Joy the Baker

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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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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It’s Friday.  I know you weren’t expecting this, but it’s time for a Pop Quiz.  

Don’t worry.  If you’ve done the reading this should be easy… (I hated when teachers would say that to me). 

Pop Quiz

1) True or False:  The joining of chocolate and coffee is like a cosmic combination of all that is good, just, and rock and roll in the universe. 

2) Fill in the Blank:  Breakfast is the most _________________ . 

3)  Multiple Choice:  The best choice for this weekend’s breakfast treat is:

a) stale Cheerios.  

b) Gerard Butler and hot fudge sauce. 

c) breakfast sandwiches made on Cheddar Black Pepper Biscuits.  

Now… here are the answers: 

1)  True….. duh!  2) Breakfast is the most important meal that ever was.  3) c… if and only if b is unavailable.  

Perfect score?  We’re best friends.  Take note. 

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It would seem that you can throw just about anything into an 8×4-inch loaf pan and have some sweet smellin’ magic come out of your kitchen after an hour or so.  What’s more, pulling a beautifully risen quick bread out of the oven is sure to make you feel like your a prime-time, super legit baker.  

Here’s a peek at my favorite quick bread recipes.  

Oh!  Happy Wednesday to you.  Also… you look pretty today.  I like what you did with your hair.  

Low Fat Oatmeal Banana Bread.  Still moist.  Still all sorts of delicious.  I even counted the Weight Watchers points on this one.  Whaaaat!?  Yea.  That happened. 

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I just stepped into my kitchen, turned on the light and was greeted by a massive amount of dirty dishes… not to mention a random stick of butter I left out this morning.  

I walked across the way to the dining room table to find all of the half addressed holiday cards I have yet to send. 

I shouldn’t even mention the atrocious pile of laundry that I’ve managed to ignore for weeks.  

But all is well.  All is juuuuust fine.  Why?  Because I’ve got my little nativity scene up.  My Christmas lights are twinkling.  I’ve hung silver snowflakes from my windows with scotch tape, and there are cranberry smells coming out of my kitchen.  At this rate, I can ignore the household atrocities well into the new year.  

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Autumn is settling in.  Autumn has settled in, and here I am ready to accept it.  I’m also ready to accept the fact that my days in the kitchen are about to dramatically increase (if you can believe that) as my cravings for apple crisp (lovelovelovelovelovelovelove), pumpkin cookies and cranberry treats become harder to ignore.  I’m less ready to embrace the way my jeans are tightening around my thighs… or maybe it’s my thighs growing inside my jeans.  Either way, the tightness and the sucking in of the tummy seems to be just a part of the season.

What are you up to in the kitchen these days?  Here’s some food for thought  Yes… I totally just said that. 

Mocha Hazelnut Marble Cake.  This cake was gorgeous, classy and utterly fine… until I tried to transport it in a fancy cake stand and got this glistening chocolate glaze exactly everywhere.  Everywhere.  Lesson learned. 

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I’ve got a guilty conscience.  Here’s a little peek inside:

Dear Coworker David,  

Tonight when you were detailing the twenty one shots you had for your twenty first birthday, I stopped listening at about shot number four… the Raging Bull I think you said.  How do you remember all twenty one shots after twenty one shots anyway!?   Sheeesh!  Though I was smiling and nodding tonight, I heard not a word you said.  True. 

Dear Downstairs Neighbor,

Is it noisy down there?  Does it seems sometimes like I’m stomping around on my second floor apartment floors?  Probably.  I am.  I can have some heavy feet from time to time.  Do I do it on purpose?  Sometimes.  Yes.  To be fair, I do this because, as you know, I left cupcakes on your doorstep for you one afternoon and I watched you discover them and take them to the dumpster to throw away.  I saw you do that.  Not cool.  Not cool at all.  

