Joy the Baker

Please allow me this bright and promising Monday morning to keep it one hundred percent real with you.  While this gluten free cake was buttery, nutty, bright with the flavor of lemon and perfectly sweet, the truth is, it ended up all over my floor.  Well… ok, bits on the floor, chunks on the counter, and pieces in my dirty sink.  Basically, this cake landed everywhere except the cake plate where I wanted it.

I salvaged a few if the larger pieces to mock up a pretty picture for you.  For a few moments I thought I might not even tell you about my cake accident.  But… see, my cake didn’t just land on the floor because I’m clumsy, but because I was taking baking liberties that I shouldn’t have.  Fact.

This cake taught me a small lesson about baking pan choices and cooking times.  It also helped me get my cake dropping out of the way for the next several months.  I only drop a cake every three months or so.  I feels good to be free and clear for a few months to come.

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I woke up this morning ready to celebrate Friday.  This, despite the fact that I’m convinced that I’m due at least fourteen hours more sleep, and moving past the idea that I deserve a sleep re-do for having fallen asleep with all the light on, teeth unbrushed and (gasp!) bra still on.  I don’t get a do-over, or more sleep… but I do get a Friday, and that’s a little bit of all right with me.

This week, I overheard someone say “Whatever… you know that Thursday is the new Friday.”  Hm… I don’t know where they work, or how they pull that off, but to me “Friday is the same, old Friday”… and sometimes “Saturday is the new Friday” making “Sunday the new weekend”.

Wanting to celebrate Friday as the same, old Friday got me thinking about all the great little moments I had during the week.  You know… the little things- getting a card in the mail from Mom, or finding a crumpled ten dollar bill in your back pocket.

What are the three best things that happened to you this week?   Think on it.  Here’s what I’m workin’ with.

1. I dropped a cake I had just baked on the floor.  We can talk more about that later,  but thought to myself:  ok, well that shouldn’t happen again for another few months.  I’m glad that’s out of the way.  Then I wanted to yell and swear, but there was no one around to hear it, so I didn’t bother.  This restraint for lack of an audience later made me laugh at myself.

2.  I’m sitting here, in this very moment, enjoying a cup of hot tea and a few of my dad’s buttermilk biscuits.  It’s quiet and sunny and just warm enough to not regret my warm covers in the other room.  Quiet simplicity is a week highlight for sure.

3.  I’m going up to Oakland this weekend.  I’m going to wear a dress.  Don’t try to stop me.  Both things are going to happen.

In the meantime, I think you should take these Cinnamon Raisin Pull-Apart Muffins for a spin.

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On losing, letting go of little sisters, and warm biscuits:

We never talked about this.  I didn’t know how to bring it up.  The 2009 Bloggies.  Remember?  Best New Blog?  So… I sorta…. kinda…. mostly… didn’t win.  The thing is, I really really wanted to win.  I did.  I played it cool though.  On the outside, I pretended to not care either way.  That was a big fat lie.  But the thing about losing… it’s pretty cool actually… it makes me want to be better.  It also makes me unbelievably grateful for all of your smiling faces.  Fact.

I found myself in a frenzy this morning.  My little sister left for a many month long European adventure.  The thought of her being so far away that I can’t easily call her at two in the morning to scream our favorite Mariah Carey song at her sent me into panic mode.  I calmed myself, safe in the knowledge that my sister deserved some life changing adventures and I am due many presents from far away lands upon her return.

Biscuits.  If I were to hand you a warm biscuit with raspberry jam would you: a)  throw it on the ground and shove me on the floor or b) thank me kindly, gobble the biscuit and give me a giant hug?  If your answer involved shoving me on the floor… well, that’s kinda funny, but throwning biscuits on the floor is just plain rude.  Don’t do it.

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I like you.

No..,  I’m being completely serious here.  I totally like you.  I think you’re great.  You know when you sometimes steal the covers and fart in your sleep?   That’s cool with me.  Maybe that happens to all of us.

Yes.  You.  I like exactly who you are.

I’d like to make each and every one of you breakfast.  This weekend.  You and me.  Let’s do it!  The only little snafu is that, I can’t be everywhere, making everyone breakfast.  I’m going to need your help.

Will you make yourself breakfast on my behalf?  Sure, it might sound a little silly, but I’ve got my serious face on right now.  If you’ve been around these blogparts for more than a minute that you probably know that I love… I seriously looooove breakfast.

See, I love breakfast and I totally like you.  I thought that maybe… in this really cool way… you could find a recipe here on Joy the Baker, make it for yourself for breakfast this weekend… and maybe that way just feel a hint of exactly how rad I think you are.

Can we do this together?

Jump on over and drool through some of my favorite breakfast recipes.  Pick one.  Make it for yourself this weekend.  Share it with friends.  Share it with husbands and families.  Make the wife breakfast!  Make yourself feel good with a little weekend breakfast, and you’ll experience a just a bit of how good you all make me feel every day.

Carrot Cake Pancakes.  Say you will.

Chocolate Chocolate Banana Bread.  Say you might.

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Everyday requires a little adventure, wouldn’t you agree?

