Joy the Baker

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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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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Persimmon Pudding, from tree to table.  

Step One:  Find a neighbor with a gorgeous, almost cartoon like persimmon tree.  Ask your Mom to help you pick persimmons… Mom always likes to help.

Step Two:  Entice neighbor and Mamabear with the promise of fresh baked persimmon pudding if you’re granted access to their persimmon tree.  

Step Three:  Try this phrase, “Hey Neighbor!  I think you’re just swell.  Can I borrow a ladder?  That’s one tall tree.  Sweet… thanks.”

Step Four:  If you decide to sneak a peek into the other neighbor’s yard while you’re up on that ladder picking persimmons… maybe you’ll want to be more subtle than my mother.  I’m just sayin…

Step Five:  Pick the ripest, softest persimmons.  Way to be, Mom!

Step Six:  Carefully place super ripe persimmons in bag to cart off home, thanking your neighbors Dan and Libby for their ladder and their abundant tree. 

Step Seven:  If you don’t happen to have a neighbor with a persimmon tree, I’m betting that the local farmer’s market will have some gorgeous Hachiya persimmons for you this time of year…. and you won’t need a ladder. 

Step Eight:  Call your favorite Aunt from Indiana and ask her to promptly send you all of the persimmon recipes she owns… that will be a lot.  Seriously.  Thanks Judy!

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I sometimes wish that my future self could just pop into my present world just to… you know… say hi, and let me know that everything in the future is going along just swimmingly.  That never happens, but maybe I just haven’t given future me enough guidance.  With this in mind…  here’s a quick letter to future me.  Now maybe 48 year old me will get crackin’ on some answers.  Slacker.  

Dear Future Me,

Hi.  How’s it going?  You look really pretty in that sweater.  

I have a few questions for you.  I hope you’ll indulge me.  

Are you still unreasonably afraid of spiders?  Probably.  You know what?  That’s ok.  That’s what spouses are for… clearing spiders from anywhere that might interfere with you.  

Speaking of spouses… do you have one?  How’s that going?  Awesome.  I hope it’s awesome.  I hope you two hold hands and take morning walks and go out on dates.  

Do you still buy the cheap mascara?  Have you been to Italy yet?  

Tell me you still wear a little black dress and heels on occasion.  Please.  

Kids.  Do we have Mom hands yet? Oooh, I love Mom hands.  I can’t wait to have Mom hands… well I can wait.  I’m waiting right this very second and I don’t feel bad.  But Mom hands…. I bet we totally have Mom hands. 

How do you feel about eggplant?  Do you like eggplant yet?

What’s been good?  What’s been not so good?  Are you livin’ the dream?

Let me know how we are.  Send me a sign… maybe a paper airplane with your answers… whatever you need to do.

I’ll be sitting here with a cup of tea and my Spiced Apple Cake waiting to hear from you.

Love,

Present Me

Quick Blurb of Shamelessness

Hi… it’s me, Joy the Baker.  I hang out here a lot.  So do you.  I like that.  Thanks. 

Last week I was nominated for the Foodbuzz Blog Awards.  The Best Baking Blog… go figure.  If you’re feeling… votey, you might head on over to Foodbuzz to vote for all the fine folks that are up for an award.  Yea?  Thanks!

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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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Is it just me, or is making a pie sorta like going to jury duty?

Don’t get me wrong… I sometimes (no.. not always) like throwing together a pie.  I also sometimes like trucking my rear downtown for jury duty…. that’s after kicking and screaming in the weeks prior to said dutying.

The process of going to jury  makes me feel super adult.  What?  You want me to sit in this crowded room with a bunch of angry people missing work, and you want me to possibly make decisions Law and Order style?  Ok.  I’ll play your game justice system.  I’m a tax paying adult… thanks for the recognition.

