Joy the Baker

There are wildfires raging all over Southern California and although I don’t live in the danger zone, the thick air and daunting skies make the fires impossible to ignore.

Driving around at dusk tonight, listening to the fire coverage on my car radio, I remembered that between the ages of about seven and eleven I would proudly proclaim that I wanted to be a firefighter to any adult that would ask.

It’s funny the reasons you choose to declare your future profession when you’re a child.  See,  I don’t particularly like fire, or being hot, or tall ladders or carrying heavy things.  I’m not much of a hero.  I don’t have that life saving gene inside me, aside from not killing the cricket that was in my kitchen last night.

My seven year old brain wanted to be a firefighter for several unheroic reasons: I liked (loved!) how awesomely clean and shiny fire trucks were.  I also really liked color and something about the red truck and the yellow suits and the black and white Dalmatian was totally exciting.  This is going to sound totally weird, but I used to love to do pull ups (I know, nutty), and my child brain somehow connected the ability to do pull ups with the ability to save lives and fight fire.

So I wanted to do pull ups and be a firefighter, until I wanted to own a zoo and be a vet, until I wanted to be a brooding writer, until I wanted to be a lady baker.  Phew… figuring out that stuff is nearly exhausting, and I’m not even done dreaming yet.

How about some squash?

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On any given day my diet is consistently composed of scrambled eggs (seriously the perfect food), some variety of baked goods fresh from the oven, cheese (lots of cheese) and tea (I drink so much I run out of mugs).

Have I mentioned that I love scrambled eggs?  I’m convinced that the perfect way to eat them is in tortillas, standing in the sunny spot in my kitchen flipping through cookbooks.

But this post obviously is not about my love for the egg.

There are days that I decide to slow down, take a deep breath and make myself something other than scrambled eggs for dinner.  On those days I go for my no frills, yet somehow impressive Hungarian Paprika Chicken dish.  It’s flavored with sweet Hungarian Paprika, onions, tomatoes, and the added creaminess of a touch of sour cream.  Served it over a bed of buttery egg noodles, and the world is instantly coming up roses.

Everyone should have a no fail chicken recipe in their back pocket.  This is mine.  From my stove top to yours.

As a note, I think the big red tin of Hungarian Paprika is the only way to go with this chicken.  You should be able to find it in your local grocery stores,  it’s not a fancy pants thing.

Go say hello to the boys at Foodproof for my recipe.  It’s a winner, I cross my heart.   Print this recipe!

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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Fact:  I love this blog of mine.

Fact:  I absolutely adore all of its readers.   That’s you.

Fact:  I’m obviously not very good at posting every day as NaBloPoMo would have me do.

Request:  Bear with me.

Hope:  This blog has always been about quality and not quantity.  

Another Fact:  I’m getting in the kitchen to bake right now-  mostly because I’m starving, also because I’m thinking of you and what you might like.  

Last Fact:  I went through a serious sunflower loving phase in my early teens.  I will admit that this phase included several straw hats with fake sunflowers glued to them.  Painfully dorky, and now.. for you to know. Facts are facts.  

To Do:  Thursday 11.6.08

-Scowl at 6:30 am alarm clock.

-Randomly hit night stand in search of snooze button.

-Search the bed for warmth, find it, snuggle hardcore.

-Force self out of bed.  Write.  Seriously.  Write something.   

-Um…. snuggle more.  It’s not a crime.

-Dress.  Aroma Cafe.  Tea.  Breakfast.  Dreamy.

-Write, seriously, you have to write.

-Jump on the bed.  

-Make Sugar Crusted Ginger Cookies-  eat a great deal of the dough.

-Watch Foodproof videos.

-Snuggle more.  For your health.

-Think about showering.  

-Shower.

-Discuss cheese.  Make cheese look pretty.

-Bourbon.  Drink some.

-Bed.  Snuggle.  Prepare to scowl at forthcoming early alarm clock.  

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Feel good today. Life is too short to feel bad. Fact.

It’s November, and that means that we’ve undeniably entered the holiday season. In my world that means lots of family, lot of parties and eating a ridiculous, almost painful amount of food. Cocktail parties. Tacky Christmas sweater parties. Surprise guests and…. my oh my… is it too early to be this excited?

Despite all of my (possibly premature) excitement, I’ll admit that I’m sometimes at a loss when it comes to a holiday night out. If I’m not fussing over what I’m going to wear, I’m getting nit picky about the dessert that I’m going to bring. It’s enough to drive myself crazy and send me straight to the egg nog bowl when I hit the party. The egg nog is always such a nice thought, but the actual introduction of egg nog into my system is a very, very bad idea.

This weekend I picked up a few party dresses and tights- festive and hip but not over the top. I also baked up the perfect all purpose holiday cake. It’s a winner because you can throw it together with virtually anything and everything you have in your pantry.

Let’s discuss…

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Sometimes the sidewalks of Los Angeles hold helpful life instructions.  Good lookin’ out.

I’m in the kitchen today.  It feels right.  Now… go kiss somebody, because you can.

With a deep breath and a big fat smile I welcome you to National I’m a Maniac and Posting On My Blog Everyday for and Entire Month, also known as NoBloPoMo.  

Well…. here we are.  Now what do we do?  Can we just sit and stare at one another for an entire month?  No?  You mean you actually want me to cook things, take pictures and tell you all about them?  Ooooh.  I guess that makes sense.  What’s that?  You want my crazy good Apple Pie recipe?  Ok… we can do that.

What else?  I’m coming to you with an empty bowl and a clean spatula.  What would you like to see come from Joy the Baker in the next month?  Do you have a recipe you want to share?  Do you want me to make more pancakes?  Do you need some sort of tutorial?  Leave a comment announcing your deepest baking desires and we’ll see if I can make all your dreams come true.  It’s going to be just like Disneyland, with shorter lines and fewer mice.  

And now…. oatmeal.

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