Joy the Baker

Honey Roasted Plums with Fresh Thyme and Greek Yogurt

This weekend I want out!  Out of the kitchen and into a pool.  Out of these clothes and into a bathing suit.  Out of this computer and into a poolside book and cocktail situation.  

I want you out too.  I don’t want you in the kitchen all weekend.  Don’t you think your time would be much better spent in sunglasses and a big floppy hat with your feet up by the pool!?  Good.  I’m glad we agree.

If you’re celebrating the 4th of July this weekend, be sure to say things like “Go America!” and watch colors explode in the sky if you can.  It’s fun.  

If you’re not celebrating America’s independence… well heck… I think a weekend by the pool is still in order.  You just don’t have to scream things like “Go America!” unless you really want to. 

Here are the recipes that will keep you out of all day kitchen adventures and magically keep your bellies satisfied.  

Let us explore.

Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

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Lovely friends… hi.  Dear readers… hello.  

Let’s talk about keeping it classy.  Hot dang! I try hard to keep it classy.  Holy smokes… do I ever fail sometimes.

Let’s discuss classy versus not classy, and what the heck chocolate dipped bananas have to do with anything.  

Classy:  a tastefully short summer sundress.  Not class:  booty shorts that awkwardly bunch in the crotch.  

Classy:  gracefully switching from wine to water at the company picnic.  Not classy:  maybe getting drunk and punching the sous chef in the face.  Oops. 

Classy:  How much I love listening to public radio.  Not classy:  How much I love to watch The Real Housewives of  New Jersey.  Guilty… but why do they yell so much?

Classy: Enjoying mini chocolate dipped bananas on a summer afternoon.  Not as classy:  Trying to gnaw your way through a giant chocolate dipped banana.  It’s just not pretty friends.  Let’s try to avoid this scene this summer.  I think we all know why.  

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Exactly one year ago I was rockin’ out with a mug of this stuff.  I was also saying things like “totally tubular!”  and “radical!”, wearing acid wash jeans, and hair-spraying my bangs into a tall wave across my forehead.  Ooooh 2008.  

Banana Pudding Ice Cream.   Rad, right?

You know what?  You deserve a break.  Seriously.  It’s Saturday.  Let’s take it easy.

I know… I know.  You have that whole list of things to do.  Sure, you need to get the car washed.  Yes, there’s that thing about going to the pet store, and getting a present for your mother-in-law’s church friend’s niece.  You’ve got a lot on your plate.  I know.  But… well what would happen, if for today, you kicked the list to the curb and kicked you feet up on the couch?

I’ll tell you what would happen.  The car would stay dirty, the pet store would miss you, and your mother-in-law’s church friend’s niece would have one less present at her party.  She’ll have enough presents.  Go on… take a break. 

Now… if you’re anything like me, you have a list and you can’t stand not to start crossing tasks off.  Here’s my tip:  make a new list.  I’ll help.  On our new list are these things: go to the farmer’s market and buy the prettiest cherries you can get your hands on, treat yourself to frozen yogurt, call that friend you’ve been meaning to call, watch at least three hours of a Law and Order marathon, and have two glasses of wine with dinner… dinner out.  

See?  Better list.  It’s the list you should be working on this Saturday.

Aaaaand, if you wanted to add the making of these sugar cookies to the list… forget about it.  These can go on your Sunday to-do list.  Yea.  Sunday.  

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Bust out the booze friends!  I’ve got a weekend project for you!

We’re making our very own vanilla extract!  Why?  Why make your own vanilla extract when you can just buy the stuff in a teeeeeeny tiny bottle at the grocery store for close to ten whopping dollars?  Hm… see what I did there?  I seem to have answered my own question. 

Homemade vanilla extract only requires a handful of things.  Come on… we can totally rock this. 

First let’s talk vanilla beans.  Yea… they’re a tad bit expensive, but totally worth their weight in… vanilla.  

There are a lots different varieties of vanilla beans.  So many varieties all with their own subtle nuances… it can be a bit overwhelming.  There are beans from Madagascar, Mexico, Tahiti, Tonga… just throw a dart at the map and they just might produce vanilla beans there. Ok.  I’m exaggerating.   Different beans from all over the globe have different characteristics.  We could talk about this for days… seriously.  Here’s a brief brief brief run down of my favorites.  

