Joy the Baker

Autumn is settling in.  Autumn has settled in, and here I am ready to accept it.  I’m also ready to accept the fact that my days in the kitchen are about to dramatically increase (if you can believe that) as my cravings for apple crisp (lovelovelovelovelovelovelove), pumpkin cookies and cranberry treats become harder to ignore.  I’m less ready to embrace the way my jeans are tightening around my thighs… or maybe it’s my thighs growing inside my jeans.  Either way, the tightness and the sucking in of the tummy seems to be just a part of the season.

What are you up to in the kitchen these days?  Here’s some food for thought  Yes… I totally just said that. 

Mocha Hazelnut Marble Cake.  This cake was gorgeous, classy and utterly fine… until I tried to transport it in a fancy cake stand and got this glistening chocolate glaze exactly everywhere.  Everywhere.  Lesson learned. 

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I sometimes wish that my future self could just pop into my present world just to… you know… say hi, and let me know that everything in the future is going along just swimmingly.  That never happens, but maybe I just haven’t given future me enough guidance.  With this in mind…  here’s a quick letter to future me.  Now maybe 48 year old me will get crackin’ on some answers.  Slacker.  

Dear Future Me,

Hi.  How’s it going?  You look really pretty in that sweater.  

I have a few questions for you.  I hope you’ll indulge me.  

Are you still unreasonably afraid of spiders?  Probably.  You know what?  That’s ok.  That’s what spouses are for… clearing spiders from anywhere that might interfere with you.  

Speaking of spouses… do you have one?  How’s that going?  Awesome.  I hope it’s awesome.  I hope you two hold hands and take morning walks and go out on dates.  

Do you still buy the cheap mascara?  Have you been to Italy yet?  

Tell me you still wear a little black dress and heels on occasion.  Please.  

Kids.  Do we have Mom hands yet? Oooh, I love Mom hands.  I can’t wait to have Mom hands… well I can wait.  I’m waiting right this very second and I don’t feel bad.  But Mom hands…. I bet we totally have Mom hands. 

How do you feel about eggplant?  Do you like eggplant yet?

What’s been good?  What’s been not so good?  Are you livin’ the dream?

Let me know how we are.  Send me a sign… maybe a paper airplane with your answers… whatever you need to do.

I’ll be sitting here with a cup of tea and my Spiced Apple Cake waiting to hear from you.

Love,

Present Me

Quick Blurb of Shamelessness

Hi… it’s me, Joy the Baker.  I hang out here a lot.  So do you.  I like that.  Thanks. 

Last week I was nominated for the Foodbuzz Blog Awards.  The Best Baking Blog… go figure.  If you’re feeling… votey, you might head on over to Foodbuzz to vote for all the fine folks that are up for an award.  Yea?  Thanks!

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Cake flour.  Let’s face facts:  I never have cake flour on hand when I need it.  Luckily, there’s a super easy way to turn good old all-purpose flour into cake flour, lightening your cake crumb, making it super soft and delicious.    Maybe you already know this trick.  It’s a good one.  

Here’s a step by step.  From me to you!

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Ok… first of all, stop looking at me like that.

Yea, I can see that crazy look of your face.  But it’s me.  The same person that brought you amazing Cream Cheese Cinnamon Rolls and Perfect Lemon Pound Cake. We trust each other.  We have an understanding.  Just go with me on this.

Something about hot summer weather gets me to thinking (or melts my brain) and brings some strange recipes to the surface.  Remember last year’s Blueberry Ice Cream with Homemade Hot Fudge?  Yea… I got a few strange looks for that too.

Because I still see those raised eyebrows on your face, let me tell you a little about this beast of a cake.  Believe me, I was super skeptical too.

The vegan chocolate cake is dense and moist, and everything you might want from a chocolate cake minus the eggs and butter.  The fat in the cake is almond oil (or anything you have on hand) and one whole mashed avocado.  It’s lovely, and I didn’t taste a lick of avocado in the cake.

The avocado buttercream is a dash more strange.  Yes, it’s bright green.  Yes, the only fat in the buttercream is avocado meat.  It’s sweet with slight hints of citrus.  I had my doubts, but when combined with the chocolate cake… holy wow!  It actually worked!  It was honest-to-goodness delicious!  Not to mention vegan and full of healthy fats!

Your thoughts?  Have I scared you off?

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Before I made this cake on Sunday afternoon, I sat down with a nice, tall root beer float.  Sure, it was 10:30 in the morning.  I suppose that technically that means I had a root beer float for breakfast.  That’s one of the great thing about being an adult, you can have a float for breakfast with no resistance.