Dearest Friend (pssst!… that’s you),

Sometimes I make recipes vegan simply because I’m out of eggs and/or butter.  It’s true.  A severe and persisting egg shortage in my house was the inspiration for the Vegan Pumpkin Bread.  If you’re vegan, you’re probably annoyed.  That’s ok.  I can be annoying.  If you’re not vegan, you’re probably happy to know that you can still bake up some wonders without eggs and butter.  Your call.  

Love,

Joy the Baker

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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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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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Not every morning in my life is filled with Chocolate Chip Buttermilk Pancakes and Chocolate Chocolate Chip Banana Bread… not when things like my ten year class reunion and bathing suit season loom just around the corner.  For real friends, those are two scary things.  At least I don’t have to go to my ten year reunion in my bathing suit.  Can you imagine the horror!?   Yea… so there’s always a silver lining.

I’d like to introduce you to Low Fat Oatmeal Banana Bread.  If this bread were one of your dear friends from high school, it would be that friend who wore old lady shoes because they were the most practical, and played the trombone, and was the super smart editor of the school newspaper.  This bread would be the friend that was super sensible, and sweet and just downright made you feel good about your day.

Go ahead, think of this Low Fat Oatmeal Banana Bread as your friend… and then it eat.  No, there’s nothing weird about that.

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Things that are awesome and things that are not awesome; an incomplete list.

Things that are awesome:

Summer dresses that look great with summer ponytails.

Bathing suits + Palm Springs + Rented Summer House + Sun Screen + Giant Sun Glasses + Mojitos x Infinity = Awesome.

Big, fat bumble bees… come on, they’re precious.

Pulling this beautiful Dutch Baby out of the oven on Easter morning,  sprinkling it with orange sugar and feeling like Julia Child… that’s awesome.

Things that are NOT awesome:

Otherwise perfect vintage dresses that are half a size too small.

Bathing suit shopping… exactly no one likes that, and why on earth are my legs so white!?

Bee stings on the butt.  It happens people.  It really happens.

Not pulling this Dutch Baby out of the oven on Easter morning… that’s not awesome at all.

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I woke up this morning ready to celebrate Friday.  This, despite the fact that I’m convinced that I’m due at least fourteen hours more sleep, and moving past the idea that I deserve a sleep re-do for having fallen asleep with all the light on, teeth unbrushed and (gasp!) bra still on.  I don’t get a do-over, or more sleep… but I do get a Friday, and that’s a little bit of all right with me.

This week, I overheard someone say “Whatever… you know that Thursday is the new Friday.”  Hm… I don’t know where they work, or how they pull that off, but to me “Friday is the same, old Friday”… and sometimes “Saturday is the new Friday” making “Sunday the new weekend”.

Wanting to celebrate Friday as the same, old Friday got me thinking about all the great little moments I had during the week.  You know… the little things- getting a card in the mail from Mom, or finding a crumpled ten dollar bill in your back pocket.

What are the three best things that happened to you this week?   Think on it.  Here’s what I’m workin’ with.

1. I dropped a cake I had just baked on the floor.  We can talk more about that later,  but thought to myself:  ok, well that shouldn’t happen again for another few months.  I’m glad that’s out of the way.  Then I wanted to yell and swear, but there was no one around to hear it, so I didn’t bother.  This restraint for lack of an audience later made me laugh at myself.

2.  I’m sitting here, in this very moment, enjoying a cup of hot tea and a few of my dad’s buttermilk biscuits.  It’s quiet and sunny and just warm enough to not regret my warm covers in the other room.  Quiet simplicity is a week highlight for sure.

3.  I’m going up to Oakland this weekend.  I’m going to wear a dress.  Don’t try to stop me.  Both things are going to happen.

In the meantime, I think you should take these Cinnamon Raisin Pull-Apart Muffins for a spin.

