Joy the Baker

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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Three things are true.  Let’s go over some facts.

I’m gullible.  I prefer to think of it as less naive and more trusting.  If you tell me something, in all likelihood, I’ll believe you.  For this reason, let’s keep the April foolery to a minimum this morning.  It’s not really my style, and chances are, if you try to fool me with falsehoods or pranks today, it’ll work.  Let’s not and say we did.

This day reminds me of one particular April Fool’s Day many years back.   I thought playing a prank on my little sister would be ripe with comedy.  It involved a toilet seat, petroleum jelly, and her resulting slippery bum.  As I giggled with success, my little sister busted out her fake (but oh so convincing) cry and I was in a heap of trouble with Mom.  She’s brilliant with the fake cry… award winning.  Well played little sister… I see how you turned that around… Well played.

Lastly, and this is no petroleum jelly joke-  I was featured in the London Times this week!  Check out the interview and the photos… and say hello to London.  Normally I’d tell you how being in the London Times makes me want to yell, and jump and otherwise spaz with excitement.. but I’m trying to play it cool.  You know.. like wearing sunglasses at night, or wearing Converse sneakers with a fancy dress, or putting ham and mustard in cookies…. cool.  Let’s play it cool.

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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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I used to keep a dream dictionary by my bed.  Fact.  I thought that I could wake up from a vivid dream all about pansies and weasels, broken clocks and cotton candy to thumb through a book and answer all off those deep subconscious questions.

It never worked.  I was lucky enough if I’d remember the dream, and luckier still if I had the wakefulness to actually reach for a dictionary first thing in the morning.

My dreams are trying to tell me something, I just leave it up to my sly and cunning brains to figure it out or leave it a mystery.

In the same way, my body was trying to send me a message early this morning.  I hadn’t been awake and in the world for more than an hour when I found myself standing at work in the restaurant saying exactly this, completely unsolicited:

I want potato salad.  I want potato salad exactly now.  Potato salad sound SO good.  I want pounds and pounds of potatoes in my belly right this second!

How’s that for a craving!?

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I’m a flake.

Ok… maybe that’s a little harsh.

I flaked on plans I made last Friday night, and I felt guilty until exactly this morning.

See… (I’ll try keep this short) I was supposed to go to see a friend’s play on Friday night.  You know,  it’s just one of those things you do.  Friend.  Theater.  You just go see it.

I was on the list.  The play was showing walking distance from my house.  I had no other plans.  The weather was gorgeous.  Really… I’d have to be a complete jerkface to not show up, right?  Well I didn’t, and here’s why…

I threw on my favorite jeans.  I was wearing my cute jacket and scarf.  I walked myself over to the theater feeling pretty good about the world.  That’s when I saw it:  a crowd of strangers.  I froze.  All the charm and clever wit that I might have possessed simply drained out of my system.  I suppose that happens to the best of us sometimes.  In my case, rather than facing my spontaneous fear of strangers, I turned myself right around and walked back home.

On the way home I concocted an elaborate lie to tell my friend the next time I saw him.  It was full of stress, drama, lost time and regret.  I stopped myself.  Literally.  In the middle of my street.

Why lie?  Why not keep it simple?  Why not express a little vulnerability?  Why not just say I couldn’t handle strangerdanger that particular night?

That’s just what I did.  Next time I say my friend, I simply apologized, looked him directly in the eye and told him what a ‘fraidycat I was.  It felt like one of those simply, human moments when you just lay it all out there for better or worse.

Life is complicated enough.  Why disguise your vulnerabilities with lies?  And why disguise your potatoes with a bunch of nonsense?

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Life is all about balance, right?  Balance and beans.  Ok… maybe not that last part.

While I’ll be the first person in line to pick at those brownies fresh out of the oven, I also know that I have to fill my belly with foods that make my body feel strong.  Because I think food is just downright dreamy, I like to take the time to make something special for my body.  Why?  I figure if my body is happy, then my brain is pretty stoked and my heart feels pretty rad… and that trickles out to every part of my life.

Can I tell you a secret?  I gave up working out for the new year.  That’s right… I gave it up completely.  I had absolutely no interest at all in even glancing at my running shoes.  About two months in, I went to slip on my favorite jeans.  Um…  they were tight… and they hadn’t just come out of the dryer.  What did I expect?  Seriously…

Well, I’m back at it.  I’m taking my running shoes out for a spin every once in a while, and my body is all smiles.  Incedentially, my body also wants to celebrate its new found activity with French fries… but that’s a whole other battle we can talk about later.

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Yes, I still love cupcakes.

Yes, I’ve been thinking about oatmeal cookies all week.

Yes,  I think pancakes should have a daily requirment like fruits and vegetables.

All of these things are true, yet here I am… and all I have to offer you is a pile of dried beans.

Do you feel wronged?  A little?  Be honest.

Let me explain.  These beans are special.  These beans have character, color and integrity.  These beans were inspiration enough for me to sit down and actually consider cooking dried beans at home.

See, I’m convinced that food has a story to tell and a story to create.  I want to know where my food comes from, so I’m always aspiring to find new foods from people who care about it as much as I do.

I don’t want to settle, but I also don’t want to spend a fortune on some fancypants ingredient that I won’t even have the tools to cook.  That’s just silly, right?

Well… these beans… they just made me swoon.  They’re beautiful.  And!  And!  I can cook them at home.  And if I can cook them at home, you can too.

Can I share my beans with you?  Will you indulge me?

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