Joy the Baker

I’m putting on an orange leotard tomorrow.  An orange leotard. 

I’m also putting on bright blue leggings tomorrow.. and white leg warmers… and sweat bands.  

I’m going to encourage the big, puffy, curly hair that I spend most days trying to tame.  Yes, there will be blue eye shadow.

I’m going to step out in the world tomorrow as an 80’s aerobics instructor.  The only little hitch?  That I actually have to step out of the house in a skin tight orange leotard and skin tight blue leggings.  Oooh lordy.  Whose idea was it to take the Halloween celebration beyond my solo living room dance parties?  Yeeps!  

Ironically, the only thing making me feel better about my very bright and very tight 80’s debut are these S’mores Icebox Candy Bars.  There are fifteen in a batch and I’ve worked through four just writing this post.  Send help.  Orange leotard, people…. send help. 

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Have I introduced you to my little sister Lauren? 

Lauren… this is everyone.  

Everyone… this is Lauren.  

Lauren and I grew up in the kitchen together.  We made brownies, we burnt cookies, we frosted crooked cakes, and we could plow through a box of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch in 10 minutes flat.  We were always in the kitchen either creating or consuming.  True.  

Things aren’t all that different for me and Lauren these days.  We spend a lot of time baking up treats, talking about Paula Dean, and arguing about which awkward teenage phase was worse:  my Blossom Hat Phase or her Sweatpants and Vest Wearing Phase.  Just typing those out… they each seem like equal tragedies.  Thank heavens we’ve moved past that.  

I’m introducing you to my sister because these two things are true:

1.  If Lauren were not in the world, I would surely be unable to breathe… that’s how much I love this girl. 

2.  I shoved my camera in Lauren’s hands last week, told her to bake something and take pictures of it.  In her unending brilliance, she returned to me a camera full of pictures (including the self portrait below) and six of these cookies.  Holy heck!  A food blogger could get used to this kind of treatment.  For real.  

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Dear My Bank,

We’ve known each other for a long time.  You know how I deposit my humble paychecks every so often, how I rarely use the ATM, and how I hate to use my debit card at the gas station.  I know that you like to decorate with bullet-proof glass… guns, I get it… have pens that don’t always work, and always want me to sign up for your credit card.  As much as I hate to admit it, we sort of have a thing going.

Let’s be honest Bank.  We’re not friends.  We don’t even really like each other very much.  I know that you have rules.  You know… if you’re being honest with yourself, that I do my very best to follow your rules.  And I do… Bank…..! Unless, I suppose, I just forget to add one payment to my balance books, leading me to believe I have several hundred dollars in you, Bank… instead of less than zero.

Here’s my beef with you… Bank!  Jerky bank.  When you penalize me several times in a row for spending money that I thought I had, well… that doesn’t get me any closer to having the money that you’d like to take.  How on Earth did you determine that $33 was an acceptable overdraft charge?  Why are you allowed to take money that I don’t have?  You know what I think?  I think you’re taking advantage of my mistake.  You know me, Bank.  You know that I don’t like to spend money I don’t have… and when I do… accidentally… you use that as an opportunity to take advantage of me.

That’s reeeeeaal crappy.

Nobody likes you.  I’ve done the research.  It’s true.

Nobody will ever… not even once… make you cookies just because you’re nice.  Why?  Because you’re not nice.

Now you know.

Love,

Joy

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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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Dear Girl (that sat next to me on the plane last night),

Hi.  How are you?  This is just a quick note to let you know that you sat on my glasses.  I know that you know that you sat on my glasses.  You did, after all,  hand them back to me crazy mangled.  I trust that you know what shape glasses generally assume.

I understand that there are two active parties in this tragedy.  There’s the person that accidentally left her glasses in the middle seat next to her while she properly stowed her purse under the seat in from of her…. that’s me.  There’s also the person that was in such a hurry to get into that second row middle seat, that didn’t let the girl with the glasses on the aisle properly acclimate before barging in… that’s you.  So, you sat on my glasses.

My favorite part about you sitting on my glasses, was how you showed exactly zero remorse for the damage you caused.  That was awesome.  Hey… remember that part when I was very obviously trying to bend them back in shape in front of you?  Yea… that was pretty fun too.  That was me being passive aggressive.  I bet that was your favorite part.

Oh well, they’re just glasses, right?  Next time, I’ll watch where I put my glasses if you watch where you put your body.  Deal?

Sincerely,

Joy

And now… dark chocolate cookies.  Let’s do this.

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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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I was notorious in my family for being the child that could only be comforted by my mother.

Most playful family weekends, the scene went something like this:  I’d be in the backyard playing with my little sister, my dad and Scamper, the family dog on our creaky, rusted and awesomely fun swing set.  My favorite move was to swing as high as I could, count to three with my sister and jump out of the swings onto the grass.  Sounds innocent enough, but I was always getting my little girl fingers stuck in the chains of the swing as I dismounted.