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On losing, letting go of little sisters, and warm biscuits:

We never talked about this.  I didn’t know how to bring it up.  The 2009 Bloggies.  Remember?  Best New Blog?  So… I sorta…. kinda…. mostly… didn’t win.  The thing is, I really really wanted to win.  I did.  I played it cool though.  On the outside, I pretended to not care either way.  That was a big fat lie.  But the thing about losing… it’s pretty cool actually… it makes me want to be better.  It also makes me unbelievably grateful for all of your smiling faces.  Fact.

I found myself in a frenzy this morning.  My little sister left for a many month long European adventure.  The thought of her being so far away that I can’t easily call her at two in the morning to scream our favorite Mariah Carey song at her sent me into panic mode.  I calmed myself, safe in the knowledge that my sister deserved some life changing adventures and I am due many presents from far away lands upon her return.

Biscuits.  If I were to hand you a warm biscuit with raspberry jam would you: a)  throw it on the ground and shove me on the floor or b) thank me kindly, gobble the biscuit and give me a giant hug?  If your answer involved shoving me on the floor… well, that’s kinda funny, but throwning biscuits on the floor is just plain rude.  Don’t do it.

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I like you.

No..,  I’m being completely serious here.  I totally like you.  I think you’re great.  You know when you sometimes steal the covers and fart in your sleep?   That’s cool with me.  Maybe that happens to all of us.

Yes.  You.  I like exactly who you are.

I’d like to make each and every one of you breakfast.  This weekend.  You and me.  Let’s do it!  The only little snafu is that, I can’t be everywhere, making everyone breakfast.  I’m going to need your help.

Will you make yourself breakfast on my behalf?  Sure, it might sound a little silly, but I’ve got my serious face on right now.  If you’ve been around these blogparts for more than a minute that you probably know that I love… I seriously looooove breakfast.

See, I love breakfast and I totally like you.  I thought that maybe… in this really cool way… you could find a recipe here on Joy the Baker, make it for yourself for breakfast this weekend… and maybe that way just feel a hint of exactly how rad I think you are.

Can we do this together?

Jump on over and drool through some of my favorite breakfast recipes.  Pick one.  Make it for yourself this weekend.  Share it with friends.  Share it with husbands and families.  Make the wife breakfast!  Make yourself feel good with a little weekend breakfast, and you’ll experience a just a bit of how good you all make me feel every day.

Carrot Cake Pancakes.  Say you will.

Chocolate Chocolate Banana Bread.  Say you might.

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Here are a few Monday confessions I feel compelled to get off my chest:

I’ve given up working out for the new year.  I don’t wanna do.  I’m liable to throw a tantrum about it.

I just bought a vacuum, and I’m too embarrassed to tell you how long I went without one.

I’m secretly seriously competitive. Did you hear? Did you vote?

I don’t use parchment paper when I’m supposed to.  At all. I don’t have any good reason for not using it, just a serious mental block.

I don’t like to buy myself fancy kitchen equipment.  I’d rather buy shoes.  Crazy, right?

I made these Giant Paprika Cheddar Biscuits last week around ten in the morning.  By two in the afternoon I had worked my way through a cool four of them.

Again… I’ve given up working out for the new year, which I obviously must feel bad about because here I am mentioning it again.  Unfortunately I don’t feel bad enough to lace up my running shoes…   sigh… moving on!

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Lemon-Drenched Lemon Cake.

For this cake, simple loaf pans just don’t measure up. After one slice of the perfect, absolutely perfect cake, it became clear that when I next bake this cake (tomorrow morning), I’ll need to devise some sort of pillow shaped cake pan.

This cake is going to be my new pillow. Forget goose feathers, cotton fluff, memory foam… I want, I need, I’m not sure how I’m going to live without a Lemon-Drenched Lemon Cake Pillow.

For serious.

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I feel like I’ve been haunted by the three bags of fresh cranberries I bought about a month ago.

You’d think I’ve baked enough cranberry filled goodies to make these cranberries a thing of the past. Nope. Between the Banana Cranberry Bread, the All Purpose Cranberry Apple Cake and the Cranberry Sauce, how did I still have a lone back of cranberries dancing around in my fridge?

