Joy the Baker

I cooked some sugar.  

I cooked some sugar and poured it over salted popcorn.  

Holy moly.  Hot sugar. 

I need to talk to you about hot sugar.  

I need to tell you that hot sugar on you hand… not cool… at all.  Hot sugar on salted popcorn is a dream come true.  

Read more »

Two days ago my sister was out in Seattle having dinner with a friend.  Simple enough, right?  

She was approached my a friendly faced woman and asked “Are you Joy the Baker’s sister?”  My  sister burst into confused laughter.  They carried on a short, smile filled conversation and went on with their meals… my sister still slightly confounded.  

Lauren is Joy the Baker’s sister… that’s not the confusing part.  The confusing part is that you all might recognize my sister in the world.   Awesome.  Odd.  Strange.  And awesome again.  

Have I told you how awesome you are?  How glad I am that you’re here?  How glad I am that you would say hi to my sister if you saw her in Seattle?  Well…. you are awesome.  I’m so stoked that you’re here and thanks for being nice to my sister.  For.  Reals.  Cause if you weren’t nice to her… we’d have to fight.  That would be weird.  

In other news… I can’t find my tweezers and I made you a cake.  Let’s discuss. 

Read more »

I have downright baffled myself.  

I may have mentioned that I’m moving this week.  Moving is… horrifying.  Yes, I’m being dramatic.  Please indulge me. 

Among the things that I found under my bed and in the dark recesses of my closet as I’ve been cleaning and packing are:

eight kitten stuffed animals. 

one medium sized bunny stuffed animal. 

three puppy stuffed animals.

….. WWWHHHHHYYYY?

one baby sock….  A. Baby.  Sock.  I have no baby.  Seriously… What the heck is going on here!?

a tiny rhinestone turtle toe ring.  Really?  

one sweater that gives my arms a rash.  I found out the hard way.  

one wooden bobble head turtle toy.  Why so many turtles hiding in my house?

and… a rock.  Because… yea.  A rock.

Take these Little Lemon Hazelnut Cakes as a token of my love, affection, and dwindling sanity.  

Read more »

t 

I’d really like to conjure up some useful information for you.  That would be nice, right?  I could tell you all about avocados.  Where they came from.  What a lovely shade of green they are.  Why they’re so expensive at the grocery store… you know, things like that.  

But you didn’t come here for boring old information… did you!?  

I didn’t think so.  

You came here  because you want me to admit to eating Pepperidge Farm Soft Bake Cookies…which is totally happening right now.  You came here because you want me to admit to rrreeeeaaaalllllyyyy wanting to watch the season finale of The Bachelor… it’s true… it’s a problem.  You came here because you want me to admit to wearing my big fluffy slipper socks.  The dreaded socks/shoes that will keep me single for eternity.  Well… I’m wearing them and I’m loving it.  

So there, friends.  It’s all out on the table.  Now can we talk about cake?  

Read more »

Ok.  I’ve come to terms with the fact that I have housewife tendencies.  It’s true.  Don’t judge me… that would be rude.

I’ve tried to ignore these urges.  I’ve tried to pass it off as a phase… but really?  This can’t go on.  I’m going to have to own my housewife tendencies.  Now seems like as good a time as ever to fess up. 

See… yesterday afternoon I put on my frilly 1950’s apron, pulled my hair back, put on my giant fake pearl earrings and made homemade dinner rolls.  The apron and pearls are essential, so is a cigarette and a stiff cocktail if I’m to believe what I see on Mad Men.  

So there I am in my kitchen, proudly clad in my housewife gear, hand kneading some pretty sexy roll dough, thinking I’ve got it pretty kush when I realize that my housewife fantasy is missing two things… a… um… er… husband… and mud covered children that I have to chase around the house to get into the bath.  

So.  Ok.  Fine.  My housewife tendencies are really just an excuse for me to play dress up for an afternoon.  And rolls and butter?  Just the awesome perk of my extended dress up games.

Read more »

I…

Hate:  diet soda.  Like:  water.  Love:  bourbon.

Hate:  skinny jeans.  Like: Jeggings (jean leggings people… jean leggings).  Love:  my Levis.  

Hate:  bathing suit shopping.  Like:  vintage dress shopping.  Love:  shopping with someone else’s credit card… which never happens… ever.

Hate:  cold soup.  Like:  most soup.  Love:  um…. soup soup soup.  I really like soup.

‘Hate’ is such a strong word.  ’Hate’ was a bad word in the house I grew up in.  Mom, if you’re reading this… yes, you taught me better… but look!  I’m eating my broccoli!  That’s got to count for something. 

Read more »

On the Lamb threw a Speakeasy last night… complete with Bathtub Gin and Juice, Pork and Wild Boar Sliders and Cherry Bourbon Ice Cream. There was bourbon and scoundrels as far as the eye could see. Before we get down and dirty with my new favorite ice cream flavor, here’s a peek at what setting up a roarin’ Speakeasy looks like.