I’d hit the ground and look at my dad with the silent cry face… the face kids give their parents before the completely lose it and burst into tears.  My dad would invariable come over and try to talk me out of losing it, but I was already halfway into the ugly cry by then.  It was then that no one but my mom could handle the cajoling and kissing of my finger.  I’d run into the house, screaming like a maniac and clutching my (not even bleeding) finger, looking for my mother who had found just a few moments peace to take a shower or a short nap.  I’d force myself into her lap, lift the offending, pained finger, and wait for the mom comfort to blanket me.  So good.

Come to think of it, that swing set caused as many injuries as it did smiles.

Come to think of it, jumping off the swing set is always worth the hurt finger.

Come to think of it, this pudding has much the same healing qualities as my mom’s lap.

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Everyone has their own way of enjoying toasted marshmallows.  It’s very much a personal thing… this I understand.

I like my roasted, toasted marshmallows extra crispy… extra well done.  I want that sucker on  the end of the misshapen close hanger, stuck right into the depths of the fire.  I want it to come out flaming.  That’s right, I’m a marshmallow torch girl.

Apparantely, the marshmallow torch is not how you make friends at all-girl sleep away camp.  I would always get groans of disapproval from the girls that were trying to keep their precious marshmallows just far enough away from the orange coals to perfectly toast them.  Maybe they were less than thrilled with my marshmallow torch because I usually managed to set at least one of their darling marshmallows on fire just out of sheer proximity.  I considered it a favor.  Them..?  Not so much.

But these brownies aren’t really about my summer camp misadventures, are they?  These S’mores Brownies are more about fudgy, dense chocolate that bakes up with graham cracker bits and toasted marshmallows.  Toasted, not torched.

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Pie takes time.  Pie requires attentions.  Pie demands love and care.  Pie, even for an everyday baker like me, is a lost art.

I needed a good, old fashioned, pie contest to help me slow down, take a breath, and dream up the most delicious pie I could.

The most delicious thing I could dream up was this:  bananas, homemade peanut butter, chocolate, graham crackers, butter, whipped cream, and as much sugar as I could reasonably pack into a single pie dish…. and some chocolate shavings for good measure.

The result:  one mad Peanut Butter Banana Cream Pie.  The contest:  inspired by Whitney and several bottles of wine.  The contestants:  as serious about pie as they are about being incredibly fashionable and audaciously cool.  The competition:  stiff.  The winner:  one devastating, delicious and perfectly tart Key Lime Pie.

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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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Holy WOW, people!!

Where the heck did you all come from!?  I had no idea so many of you were sneaking around.  I’m glad I could coax you out of the shadows with a giveaway. I only wish I had more bags to give away… Stick around, I’ve got more stuff to give.  For reals.

In the mean time, how about a little Valentine inspired treat?  When I think of Valentine’s Day, I usually want to run and hide.  Red roses, pink boxes of candy, cheap champagne… count me way way way way out.  The one thing about Valentine’s day I can support is homemade heart shaped treats.

And so, with the charmingly kitchy elements of Valentine’s Day in mind, I bring you Heart Shaped Dipped Krispies.

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What would it feel like if vacations lasted forever?  Would it feel as good as I think it would?  Yes.  Yes, it would.

Reality hits hard after you’ve had days to let your brain ease into a happy mush.

I’m not complaining.  Does it sound like I’m complaining?  Ok… maybe a little.  It’s just hard to let vacation time slip out of my hands.

Maybe permanent vacation is like only eating these cookies for the rest of your days.  Sure, they have both chocolate and vanilla, but you can’t eat cookies forever.  They’d lose their cookie goodness.  Maybe permanent vacation would somehow start to feel like work.  Constant cookies and vacation? I’d be willing to experiment  just to see how the two would treat me after a few years.

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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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Black. White.

Chocolate. Vanilla.

Cake. Cookie.

My favorite cookies, ever.

Yes. I can have it all.

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Some things are over the top for even me. Some things are so good that they actually hurt. I’m a real sucker for all chocolate and peanut butter combinations… but really!? Chocolate, peanut butter AND Rice Krispy Treats? Out of control. I think I pulled a baking muscle. These bars are so rich, so over the top, so peanut buttery, that I think I need to stick to only baking broccoli this weekend. I think I hurt myself.

These are just the treats I want to pawn off on my neighbors and coworkers. They’ll thank me, and they’ll hate me. I can live with that.

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On Saturday afternoon I found my self standing in my kitchen, sipping a hot cup of milky Ovaltine. As I stood there, I started reading the Ovaltine canister… you know, like you read the box of cereal as you eat breakfast.

It turns out that my unassuming canister of Ovaltine had a recipe for me. I paused. I raised an eyebrow. I set down my mug of Rich Chocolate Ovaltine and I decided to bake their Ovaltine brownie recipe.

Let me stop here to answer the questions that have undoubtedly formed in your mind.

Yes, on rare occasions, I’ve been known to enjoy a cup of warm Rich Chocolate Ovaltine. A girl can only drink so much tea.

No, I will never again enjoy a warm cup of Rich Chocolate Ovaltine.

Why? I’ve discovered that Rich Chocolate Ovaltine is neither rich, nor chocolate. I’m not even convinced that it’s food. It should not be baked into brownies. Ugh. God. Ick. No! Mistake.

