Joy the Baker

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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I made rolls, of the cinnamon variety.

I use cinnamon rolls as a sort of… well, anxiety calming drug.  I don’t pop pills, I definitely pop cinnamon rolls.

See… there was this thing invented a good long while ago called the 10 Year Class Reunion.  It’s where you get together with all the people that made fun of you during your painfully awkward teenage years.  Yea.  Why?  Why do I have to do this?  Can’t we all just become friends on Facebook and Twitter and consider ourselves properly reunited!?

Seriously.  The future is now!

Since I think I’m going to gracefully bow out of the reunion festivities, here’s the CliffsNotes of what I might have said to my old classmates.

Hi.  Yea, it’s me Joy.  I sat behind you in.. a bunch of classes probably.  Here’s the update.  I went to college.  I read a lot of books.  I graduated.  I traveled around some.  I haven’t gotten married or pregnant yet.  Yea.. I’m prettier now, but that’s mostly because I was actually really ugly when you knew me.  I’m a baker.  I think it’s the most awesome thing ever.  I know a crap ton about food.  Would you like to discuss French cheeses at all?  I have a blog… also awesome.  Sure, I’d like to meet your boyfriend Steve.  I recognize him from your Facebook photos.  Your relationship status is “complicated” though… care to discuss?  No?   Hm… well, sure I’d like to see pictures of your kids.  Would you like to see pictures of my cinnamon rolls?  It’s only fair.

Don’t make me go to this thing.  It will be awkward.  Awkward.  Awkward. Awkward!

I need counsel and another cinnamon roll.

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On losing, letting go of little sisters, and warm biscuits:

We never talked about this.  I didn’t know how to bring it up.  The 2009 Bloggies.  Remember?  Best New Blog?  So… I sorta…. kinda…. mostly… didn’t win.  The thing is, I really really wanted to win.  I did.  I played it cool though.  On the outside, I pretended to not care either way.  That was a big fat lie.  But the thing about losing… it’s pretty cool actually… it makes me want to be better.  It also makes me unbelievably grateful for all of your smiling faces.  Fact.

I found myself in a frenzy this morning.  My little sister left for a many month long European adventure.  The thought of her being so far away that I can’t easily call her at two in the morning to scream our favorite Mariah Carey song at her sent me into panic mode.  I calmed myself, safe in the knowledge that my sister deserved some life changing adventures and I am due many presents from far away lands upon her return.

Biscuits.  If I were to hand you a warm biscuit with raspberry jam would you: a)  throw it on the ground and shove me on the floor or b) thank me kindly, gobble the biscuit and give me a giant hug?  If your answer involved shoving me on the floor… well, that’s kinda funny, but throwning biscuits on the floor is just plain rude.  Don’t do it.

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Here are a few Monday confessions I feel compelled to get off my chest:

I’ve given up working out for the new year.  I don’t wanna do.  I’m liable to throw a tantrum about it.

I just bought a vacuum, and I’m too embarrassed to tell you how long I went without one.

I’m secretly seriously competitive. Did you hear? Did you vote?

I don’t use parchment paper when I’m supposed to.  At all. I don’t have any good reason for not using it, just a serious mental block.

I don’t like to buy myself fancy kitchen equipment.  I’d rather buy shoes.  Crazy, right?

I made these Giant Paprika Cheddar Biscuits last week around ten in the morning.  By two in the afternoon I had worked my way through a cool four of them.

Again… I’ve given up working out for the new year, which I obviously must feel bad about because here I am mentioning it again.  Unfortunately I don’t feel bad enough to lace up my running shoes…   sigh… moving on!

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If my sister and I were produce instead of people, we’d be persimmons. Without a doubt… a couple of sibling persimmons- from the same tree but oooooooh so different. Let me explain. This will all make sense in a short bit.

My little sister and I are two and a half years apart. That means we were close enough to tear things up and figure out how to get ourselves out of it. You know, experiment, explore, break stuff and try not to get in trouble… life skills.

My sister, as an adorable, slick and sly child genius, would mush up and cry whenever trouble was on the horizon. I was not quite so skilled.

Maybe we’re about to get in trouble for knocking out the screen door that was just installed hours earlier… or we’re about to get a talking to for breaking the bathroom window with a soccer ball… or someone, who shall remain nameless, thought it would be a good idea to swing like Tarzan from the palm tree…

Here’s how the situation would play out: Lauren would run into the house, after one of our outdoor terror sessions , a big ball of red eyes and tears. She’d throw herself on the ground inconsolable, and thus… unpublishable. I would freeze and try to figure out a way to fix the broken thing before my parents could discover it. Not wise. Not wise at all. I was always the one left standing stiff with the broken object, eyes wide, wracking my brain for solutions. Thus… I always got in trouble. I’m not just saying that… Lauren, you totally know it’s true.

Any while we’re on the subject, please allow me this:

Dear Lauren,

You know you were the one that ran straight into the new screen door. That was all you. I was watching The Cosby Show and minding my own business. You and your tears! I got in soooo much trouble for that! No, twenty years later, I’m still not over it. Well played sister. Very well played.

This isn’t over.

Your sister,

Joy

So… um… persimmons. Follow me.