Madagascar beans are powerful, dark, full vanilla flavor beans.    Tahitian beans remind me of vanilla figs- fruity and floral.  The Mexican variety has just a hint of sweet creaminess.  How’s that for brief?

What beans are you going to choose for your vanilla extract?  Where are you going to get them?  Use exactly any bean you want!   Maybe you’ll buy them online here.  Use exactly whatever you can get your hands on.  Mix and match!  It’s your world.  It’s your extract.  

This is going to be so easy!  Let’s get started!

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I still write letters.

I still hand write letters in a festive card with a return address sticker.  I might even decorate the envelope with a rubbe-stamped dolphin stampede.  

I still write letters and I still have pen pals.  

My favorite pen pal?   My grandmother.  I call her Mommom.  She’s rad.  I don’t know how she would feel about me calling her rad.  She writes me short letters during the break she takes on her morning walk.  These letters are usually written from her favorite bagel shop.  Letters always include some sort of loving greeting, an update about her walking adventures and the bagel shop, something about an upcoming trailer trip, inquiries about my little sister, and an abrupt closing.  Short, sweet and to the point.  

The best part about being pen pals with Mommom is that she will not let me slack off.  If  I haven’t written her a letter in a few weeks, I’ll get another letter urging me to, if I know what’s good for me, write my grandmother back.  If for some reason I don’t get to that letter in adequate time… well, I’m liable to hurt my grandmother’s feelings.  Hurt grandmother feelings, of course, leads to all sorts of guilt from all sorts of family members.  News of pen pal activity, or inactivity travels fast in my family.  

Letter writing isn’t a chore.  It’s a nice break from simultaneously writing an email and checking my blog stats and watching stupid cat videos.   Letter writing is not technology multi-tasking.  It’s easy, breezy, simple… all about just sendin’ a little love.  

Then there’s cobbler, which couldn’t be any more simple and delicious.  This easy cobbler is like letter writing, in baking form.  Spend a little time baking up a little love with this cobbler.  Sit down with a nice warm slice and write a letter to someone.  It’s supreme.  

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… eat watermelon, in a park, in a row with several friends, quickly, in a race-type situation.  See who finishes first.  Crown them the winner.  

Call it a Watermelon Eating Contest.  

It’s summer.  Summer is fun.  Watermelon is summer fun.  

Here are five Watermelon Eating Contest tips, from a photographer not a participant.

Just before the race, it’s not a bad idea to lick your lips and stretch out the back.  You’ll need every advantage.  No… pregnant women do not have to eat twice the amount of watermelon.  It doesn’t work that way. 

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You know this guy, right!?  

He’s my Dad.  He makes some amazing pancakes… the best pancakes, the best tacos, the best sweet potato pie, the best tofu potato bake.  He’s a champion in the kitchen.  

He’s also a champion Dad.  Top notch.  The kind of man that will talk to you for hours about the intricacies of Alfred Hitchcock movies… when you’re eight years old, make your stuffed animals talk and have fake bowel movements, and microwave your ice cream so it’s not too cold.  He’s the best I know.  Happy Father’s Day.

Want pancakes?  Take the jump!

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I’ve been struggling for the past few hours with what to tell you in conjunction with these Blackberry Pie Bars.  

I thought maybe we could talk about how I’m still totally dragging my feet about going to my ten year high school reunion.  No… that’s been done.  Boring.

Maybe we could talk about how I sat around a campfire with Andrea Zuckerman… a character from that show Beverly Hills 90210, but that was actually just a dream I had last night.  Not real.  

We could chat about the weather?  Seen any good movies lately?

No?  Ok… let’s not fight this.  

Let’s get on to the bars.  They’re good.  Really good.  Good enough to not need a silly introduction.  

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Number Five: Peanut Butter Fudge Treats

For those moments when you decide to kill your noisy neighbors by gifting them an epic sugar rush in the form of these super charged bars.  Not a crime, right?

Number Four: Red Velvet Black and White Cookies

Because red dye makes everything… red velvety! 