Something about a root beet float puts me on a conveyor belt back to some really random childhood memories.  The taste, the bubbles, the increasingly creamy soda… it take me back to constantly skinned knees, playing in a beat-up old red wagon with my sister, and sitting in front of an old black and white television watching baseball with my grandfather.  Funny what a little ice cream and soda can do in your brain, right?

But cake!?  Root Beet Float Cake?  I have so many questions.  Will it have the same memory inducing effects as the real deal?  Is that asking too much?  Wait, is this cake chocolate or root beer?  Can I eat it for breakfast?  Will it change my life for the better?

Answers and cake, just a click away.

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Please allow me this bright and promising Monday morning to keep it one hundred percent real with you.  While this gluten free cake was buttery, nutty, bright with the flavor of lemon and perfectly sweet, the truth is, it ended up all over my floor.  Well… ok, bits on the floor, chunks on the counter, and pieces in my dirty sink.  Basically, this cake landed everywhere except the cake plate where I wanted it.

I salvaged a few if the larger pieces to mock up a pretty picture for you.  For a few moments I thought I might not even tell you about my cake accident.  But… see, my cake didn’t just land on the floor because I’m clumsy, but because I was taking baking liberties that I shouldn’t have.  Fact.

This cake taught me a small lesson about baking pan choices and cooking times.  It also helped me get my cake dropping out of the way for the next several months.  I only drop a cake every three months or so.  I feels good to be free and clear for a few months to come.

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How are you going to share the love the Valentine’s Day?  How do you share the love every other day of the year?

At the restaurant, this Saturday night’s reservations are already fully booked.  We’re going to be packed to the gills with love birds.  We’ve got people calling trying to pull the VIP card.  What’s that?  Oh.. you happen to think you and the chef are bffs this week and you’d like a table for two at 8?  Tough luck.  Really…

But Friday night…?  Not a soul.

What a day Valentine’s Day is… so ripe with expectations, how can you satisfy?

I remove myself from the whole game.  There are so many other gorgeous days of my life that I prefer to share love with the world around me.  How do I do it?  It usually involves butter, brown sugar and cocoa powder, but that’s just my style.

Sometimes love is as simple as sending someone a goofy postcard.  As deliberate as looking someone in the eye and smiling as you pass on the street.  As tiring as staying up extra late to make your Mom a birthday cake.  We share more love than we might realize.  Everyday, in the little things.  Let’s remember that this week.  Let’s remember that always.  It’s those little touches that make this life seem loads brighter.

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Allow me this space to keep it real.

Part of growing up (and oh how I want to wrestle that concept) is figuring out how to comfort myself.  Man alive… that’s a hard one.

We all have our shaky moments, when life flips itself upside down and reminds you that you’re not exactly the boss of everything around you.  In those moments, believe me when I say, I just want to hurl myself on the floor and throw a bona fide tantrum.  The only problem with tantrums, is that people don’t really cares much as they did when I was three,  and it just ruins my mascara.

Then there’s french fries.  French fries are far better than tantrums.

Even better than french fries I’ve found, is a good, loud sing.  When I needed comfort yesterday, when I was feeling a little shaky, I literally stood in my living room and sang whatever songs came to mind.  Loud.  With my eyes closed.  Like I really meant it.  From the inside.  It felt so so good.

And then there’s cake.

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Lemon-Drenched Lemon Cake.

For this cake, simple loaf pans just don’t measure up. After one slice of the perfect, absolutely perfect cake, it became clear that when I next bake this cake (tomorrow morning), I’ll need to devise some sort of pillow shaped cake pan.

This cake is going to be my new pillow. Forget goose feathers, cotton fluff, memory foam… I want, I need, I’m not sure how I’m going to live without a Lemon-Drenched Lemon Cake Pillow.

For serious.

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Kid Table.  Can we talk about the Kid Table?  The Kid Table was something that I had to endure every holiday from the age of three to um…. present.  You know what the Kid Table is, right?

The integral family socialization tool.  The foundation of society.   The folding table and chairs circa 1943 that your Grandma busts out every every every Christmas.  Who sits at this pint sized table?  Certainly not Grandpa, Grandma, or any other high ranking family members.

It’s called the Kid Table for a reason.  It’s where you dump all the kids.  In the adult mind, I think it’s the “sit down, eat your Christmas dinner, and if you’re going to throw your Jello salad at each other, I prefer to ignore it” table.

The Kid Table still exists in my family.  One small catch:  there are no more kids in my family.

Let me just say that Christmas dinner at the Kid Table is now…. more awesome than ever!  Kid Table got cool.  Kid Table is now the place to be.  Boom… youth success!

There’s nothing like wine, family smack talk with your cool uncles, and stealing all of the thunder from the main table.  They would sooooo like to think they’re the main event.  False.  Kid Table… cooler than ever!

And now… Pear Spice Cake.