Some days (say… yesterday for me) that adventure can be as simple as taking a new route home from work (and getting lost driving through the canyons).

Other days, that adventure might mean moving to France for three months  (not my adventure, but bon voyage dear Carsen!).

Maybe sometime during this bright and brisk week, your adventure will involve these Chai Spiced Pancakes.  I dunno about you, but there’s something about a steaming plate of pancakes makes me feel like I’m living the good life.  And chai spice?  Well, let’s just agree to calling that a mild pancake adventure.

Whatever adventure means to do, I say go and do!  Big or small.  France or pancakes.  Treat yourself to a little adventure this week…. and forever.  Foreva, eva, eva?  Yes.

In other exciting, non pancake related news, the 2009 Bloggies are announced this afternoon.  You might want to hop on over there and check out the big winners.  Remember waaaaay back a month ago when I was nominated for Best New Blog?  Yea… well.  Win or no win, being nominated has been the most awesome kick in the pants.  Thanks for making that happen for me.  Really.  Thanks!

Wait!!  There’s more!  Here’s a super secret tip!  You might want to find yourself back here this time tomorrow for a super awesome giveaway.  I’m just sayin’…

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I used to keep a dream dictionary by my bed.  Fact.  I thought that I could wake up from a vivid dream all about pansies and weasels, broken clocks and cotton candy to thumb through a book and answer all off those deep subconscious questions.

It never worked.  I was lucky enough if I’d remember the dream, and luckier still if I had the wakefulness to actually reach for a dictionary first thing in the morning.

My dreams are trying to tell me something, I just leave it up to my sly and cunning brains to figure it out or leave it a mystery.

In the same way, my body was trying to send me a message early this morning.  I hadn’t been awake and in the world for more than an hour when I found myself standing at work in the restaurant saying exactly this, completely unsolicited:

I want potato salad.  I want potato salad exactly now.  Potato salad sound SO good.  I want pounds and pounds of potatoes in my belly right this second!

How’s that for a craving!?

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I’m a flake.

Ok… maybe that’s a little harsh.

I flaked on plans I made last Friday night, and I felt guilty until exactly this morning.

See… (I’ll try keep this short) I was supposed to go to see a friend’s play on Friday night.  You know,  it’s just one of those things you do.  Friend.  Theater.  You just go see it.

I was on the list.  The play was showing walking distance from my house.  I had no other plans.  The weather was gorgeous.  Really… I’d have to be a complete jerkface to not show up, right?  Well I didn’t, and here’s why…

I threw on my favorite jeans.  I was wearing my cute jacket and scarf.  I walked myself over to the theater feeling pretty good about the world.  That’s when I saw it:  a crowd of strangers.  I froze.  All the charm and clever wit that I might have possessed simply drained out of my system.  I suppose that happens to the best of us sometimes.  In my case, rather than facing my spontaneous fear of strangers, I turned myself right around and walked back home.

On the way home I concocted an elaborate lie to tell my friend the next time I saw him.  It was full of stress, drama, lost time and regret.  I stopped myself.  Literally.  In the middle of my street.

Why lie?  Why not keep it simple?  Why not express a little vulnerability?  Why not just say I couldn’t handle strangerdanger that particular night?

That’s just what I did.  Next time I say my friend, I simply apologized, looked him directly in the eye and told him what a ‘fraidycat I was.  It felt like one of those simply, human moments when you just lay it all out there for better or worse.

Life is complicated enough.  Why disguise your vulnerabilities with lies?  And why disguise your potatoes with a bunch of nonsense?

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Life is all about balance, right?  Balance and beans.  Ok… maybe not that last part.

While I’ll be the first person in line to pick at those brownies fresh out of the oven, I also know that I have to fill my belly with foods that make my body feel strong.  Because I think food is just downright dreamy, I like to take the time to make something special for my body.  Why?  I figure if my body is happy, then my brain is pretty stoked and my heart feels pretty rad… and that trickles out to every part of my life.

Can I tell you a secret?  I gave up working out for the new year.  That’s right… I gave it up completely.  I had absolutely no interest at all in even glancing at my running shoes.  About two months in, I went to slip on my favorite jeans.  Um…  they were tight… and they hadn’t just come out of the dryer.  What did I expect?  Seriously…

Well, I’m back at it.  I’m taking my running shoes out for a spin every once in a while, and my body is all smiles.  Incedentially, my body also wants to celebrate its new found activity with French fries… but that’s a whole other battle we can talk about later.

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Yes, I still love cupcakes.

Yes, I’ve been thinking about oatmeal cookies all week.

Yes,  I think pancakes should have a daily requirment like fruits and vegetables.

All of these things are true, yet here I am… and all I have to offer you is a pile of dried beans.

Do you feel wronged?  A little?  Be honest.

Let me explain.  These beans are special.  These beans have character, color and integrity.  These beans were inspiration enough for me to sit down and actually consider cooking dried beans at home.

See, I’m convinced that food has a story to tell and a story to create.  I want to know where my food comes from, so I’m always aspiring to find new foods from people who care about it as much as I do.

I don’t want to settle, but I also don’t want to spend a fortune on some fancypants ingredient that I won’t even have the tools to cook.  That’s just silly, right?

