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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I…

Hate:  diet soda.  Like:  water.  Love:  bourbon.

Hate:  skinny jeans.  Like: Jeggings (jean leggings people… jean leggings).  Love:  my Levis.  

Hate:  bathing suit shopping.  Like:  vintage dress shopping.  Love:  shopping with someone else’s credit card… which never happens… ever.

Hate:  cold soup.  Like:  most soup.  Love:  um…. soup soup soup.  I really like soup.

‘Hate’ is such a strong word.  ’Hate’ was a bad word in the house I grew up in.  Mom, if you’re reading this… yes, you taught me better… but look!  I’m eating my broccoli!  That’s got to count for something. 

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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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The kitchen.  It’s where I do a majority of my… standing.  

Standing and staring.

Standing and staring and spreading cream cheese onto Wheat Thins.  

Standing and staring and eating cream cheese and Wheat Thins until I come up with a recipe and post idea.  

If you were a fly on my kitchen wall… well, I wouldn’t like that very much… but you would probably think that a) I have very few brain cells firing with all of the standing and staring I do and b) I have an unhealthy relationship with cream cheese.

You might be right about the brain cells…  I won’t argue that the standing and staring is a strange process.  But the cream cheese?  Yea… I’ll admit I have a bit of a problem with cream cheese and crackers.  I’m trying to break the habit with chick peas and olive oil and mint and parsley.  I think it’s working.  I really think it’s working. 

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Here are a list of questions I think might be running through your head right now. Well… I like to flatter myself by thinking that these questions might be running through your head. It’s a self-involved delusion . I know you have better things to worry about. Also included here are the answer to before mentioned self-involved questions.

You might be thinking:

Seriously, Joy? Here we are in prime baking mode and you bring us crackers!? Crackers!?
Answer: Yes. Crackers. Big, thick and crispy, salty and satisfying crackers. They have sea salt, people… they must be fancy.

Joy, what are you wearing to your holiday party tonight?
Answer: I. Don’t. Know. Please send help. Please send a new outfit. Please get these crackers out of my face so I stop stress eating them.  Please.

Joy, calm down. Why not just wear your nice pair of jeans?
Answer: What? I can do that? I can seriously do that? I’ll can wear my nice pair of jeans even though they’re still jeans?  I suspect you’re just trying to make me feel better. I have to find a skirt and top combination that doesn’t make me look like too much of a lunatic hippie.  Drats.

These crackers aren’t helping. Someone take these crackers away from me.
And send help… send a pretty black top with sparkles. Quickly.  Thank you.

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Remember a few months back when I made fresh pasta?  Were we friends then?  

I made fresh pasta at the tail end of summer this year.  I wore a snazzy red apron.  I got my hands dirty.  I walked around the house showing off my ball of dough to anyone who would pay attention.  No one really payed attention.  That’s ok.

I have been feeling nostalgic for my summer times of a few months back.  Times when I would spend weekends talking about wine and food with these lovely ladies.  (My friends are gorgeous.  It’s almost weird.)  Times when we would drink way too much Rose and just be downright silly.    Those times will come again… in many months.  For now, I’ll satiate myself with a giant bowl of fresh pasta with this INCREDIBLE Bolognese Recipe.  You should do this too.  No joke.  Pasta is calming and generally makes the world a better place.    

For all things pasta, you’ll want to pop on over here and read this.  For all things Bolognese, you’ll want to jump on over and sauce it up. 

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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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This big old bowl of tomatoes and cream is the best thing to ever come out of my kitchen.

So good.  So right. I’m thinking of retiring.  I’m thinking of hanging up the apron strings and ending on a high note.  You know, like Seinfeld did in the 90’s.

But it’s just tomato soup?  What could be so special about it?  Let me explain. 

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Autumn To-Do List

Buy boots.  Wear new boots at every waking moment.  

Bust out the scarves and go for it.  Two at a time?  Fine by me! 

Make Dad’s Sweet Potato Pie.  I know… I’ve been talking about this for ages.  I need to shut my trap and get bakin’ already.

Don’t get Swine Flu, that would be seriously lame. 

Is it time for flannel sheets?  Well.. is the Pope Catholic?  Heck yes!

Eat Roasted Pumpkin Soup by the truckload.  Do it.  Done.  

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Can I tell you a secret?  Sometimes I lack all confidence in the kitchen.  It’s true.  Sometimes a project will keep me up at night.  Sometimes the ingredient list will just baffle me.  Sometimes I hold my breath as I incorporate the ingredients, or I second guess myself and reread the recipe with every turn of my spatula.

It’s the absolute truth.  Sometimes I just need someone to hold my hand through a new recipe… or I at least need to be allowed to throw my hands up and call uncle at any point during the process.

I tell you all this so you know that when I stepped in the kitchen to make pasta this past weekend… well… I was totally intimidated.  I wasn’t sure I could pull this off.

I know… I know… everyone was telling me how easy it was.  Frankly, I was convinced they were liar liarpants.  For real.  Handmade pasta!?  Easy?  Not possible.

Well, let me be honest.  Pasta isn’t as entirely easy as everyone would have me believe.  That’s not to say it’s impossibly hard…. not at all.  For me, making pasta by hand just involves a little talking to myself, a big area where I could throw flour all around, a rolling pin and willingness for a good arm work out, and a few hours set aside for doughing… mostly just patting it, talking to it, and walking around the house showing it to whatever family member would pay attention to me.

The end result is beyond… BEYOND comforting.  The process was super satisfying, and really?  So Much Fun!  Pasta!  I made pasta!  Daaang!  I’m going to go ahead and pat myself on the back for this one.  Don’t mind me… I’ll be done in a minute.

