Joy the Baker

I just stepped into my kitchen, turned on the light and was greeted by a massive amount of dirty dishes… not to mention a random stick of butter I left out this morning.  

I walked across the way to the dining room table to find all of the half addressed holiday cards I have yet to send. 

I shouldn’t even mention the atrocious pile of laundry that I’ve managed to ignore for weeks.  

But all is well.  All is juuuuust fine.  Why?  Because I’ve got my little nativity scene up.  My Christmas lights are twinkling.  I’ve hung silver snowflakes from my windows with scotch tape, and there are cranberry smells coming out of my kitchen.  At this rate, I can ignore the household atrocities well into the new year.  

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What are you up to on this fine Sunday?

Holiday shopping?  Holiday partying?  Trying to find a pair of pantyhose without a run in them?  Yea… me too.

I thought I’d pop in and remind you of these little peppermint gems.  They’re light.  They’re beautiful and festive.  You can put them in the oven and just about forget about them while they bake…. and yes, they look a little bit like Colgate toothpaste.  

Peppermint Meringues.  Because you can.  Because you should.

Eggnog Pancakes with a slight hitch.  Eggnog Pancakes without the Eggnog.  
You should know that I’m going to capitalize Eggnog in this here post. If that bothers you…. apologies.

My Grandfather is the first person to pull a carton of grocery store branded Eggnog out of the refrigerator every year about this time.  When I see him reaching for the carton on the refrigerator door, I avoid all eye contact.  There is no offering.  There are no questions.  If Papa decides to pour you a glass… and it will be a GIANT glass… then you have to sit there, and drink every last bit… unless you want to be called a goshdarm vegan hippie.  Sure.. being a hippie might not be all that bad… but…well Eggnog shouldn’t be punishment and hippie shouldn’t be a bad word.  Dang!

 So!

To avoid cartons of Eggnog coming from my fridge, I’ve created an Eggnog flavored pancake.  Not a dollop of actual Eggnog in sight.  Nothing to worry about here.  

Can I tell you something about these pancakes… you know, because you’re here and all… they are crazy/heck yes/ omg good.  Are you thinking what I’m thinking?  Weekend breakfast?  The answer is… yes!

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You are just the most lovely people ever.  I’m so glad you’re out there in the world!  

Reading through your best holiday gift comments totally put a smile on my face.  Who knew you all were so charming and touching and genuine and humble and all around rad!?  I knew… I totally knew that. 

Those of you that said that your husbands and children were your best gift ever… you’re tender and I’m going to have to punch you now.  Don’t worry.  It’s a punch in a good way.  Seriously. 

Winners.  Four of you darling people win.  Thanks for letting me regift upon you. 

Millie.  Hi!  Sweet.  You win!  Merry Christmas!

Doreen!  Holy heck!  You’re number two!

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I’m dusting this recipe off, shining it up and throwing it in your general direction.  It would just be a shame for these cookies to languish in the Joy the Baker archives when they absolutely must be included in your holiday baking.  

Let’s make a deal.  You jump in the kitchen and throw a batch of these together, and I’ll pop in the kitchen and crank out a few cranberry recipes.  It’s teamwork.  Delicious, delicious teamwork.  Let’s do it.

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I’m a regifter.  

Yep.

Please reserve your judgement.  This is about to get interesting.

See… I’ve been given all sorts of gifts this year.  From two blogger conferences, I’ve amassed enough kitchen supplies to equip a small army of chefs.  

The good news is that I want to share all of this loot with you.  It’s not that I don’t love these things, it’s just that I love regifting more.  It’s like the most fun recycling… ever.  That’s where you come in. 

I’ve got silly whisks.  I’ve got gorgeous cookbooks.  I’ve got coffee and milk frothers.  I’ve got choppers and tenderizers.  Cuisinart, people.  I’ve got fancy sporks and way cool forks… all sorts of little gems.  

I’m regifting four little bundles of kitchen goodies to four of you.  Keep the goodies as a gift to yourself or regift them this holiday season.  I won’t tell a soul!

