Joy the Baker

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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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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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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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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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Eggnog Pancakes with a slight hitch.  Eggnog Pancakes without the Eggnog.  
You should know that I’m going to capitalize Eggnog in this here post. If that bothers you…. apologies.

My Grandfather is the first person to pull a carton of grocery store branded Eggnog out of the refrigerator every year about this time.  When I see him reaching for the carton on the refrigerator door, I avoid all eye contact.  There is no offering.  There are no questions.  If Papa decides to pour you a glass… and it will be a GIANT glass… then you have to sit there, and drink every last bit… unless you want to be called a goshdarm vegan hippie.  Sure.. being a hippie might not be all that bad… but…well Eggnog shouldn’t be punishment and hippie shouldn’t be a bad word.  Dang!

 So!

To avoid cartons of Eggnog coming from my fridge, I’ve created an Eggnog flavored pancake.  Not a dollop of actual Eggnog in sight.  Nothing to worry about here.  

Can I tell you something about these pancakes… you know, because you’re here and all… they are crazy/heck yes/ omg good.  Are you thinking what I’m thinking?  Weekend breakfast?  The answer is… yes!

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In the event of some sort of big fat natural disaster in California, I may be up a creek without a paddle.  Sure, I’ve got the canned tuna, the emergency gallons of water and a few flashlights with dying batteries.  I’ve got the walking shoes, a space blanket and pepper spray… you need those things, right?   It’s just that I’m not sure the internets or my cellphone are going to do me much good in the event of a meltdown.  Won’t all the cell towers be jammed?  How am I going to reach out to my family?  I don’t think Twitter will quite do the trick.  Clearly my only option is to jog to them… in a space blanket.  That seems to make the most sense.

My parents?  I think they’re just ahead of me in the emergency game.  They’ve got cell phones from 1993 and a telephone land line.  At least the land line will come in handy.  

My grandfather!?  He’ll fare better than all of us in an emergency.  He’s got Ham Radio.  Ham Radio is a sort of amateur radio system that allows people to talk to one another all over the world.  Don’t be fooled by the name.  Ham Radio is actually pretty badass.   Sort of like… trucker radio meets old school technology meets grandfather hobby.  In emergencies, Ham Radio is booming.  You better believe that in an emergency, my grandfather will be all over that radio.  Who he’ll be talking to?  I’m not exactly sure.  He’ll probably be saving the world.  I’ll be jogging my way to safety.  My parents will still be screening their phone calls with their answering machine.  Who is the hero?  Grandpa. 

I tell you all of this because Lemon Poppy Seed Muffins (specifically the giant ((seriously giant)) kind from Costco) are my grandfather’s favorite.  He no doubt has a 48 pack of those giant muffins in his emergency kit.  You think I’m kidding.  I’m not.

Note:  my descriptions of Ham Radio here may hinge on trite and are most certainly superficial and inadequate.  

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I’m going to need you to do a little something for me this weekend.  

Yes.  It’s Wednesday.  We’re planning ahead.  This is important.  

I think you and I should make it a point to seriously relax this coming weekend.  See… it might be our last chance to really take it easy before the new year.  Before we know it we’ll be swept away by Thanksgiving, festive flavored lattes, contemporary holiday music, visiting relatives, cranberry cocktails and company parties.  

This weekend though… this weekend we can take it easy.  

To help us with our plan, I’ve come up with the perfect weekend breakfast:  yeast risen waffles with maple and black pepper bacon.  

We’re taking it slow this weekend.  Are you in?

**But wait!  You don’t have a  waffle iron?  It’s ok.  These Milk Chocolate Chip Buttermilk Pancakes with a side of Maple Black Pepper Bacon should put  you in an equally great food coma.  Not to worry.

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or should I just call it Brown Rice Pudding?

When I was a little one, I remember lulling myself to sleep by listing off in my brain all of the things that I might like to find in heaven should I find myself there.  I started off with important things like:

I’d like to find my little sister Lauren in heaven, but I don’t want to have to share my toys with her if I don’t want to.

I’d like to find my best friend Natalie in heaven because I love to play with her hair.

I’d like to find Grandmother, Granddaddy and Aunt DeeDee in heaven because they make the best hamburgers every Friday night .

And then this list would surely devolve into something that resembles my Christmas wish list:

I want an Easy Bake Oven in heaven…

I want a Barbie Dream House in heaven.

I want mechanical pencils in heaven… I had a serious thing for mechanical pencils.  Still do.

Nowadays I’m barely awake enough to get my socks off before I’m zonked out on my pillow.  I’d like to put this down on record now, if you’ll indulge me.

I want Rice Pudding in heaven.  Rice pudding with raisins.  Rice pudding with dried cherries.  White rice.  Brown rice.  Any kind of rice cooked with milk and sugar.  Please.

A few mechanical pencils might be nice too.

Awesome.  Thanks.

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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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Today’s Maple Pecan Muffins are dedicated to Tracey.  

Tracey, you are dear and darling… and 15, which is equal parts hard and rad, I know.  

Let me tell you a little about Tracey.  Tracey had her 15th birthday last week.  Tracey’s best friend Maggie sent me a pretty precious email asking me if I would send Tracey an autographed picture of myself for her birthday.  See,  Tracey is a great baker and a huuuuge fan of my site.  