What happened? My ‘brownies’ came out of the oven bubbling with butter and chocolate-ish preservatives. Brownies are not supposed to bubble with butter. My house didn’t even smell like warm brownie goodness. It wasn’t a pretty picture. I felt sorry for the two sticks of innocent butter that I subjected to such torture.

But I learned something- something that I had already known, but my judgement must have been clouded by artificial chocolate flavoring. Use real ingredients. There is no substitute. Ovaltine is not chocolate. It might say it’s chocolate. It might strive to be chocolate, but it’s not, and it has no business in your brownie pan.

Sigh.

Don’t get it twisted. I’m not entirely hating on Ovaltine. Ovaltine rocks the house in my Chocolate Buttercream Frosting.

I come to you with these pictures and recipes not knowing whether this combination of treats is awesome or terrifying.  Blood and Bones.

Before we get down to the treats, can I share something with you?  I’m not a big fan of Halloween.  Honestly,  it scares me a bit.  The whole night seems unpredictable and slightly unstable to me, even as an adult.  It’s the costumes.  See, there are two categories of Halloween costumes that just chill me to the bone.

One one hand, there are the girls that use Halloween as an excuse to wear as little clothes as possible.  Are you one of these girls?  Are you dressing up as a ’sexy boy scout’ this Halloween?  What on earth is a sexy boy scout??  I’m scared.  I also don’t like the medical and other uniformed professions you make sexy for Halloween.  I don’t agree, and frankly, I’m frightened.

There’s also the teenage boys that dress up as murderers with bloody plastic knives and masks.  Teenage boys dressed as murders in the darkness of a Halloween night?  Is it just me being old, or do these kids seem totally out of control?  They seem waaaay too old to be dressing up and run the neighborhood with a pillow case scooping up candy from everyone they can.  Not ok.  Just not ok.

Wow!   Halloween makes me sound like a grumpy old lady.

To celebrate my inner old lady and to embrace any hidden desires to be a hussy for Halloween, I’m going to be Blanche from the Golden Girls.  It’s going to be a perfectly ridiculous Halloween getup.

What are you going to be for Halloween?

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Some things I make for the love of others. I’ve been known to gaze lovingly at ingredients. Wrap cookies in little bows, and present a friend with box of still warm chocolate chip cookies at just the right moment.

Other things I make because I’m a selfish hungry girl. These doughnuts. Oh my God! These doughnuts I made because I’m a selfish girl who loves loves loves doughnuts.

Three facts about this, my first doughnut making experience:

These puppies took me about 3 hours and 15 minutes from start to finish. I started craving them after my morning run, and sunk my teeth into my first warm doughnut bite around 2pm. Worth every minute! Seriously.

I burned my mouth, yes, four times eating donut balls that were just too fresh from the fryer. Worth it. I’d do it all over again.

If I didn’t get the what was left after the “Joy vs. Doughnut Throwdown 2008″ out of my house, I might well have eaten every singe one. Not a joke. Fact.

If you’ve never made doughnuts before, here is my advice to you: Oh my God! Take the afternoon off. Turn off your phone. Make these donuts. Eat five to eight, and then promptly walk over to your neighbors house and beg them to take the rest off your hands. If your neighbors aren’t home you might even want to call the cops, they’ll be able to stop you from eating the remainder. You’ll need handcuffs.

Are you FoodProof!?

Remember how you felt when you first discovered Tastespotting? It was like foodie heaven, right?

Well, FoodProof gave me that same foodie love feeling. So what’s the deal? FoodProof is a group of happy, food loving people that come together with photos, videos, recipes and blogs. There’s no pretension, no snobbery, no excess of culinary degrees and puff pastry. Give the guys and gals at FoodProof a visit. Join the fray and make some new friends. I’m totally a fan. I think you will be too.

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It’s about time that I introduce you to some of my friends.

Meet Jill. Jill is one fierce cookie, although me might try to fool you with her demure presence and coy smile.  Do not be fooled.  She’s a firecracker and she’s got your number.

I ventured into Jill’s kitchen one Sunday afternoon to make her famous vegan cookies.  I’m not a big vegan cookie baker, and I thought I reach out to an expert.

I met Jill when I hired her at a tiny Los Angeles coffee shop I managed.  We both learned very quickly that Jill is not a morning person and Joy is.  We also learned that Jill thinks Black Widow spiders are cool and Joy runs screaming for the hills at the mere mention of one.  But Joy and Jill share a deep love for, well… occasional boy talk and fast food tacos.  Joy and Jill are great friends.

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So sneaky!  This cake is nothing but sneaky.   It may not have the looks of a world class chocolate cake, but please don’t underestimate me when I tell you that this is one of the best chocolate cakes I’ve ever experiences.

If this chocolate cake were your blind date, you might think to yourself, well…. he’s not as tall as guys I usually date, and he’s a little dorky.  But by the end of the night, you’re both laughing hysterically, he’s taken off his glasses to reveal quite a handsome man, and you’re already thinking about the cute pair of flats you’re going to buy so you’re not taller than him.

This is that cake.  It’ll surprise you.  It might seem a little short, and a little dorky, but trust me when I say it’s worth the leap of faith.

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