To enter this (both humble and perhaps ethically questionable) giveaway, just leave a comment in this post sharing the best holiday gift you’ve ever received.  Comments are accepted until Sunday at noon.  

Aprons.  Aprons.  ApronsApronsAprons!

We made aprons.  We bought the fabric.  We cut the patterns.  We sewed and stitched and sewed and stitched and sewed and stitched about a million (ok… just fifty)  times over.  Maybe ‘we’ is a bit too liberal.  My darling and most talented mother made each and every one of these aprons.  Where I can work wonders with a spatula, she can work wonders with a sewing machine.  Please don’t make me sew anything… I just make myself bleed.  

So here’s the plan.  I want you to have fun in the kitchen making Cream Cheese Cinnamon Rolls or whipping up a batch of Oatmeal Cookie Pancakes.  I also want you to look cute, and feel pretty, and not be afraid to get in there and get some bakin’ done… even if that means dirtying every single dish and emerging from the kitchen covered in flour.  Do it!  I think a fun little apron might help.  

For you pleasure, I’ve even made an Etsy store to showcase Joy the Baker Aprons.  Sweeeeet!  

All aprons are 100% cotton, one size fits darn near everyone… and bonus:  each apron comes nicely wrapped for your gift giving pleasure.  Supplies are limited.  The fabric is flying.

My Mom took this picture with my cellphone.  See?  Proof of cuteness.  Aaaaand… go!

I have a relationship with this pie.  That’s normal, right?  

The smell of this pie takes me back to the days six year old me would run screaming through our lime green, hallway shaped kitchen in anticipation of pie and ice cream and the imminent holiday festivities such a dessert suggested.   

My Dad has been making this pie, with more cinnamon, with less coriander, with two eggs, with four eggs, with all sorts of variations, for… oh, just my entire life.  

Believe it or not, it’s hard to write about something you’re so close to.  Two things here are strange.  One… I’m so close to a pie.  Two… I’m having trouble writing about dessert! Oooh Lordy. 

Here’s what I want you to know about this Sweet Potato Pie.  Excuse me while I stumble through this.  

     This pie is made with orange fleshed sweet potatoes.  Maybe you call them yams.  Maybe you call them sweet potatoes.  The difference continues to perplex and bore me.  

     If you’re wondering what heaven might smell like, whip this pie up, throw it in the oven, wait 20 minutes then take a deep breath somewhere near the oven.  There.  Heaven.  Coriander, nutmeg, cinnamon and brown sugar heaven.  

     This pie can be made with my Easy No-Roll Pie Crust.  You win.  I win.  Pillsbury pre-made pie crust loses.  It’s better this way.  Trust me. 

Sweet Potato Pie.  It’s beauty.  It’s love.  If you think I’m exaggerating… then we’re obviously not friends. 

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I’ve got a case of the lazy bones.  Serious and impervious to negotiation, lazy bones.

These lazy bones have coerced me into watching a solid five hour block of television last Friday night.  These lazy bones strong armed me into excessive Saturday and Sunday napping.  I also did that thing where you get up and make breakfast, eat it, hold you belly with the sheer joy of your accomplishment… then get back in bed… back in bed (!) for a nap.

I’ve had the best of intentions, but I learned early on this weekend (about halfway through watching my third bridal show on Friday night) that my to-do list was just going to have to sit tight and have some patience.  That’s how it goes some weekends.  Who am I to disrupt the flow?

Nuts.  I somehow roasted and fancied up hazelnuts.  This must have been done in one of the hazes between naps.  I have no real recollection, but I do have photographic evidence.  Thank heavens.  I may not fully remember making them, but I sure do remember the dream where I was shoving them into my face by the fistful.  True.

Ok…. maybe they’re not the prettiest nuts you’ve ever seen.  Delicious?  Oh.  So.  Yes.

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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’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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Here we are, staring November right in the eye.  Am I the only one giving November dirty looks?  I mean seriously November… how did you sneak up on me like this?  Did you just trample over September and October to rub your impending holiday spirit in my face?

I’m not sure I’m ready to dive into the season… but you know what?  I’ve gone and pushed myself into that pool.  Ok… not really.  I had some help.  Minted.com gave me a shove… a friendly shove.. but still a shove.