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Is it just me, or are there butterflies everywhere?  

Maybe it’s butterfly hatching season…. that’s a technical term: butterfly hatching.  Obviously.  

Exhibit A:  On a particularly rough day at work, a butterfly just about the size of my hand fluttered around me showing off its black, yellow and red wings.  Absolutely gorgeous.  

Exhibit B:  Just this morning a butterfly whizzed past my nose as I rode a bike through the Oakland hills.  High speed butterflying.  

I don’t even need an Exhibit C, I’m tellin’ you… there’s something in the air:  butterflies.  

So, all of this beautiful fluttering action has lead me to, well… look for a little meaning in all of it. 

I know… totally cheese ball, right?  It’s just that I feel something in the air.  Maybe it’s the change of season, or maybe it’s my sun sign doing God knows what to my moon sign.  Who knows?  I just feel a flood of change coming my way.  I think that’s what all these butterflies are trying to tell me.  Change is a’comin’, in more ways than I might already think.  That… or it’s just butterfly hatching season.  I don’t know.

In other news:  I have a fridge full of zucchini and I made zucchini pancakes.  

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How about a quick lesson on my newest and favorite food find?  You in?  I’m droppin’ knowledge.  Let’s talk farro!

Farro is a grain commonly and presently grown in Italy.  It doesn’t have strictly Italian roots… those roots would probably be somewhere in the Middle East, but Italy is a mighty fine producer of farro these days.

Farro is a wild cousin of wheat.  If you’re farmiliar with barley, I would say that farro is very similiar.

When cooked, farro is often shaped like a giant puffed rice.  It’s nutty in flavor and has a slightly crunchy texture.  I know it as a super healthy whole grain that keeps me full for hours and hours… an almost impossible task.  It’s full of fiber and even has a great amount of protein in it!

I most often use farro to fatten up soups or to make a nice sauteed vegetable salad.  Salads with farro are delicious warm, or room temperature, or cold standing in front of the fridge sometime past midnight.

We’re not done here…. click on through, won’t you?

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I had no idea how easy ranch dressing was to make.  Here’s how it went down in my kitchen.

I looked at the Buttermilk Ranch recipe.  I shrugged one shoulder.  I mashed garlic, chopped herbs, and dolloped various white and creamy ingredients into a bowl.  I again shrugged a shoulder.  I threw in some salt.  I threw in some crushed peppercorns.  I threw in a dash of Tabasco.  I… yes, shrugged my shoulders.  I stirred the bowl of herbs and creamy things together.  I shrugged.  I threw in some buttermilk.  Stirred again.

Then I did this thing…. I took a leaf of butter lettuce and dipped it into the bowl.  Holy Hell!  Gracious heavens!!  It tasted… get this… JUST LIKE RANCH DRESSING!  Geeeeez!  That was cool.  Sometimes goodness sneaks up on you.  Dang.

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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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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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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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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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Here’s a fun thing to do!  Take a few minutes to close your eyes and imagine yourself as an old person.  I’m not talking about late sixties.  That’s not old yet.  I’m talking about great great grandmother old.. pushing the mid-nineties.

Sounds crazy?  Why would you spend time picturing white hair in bobby pins, shuffling feet and rocking chairs?  I feel like getting old is a luxury.  Not everyone gets to do it, so why not sit and enjoy the thought a bit?

I imagine that I’m the kind of old lady that talks to her over fed cats, and yells across the house to her practically deaf husband.  I hope I’m the kind of old lady who has a piano in the house just so my grandchildren can come over and practice their scales while I shuffle around the kitchen baking them cookies.

I want to be the kind of old lady that always thinks a glass of champagne is a good idea.

I want to be the kind of old lady who always has something out on the living room table for that unexpected guest.  Maybe it’s those soft chalky mints.  Maybe a freshly baked pie.  Maybe it’s these Sweet and Spicy Baked Almonds.  These nuts, my friends, have me daydreaming of old lady times somehow… with a smile on my face.

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A good while back I found myself half way through a bottle of wine on a Saturday night, sitting alone on my patio watching cute cat videos on YouTube.

Wait… should I be embarrassed about revealing this to you?  Just wait… it gets better.

I was feeling pretty content with my Saturday night of wine and kittens, except, I didn’t really want to be alone.  Sometime after my last glass of wine, and before I started eating frozen yogurt straight from the container, I found myself filling out one of those online dating service profiles.  Yea… I was totally having that moment in my life.

Because there’s no shame in my game, I won’t even hesitate in telling you that filling out one of those profiles is a complex mixture of fun, excitement and nausea.  So many questions to answer.  So many clever quips to whip up.  So many ways to try and say that I’m weird and cool, and I spend a lot of time in my kitchen, and I kinda have a thing for kitten videos and wine and frozen yogurt…. without saying anything about kittens and wine and frozen yogurt.  That, after all, might come across as too weird.

What I really wanted to say was something like.. “Hey!  You’re cool.  I’m cool.  Let’s get to know each other.  I’ll make us pizza.  I’ll make us salad, but I won’t be mad if you don’t really want to eat it.  Cookies.  I can make those too.  Also… I like Star Wars, except I might call ‘Storm Troopers’ ‘Star Troopers’ on accident.  And… your Mom is going to love me, and I’m going to think she’s pretty rad too.  Let’s do this!”

It all worked out.  I think I may have had that profile up for about a month before I realized it wasn’t really my scene.  I have someone pretty awesome to make pizza for now.  He knows all about the wine and kitten videos and frozen yogurt.  He likes all those things too… plus Star Wars.  That feels pretty nice.

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