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I need to talk to you about the holidays, about the parties, about the dress, and about the cocktails. I need to talk to you about how cake, how the right cake can make it all better.

I had the perfect holiday dress all picked out. This dress would get me through thick and thin, casual and dressy. It was a simple and sassy black dress. I could do it up with colorful tights and heels or tone it down with a cardigan and scarf. This dress could go from holiday family function to night on the town…

All was fine and good until the dress actually went out on the town. Correction- I went out on the town and… well… the dress didn’t survive.

Let’s just say, that after several glasses of wine, and various other spirits, I found myself (and my dress) rolling down a rainy concrete hill. Don’t worry. I wasn’t hurt. I was protected by a hearty belly full of booze and the three friends I rolled down the hill with. It was hilarious. Memories were made. Dresses were… torn.

I now know that holiday parties are dangerous. That lesson came at a steep price: one helluva hangover and one tragically torn dress.

With my holiday dress out of commission, I was in a serious bind this weekend. Yea… the “what am I going to wear!?” bind. I decided to not sweat it. I decided that if I waltzed into a party with a gorgeous cake, not a soul would be worried about what I was wearing…

Guess what?

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This cake and I. Ooooh this cake and I.

We had a fight, maybe I should call it a misunderstanding.

I had expectations for this cake. I needed it to be a certain way to make me happy.  Mistakes.

I wanted this cake to be dense, but moist, perfectly golden, easy to cut and just downright irresistible. In other words, I wanted this cake to be perfect. Perfect in the ways I wanted it to be perfect. Oh Joy. It’s like I’ve learned absolutely nothing these past twenty something years.

Nothing is perfect. No, correction. Things can be perfect if imagined in your head. Real life… the real stuff is never as perfect as it is in your head. But… (oh the but). Sometimes. Most times. The imperfections are what become the most perfect part of life.

Boom. Knowledge. I just dropped it.

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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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Forgive me.  I realize I’m a complete maniac about pancakes.  Not only did I post about pancakes just a few days back, but those pancakes were nearly two weeks in the making.

How about a pancake heavy on the cake?  These carrot cake pancakes are like living in the best of both worlds.  You’ve got all your warm pancake goodness embellished with carrot cake spices, loads of carrots and.  AND!  cinnamon cream cheese spread.  In some ways, and let’s try to keep this a secret,  these carrot cake pancakes are just an excuse to spread sweet cinnamon cream cheese spread all over my breakfast.

Joy, of Joy the Baker is learning all about Italian wines and cheeses.  I got home from a morning wine tasting and decided that I needed something that would sit in my tummy and stick to my ribs.  See,  at this particular morning wine tasting I discovered why there are spit buckets.  If you don’t spit out the glorious wines you’re tasting, you might find yourself tipsy, trying to pronounce Italian wine names to your Italian boss before 10 in the morning.  Not so hot.

Not a winner,  but these pancakes are.

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Let’s turn the clocks back to the beginning of Joy the Baker. This extra dreamy lemon pound cake was one of my very first Joy the Baker posts. I nabbed a friend’s fancy camera and after a 15 minute crash course, started baking and shooting my favorite pound cake recipe. Those were the humble beginnings of Joy the Baker. Let’s face it, this is still a humble sight, but I’m dreaming big. Hopefully some of those dreams will bring some fun changes to this sight in the coming months.

I’m bringing you a repeat today because I’m still in the weeds with Joy the Baker life. Want to know what’s going on? Let’s just say it involves learning (and tasting) about 90 international cheeses and memorizing their flavor profiles. Don’t even get me started on the insane wine… that’s a whole other beast.

Sourdough starters? Have I let you down on the starters?

Here’s what I did with my starter- After 7 days of dumping and feeding at room temperature, I fed my starter one last time and put it in the fridge. I plan on using my starter for pancakes on Sunday morning, so I’m going to take my starter out of the fridge Saturday morning, feed it and leave it ajar at room temperature until Sunday morning when I’m ready for my pancakes. I sure hope you’re still playing along!

Want to know more about this incredible pound cake!? Lemon Pound Cake with Warm Blueberry Sauce.

Joy the Baker has gone off the deep end a bit.  My schedule for the next week is simply beyond what I can even comprehend.  I need a body/baking double.  

Right now I’m dealing with the stress by madly pacing my house and shoving handfuls of Reese’s Pieces into my face.  I wish one of you were here to stop me.

I know we’re in the middle of our sourdough starter madness.  Tomorrow is the seventh day of my starter.  It’s bubbly and smelly (in a good way), so I’m going to feed it, cover it and toss it in the fridge until I have a moment to bake up some bread and pancakes.  How are your starters going?  Have any questions?

While I’m away, take a moment to revisit this Joy the Baker Classic-  Blackberry Jam Cake.