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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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After a swift 24 hours of sitting on my counter with the lid ajar, here are the (less than exciting) photographic results of my sourdough starter.  

This is the starter just before it’s first feeding.  

I know this isn’t terribly exciting.  

I promise I’ve got some lovely recipes in store for you. I won’t make you suffer through watching bacteria grow for too much longer.

How are your starters coming?

I’m off on a baking adventure and I want you to come along.  

All you’ll need is a cup of flour and a cup of water.  

Want to play?

We’re making sourdough starters.  All they needs is a little attention and feeding and we’ve got starter enough for loaves, pancakes and rolls week after week.  

I already have dreams of Saturday morning Sourdough Pancakes trotting through my head.  While the endless possibilities of loaves and rolls is enticing, we all know that I’m really just doing this for the pancakes.  

Jump on over and we’ll get started!

But wait!

If you’re not interested in making a sourdough starter (gasp!) or you already happen to have one in your fridge (applause!), then check out my musings on Mocha Pots de Creme over at FoodProof.  What are these Pots de Creme I speak of?  Only like the most deliciously rich and flavorful chocolate pudding you’ll ever have.  Go on… I know you’re curious!  

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I must be out of my mind. It seems that even the deep August heat can’t curb my constant craving for homemade carbohydrate treats.

Last week I slaved over a pot of 350 degree vegetable oil to fry some fresh doughnuts and this week I hovered over a pot of boiling water cooking up some traditional soft pretzels.

I will admit that these pretzels weren’t nearly as satisfying as the homemade doughnuts. I found the shaping and the subsequent boiling a little bit trying of my patience. I realized half way into the pretzel making process that I was in not mood for shaping and tending to yeasted dough. I was in the mood for instant carb gratification. I should have just hit up the drive through for some french fries.

Begrudgingly, the pretzels got made and adorned with grill seasoning instead of pretzel salt. I like the course flakes of salt, pepper and spices. Of course, served warm with a little brown mustard, my frustrations mostly melted away. The mess in my kitchen…. that was another story entirely.

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I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but- enough with the chocolate chip cookies!

I will admit that for one brief moment, I thought about throwing a handful of chocolate chips into this darling quick bread. I slowly released my death grip from the chip bag, and thought better of it.

This quick bread is fuss-free and it has almonds two ways: almond extract and toasted slivered almonds. The almond flavor is actually really subtle, and the gooey raspberry flavor really comes to the front.

This post is also my submission into 28 Cooks’ Behind the Apron- a look into the hearts and minds of elusive food bloggers. I haven’t been so elusive, have I? I kinda let you all up in my business.

Here we are. Behind the apron. No! Not under the apron! Please get out from under there…

That’s me. I look like a hungry maniac. I sometimes eat off the stirring spoons. I started this food blog after seeing a recipe for slice and bake cookies on Smitten Kitchen. I thought- I want to do that! Now!- and Joy the Baker was born. Now I get paid to bake and write about food, and it feels like a good life. Not only that, I’ve met a whole community of people as nutty about food and photography as me.

I feel like I’m just where I’m supposed to be. Thanks for being here with me.

Now, about that bread.

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I have nicknamed this bread Crazy Face Mango Bread.  Why?  Because every time I tell someone what this treat is- Fresh Mango Bread, they make a crazy face.  I don’t even mention that it’s made with whole wheat flour and also has grated apples (and golden raisins… shhhh!).  That might just send them over the top!

I bet you’re making a crazy face right now.  I’m sure you are…  But this bread is great!  Turn that crazy face into action and whip up a loaf for yourself!  With the flavors of ginger and cinnamon, and the surprise pieces of fresh mango, this bread is perfect with tea for breakfast or an afternoon snack.

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Did you know that they sell quick bread box mixes in grocery stores!?  I think that’s so strange.  Fake flour, loads of sugar, and ultra dehydrated blueberries in a box to be mixed with water and eggs.  This concerns me… deeply.  Exactly how quick does a quick bread have to be to make it in this world?

I think homemade quick breads are dreamy.  With enough creativity and guts, you can throw just about anything into a quick bread and call it delicious.  This go around I tried zucchini and sweet potato.  The combination produced a full and unique flavor:  not too heavy on the zucchini or sweet potato flavors.  And of course, because I’m me, I also loaded the bread with spices, nuts and cranberries.  You can modify if to your taste, I make room for that in the recipe.  Because, yes, I care.

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Baking bread from scratch always makes me stop and really appreciate baking. This French Bread, a classic recipe from Julia Child, is like being in a sometimes difficult, but always rewarding, 9 hour relationship. You have to figure out what this bread needs from you, and the bread might not tell you in a language you understand. Is it too sticky? Does it need more flour? Is it too dry? Does it need more water? Does it need time alone? Should you break up? What it comes down to is feel, intuition, and love. Yes, you must put yourself out there and love your bread. Put it all on the line, and dedicate yourself to a loaf. It might sound silly, but it’s critical. French bread is made up of 4 ingredients- flour, salt, water and yeast. None of these ingredients are a taste treat on their own. They come together, into what I think is one of the most fundamental and simple pleasures. I think what makes these 4 ingredients join so beautifully is the secret 5th ingredient. Yes- it’s love.

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