Joy the Baker

This list of things that I’ve stolen in my life is pretty small.

There was that piece of candy that I stole from Fedco when I was 7. My Dad caught me chomping on it in the back seat of the car and I got the big morality talk. Lesson: never steal anything too chewy.

There were the Girl Scout cookies I stole from my big sister’s room when she was out on a secret date. I was the natural suspect. I got a good talking to for that one. When I pulled the same cookie thievery the next week, well…. my parents made sure I learned my lesson that time.

Then there were all the times I would sneak into my Mom’s secret chocolate stashes. My Mom’s hiding places were no match for my ability to find a stool and wiggle my way around cabinets looking for sweets.

Thinking back on it, my thievery always involved something delicious that I wanted to put in my tummy. I was pathetically predictable in that sense.

I was once again tempted by the thievery gods this weekend while walking around my neighborhood. There’s citrus EVERYWHERE. Just about every other yard has a blooming orange or lemon tree just begging to be plucked. Isn’t sneaking into someones yard to yank their produce considered theft? I thought back to all of the stern reprimands and spankings I got from stealing yummies as a kid and thought better of sneaking into my neighbor’s yard.

Instead, I forked over some cash at the farmer’s market and felt just fine about making this Honey- Lime Curd.

Does this sort of concession mean my bad girl days are long gone? Sigh….

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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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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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There is something in the air this time of year. I’m as restless and a 12 year old girl waiting for summer break so she can go hang out at the community pool. Maybe it’s the impending 3 months of relentless, almost suffocating Los Angeles heat. Maybe I just yearn for the carefree days of summer. Maybe I just need a vacation. I’m completely restless these days, and with no real vacation in sight, what’s a girl to do but play with her ice cream maker.

Today I bring you Mango Lime Sorbet. It’s like going on vacation with your spoon. Just like going on vacation- minus those pesky airport lines, and the passports and the exciting new places to see, and delicious new food to eat. Why do all that, really, when you can stay at home and make sorbet…

Pardon me while I wallow in woe. But seriously… someone please take me away.

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I think I’m supposed to hate cake mix.  I think, once you get a chef’s coat, you are supposed to turn you nose up at all things packaged, pre-mixed, and all around too good to be true.  Well the truth is, I don’t hate cake mix, or at least I don’t hate it as much as I should.

I could bore you with a pro and con list detailing my love hate relationship with cake mix, but I won’t.  I’ll just say this- I love cake mix because my Mom buys it for 35 cents and then passes it along to me, with that oh-so-great-I-found-a-bargain feeling.  Cake mixes are easy beyond belief, moist every time and really hard to screw up.  But the truth is, even easy to make, 35 cent cake mix isn’t really a bargain.  It’s filled with loads of oils and sugars that I can’t even pronounce.  If I can’t pronounce it, there’s a good chance my insides that don’t what to do with it either.  So, you win and you lose.  Sounds a lot like life, doesn’t it?

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