If you have any desire to concoct these extraordinary dainties, know first that they are exquisitely scrumptious and hence, dangerous. These delights are DANGEROUS to any calorically conscious diet, so calorie counters: Beware! Also, you should be conscious that there are certain ingredients which you will definitely need to have on hand (or resting in your cupboards, or in your refrigerator or freezer) in order to produce The Most Supremely Delightful and Delectable Banana Sundae Puffs You Will Ever Consume. I would deeply appreciate if you would be absolutely certain that you are in possession of all of the following ingredients before endeavoring to make this dessert. THE FOLLOWING INGREDIENTS ARE POSITIVELY ESSENTIAL FOR THE CONSTRUCTION OF THIS SWEET TREAT. If you do not have every single one of the following items, you will not be able to produce the intended result. I would advise you to organize and prepare your pantry accordingly.

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Dust to Dust

 Last Summer, when my cousin Lulu was visiting, we wandered down to Denver's annual chalk art festival. It's a lovely event: They close off some of downtown's busiest streets, and artists come from across the region to spend three days on their hands and knees, covered in sweat and sunscreen and chalk dust of every color imaginable.

I think they might also spend some time on their knees praying for good weather. But that afternoon, as we cozied up in a diner booth a few blocks away (enjoying what might actually be the world's greatest pancakes,) those prayers were heartily ignored. It rained. Hard. One of those sudden, vengeful thunderstorms that never struck me as unusual until I'd spent a summer living somewhere with less passionate weather.

The rain came down so hard and fast we kept waiting for the clouds to twirl us away to Oz. And in those few violent minutes, all that rain and all this beauty and all those hours turned the sidewalks into a brilliantly jumbled tie-dye, before the magic swirled away forever. 

I wonder how those artists feel. Some of them come back, year after year after year, filling the same 24 square feet with vision and sweat and love, over and over and over. They must have made peace with the temporary nature of their masterpieces, accepting the serialized ruination of a football field's worth of art.

I cleaned my house this morning. And, though I wouldn't call my tidy front room museum-worthy, there is real satisfaction when that job is well done. But three adorable little thunderheads provided an impressive rainstorm this afternoon. And it looks like a post-play-date apocalypse over here. I haven't yet given up hope, but I would really like one of those artists to come share the secret to lasting inner peace in the face of inevitable destruction....

Rainbows

Apparently, at the end of ours, there's blue cheese...

A few yesterdays ago. . .

Heyo. I'm not feeling super inspired today (I think I may have poured all of that stuff into the philosophy midterm I wrote from the hours of 1am-9am this morning), so I'll share some stuff from a few years ago -- back when I was more ripe with creative juice. It's hard to remember to keep this kind of stuff up when you have . . . life and stuff to deal with.

I think -- after I finish Pauly McC -- a sister series is in order. 

Something Extraordinary

I've been busy lately -- moving cross country; finally settling into our crazy house; teaching Hettie to read, Phineas to use the potty and Willa to abstain from biting other humans with her three genuine teeth. You know, the regular stuff. But hectic times call for quality procrastination. And I've been blessed in that department, too.

My beloved congregation here (which is also Charity's) is in the middle of a really wonderful service project: collecting handmade hats for the kids at D.C. Children's Hospital Oncology Unit. The goal is to make at least 500 by mid-March. My crafty alter-ego doesn't get too many chances to come out and play, but my little fingers have been busily crocheting for the last several weeks, whenever I happen to find a free moment without a kid or a dirty dish or a moving box in my hands.  And if I use a big enough hook, I can bang out a chunky little topper in one episode of Downton Abbey or a round trip drive to our brother's house in the suburbs (but only if Dave is doing the actual driving part...). It's done a marvelous job keeping my hands and heart toasty during this miserable cold snap.

Can you guess which yarn Hettie picked? I suppose if she loves it, some other 4-year-old might, too :-)

If you would like to join in this really meaningful effort, I would be SO grateful -- and I promise you'll feel great. Hats need to be brand new, never worn, for kids ages 2-18 (with the greatest need for 8-13-year-olds). These are very sick kids, and it makes them happy to receive something made especially for them. Beyond that, there aren't any restrictions on the style or material -- we have knitters, loomers (is that a word?), sewers, sending hats from all over. If you (or a zealous group of friends!) would care to join us, please let me know and I'll send you all the details!

Last week I did something amazing....

The last week brought with it some interesting changes for me. First, I was told it was time to stop listening to Christmas music (worst.day.ever.). Then, I left my beloved Colorado to start a new semester of school in dismal New Haven (also pretty lame). But before any of that nonsense, I did something really amazing. I recreated one of my all-time favorite Hungarian treats. It's called turo rudi. It's amazing. Those of you who don't already know/love turo rudi may not understand, but it's actually a deathly serious subject. For the realz. In the last three years, at least three people have been shot by people attempting to steal these babies. And, to be perfectly honest, I'm surprised it was only three....There's something seriously addicting about that sweet Hungarian turo (kind of like ricotta) dipped in chocolate.  "Cheese dipped in chocolate? Yikes! That's not the most appealing prospect!" If you're thinking this, you're wrong. It is the *most* appealing prospect.

Unfortunately turo rudi can't be purchased stateside. Neither can turo. But I was having some serious cravings, and those details were not going to stop me. So I spent a couple of hours working to concoct something that would resemble my beloved treat. The result wasn't perfect, but it was pretty darn good.

-------------------------------------------------

Ingredients:

Ricotta

Cream cheese

Goat cheese

Cottage cheese

Lemon juice

Lemon zest

Vanilla extract

Powdered sugar

Ghirardelli semisweet chocolate chips (or any good chocolate which hardens well)

To get the desired consistency, I let the ricotta and cottage cheese steep in cheese cloth the night before my turo adventure began. The next morning, I mixed equal parts cottage, cream, and ricotta cheese in our blender. I added some powdered sugar (to taste), lemon zest, a tiny bit of lemon juice and a few drops of vanilla. The result was uber tasty, but too smooth for my purposes. I dumped everything out and added some more steeped ricotta and cottage cheese. It had to be solid enough to mold, so I added a little more powdered sugar, too. I still wasn't wholly satisfied with the consistency, so I threw in some goat cheese. The mixture was really tasty, but still a little too liquid-y to be dipped in chocolate. Instead of adding more sugar, I used an ice cream scoop to spoon the mixture onto a cookie sheet (covered with parchment paper) and froze my little globs. It took about an hour for the patties to solidify. After they froze the real magic started. I dipped each one in melted chocolate and waited for them to harden. And oh snap were they good!

I wish I had pictures, but they were all gobbled up before I had a chance to photograph them.... Kimber wasn't totally convinced that the goat cheese was a good call, but I'll leave that up to your discretion.