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Dear Girl (that sat next to me on the plane last night),  

     Hi.  How are you?  This is just a quick note to let you know that you sat on my glasses.  I know that you know that you sat on my glasses.  You did, after all,  hand them back to me crazy mangled.  I trust that you know what shape glasses generally assume.  

I understand that there are two active parties in this tragedy.  There’s the person that accidentally left her glasses in the middle seat next to her while she properly stowed her purse under the seat in from of her…. that’s me.  There’s also the person that was in such a hurry to get into that second row middle seat, that didn’t let the girl with the glasses on the aisle properly acclimate before barging in… that’s you.  So, you sat on my glasses.  

My favorite part about you sitting on my glasses, was how you showed exactly zero remorse for the damage you caused.  That was awesome.  Hey… remember that part when I was very obviously trying to bend them back in shape in front of you?  Yea… that was pretty fun too.  That was me being passive aggressive.  I bet that was your favorite part.  

Oh well, they’re just glasses, right?  Next time, I’ll watch where I put my glasses if you watch where you put your body.  Deal?

Sincerely,

Joy

And now… dark chocolate cookies.  Let’s do this. 

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Have you seen the newest Food & Wine magazine?  

It’s a good one, made even better if you have a Sharpie marker and a couple of giggly girlfriends around.  

It’s all about the best new chefs of 2009.  It’s about dudes (plus one ladydude) that are young, hip and magic in the kitchen… like Vinny Dotolo (bottom left with glasses) and Jon Shook (bottom middle with a heart drawn on his shirt) of a restaurant called Animal in Los Angeles.

Animal is the kind of place that turns lamb tongue into something I might actually consider eating… and enjoying.  They also work wonders with chicken liver and rabbit loin.  On the real.  

My only concern is… well… only one awesome lady chef this year Food & Wine?  Really?  

I suggest you get this months issue.  Also get a marker… maybe a glass of wine too.  It’s Friday, do it up right.

I made rolls, of the cinnamon variety.  

I use cinnamon rolls as a sort of… well, anxiety calming drug.  I don’t pop pills, I definitely pop cinnamon rolls.  

See… there was this thing invented a good long while ago called the 10 Year Class Reunion.  It’s where you get together with all the people that made fun of you during your painfully awkward teenage years.  Yea.  Why?  Why do I have to do this?  Can’t we all just become friends on Facebook and Twitter and consider ourselves properly reunited!?  

Seriously.  The future is now!

Since I think I’m going to gracefully bow out of the reunion festivities, here’s the CliffsNotes of what I might have said to my old classmates.  

Hi.  Yea, it’s me Joy.  I sat behind you in.. a bunch of classes probably.  Here’s the update.  I went to college.  I read a lot of books.  I graduated.  I traveled around some.  I haven’t gotten married or pregnant yet.  Yea.. I’m prettier now, but that’s mostly because I was actually really ugly when you knew me.  I’m a baker.  I think it’s the most awesome thing ever.  I know a crap ton about food.  Would you like to discuss French cheeses at all?  I have a blog… also awesome.  Sure, I’d like to meet your boyfriend Steve.  I recognize him from your Facebook photos.  Your relationship status is “complicated” though… care to discuss?  No?   Hm… well, sure I’d like to see pictures of your kids.  Would you like to see pictures of my cinnamon rolls?  It’s only fair.  

Don’t make me go to this thing.  It will be awkward.  Awkward.  Awkward. Awkward!  

I need counsel and another cinnamon roll.  

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Reason #457 why I love this warm weather, sunny spring that leads into summertime:  the ponytail.  

It’s bouncy, it’s festive, it helps me look like I’m having a good time even when I’m just standing in line at the grocery store, and it makes me feel like a cheerleader… which is strangely satisfying.  

The ponytail is simple and uncomplicated.  I think I’m going to make the ponytail, and the fun simplicity it represents, the theme for the lovely summer we’re working towards.  

I think that summer fruit is so fun and just bursting with bright flavors.   Most need very little fuss when it comes to preparation.  Why complicate something that’s already lovely?

This Peach Brulee is just three ingredients and it’s a gorgeous way to start the day.  Make it for breakfast and top the warm peaches with thick Greek yogurt, or make enough peach halves to serve after a big dinner with friends and family.  For one or for many, this simple peach recipe shows off the best of what’s in store for us this summer.  Go forth and broil…. and please sport a ponytail this summer.  It’s rad.  