I’m happy to say, that with this deliciously moist and golden Cranberry Coffee Cake, my days of withering cranberries in the fridge are over. But… um… I kinda miss them. I’m thinking numerous Prosecco and Cranberry Cocktails are in my future, which means… more fresh cranberries! I hope you’re not sick of cranberry recipes yet. It ain’t over, this baker would really like a cocktail.

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I remember when I was a kid, I used to entice my little sister into the kitchen to cook with me. That sounds sweet and cozy, right? Well… I had slightly more selfish intentions. I had plans for my sister once we hit the kitchen: I would do all the fun stuff like measuring out sugar and chocolate, and she would do all of the not so fun stuff, like getting the flour containers out of the pantry, reaching for bowls, and doing all the dirty dishes. Baking always seemed like more fun if I had someone to do all the grunt work for me.

That sort of fun in the kitchen with my sister didn’t last long. Lauren very quickly caught on to my tricks, and before long we were sharing the dirty dish responsibilities.

Since then, I’d like to think I’ve become a much more accommodating kitchen partner. Ask Simon. You know Simon, he’s that crazy kid from Foodproof. We made Almond Banana Bread together. It went swimmingly, and I don’t think I made him do the dishes.

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If my sister and I were produce instead of people, we’d be persimmons. Without a doubt… a couple of sibling persimmons- from the same tree but oooooooh so different. Let me explain. This will all make sense in a short bit.

My little sister and I are two and a half years apart. That means we were close enough to tear things up and figure out how to get ourselves out of it. You know, experiment, explore, break stuff and try not to get in trouble… life skills.

My sister, as an adorable, slick and sly child genius, would mush up and cry whenever trouble was on the horizon. I was not quite so skilled.

Maybe we’re about to get in trouble for knocking out the screen door that was just installed hours earlier… or we’re about to get a talking to for breaking the bathroom window with a soccer ball… or someone, who shall remain nameless, thought it would be a good idea to swing like Tarzan from the palm tree…

Here’s how the situation would play out: Lauren would run into the house, after one of our outdoor terror sessions , a big ball of red eyes and tears. She’d throw herself on the ground inconsolable, and thus… unpublishable. I would freeze and try to figure out a way to fix the broken thing before my parents could discover it. Not wise. Not wise at all. I was always the one left standing stiff with the broken object, eyes wide, wracking my brain for solutions. Thus… I always got in trouble. I’m not just saying that… Lauren, you totally know it’s true.

Any while we’re on the subject, please allow me this:

Dear Lauren,

You know you were the one that ran straight into the new screen door. That was all you. I was watching The Cosby Show and minding my own business. You and your tears! I got in soooo much trouble for that! No, twenty years later, I’m still not over it. Well played sister. Very well played.

This isn’t over.

Your sister,

Joy

So… um… persimmons. Follow me.

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It should come as no surprise that I relate to the world through food. Sure, I’m fairly well adjusted, I can carry on a warm conversation and function in life, but in the secret world that is my brain, I’m always trying to understand the world around me by relating it to something I’ve eaten.

Crazy? Maybe. Confusing? Let me explain.

Say I walk into my parents’ house and am greeted with a hug and kiss from my father. That’s just like eating a bowl of vanilla bean ice cream smothered with warm dulce de leche sauce. The hug from my dad and the ice cream create the same feeling in my brain. Get it?

The smell of fresh rain on concrete is just like eating a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup.

Having a heart to heart with my mom is just like sipping Earl Grey tea with extra sugar and milk.

Getting a paper cut is just like taking a shot of cheap tequila with salt and dry limes.

Falling absolutely, head over heals, silly in love with someone is just like smooth bourbon and cigarettes at midnight.

Sitting next to Grandmother at the dinner table and feeling her almost thoughtlessly stroke my hand as if it were her own… that’s just like this perfectly spiced Banana Cranberry Bread. Yes, there’s that much comfort in the bread. It’s the real deal.

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