Joy the Baker

Friends,  

The truth is… I haven’t quite been able to get my act together since my move.

I’ve been trying to distract you with posts about my box grater.  I’ve been trying to distract you with candy giveaways…. but that’s all starting to feel a little silly.  

The fact of the matter is, my KitchenAid is still unplugged and my new oven needs a good scrubbing… and, I just ate a giant slice of store bought coconut cream pie.

Want to take a peek into my new space?  Suuuure you do… come on in!

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Three things I love:

Bacon.

Candy.

People that make special things with special ingredients.

aaaand bonus.  You.  I think you’re awful swell.

Because I love all of these things, I thought I’d share a little something with you.

Morning Glory Confections is a Los Angeles based artisan brittle and candy company.  We’re talking handmade, small batch candy with amazing flavor combinations.  

The best part?  I want to send you some!

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I was packing up my kitchen this afternoon and I got to thinking.

I got to thinking about my box grater… which is totally weird.  

As if thinking at length about my box grater weren’t odd enough… I’m now going to shovel my box grater thoughts onto your lap.  

There’s butter.  There’s cheese.  There’s roots and veggies.  All the drama and intrigue you could want from one little box grater.  

aaaand… seriously… thanks for playing along.  I realize I’m ridiculous. 

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I have downright baffled myself.  

I may have mentioned that I’m moving this week.  Moving is… horrifying.  Yes, I’m being dramatic.  Please indulge me. 

Among the things that I found under my bed and in the dark recesses of my closet as I’ve been cleaning and packing are:

eight kitten stuffed animals. 

one medium sized bunny stuffed animal. 

three puppy stuffed animals.

….. WWWHHHHHYYYY?

one baby sock….  A. Baby.  Sock.  I have no baby.  Seriously… What the heck is going on here!?

a tiny rhinestone turtle toe ring.  Really?  

one sweater that gives my arms a rash.  I found out the hard way.  

one wooden bobble head turtle toy.  Why so many turtles hiding in my house?

and… a rock.  Because… yea.  A rock.

Take these Little Lemon Hazelnut Cakes as a token of my love, affection, and dwindling sanity.  

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This post could also be entitled:  

     Can’t Bake Now… I’m on the I-5.

     Joy the Driver and Lauren the Snack Coordinator

     Joy the Baker eats 6 pounds of Chex Mix between San Francisco and Portland

     or simply… Joy the Baker moves her sister from Los Angeles to Seattle in a Budget moving truck creatively nicknamed Budgie.  

It’s early Tuesday morning.  My Mom makes Lauren pose with her moving truck.  That’s not weird, right?  Not weird at all.  

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I’d really like to conjure up some useful information for you.  That would be nice, right?  I could tell you all about avocados.  Where they came from.  What a lovely shade of green they are.  Why they’re so expensive at the grocery store… you know, things like that.  

But you didn’t come here for boring old information… did you!?  

I didn’t think so.  

You came here  because you want me to admit to eating Pepperidge Farm Soft Bake Cookies…which is totally happening right now.  You came here because you want me to admit to rrreeeeaaaalllllyyyy wanting to watch the season finale of The Bachelor… it’s true… it’s a problem.  You came here because you want me to admit to wearing my big fluffy slipper socks.  The dreaded socks/shoes that will keep me single for eternity.  Well… I’m wearing them and I’m loving it.  

So there, friends.  It’s all out on the table.  Now can we talk about cake?  

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Three things.  Can I tell you three things?  Do you mind getting all up in my business for the next several minutes of your life?

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Ok.  I’ve come to terms with the fact that I have housewife tendencies.  It’s true.  Don’t judge me… that would be rude.

I’ve tried to ignore these urges.  I’ve tried to pass it off as a phase… but really?  This can’t go on.  I’m going to have to own my housewife tendencies.  Now seems like as good a time as ever to fess up. 

See… yesterday afternoon I put on my frilly 1950’s apron, pulled my hair back, put on my giant fake pearl earrings and made homemade dinner rolls.  The apron and pearls are essential, so is a cigarette and a stiff cocktail if I’m to believe what I see on Mad Men.  