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Hi.  Hello.  Hey!  

I hope your weekend is going swimmingly.  

I just wanted to take a moment and introduce you to my tomatoes, Lucy and Ethel.  

I’d also like to answer a few questions.  

Yes, I’ve named my first two tomatoes after Lucy Ricardo and Ethel Mertz from I Love Lucy.  

Yes, I love that show.  

Yes, I seem to have become abnormally attached to my tomatoes.  No, I don’t feel bad about that.

Also, this is happening.  I better start thinking of more names… and quick. 

Are you gardening?

Can you do me a favor?

I cringe any time someone asks me if I can do them a favor.  I always want to say… sure, yes, of course… only to be asked to do something like… I dunno… be a bridesmaid in their wedding and wear lavender and ruffles.  Ok… so that hasn’t been a favor asked of me just yet.  The thought obviously terrifies me.  

I hope when I ask you to do me this favor you won’t completely cringe.  

Do me a favor and make this popcorn this weekend.  

I wouldn’t ask unless it was totally important, and totally delicious.  

Believe me.  If you’ve never believed me before, now would be the time to start.  Make this popcorn.  It’s perfectly sweet and perfectly salty.  Make it for dinner.  Make it and sneak it into the movie theater in your giant purse.  Make it and sit out on your patio with a glass of cheap wine.  Find the time.  Find a way.  Just do me a favor and enjoy this popcorn as soon as possible.  

It’s that good. 

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Me in a tree.  Wanna join me?

The truth is… I think we should totally hang out.  You and me, and you, and you and me.  Can we get together!? 

I mean it.  It’s just about summer, it’s beautiful outside, the parks are just begging us to visit, and we’re still wading our way through this financial mess.  In other words… we’re kinda broke and it’s sunny out, right?

What say we all get together for a picnic?  No joke.  We’ll have lemonade and cupcakes, we’ll throw around a Frisbee (don’t worry, I suck), I’ll bring some cookies to decorate,  loads of them… we can talk about baking and blogging and anything else we’re equally obsessed with.  It’s on me.  Are you in?  

Think of it as one of those fancy blogging conventions except with cupcakes and waaaay more fun.  

I haven’t planned this whole shin dig yet.  It’s still just a thought bubble floating above my head.  What I need to know is… well…  if you’re in the Los Angeles area, would you come?  For real.  Be honest.  Don’t let me throw a party and buy balloons and then not show up.  

If you think you’d like to come to a Joy the Baker Bit Fat Picnic Party where I bake things and you come eat them… if you think you’d bring your friends and family and dogs and birds… then leave a comment in this post expressing interest.  Be real.  I need to know if I’m an absolute maniac for dreaming something like this up or not.  Your thoughts, I need ‘em.  

Picnic?  Discuss.

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Oh!  What if I promise to bring some of these!?

Strawberries make me restless.

It’s a fact.  Yes, a strange fact, but no less true.

See, in my part of the world, strawberries come along every year right around May.  This is around the time when I’ve loooooong ago let slide any New Year’s resolutions I might have made for myself, when it’s possible that I’ve slacked a bit on my workout routine, and the goal of reading a chapter of a book a night before I fall asleep has somehow transferred into watching an old episode of House every night before I pass out. 

Don’t even get me started on the mania that I try to pass off as my closet.  It’s not pretty.  

So…. strawberries come along at a time of year when I’ve cemented in some slightly lazy and ooooooh so comfortable habits for myself.  

I don’t know how or why this works, but strawberries inspire me to shake my world up a bit, maybe introduce something new, maybe hop on one leg every morning just for the hell of it…. whatever.  This is the time of year when I change things up a bit.  

This year, strawberries have inspired me to do two things:  learn Italian and combine fresh strawberries with one of my favorite cakes of all time…. streusel topped coffee cake.  

Let’s do this. 

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I think we should all sit down and have tea and cookies today.  Tea and cookies and a little chat and laughter in the late afternoon sun.  What do you think?  Are you in?

In the past few days, my inbox has filled with emails from people with big, arms-up-in-the-air, life questions.  If you’ll allow me to paraphrase, they go something like this: 

Dear Joy,

This might sound totally weird and crazy, but I think I’m going to get laid off from my job soon, and I’ve always wanted to be a baker and I was wondering if you could tell me… what the heck to do next.  