See, Minted.com wanted to share something with you.  They also wanted to me look super organized in my holiday spiriting.  Thanks for that Minted. Well played.  

So!  Here’s the situation.  Minted.com makes awesome, cute, rad ,modern, hip, tasteful, bodacious, colorful and fun holiday cards.  Remember the long photo holiday cards your Mom would send out in 1983?  They were decorated with some sort of pixelated wreath and an unflattering picture of you and your sister  pretending to decorate a Christmas tree?  Yea… that doesn’t have to happen anymore.  Thank you Minted.com.  Thank you.  

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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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Hey!  Can I share some fun news!?  Sweet… thanks.

What makes dinner with friends even more fun and lovely?  A dash of holiday spirit… aaaand whiskey.  

I love the months between September and January because I get to cook and cook and cook.  Something about the holidays inspires people to gather and consume… it’s just heaven for me.  

This holiday season I’m teaming up with my super chef friends and crackpot wine buddies to cater big ol’ homey holiday suppers for people in their homes.  You gather.  We throw down in the kitchen.  You consume.  We’re talking six course meals with things like Braised Cocoa Beef with Buckwheat and Corn Polenta Cakes and Christmas Lima Beans. Yea… the real deal.  How about Warm Apple Crostadas with Butterscotch Ice Cream and Bourbon Whipped Cream?  Yes.  Please.  Dang.  

We also do dishes.  Wait… chefs who do dishes!?  Well… we bring help.  That’s true.  

I’m telling you all of this goodness because if you’re in Los Angeles or San Francisco… well heck, maybe you’d like to throw a badass holiday dinner party.  Weeks sure are coming and going quickly so email us at joythebakerdinners (at) gmail (dot) com if you’d like to talk food… talk wine… talk menu and pricing… and talk holidays with you.

Persimmon Pudding, from tree to table.  

Step One:  Find a neighbor with a gorgeous, almost cartoon like persimmon tree.  Ask your Mom to help you pick persimmons… Mom always likes to help.

Step Two:  Entice neighbor and Mamabear with the promise of fresh baked persimmon pudding if you’re granted access to their persimmon tree.  

Step Three:  Try this phrase, “Hey Neighbor!  I think you’re just swell.  Can I borrow a ladder?  That’s one tall tree.  Sweet… thanks.”

Step Four:  If you decide to sneak a peek into the other neighbor’s yard while you’re up on that ladder picking persimmons… maybe you’ll want to be more subtle than my mother.  I’m just sayin…

Step Five:  Pick the ripest, softest persimmons.  Way to be, Mom!

Step Six:  Carefully place super ripe persimmons in bag to cart off home, thanking your neighbors Dan and Libby for their ladder and their abundant tree. 

Step Seven:  If you don’t happen to have a neighbor with a persimmon tree, I’m betting that the local farmer’s market will have some gorgeous Hachiya persimmons for you this time of year…. and you won’t need a ladder. 

Step Eight:  Call your favorite Aunt from Indiana and ask her to promptly send you all of the persimmon recipes she owns… that will be a lot.  Seriously.  Thanks Judy!

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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?

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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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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Pumpkin. 

It’s October and it is time.  Pumpkin.  

Hold on to your hats.  I’ll be all up in your grill with peppermint and chocolate for Christmas before you know it.  

For now….

Pumpkin.   Don’t fight it.

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We used to be one of those families that would drive out to the cemetery on Sunday afternoon after church service.  I can remember chasing my sister around the cemetery slopes, slipping on the moist grass in my church shoes and getting bright green stains on my Sunday dress while my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents sat around our family graves exchanging stories.

The bright afternoon sun, the way the wind whipped over the rounded hills of the cemetery, and hearing my family talk and laugh about our family who had passed… it’s one of those super calming childhood memories that I keep tucked away, and pull out on days like today.  The remembering is important.

Today it feels good to remember all of the men, women and families who have sacrificed so much for our country.  While thanking you may seem trite, I mean it from way down on the inside.  Thank you.