So there I am in my kitchen, proudly clad in my housewife gear, hand kneading some pretty sexy roll dough, thinking I’ve got it pretty kush when I realize that my housewife fantasy is missing two things… a… um… er… husband… and mud covered children that I have to chase around the house to get into the bath.  

So.  Ok.  Fine.  My housewife tendencies are really just an excuse for me to play dress up for an afternoon.  And rolls and butter?  Just the awesome perk of my extended dress up games.

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Let’s talk about this weekend’s adventures.  There were highways, gas stations and bridges.  I might have a made friends out of strangers although there was too much wine to be clear on that.  Aaaaand!  I taught my first cooking class.  In Sonoma.  That happened.  

Take a peek!

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I do this thing when I’m filled to the brim with tasks and opportunities and responsibilities and stresses…. I add more.  I really just pile it on.  I somehow think that adding new responsibilities and stresses will erase the ones I’ve already loaded on my shoulders.  

It’s illogical.  It’s a terrible idea.  It’s downright crazytown.  

I’m in Crazytown and I’m about to move into Lost My Marblesville.  Someone please send a straight jacket.  

In related news, I’ve decided to move into a loft in downtown Los Angeles.  I’m driving to Seattle in a Uhaul next week with my little sister… pray for us.  Aaaand I’m teaching my first cooking class in Sonoma this weekend!  

More on all of these things soon.  For now… here’s what I’m stress eating.. no joke.

Mini Chocolate Dipped Bananas rolled in crushed honey roasted peanuts.  If you really commit to your stress… I mean, really just get in there and wallow in it… I’m sure you can down a cool seven bananas in no time.  Just.  Like.  Me.  

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I…

Hate:  diet soda.  Like:  water.  Love:  bourbon.

Hate:  skinny jeans.  Like: Jeggings (jean leggings people… jean leggings).  Love:  my Levis.  

Hate:  bathing suit shopping.  Like:  vintage dress shopping.  Love:  shopping with someone else’s credit card… which never happens… ever.

Hate:  cold soup.  Like:  most soup.  Love:  um…. soup soup soup.  I really like soup.

‘Hate’ is such a strong word.  ’Hate’ was a bad word in the house I grew up in.  Mom, if you’re reading this… yes, you taught me better… but look!  I’m eating my broccoli!  That’s got to count for something. 

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On the Lamb threw a Speakeasy last night… complete with Bathtub Gin and Juice, Pork and Wild Boar Sliders and Cherry Bourbon Ice Cream. There was bourbon and scoundrels as far as the eye could see. Before we get down and dirty with my new favorite ice cream flavor, here’s a peek at what setting up a roarin’ Speakeasy looks like.

A Speakeasy requires a guest list, a password at the door, and a cash box for cashmoney.  

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Hi darling.  Hey sugarbear.  What’s shakin’ sweetums?  Lookin’ good sweetpea.  Hey loverboy!  Oooh darlin’.  

I’m practicing my terms of endearment.  Yea… I want to sound natural when the time comes to use them.  

Can I practice on you?  How does this sound?

     Hey loverbear, will you come on in here and help me with these dishes?

     Darlin’, will you hold the oven door open for me?

How about…

     Sweetpea, stay away from those cookies.  You know we have company coming.  

My favorite…

     Sweetums, I made you cupcakes… cause I love you like crazy.

How am I doing so far?  I’m a little stiff aren’t I?  I’ll keep working on it.    

Jump on over.  I have a lot to tell you!

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Can I let you in on a little something?

I don’t live in the cool Los Angeles neighborhood that all my friends live in…

I have more matching spatulas than I do matching bath towels.  

I still can’t seem to commit to buying myself a couch.  

My bedroom bookcase seems to be made up of one part books and three parts dust.  

I tell you all of this to let you in on the fact that I’ve been feeling domestically restless these days.  The kind of restless that has had me daydreaming about moving into a downtown loft that I can’t afford.  The kind of restless that has had me daydreaming about decorating a downtown loft that I can’t afford with expensive furniture that I also can’t afford.  

Not being able to afford your daydreams?  Torture and motivation.  Together.   

This weekend I decided… get this… that it’s all ok! 

