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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These eggs aren’t the only thing that’s scrambled.  

My brains…. also pretty scrambled right now.  

As far as I see it, there are two solutions to the scrambled brain mess that I’ve got going on inside my head right now: a whole weekend worth of sleep or a bag of fun size Snickers bars.  

Aaaand Snickers it is… but first, let me show you what I eat morning, noon and night:  scrambled eggs.  

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Today’s Maple Pecan Muffins are dedicated to Tracey.  

Tracey, you are dear and darling… and 15, which is equal parts hard and rad, I know.  

Let me tell you a little about Tracey.  Tracey had her 15th birthday last week.  Tracey’s best friend Maggie sent me a pretty precious email asking me if I would send Tracey an autographed picture of myself for her birthday.  See,  Tracey is a great baker and a huuuuge fan of my site.  

I’m not the sort to have pictures of myself to autograph on hand… that would be totally weird,  so I sent Tracey a little birthday gift and handwritten note.  Easy enough, right?   In return Tracey sent me a very long, very excited, exceedingly adorable email to thank me for her birthday present.  Seriously friends… this girl is priceless.  

After reading Tracey’s email a handful of times (it was packed to the gills with information), here are a few things I want you to know about my new friend:

Tracey makes a mean lemon pound cake with blueberry sauce.  

Tracey almost set her house ablaze trying to make these doughnuts.  

Tracey is obsessed with muffins… and feeds them to her dog.  Let’s all just pretend like that’s normal.  

Tracey got a “Tracey the Baker” apron for her birthday.  Clearly I have competition. 

By sharing loads homemade cookies, Tracey is well on her way to becoming the most popular girl in school.  Don’t get too popular Tracey… it might be overrated.    

Tracey giggles a lot… not in emails, but this is just something I’ve surmised from being 15 and eating a lot of sugar once upon a time.

Tracey?  Is that Jesus peeking over your shoulder on your fridge there?  If so… awesome.  If not… awkward. 

Tracey these muffins are my little shout out to you because it seems like you get as excited about eggs and butter and sugar and flour as I do.  That makes me happy. Thank you. 

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This time last year I was up to all sorts of mischief in the kitchen.  

Don’t believe me?  Well check out the Blood and Bones above.  Red hot chocolate with bone shaped meringues?  Sinister. 

How about this Butterscotch Pudding with Bourbon Whipped Cream.  One tablespoon of bourbon for the whipped cream…. five tablespoons of bourbon for my belly.  Please.  Thank you.

Then there’s the Carrot Cake Pancakes with Cinnamon Cream Cheese Spread.  Cake and frosting for breakfast.  Sure, I can call them pancakes.  Yes, I added a vegetable… but seriously… this is just good old fashioned cake before noon.  I say do it!

It’s Friday friends!  What sort of mischief are you going to get up to in the kitchen this weekend?

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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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 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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Strawberries make me restless.

It’s a fact.  Yes, a strange fact, but no less true.

See, in my part of the world, strawberries come along every year right around May.  This is around the time when I’ve loooooong ago let slide any New Year’s resolutions I might have made for myself, when it’s possible that I’ve slacked a bit on my workout routine, and the goal of reading a chapter of a book a night before I fall asleep has somehow transferred into watching an old episode of House every night before I pass out.

Don’t even get me started on the mania that I try to pass off as my closet.  It’s not pretty.

So…. strawberries come along at a time of year when I’ve cemented in some slightly lazy and ooooooh so comfortable habits for myself.

I don’t know how or why this works, but strawberries inspire me to shake my world up a bit, maybe introduce something new, maybe hop on one leg every morning just for the hell of it…. whatever.  This is the time of year when I change things up a bit.

This year, strawberries have inspired me to do two things:  learn Italian and combine fresh strawberries with one of my favorite cakes of all time…. streusel topped coffee cake.

Let’s do this.

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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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I woke up to an utterly dreamy California morning on Tuesday.  The soft morning sun was just streaming through my bedroom window, the birds were singing good morning, and I knew that I had a whole basket of clean laundry for the week ahead.  Pretty sweet morning, right?