I’m not the sort to have pictures of myself to autograph on hand… that would be totally weird,  so I sent Tracey a little birthday gift and handwritten note.  Easy enough, right?   In return Tracey sent me a very long, very excited, exceedingly adorable email to thank me for her birthday present.  Seriously friends… this girl is priceless.  

After reading Tracey’s email a handful of times (it was packed to the gills with information), here are a few things I want you to know about my new friend:

Tracey makes a mean lemon pound cake with blueberry sauce.  

Tracey almost set her house ablaze trying to make these doughnuts.  

Tracey is obsessed with muffins… and feeds them to her dog.  Let’s all just pretend like that’s normal.  

Tracey got a “Tracey the Baker” apron for her birthday.  Clearly I have competition. 

By sharing loads homemade cookies, Tracey is well on her way to becoming the most popular girl in school.  Don’t get too popular Tracey… it might be overrated.    

Tracey giggles a lot… not in emails, but this is just something I’ve surmised from being 15 and eating a lot of sugar once upon a time.

Tracey?  Is that Jesus peeking over your shoulder on your fridge there?  If so… awesome.  If not… awkward. 

Tracey these muffins are my little shout out to you because it seems like you get as excited about eggs and butter and sugar and flour as I do.  That makes me happy. Thank you. 

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Pumpkin. 

It’s October and it is time.  Pumpkin.  

Hold on to your hats.  I’ll be all up in your grill with peppermint and chocolate for Christmas before you know it.  

For now….

Pumpkin.   Don’t fight it.

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The date was September 17th, 2009.  

Yes.  Yesterday.  

That’s the day that I finally stopped totally sucking at scone baking.  That’s the day that I didn’t pull a tray of overly sweet, super flat triangle shaped mounds out of the oven, trying to pass them off as scones.  

Summon the parade.  I’d like you to call in the marching band please.  Flag twirlers would also be nice.  This is sort of a parade worthy occasion.  Fluffy, rounded, nicely browned, fruit filled scones?  From my oven?  Yes.  Parade please.

Oh!  Just so we’re clear…  I’ve made at least twenty dozen terrible batches of scones in my lifetime.  Terrible terrible.  I just couldn’t get it right!   Let this space hold as proof that I’ve wrestled scone dough and oven temperatures and come out successful.

Here’s proof:  pink and fruity, spiced, hearty and subtly sweet scone proof.  

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I faked it.  

I faked it just a little bit with these croissants.  

See, these croissants were hot from the oven and onto my breakfast plate in less than 30 minutes because I used frozen, all-butter puff pastry instead of slaving over homemade croissant dough.  Real croissant dough has yeast, a bit of sugar and milk in it.  Puff pastry does not have these elements; it’s just flour, salt, water, and more butter than you care to know.  

So you see… I didn’t spend the time folding and folding and folding croissant dough, I faked it.  I don’t feel one bit of bad.  In fact, I feel so good about faking it, here’s a few other things I’ve been known to fake.

I’ve faked a tan with that new and clever gradual tan lotion.  Thank you lotion technology.

I’ve faked a smile… when I’m feeling super extra awkward, or when I don’t like your perfume but you’re a friend of the family and I don’t want to be rude, or when I’m being paid to smile.  That last one doesn’t really happen… ever.

I’ve been faking being an adult for the last ten years.  Sometimes, well… it sure feels like I’m faking it.  

Lastly, as discussed above… I fake a dang good chocolate croissant.  Here’s what’s what on that!

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I love pancakes.

Maybe you don’t believe me.  Maybe you need proof.  

How about a list of the ways in which I totally love love love pancakes?

Perhaps you can find your deep rooted love for pancakes this weekend with one of these fine recipes.  

Milk Chocolate Buttermilk Pancakes

Dad’s Buttermilk Pancakes

Vegan Jam Swirl Pancakes

Everything But the Blueberry Pancakes

Gingerbread Pancakes…

Whole Wheat Banana Walnut Pancakes, one of my all time favorites. 

Need more proof of my pancake love?  Ok!

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Some things just shouldn’t be a luxury.  Some things are an absolute necessity.

Spending too much money at Target, for example.  Sometimes… (you know it’s true) that’s a total necessity.

Hot bath plus cold beer.  You need it.  I need it. Necessity.

A super comfortable dress that shows a little shoulder.  Everyone loves a little shoulder.

A girlfriend you can talk about your lady parts with.  Yes, I said lady parts.  Please don’t under estimate this necessity.

Aaaaand, last but not least… a little pancake love on a weekday morning.  Do it.

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There are three things I want you to take away from this post.  No foolin’ around… I’ll get straight to the point.

One.  You’ll want to stop by tomorrow if you think you might like to be one of those people that attends my (holy heck yes!) summer party.  It’s in August.  It’s for real.

Two.  You know that part of the pedicure when the lady at your feet goes to it with a pumice scrub?  It’s at that point that I have to try with every ounce of who I am, not not not to kick her in the face.  I’m ticklish.  Extremely.  Now you know.

Three.  These blueberry muffins are (yes) perfect.  Straight forward.  Simple.  Summer.  One whole hell of a lot better than the stale coffee shop version… perfect. How often do I say something is perfect?  Not often.  Fact.

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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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