Sincerely yours, 

Ok… first things first… let’s hug it out.  That will help.  Next, you should know, as I’m sure you already do, that I don’t have all the answers.  Not even close.  I am a firm believer in the idea that if you go after what you love, in a balls-out, take-no-prisoners kind of way, you succeed.  Succeed?  Heck yes!  Because you’ll be ultra happy that you’re, in the very least, doing something you love.  

So!  If you want to be a baker… do it!  Bake every day!  Bake and bring cookies into the office job that might not be your favorite place in the world.  Bake and try to sell to the coffee shop down the street.  Bake and give it to the local homeless shelter.  Bake and blog about it.  Read books about baking.  Talk to bakers about baking.  Take a cheap cooking class at the community college.  Ask to apprentice one (very early) morning at a local bakery.  Dive in.  It’s what I did, and if I can scratch out a living in the kitchen every month, I think you can too.  On the real. 

This concludes today’s installment of My Two Cents.  

Now… how about cookies?  

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Please.  Take a few moments to dig through your kitchen cabinets to find your waffle maker.  Please do this.  I’ll wait.  

….. There?  Find it?  

Now.  Please.  These waffles need to be made now, tonight, first thing tomorrow morning, or whenever you get hungry… now?  They’re that good.  

I need to go wash my hair.  That’s not a euphemism for anything.  I really need to wash my hair.  By the time I come back, I hope you’ve preheated that old waffle machine.  

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We used to be one of those families that would drive out to the cemetery on Sunday afternoon after church service.  I can remember chasing my sister around the cemetery slopes, slipping on the moist grass in my church shoes and getting bright green stains on my Sunday dress while my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents sat around our family graves exchanging stories.  

The bright afternoon sun, the way the wind whipped over the rounded hills of the cemetery, and hearing my family talk and laugh about our family who had passed… it’s one of those super calming childhood memories that I keep tucked away, and pull out on days like today.  The remembering is important.  

Today it feels good to remember all of the men, women and families who have sacrificed so much for our country.  While thanking you may seem trite, I mean it from way down on the inside.  Thank you.

This little bee sure is living large in my one pot spring garden!

But enough about spring.  Spring is so… um, last season?  No… not exactly.   

Let’s talk about summer!  What’s your favorite way to kick off summer?

Me?  My favorite way to greet summer is to have a rip roarin’ good time Memorial Day Weekend!

I’m diving into this one, two, THREE day weekend by celebrating my birthday and throwing down with my family in the kitchen.  My Dad is making chicken and waffles.  Holy heck!  Chicken and waffles will be  followed promptly by family board games and… nap time.  What could be better?  A pool!?  You’re right!  How is it that I don’t have a friend with a pool in this town!?

My weekend will be full of family, fun and loads of kitchen time.  

I hope that you’re able to take time this weekend to enjoy your families.  Maybe you’ll even have a moment to hop in the kitchen and throw together a late breakfast or gorgeous cake.  Do it… it’s important.  

Here’s some inspiration.  

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You know that team building exercise you might play at sleep-away camp that requires you to fall backwards into the waiting arms of a fellow camper?  The Trust Fall?  The basic idea is that you completely let yourself fall backwards, trusting that the person behind you has arms outstretched to catch you before you hit the ground.  It’s a very literal way of saying “Hey!  I’ve got your back!”  or “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.”  If the person you’ve entrusted to catch you is not paying attention and flirting with her sleep-away boyfriend as you fall… well, you might have trust issues for life.  Not cool.

I bring up the old Trust Fall because we’re talking about sandwiches.  Sandwiches are serious business.  I feel like I need to do a good round of Trust Falling with someone before we’re allowed to make each other sandwiches.  Like I said… sandwiches are serious.  

I need to know that someone has got my back when they make me a sandwich.  Who’s making me a sandwich?  No one… that’s not the point.  It’s all about trust, and care and attention.  Like… which slices of bread they choose from the loaf, and how the mayonnaise doesn’t sneak over the edges, and how the tomato slices are just thin enough, and the lettuce is mostly dry from the washing.  Sandwiches have a lot of details.  There’s a lot going on.  I need to trust that my sandwich maker can handle these details… you know?