Sure… the only problem was that my brain was entirely unwilling to join  the sunny spirit.  Nope.  I felt like on  big stale loaf of bread.  After an extended love affair with my snooze button, I determined, behind closed eyelids, that the only thing that would change my circumstance was streusel topping.  On the shuffle from my warm bed to the kitchen counter I decided that blueberry muffins with streusel topping would flip the light switch in my brain.

There was only one problem with my blueberry muffin plan.  I had not a blueberry in sight.  No fresh.  No frozen… just a whole lotta outta luck.  After rifling through my freezer and fridge I emerged with the tail end of a bag of frozen raspberries, and half a jar of strawberry jam.  I figured that, brought together under the welcoming umbrella of streusel topping, these two would simply have to work.  Not but thirty minutes later, puffy streusel topped muffins found their way out of the oven and into my face.  While they didn’t pay that pesky credit card bill, or make that much needed dentist appointment, they at least kept me from crawling back in bed for a handful of hours.  Sometimes, that kind of help is just enough.

It’s not every morning that you jump out of bed ready for the world, fully equipped to make blueberry muffins.  When those morning escape you, I promise that with a little jam, the remains of your frozen fruit collection, and loads of streusel topping, you just might be able to set things right.

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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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Not every morning in my life is filled with Chocolate Chip Buttermilk Pancakes and Chocolate Chocolate Chip Banana Bread… not when things like my ten year class reunion and bathing suit season loom just around the corner.  For real friends, those are two scary things.  At least I don’t have to go to my ten year reunion in my bathing suit.  Can you imagine the horror!?   Yea… so there’s always a silver lining.

I’d like to introduce you to Low Fat Oatmeal Banana Bread.  If this bread were one of your dear friends from high school, it would be that friend who wore old lady shoes because they were the most practical, and played the trombone, and was the super smart editor of the school newspaper.  This bread would be the friend that was super sensible, and sweet and just downright made you feel good about your day.

Go ahead, think of this Low Fat Oatmeal Banana Bread as your friend… and then it eat.  No, there’s nothing weird about that.

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Dear Future Husband and Future Children,

While it’s clear that the universe hasn’t yet pressed us together into a family mold, I think it prudent to get a few things about our life out in the open.  You know, for the sake of transparency.

Future Husband!  In all likelihood, I think you’re the coolest guy around.  You’re awesome.  While I’m certain there are things you do that drive me a little mad, the fact that you help me with the dishes and make me tea in the morning just makes me swoon.  I’m a little quirky.  You’re probably a little nutty too.  That’s only  fair.  You should know that I sometimes show my love in… pancakes, piles and piles of warm pancakes.  Pancakes for breakfast.  Pancakes for a snack.  Pancakes for dinner.  Pancakes.  It’s important that you like, no, loooove pancakes and understand that when I make giant plates of them for breakfast, I’m just trying to show you how much I love you.  Deal?

Future Children!  You’re super cute.  You must be just adorable.  You should know that I want to squeeze you constantly.  When I mix up your names, you should know that it’s not that I don’t know your names… it’s just that things get a little complicated when I’m trying to wrangle all y’all.  Eat your broccoli.  It will make you beautiful, or at least that’s what my Mom used to tell me.  When you feel mortified by my very presence in your teenage years, just realize that that’s all part of the game.  I’m actually not that uncool and you’ll realize that at some point.

Also, like I told your father, I’m going to make you piles and piles of pancakes some mornings.  Eat them, because I love you and you love me, and we love pancakes.

Thanks Future Husband.  Thanks Future Children.  I love you like crazy.  K.  Thanks.  Bye.

Future Wife/Future Mother,

Joy

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Things that are awesome and things that are not awesome; an incomplete list.

Things that are awesome:

Summer dresses that look great with summer ponytails.

Bathing suits + Palm Springs + Rented Summer House + Sun Screen + Giant Sun Glasses + Mojitos x Infinity = Awesome.

Big, fat bumble bees… come on, they’re precious.

Pulling this beautiful Dutch Baby out of the oven on Easter morning,  sprinkling it with orange sugar and feeling like Julia Child… that’s awesome.