I took to my kitchen with my rubber gloves, bleach spray and a few rags and I scrubbed and organized like I’ve never done before.  Yes, it’s just the kitchen.  No, I couldn’t get to my whole apartment.  But the scrubbing and organizing helped me remember that my humble little apartment, in the uncool part of town, is pretty darn sweet.  I don’t need the fancy loft and the expensive furniture.  I just need to make my little spot in the world a little brighter… with bleach.  

And the pancakes this weekend helped too.  Tremendous.

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Sometimes life feels like layers of complications.  Like taxes and traffic and cavities and getting laid off are all piled high into one smelly sandwich that you’re supposed to eat for lunch.  Really…?  Worst sandwich ever.  Do not want. 

Complicated.  Yea.  It happens to you.  It happens to me.  

Luckily there’s… bread.  And thank the holy heavens for butter.  

Bread and butter.  Yes.  A post about bread and butter.  Perhaps the most beautiful and uncomplicated thing you can put into your face.  Don’t fight me on this one.  That would only make things more complicated.  Go and eat.  Bread and butter. 

And yes… I burnt the bottom of my bread a bit.  These things happen. 

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I’d like to take this moment to request a platter of Black and White Cookies from the magic little elves that are currently in my kitchen doing the dishes, in my bedroom sorting laundry, and in my shower scrubbing the tiles.  Could you little elves please stop what you’re doing and make me some cookies?  Fresh baked.  With milk.  Please… that would be great. 

What?  The magic little elves have taken the night off!?  That’s some nerve.  Some nerve.  

Peanut Butter Bacon Cookies.  Because everything should have bacon in it.  Everything. 

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Let’s just close out eyes and pretend we’re sitting under an orange tree. An orange tree heavy with fruit… but with the occasional late blooming blossom. There are honey bees too. Just a few. The friendly kind. The kind of honeybees that remind you that life is full of creatures big and small… and we all have tasks to do.

Let’s just hang out under our orange tree for a while. Right here in the shade, greeted by little spots of sun as the wind spreads the leaves.

It’s nice here.

Sweet. Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.

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What is it with me?  I’m always taking things too far.  I’m obsessed.  

Yes… so I love pancakes.  This much you know is true.  But pancakes turned into muffins?  Really?  I’m a nut job.  

Oh me.  Oh my.  

Is there some sort of support group for pancake addiction?

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We three?  We always have our mouths in motion, our wine glasses full and our eyes wide… looking for trouble.  

Let me introduce you to On the Lamb Food and Beverage.  We’re a roving catering and events firm made up of three unstoppable Los Angeles women:  Whitney (the sommelier), Rachel (the chef), and Joy (the baker).  

How does this all work?  Here’s how:

First we find an often obscure, always stellar location around Los Angeles.  We design an amazing theme and a ridiculous menu.  Then, here’s the best part… we invite you.  You come.  You meet other cool, unpretentious people who are as dorky about food and drink as you are.  You have a great time and love your life.  That’s exactly how it works.  

Our next event:  The One Night (Stand) Speakeasy on 02.14.2010.  

Would you like to keep up with On the Lamb?  

Email onthelambfb (at) gmail (dot) com to put your name on the email list.  Space is always limited at these shindigs, so be diligent.  We know how to throw a party.  That’s a fact. 

All up in the Internet?  You’ll also find us cavorting around Twitter and Facebook like a bunch of floozies.  Join us!

Voting is underway for the 2010 Bloggies… you know, the Weblog Awards that are now ten years strong.  

What’s the deal?  People blog.  People make awards.  People vote.  It’s not too complicated… it’s also kinda fun. 

I’ve used the Bloggies voting page to find some amazing new (to me) blogs.

17 and Baking.  You’re my new favorite…. but I think I might have a baking bias.  Honestly.

The Bloggess… ooh you have made me laugh.. oooh you have made me blush. 

Oh!  Now might be a good time to mention that Joy the Baker was nominated for Best Food Blog.  That this happened is… I dunno… a cross between a miracle and a dirty trick.  It’s fun.  It’s humbling… and heck yes!  I’m excited. 

Go on… find some new favorites, case a few votes.