What?  Too much?  It’s just a sandwich?  Yea… a sandwich.  I take my sandwiches to heart.  I haven’t done the old Trust Fall with the young gentlemen at my local sandwich shop, so frankly, I don’t know if I can trust them to make me a sandwich… ridiculous, but true.  

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 Before I made this cake on Sunday afternoon, I sat down with a nice, tall root beer float.  Sure, it was 10:30 in the morning.  I suppose that technically that means I had a root beer float for breakfast.  That’s one of the great thing about being an adult, you can have a float for breakfast with no resistance.  

Something about a root beet float puts me on a conveyor belt back to some really random childhood memories.  The taste, the bubbles, the increasingly creamy soda… it take me back to constantly skinned knees, playing in a beat-up old red wagon with my sister, and sitting in front of an old black and white television watching baseball with my grandfather.  Funny what a little ice cream and soda can do in your brain, right?

But cake!?  Root Beet Float Cake?  I have so many questions.  Will it have the same memory inducing effects as the real deal?  Is that asking too much?  Wait, is this cake chocolate or root beer?  Can I eat it for breakfast?  Will it change my life for the better?

Answers and cake, just a click away. 

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If you’ve hung around these parts long enough, you may have pieced together a few facts about me.  You probably know that I have a strange and undying affection for pancakes.  You probably know that my family loves biscuits, and I’ve been known to drop an entire cake all over the counter top instead of on the cake plate.  

You may know that  I shoot all of the food on this website with a Canon Rebel XSi and a 100mm macro lens.  It’s fancy for me.  Only a few months ago, my camera was worth more than my car.  I love this camera, but for everyday shooting… for the shots on the fly and on the go, I reach for my camera phone.  I know, it sounds crazy, right!?  It’s just that sometimes my little iphone is the easiest way for me to document my happenings on the sly.  

Below are some fun facts and camera phone pictures from my life this year.  It’s a little peek into my world.  Some food.  Some shopping.  Some reading and some wine.  I just want you to see that not everything in my life is as staged and well lit as the stuff that I show you on my dining room table.

 I’ll spare you all the shameless self portraits I may or may not have taken with my phone.  Ok… I’m embarrassed.  Come on… let’s play Joy the Baker’s camera phone life.  

Fun Fact:  The Suzzallo Reading Room at the University of Washington is one of my favorite places in the world.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep while trying to study in that library.  I’ve even fallen asleep and missed the last bus home.  Overnight at the library?  Let me tell you… not all that cozy.  

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Well geeeez!

Remember that Mother’s Day giveaway!?  Yea?  Just barely?

Big warm hugs and a giant thank you to all of you who shared stories about your amazing mothers.  Your stories… phew!  You got me cryin’ a few times… I can’t lie.  Thanks for being so open and lovely about your moms.  I loved reading all of your entries.  

The winner of the dreamy Lavender Honey?  Amy of Sing for Your Supper.  Right on Amy!  Way to go being comment 58!  Way to go Random.org for being great at picking random numbers… like 58.  Sweet!

I woke up to an utterly dreamy California morning on Tuesday.  The soft morning sun was just streaming through my bedroom window, the birds were singing good morning, and I knew that I had a whole basket of clean laundry for the week ahead.  Pretty sweet morning, right?  

Sure… the only problem was that my brain was entirely unwilling to join  the sunny spirit.  Nope.  I felt like on  big stale loaf of bread.  After an extended love affair with my snooze button, I determined, behind closed eyelids, that the only thing that would change my circumstance was streusel topping.  On the shuffle from my warm bed to the kitchen counter I decided that blueberry muffins with streusel topping would flip the light switch in my brain.  

There was only one problem with my blueberry muffin plan.  I had not a blueberry in sight.  No fresh.  No frozen… just a whole lotta outta luck.  After rifling through my freezer and fridge I emerged with the tail end of a bag of frozen raspberries, and half a jar of strawberry jam.  I figured that, brought together under the welcoming umbrella of streusel topping, these two would simply have to work.  Not but thirty minutes later, puffy streusel topped muffins found their way out of the oven and into my face.  While they didn’t pay that pesky credit card bill, or make that much needed dentist appointment, they at least kept me from crawling back in bed for a handful of hours.  Sometimes, that kind of help is just enough.