A Speakeasy requires a guest list, a password at the door, and a cash box for cashmoney.  

Read more »

Hi darling.  Hey sugarbear.  What’s shakin’ sweetums?  Lookin’ good sweetpea.  Hey loverboy!  Oooh darlin’.  

I’m practicing my terms of endearment.  Yea… I want to sound natural when the time comes to use them.  

Can I practice on you?  How does this sound?

     Hey loverbear, will you come on in here and help me with these dishes?

     Darlin’, will you hold the oven door open for me?

How about…

     Sweetpea, stay away from those cookies.  You know we have company coming.  

My favorite…

     Sweetums, I made you cupcakes… cause I love you like crazy.

How am I doing so far?  I’m a little stiff aren’t I?  I’ll keep working on it.    

Jump on over.  I have a lot to tell you!

Read more »

Can I let you in on a little something?

I don’t live in the cool Los Angeles neighborhood that all my friends live in…

I have more matching spatulas than I do matching bath towels.  

I still can’t seem to commit to buying myself a couch.  

My bedroom bookcase seems to be made up of one part books and three parts dust.  

I tell you all of this to let you in on the fact that I’ve been feeling domestically restless these days.  The kind of restless that has had me daydreaming about moving into a downtown loft that I can’t afford.  The kind of restless that has had me daydreaming about decorating a downtown loft that I can’t afford with expensive furniture that I also can’t afford.  

Not being able to afford your daydreams?  Torture and motivation.  Together.   

This weekend I decided… get this… that it’s all ok! 

I took to my kitchen with my rubber gloves, bleach spray and a few rags and I scrubbed and organized like I’ve never done before.  Yes, it’s just the kitchen.  No, I couldn’t get to my whole apartment.  But the scrubbing and organizing helped me remember that my humble little apartment, in the uncool part of town, is pretty darn sweet.  I don’t need the fancy loft and the expensive furniture.  I just need to make my little spot in the world a little brighter… with bleach.  

And the pancakes this weekend helped too.  Tremendous.

Read more »

Sometimes life feels like layers of complications.  Like taxes and traffic and cavities and getting laid off are all piled high into one smelly sandwich that you’re supposed to eat for lunch.  Really…?  Worst sandwich ever.  Do not want. 

Complicated.  Yea.  It happens to you.  It happens to me.  

Luckily there’s… bread.  And thank the holy heavens for butter.  

Bread and butter.  Yes.  A post about bread and butter.  Perhaps the most beautiful and uncomplicated thing you can put into your face.  Don’t fight me on this one.  That would only make things more complicated.  Go and eat.  Bread and butter. 

And yes… I burnt the bottom of my bread a bit.  These things happen. 

Read more »

It’s Friday.  I know you weren’t expecting this, but it’s time for a Pop Quiz.  

Don’t worry.  If you’ve done the reading this should be easy… (I hated when teachers would say that to me). 

Pop Quiz

1) True or False:  The joining of chocolate and coffee is like a cosmic combination of all that is good, just, and rock and roll in the universe. 

2) Fill in the Blank:  Breakfast is the most _________________ . 

3)  Multiple Choice:  The best choice for this weekend’s breakfast treat is:

a) stale Cheerios.  

b) Gerard Butler and hot fudge sauce. 

c) breakfast sandwiches made on Cheddar Black Pepper Biscuits.  

Now… here are the answers: 

1)  True….. duh!  2) Breakfast is the most important meal that ever was.  3) c… if and only if b is unavailable.  

Perfect score?  We’re best friends.  Take note. 

Read more »

So….. what do you do when you forget to call your grandmother on her 80th birthday?  

Well… obviously you yell at your little sister who remembered to call your grandmother on her 80th birthday, and didn’t remind you to call your grandmother on her 80th birthday.  Some nerve.

See… forgetting to call your grandmother on her 80th birthday is just about as bad as kicking your dear and darling 80 year old grandmother in the shin.  It’s not cool.  There’s no going back.  You’re a real jerk if you don’t call your grandmother on her 80th birthday.  

Ok.  Here’s the deal universe.  I hope I live to be 80.  Please.  That would be great.  I think…. I hope. 

On May 25, 2061 Universe, I want you to break my phone.  See to it that no one calls to wish me a happy birthday.  I’ll remember why.  I’ll remember that I deserve it.  For real.  Yeeesh!

Also… biscotti.  I made some delicious biscotti.  This is me, sharing.  

Read more »

I figured it out!

I finally figured out the answer to all of those desert island questions!  You know… if you were stranded on a desert island blah blah blah…  It turns out the answer is always always always hot fudge.  