We’re going back to the beginning with this cake. Ice Cream Cakes- that’s what started it all. Can I tell you a story?

I moved from Los Angeles, California to Burlington, Vermont when I was 18 and straight out of high school. I had it in my head that I didn’t want to go to college right away, and that I wanted to do some soul searching, as far away from my parents as I could get. I landed in Burlington with one suitcase and the phone number to one friend that I knew there. My friend Niki graciously let me stay in her apartment, and her Lisa friend gave me a job at the Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream flagship store. Miracously I had it all worked out. I had a place to stay and a job. There was just one small hitch- I was TERRIFIED. I had never been so far away from home and out in the world on my own. I literally stayed in Niki’s apartment for a full week. I never even cracked the door open. I knew that I was in a strange place, surrounded by people I didn’t know and I, frankly, didn’t want anything to do with any of it. I stayed in that apartment listening to Niki’s entire music collection and taking lots of baths. That’s when I discovered I loved Billie Holiday and grapefruit bubble bath.

What finally drove me out of my cave? Food of course, I ran out of food and I’m no good with hunger pains.

Once I was out of the apartment and well fed, I realized that my new surroundings were actually pretty awesome. People acknowledged me as I walked down the street. I lived right around the corner from the most beautiful lake, a glass blowing studio, a picture perfect chapel and a culinary school that fed me samples of their student food every day. It was the most beautiful, friendly, warm and open place I’ve ever been.

My job scooping ice cream at Ben and Jerry’s quickly turned into the head cake decorator position. I could frost and decorate an ice cream cake like maniac. And because we’re talking about wild and wacky Ben and Jerry’s, the flavor combinations and signature tie dye frostings were completely over the top.

I loved my job. I loved Vermont. I met some characters that I won’t soon forget.

Once I stepped out of that apartment door, after a week of solitude and regret, I felt that I was blazing forward on the life I knew I wanted for myself. I also learned how to make a killer Ice Cream Cake along the way. That’s was almost ten years ago…. wow.

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This endeavour was in no way glamorous.  If nothing else, these Homemade Twinkies highlighted my ability to make something from nothing.  I knew I wanted to make Twinkies, which if you aren’t familiar with, are white cake like treats with a light marshmallow-ish cream center.   Amazon sells do-it-yourself-Twinkie-pans, but sometimes I prefer the uphill battle.

So when the need for a Homemade Twinkie strikes, I get out my roll of foil and spice bottle, and I make my own pan.  Well, I’m being generous in calling it a pan.  I essentially made foil boats for cake batter.  I know.  Kinda madness.  I didn’t dream this notion on my own- thank you YouTube.

I’m almost embarrassed to share this with you….  they were so tasty, but the road getting there wasn’t so glamorous.  Sometimes these things happen in my kitchen.

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Praise the heavens!  I got a new cookbook!  I think I was in a cookbook rut.  I found myself relying on the same two cookbooks day after day for my baking indulgence.  Granted, they’re great cookbooks- charming, attractive and funny- but I had heard all their stories, seem all of their dress shirts, and laughed at all their jokes.  I needed something new.

Just when I was about to accept my circumstance, a charming new love came into my life. Sweets by Patty Pinner is my new darling.  This book is more than just a collection of recipes.  Sweets is a gathering of family memories.  In my life food is all about family and memories, so this book has quickly become so so dear to my heart.

Sweets is a southern style cookbook.  The recipes are extremely approachable.  Some of the cakes are made with (gasp!) cake mix, and then fancied up with additional ingredients.  The family pictures are utterly charming and the stories that go along with each recipe are really touching.  I read this book, cover to cover on an airplane, like a novel.  I just love it!

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In my life, the topic of food is completely inseparable from the topic of family.  I know this connection isn’t unique to me.  I’m sure you can all relate in one way or another.  My family comes together in the kitchen.  It’s like we’re a gang of rebel pirates (yes, pirates) and my dad is the captain.  He’s the sauce man, the dip man, the master biscuit makes and the pie guy.  He’s got it all covered and my sister, mom and I just follow directions.  We all have our jobs and our strengths, and together we take no prisoners in the kitchen.  We are pirates, after all.

The end product is always such a joy.  We laugh over huge pans of cheesy enchiladas, we celebrate with bowls of pasta and homemade marinara sauce, and we sometimes mourn over dense, sweet cakes.  We run the gamut of emotions always together, always in the kitchen.  

This Memorial Day weekend we came together in San Francisco.  Yes, I stepped out of my kitchen for a day… and into another, much more rowdy and crowded kitchen.

It was also my birthday and my sister and mom made me the beautiful Hummingbird Cake that you see above.

After the jump, my birthday Sunday, in seven pictures.  Sorry kids, no recipe in this installment, just pretty pictures.

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