Things that are NOT awesome:

Otherwise perfect vintage dresses that are half a size too small.

Bathing suit shopping… exactly no one likes that, and why on earth are my legs so white!?

Bee stings on the butt.  It happens people.  It really happens.

Not pulling this Dutch Baby out of the oven on Easter morning… that’s not awesome at all.

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I woke up this morning ready to celebrate Friday.  This, despite the fact that I’m convinced that I’m due at least fourteen hours more sleep, and moving past the idea that I deserve a sleep re-do for having fallen asleep with all the light on, teeth unbrushed and (gasp!) bra still on.  I don’t get a do-over, or more sleep… but I do get a Friday, and that’s a little bit of all right with me.

This week, I overheard someone say “Whatever… you know that Thursday is the new Friday.”  Hm… I don’t know where they work, or how they pull that off, but to me “Friday is the same, old Friday”… and sometimes “Saturday is the new Friday” making “Sunday the new weekend”.

Wanting to celebrate Friday as the same, old Friday got me thinking about all the great little moments I had during the week.  You know… the little things- getting a card in the mail from Mom, or finding a crumpled ten dollar bill in your back pocket.

What are the three best things that happened to you this week?   Think on it.  Here’s what I’m workin’ with.

1. I dropped a cake I had just baked on the floor.  We can talk more about that later,  but thought to myself:  ok, well that shouldn’t happen again for another few months.  I’m glad that’s out of the way.  Then I wanted to yell and swear, but there was no one around to hear it, so I didn’t bother.  This restraint for lack of an audience later made me laugh at myself.

2.  I’m sitting here, in this very moment, enjoying a cup of hot tea and a few of my dad’s buttermilk biscuits.  It’s quiet and sunny and just warm enough to not regret my warm covers in the other room.  Quiet simplicity is a week highlight for sure.

3.  I’m going up to Oakland this weekend.  I’m going to wear a dress.  Don’t try to stop me.  Both things are going to happen.

In the meantime, I think you should take these Cinnamon Raisin Pull-Apart Muffins for a spin.

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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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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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Everyday requires a little adventure, wouldn’t you agree?

Some days (say… yesterday for me) that adventure can be as simple as taking a new route home from work (and getting lost driving through the canyons).

Other days, that adventure might mean moving to France for three months  (not my adventure, but bon voyage dear Carsen!).

Maybe sometime during this bright and brisk week, your adventure will involve these Chai Spiced Pancakes.  I dunno about you, but there’s something about a steaming plate of pancakes makes me feel like I’m living the good life.  And chai spice?  Well, let’s just agree to calling that a mild pancake adventure.

Whatever adventure means to do, I say go and do!  Big or small.  France or pancakes.  Treat yourself to a little adventure this week…. and forever.  Foreva, eva, eva?  Yes.

In other exciting, non pancake related news, the 2009 Bloggies are announced this afternoon.  You might want to hop on over there and check out the big winners.  Remember waaaaay back a month ago when I was nominated for Best New Blog?  Yea… well.  Win or no win, being nominated has been the most awesome kick in the pants.  Thanks for making that happen for me.  Really.  Thanks!

Wait!!  There’s more!  Here’s a super secret tip!  You might want to find yourself back here this time tomorrow for a super awesome giveaway.  I’m just sayin’…

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I’ve figured out that most things in life… well, they completely surprise me.  As soon as I expect certainty, life has a way of galloping in with situations, opportunities and loves that I never could have imagined for myself.

Despite all of life’s uncertainties, I’m convinced that some things are set in stone.  Some things I’m just certain of.

I’m certain that I can throw back a box of Frosted Mini Wheats and happily call that dinner.

I’m certain that, before the week is finished, I’ll have spilled something juicy and red on my new favorite white shirt.

I’m certain that despite my nurturing personality and love of colorful flowerbeds, I’m destined to massacre every flowerbed I’m charged with caring for.

I’m certain that breakfast always tastes better served warm out of a cast iron skillet.

We wobble our way through most of life’s uncertainties.

Sometimes it just feels good to hold unto something certain, like the warm handle of a breakfast skillet filled with simmering berries and warm dumplings.  Yes.  Success.

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