The process of making a pie also makes me feel all adult like.  Something about tacking a many layered recipe and busting out my pie plate tells me that yes… you’ve got bills to pay, but why not take a minute… ok, an hour… and show to world who’s in charge by making a pie?  Orange and Cream… done and done.

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Let’s play a game called What’s on Your Nightstand?.  What?  Too personal?  Oooh come on!  We’re all friends here.  Let’s try to figure out what our night stands say about the state of our lives.

On my night stand is:

1 Ikea lamp.

A water color painting made by my aunt in the 80’s.

A cup of what once was hot lemon water with honey, now just a mass of lemon seeds at the bottom of a mug.

A glass bowl with a ring and a business card for a French bed and breakfast.

Two books:  Unaccustomed Earth and Seize the Day.

My credit card, and a small bowl with cookie crumbs in it… Lemon Rosemary Palmier cookie crumbs.

What might my night stand contents say about me?  I love a home furnishing bargain.  When I run out of tea I make do with lemons.  I can’t sleep in jewelry and I like to daydream about vacationing in the French countryside. I either read a book or go internet shopping before I fall asleep, and I eat cookies in bed.  All things considered, it seems like a pretty cushy and self indulgent life…. plus, cookies!

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It’s August 3, 2009 and I refuse to believe a) that summer is almost over, and b) that we’re a handful of months away from 2010.  Turns out that whether I believe or refuse to believe these two things… they’re still true.  

It’s August 3, 2009 and I will openly admit that in the past few days I’ve been stress eating like a maniac over these picnic plans.  I’m not proud.  

It’s August 3, 2009 and tonight is the night I’m going to polish off the frozen dough balls in my freezer.  Again, not proud.

It’s August 3, 2009 and I’m thinking it’s going to be really awkward when Dr Martens come back into style and I bust out my original pair that I sported back in middle school.  Yes, I still have them.  Yes, they still fit.  

It’s August 3, 2009 and among the many other things I’m thankful for today, I’m also thankful for internet shoe shopping and these beautiful thumbprint cookies.  

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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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I like you.  I like you a lot.  I mean it… and I don’t think I’ve told you in a while.  Sweet.  I’m glad you’re here.

Would now be a good time to tell you that I have a serious, though not lasting, aversion to my kitchen these days?   I have an even more serious aversion to my oven.  For reals.

It’s just that… well, it’s summer!  There seems to be so many museums to visit, brunches to have, friends to laugh with, wine to drink… and somehow none of this fun takes place in my kitchen.

Amazingly, and through the miracle that is my freezer, I’ve managed to throw together a lovely and waaaay super easy summer recipe.  It’s apple pie meets snow cone, minus the cone, plus a hint of awesome.

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Ok… first of all, stop looking at me like that.

Yea, I can see that crazy look of your face.  But it’s me.  The same person that brought you amazing Cream Cheese Cinnamon Rolls and Perfect Lemon Pound Cake. We trust each other.  We have an understanding.  Just go with me on this.

Something about hot summer weather gets me to thinking (or melts my brain) and brings some strange recipes to the surface.  Remember last year’s Blueberry Ice Cream with Homemade Hot Fudge?  Yea… I got a few strange looks for that too.

Because I still see those raised eyebrows on your face, let me tell you a little about this beast of a cake.  Believe me, I was super skeptical too.

The vegan chocolate cake is dense and moist, and everything you might want from a chocolate cake minus the eggs and butter.  The fat in the cake is almond oil (or anything you have on hand) and one whole mashed avocado.  It’s lovely, and I didn’t taste a lick of avocado in the cake.

The avocado buttercream is a dash more strange.  Yes, it’s bright green.  Yes, the only fat in the buttercream is avocado meat.  It’s sweet with slight hints of citrus.  I had my doubts, but when combined with the chocolate cake… holy wow!  It actually worked!  It was honest-to-goodness delicious!  Not to mention vegan and full of healthy fats!

Your thoughts?  Have I scared you off?

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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?

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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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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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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