It’s not every morning that you jump out of bed ready for the world, fully equipped to make blueberry muffins.  When those morning escape you, I promise that with a little jam, the remains of your frozen fruit collection, and loads of streusel topping, you just might be able to set things right.

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I’m not sure exactly how to say this, so I’m just going to go ahead and put it out there.  

For the first time in…. ever… I had fun at a baby shower.   Real time, legitimate good times at a baby shower.  I wasn’t even faking it, not even a little bit.  

I’m going to stand by what may be an unpopular position.  In the past I’ve found most baby showers I’ve had to attend, a troubling combination of boring and humiliating.  Between standing around listening to various labor horror stories and playing disgusting baby games that involve Tootsie Rolls and diapers, I typically just barely manage a fake smile.  

This weekend’s baby shower was different.  My friends Mitch and Lara got together, got married, and made another human that Lara is currently growing in her belly.  These people are filled with hilarity, and an uncommon and humble goodness.  Watching them open their baby gifts with grace and a downright speedy efficiency (thanks!), I couldn’t help but imagine their little girl filling the onesies, hats and socks they received.  While it may sound silly, the reality of this impending life became more lovely and amazing as each gift was opened.  

That I may or may not have been able to cheat at one of the baby team relay games has very little to do with me having a great time at the shower.  Don’t press me on this.  Please.

Now, without a well-crafted transition, I bring you Crustless But Still Dang Good Quiche.

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When it comes time for a little human to call me Mom, there are several things I hope for.  Here are a few of those hopes:

I hope that I’ll no longer run screaming from the room at the sight of a spider.  Mom has to take care of the spider… that’s sort of part of the deal as Mom, right?  Maybe can I always get away with saying, “Let’s go get Daddy to take care of that spider.”  I hope that works.  

I hope that a deep affection for pickles and pancakes, though not necessarily on the same plate, is hereditary.  

I hope that I have as good a pair of Mom Hands as my mom.  

Most importantly, I hope that I create as patient and loving, supportive and hilarious a family as was provided for me. 

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you who have the patience and care to raise new, happy, and lovely people in the world.

Here’s some dreamy Raspberry Lemonade, and all sort sof recipes that you might consider making for your mom and family this weekend.

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I’ll be the first to admit that I had some pretty ugly teenage years.  

Sure. I had awkward limbs, a face full of acne, and was otherwise unfortunate looking, but I’m talking about what an utter brat I was for a solid two (plus) years.  

Did you go through some seriously bratty years?  Just say yes.  We’ve all been there, right?  If you try to tell me you were a perfect angel, I just won’t believe you.  

I seem to remember the distinct feeling that I knew everything there was to know about the world at the ripe old age of fifteen.  I thought most everything was beyond “annoying”, and I used that word… to death.  If eye rolling were an Olympic sport… gold medal… me.  

I also had this obnoxious habit of assuming that everything that belonged to my mother, somehow also belonged to me.  From her favorite stationary, to her hidden stash of chocolates and the entire contents of her jewelry box, I acted as though it was all up for grabs.  Terrible, right?  Only when I was out in the world trying to save up my pennies to buy myself a nice box of tea, or my favorite rose lotion, did I realize that my mom deserved to have her treats without my mittens all up in them.  

While I can take my obnoxious teenage years back, I suppose my real penance will come when my own teenage daughter pillages my valuables.  Until that joyous time, here’s what I’m going to do:  I’m going to give one of you a jar of beautiful French Lavender Honey.

Leave me a comment in this post and tell me this:  

Tell me how your mom is spectacular, despite your possible teenage indiscretions.  

I know a lot of you are moms, tell me what makes it all worthwhile.  

I’d really like for this lovely honey to go to a Mom… it is, after all, Mother’s Day.  Maybe that means you’re a hard working Mom and need a tea and toast break.  Maybe that means you win this honey and give it to your Mom as a “thanks for being awesome” gift.  

Comments close Thursday at midnight Pacific Standard Time and the winner will be chosen by the Random Number Generator.  Happy Mother’s Day!