Joy the Baker

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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My favorite part of my sixth grade history text books were not the pictures.  Oooooh no… too easy.  I loved the little timelines at the end of a lesson, the kind of timeline that so neatly wrapped up the life and struggles of so many people.  Distill the entire American Civil Rights Movement into a timeline.  The progression of people and actions becomes so tidy and clear.  Aaah, thanks for the timeline.

I sometimes like to think of my life in timeline form.  I pick a theme and timeline it out in my head.  Yes, this happens.

Let’s timeline out my favorite ice cream flavors from the 1980’s to the present.  Not nearly as socially crucial as civil rights, but still somehow important.

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{ 1983- Strawberry Ice Cream is the only flavor in my world}  {1987- Whoa!  Bubble Gum in ice cream!?  Yes.  Want!}  {1990-  Rocky Road is the only way to go}     {1994-  Is it still Mint Chocolate Chip if it’s not green?  I say yes!}  {1999-  Cherry Garcia, will you marry me?}  {2005-  Going retro with Rainbow Sherbet, success!  {2009-  Enjoying the clever stylings of Brownie Bottom Coffee Ice Cream Cupcakes.  Consider them little cups of perfect fun right from the freezer.  For reals.}

Now that I can check “make an ice cream timeline” off my list of things to do today, let’s talk Ice Cream Cupcakes. Yes.  Yes!  Yes!!

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I was trying to come up with some charming childhood anecdote to accompany these butterscotch puddings, when I came to the blunt realization that I didn’t like pudding as a child. In fact, I may have purely despised the stuff. My only exposure to pudding came in the occasional lunch time trade with a friend for her chocolate pudding cup. I seem to remember a goopy, brown, almost plastic flavored dessert. Even when I was eight I knew that there had to be a better way.

A mere twenty years later I’ve decided on the perfect pudding solution: mix together cream, brown sugar and bourbon whiskey (among a few other ingredients) and call it Butterscotch Pudding. Glorious! Top that pudding with Bourbon whipped cream and toffee and life just got that much sweeter.

If I could talk to eight year old Joy the Baker, I’d tell her not to trade her all natural fruit snacks for the chocolate pudding. There’s something much better lying ahead. I’d also tell her that she won’t have horribly frizzy hair forever, and it really is ok that precious, blonde, adorable Hayden likes Alison and not her. It really is ok.

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What do you do when you’re down to your last egg?  Either cry about it or make Chocolate Pudding with Almond Whipped Cream.  In my case, I did both.

I know this is only a food blog, but I’m sure you all won’t mind if I get something off my chest.  I’m sad.  I’m puffy eyed, in my pajamas all day, looking out the window at the beautiful weekend passing me by- sad.

It’s relationship trouble.  My Mom called it “matters of the heart” which kinda put a smile on my face because she made relationship drama sound so old fashioned.  Moms are good for that.

So, while I understand that this is totally out of place for my humble food blog, I hope you won’t mind me over sharing and asking for advice.  Maybe you can help.

How do you do it?  How do you keep a relationship alive and well?  Tell me your love story because I think I need to hear it.  Is it hard?  Is it perfect?  Is it completely neurotic?

I’m here asking for dime store advice.  How do you make it work?  In return, I have pudding to offer.  It’s a lovely recipe.  Now tell me what you think about love.

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This dessert was born out of the current circumstance of my life.  Big things are changing for me in the next few months.  While it all feels good and exciting, I have to admit that big change makes me anxious.  You might think that when I get anxious, I bake.  That makes sense, right?  Well I actually clean (a lot!) when I get nervous.  I called this afternoon’s kitchen scrubbing extravaganza “spring cleaning”.  That’s how I justified my nerves.  It is almost spring, after all.

My spring cleaning, in turn, reminded me of strawberries.  I love strawberries, and impatiently await their arrival in April.    Clearly, I couldn’t wait until April.  Once my kitchen sparkled, I went out in search of strawberries, to make my spring themed day more complete.

With the strawberries I created Browned Butter Cardamom Spiced Sugar Paper.  Sugar Paper is just a fancy name for Fillo dough layered with butter and sugar and spice.  This dessert was a wonderful respite to my cleaning frenzy.  With spring comes change.  Somewhere in the cleaning and baking, I began to feel more comfortable with that.

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