Watch.  I’m sure you’ll agree. 

Q:  If you were trapped on a desert island, what one food would you want with you?

A:  Hot fudge (and vanilla ice cream) for eternity. 

Q:  If you were trapped on a desert island and had one book with you, what would it be?

A:   Gone with the Wind… covered in hot fudge.  

Q:  If you were trapped on a dessert island would you prefer waterproof matches or a broken down sail boat?

A:  Um… hot fudge? 

Q:  Desert island roommate:  George Clooney or Gerard Butler?

A:  This is a trick question… obviously.  Gerard Butler with a side of hot fudge.

See?  Hot fudge.  Always the right answer.  Amazing. 

Read more »

The kitchen.  It’s where I do a majority of my… standing.  

Standing and staring.

Standing and staring and spreading cream cheese onto Wheat Thins.  

Standing and staring and eating cream cheese and Wheat Thins until I come up with a recipe and post idea.  

If you were a fly on my kitchen wall… well, I wouldn’t like that very much… but you would probably think that a) I have very few brain cells firing with all of the standing and staring I do and b) I have an unhealthy relationship with cream cheese.

You might be right about the brain cells…  I won’t argue that the standing and staring is a strange process.  But the cream cheese?  Yea… I’ll admit I have a bit of a problem with cream cheese and crackers.  I’m trying to break the habit with chick peas and olive oil and mint and parsley.  I think it’s working.  I really think it’s working. 

Read more »

Hi.

I’ve noticed you around these parts a lot.  I made you some cookies.  I’m glad you’re here.  

Maybe we could sit down and you could shell out some advice.  I just have one question.  Gimme your gut.  What’s it thinkin’?  This might seem silly, but what else is new?  I really need your help with this.

Couch.  Should I buy a couch?

Just the thought of a real life couch in my little apartment gives me all sorts of unreasonable anxiety.  Yeesh.  I thought I would only buy a couch… a big fluffy couch… when I was an adult and I had my life aaaaaaaallllllll figured out.  Well… I’m pretty darn sure I’m an adult, and I’m pretty darn sure I’ll never actually have it all figured out…. so I might just need to buck up and buy the darn couch, right?  

Couch.  It’s just a couch.  Somehow… it seems like so much more.  What do you think?

I’ll trade you your thoughts for these ridiculously good cookies.  Deal?  Deal.

Read more »

Let me lay out some facts for you:

My bed has an electric blanket on it this winter.  My fears of spontaneous combustion are usurped by my complete inability to actually get out of my warm bed.  

Yes… I’m totally writing this from bed.  Try and stop me.  This cozy just won’t quit. 

I have exactly zero interest in turning on my oven for the next week… mostly because my oven isn’t in arms length of my bed.  I really don’t want to get out of bed.  

Yes… I’m talking a lot about my bed right now.  Maybe I’m obsessed.  Maybe this is unhealthy.

But!  There is one reason I’m getting out of bed tomorrow.  Vacation.  Holy hell!  I’m going on vacation!  I’m going to a gorgeous spa/ bed and breakfast situation in San Luis Obispo… all by myself.  There’s a bathtub.  Not just any bathtub… but a soaking tub… next to a fireplace.  Oh.  My.  God.  I only plan on leaving that soaking tub in an extreme prune state.  

If you’re in San Luis Obispo and you think you can lure me out of my soaking tub… we should totally have lunch!

Before all the soaking begins… here’s a deep purple Blackberry Granita.  I suggest eating in in bed, under the covers, while watching your third Netflix romantic comedy.  Don’t worry.  No judgements.  This granita just tastes better that way.  

Read more »

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.  

Read more »

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!

Read more »

Here are a list of questions I think might be running through your head right now. Well… I like to flatter myself by thinking that these questions might be running through your head. It’s a self-involved delusion . I know you have better things to worry about. Also included here are the answer to before mentioned self-involved questions.

You might be thinking:

Seriously, Joy? Here we are in prime baking mode and you bring us crackers!? Crackers!?
Answer: Yes. Crackers. Big, thick and crispy, salty and satisfying crackers. They have sea salt, people… they must be fancy.

Joy, what are you wearing to your holiday party tonight?
Answer: I. Don’t. Know. Please send help. Please send a new outfit. Please get these crackers out of my face so I stop stress eating them.  Please.

Joy, calm down. Why not just wear your nice pair of jeans?
Answer: What? I can do that? I can seriously do that? I’ll can wear my nice pair of jeans even though they’re still jeans?  I suspect you’re just trying to make me feel better. I have to find a skirt and top combination that doesn’t make me look like too much of a lunatic hippie.  Drats.

These crackers aren’t helping. Someone take these crackers away from me.
And send help… send a pretty black top with sparkles. Quickly.  Thank you.

Read more »

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.

Read more »