Well… these beans… they just made me swoon.  They’re beautiful.  And!  And!  I can cook them at home.  And if I can cook them at home, you can too.

Can I share my beans with you?  Will you indulge me?

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My Mom used to crawl in the bed at night, after a long day of being a mail carrier, a wife and mother and exclaim “Best part of the day!” just before she drifted off to sleep.  To her,  it seemed like there was no greater reward that peaceful rest at the end of the day.

As a kid, I had a hard time relating to my Mom’s Ode to Bedtime.  I was sure that I could have, at the very least, squeezed one more episode of The Cosby Show into my night.  Nope.  Bedtime was bedtime, not because there were overly strict bedtime rules, but because my Mom was just dog tired.

Nowadays I feel like I have a better understanding of my Mom’s nighttime sentiments.  My head hits the pillow after a long day and I’m asleep before I can even turn the bedside lamp off… and I don’t even have little kids yet!

You were right Momma.  Sometimes crawling under the covers is the best part of the day.

Other times, quiche is the best part of the day.  True.

In exciting, not sleepy or quiche related news:  my Mom, after over 30 years of delivering mail, retires from the Post Office… today!  Holy heck Mom!  Way to go!  Thanks for working hard for the family all those years.   I couldn’t be happier for you.  I hope you find a new “best part of the day”.  For reals, I love you Mom!

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Pop Quiz:

If you could only eat one thing for the rest of you life what would it be: sweet and creamy breakfast polenta with milk or (oh my gracious heavens) sweet and creamy fried polenta bars with blackberry meyer lemon jam?

No contest.  Fried polenta with blackberry jam every day, all day.  Let’s do this.

Remember yesterday I told you about Vanilla Brown Sugar Breakfast Polenta?  That was just a dirty trick to make you have enough leftover polenta to make the real deal:  fried polenta.

A quick heads up:  this recipe involves butter and results in an almost French Toast-ish, outta this world breakfast.  If you’re not ready for that… completely understandable… you might want to sit this one out.   I won’t judge.

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I don’t do dishes in the morning.  Dishes are no way to start the day.

While I am all about a big, fat, kitchen wrecking breakfast- morning clean up is absolutely nowhere in my early day itinerary.

The reality is, I may not get to have that perfect, sunny morning weekend wake up experience everday.  I am convinced, however, that there’s a way to put a smile on my face every morning… even if you have to force it on with a wrench.

When I’m in no mood to get out of bed and start my day I give myself this little speech in my head:  Joy,  stop being such a crabby pants.  Get out of bed, go put on that big robe that feels like a combination of cloud and kitten and make yourself breakfast without setting those robe sleeves on fire.  While you’re treating yourself to a fine morning… go ahead and take a break from those breakfast dishes.  You’ve done enough work just getting out of bed… The dishes can wait.

And just like that, the ugly Monday morning isn’t as nasty a beast as I thought.

Make Monday morning Vanilla Brown Sugar Breakfast Polenta, and let the dirty pan soak in the sink until you get home from work.  Live a little… don’t do the dishes.

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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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I need this recipe in my back pocket. It’s the recipe that tricks everyone into thinking that I’m the girl with a constant supply of eggs, flour, butter and every other baking necessity constantly on hand. In reality, I often only have one egg in the fridge, and just enough butter to have to take an trip to the store.

Don’t believe me? Would I lie? Um… no.

Here’s one thing I do fib about: sleeping. I just woke up from a nap. I have sleepy nap time marks on my face… totally undeniable napping has just occurred. If you were to ask me if I just woke up from a nap, I would deny it up and down. I dunno… just a little weirdness from Joy the Baker. I prefer to think of the white lie as somehow charming, and the sleep marked face as evidence of a guilty but of so indulgent afternoon.

Enough about napping. Go check your fridge for that lone egg and stick of butter, and you must have a bit of jam in there too!

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Allow me this space to keep it real.

Part of growing up (and oh how I want to wrestle that concept) is figuring out how to comfort myself.  Man alive… that’s a hard one.

We all have our shaky moments, when life flips itself upside down and reminds you that you’re not exactly the boss of everything around you.  In those moments, believe me when I say, I just want to hurl myself on the floor and throw a bona fide tantrum.  The only problem with tantrums, is that people don’t really cares much as they did when I was three,  and it just ruins my mascara.

Then there’s french fries.  French fries are far better than tantrums.

Even better than french fries I’ve found, is a good, loud sing.  When I needed comfort yesterday, when I was feeling a little shaky, I literally stood in my living room and sang whatever songs came to mind.  Loud.  With my eyes closed.  Like I really meant it.  From the inside.  It felt so so good.

And then there’s cake.

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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’ve now typed about seven different introductions to this post, only to completely delete them all.  

I’m trying my best to avoid words like unemployment, recession, war and ceasefire.  Ugh…  the world seems to be in the thick of it right now, and here we are just trying to work it out for ourselves everyday.  

I don’t have epic solutions to offer you, but I do have a band-aid:  lots of love and loads of sugar.  

How will that do you?

Let’s make Palmiers.  Let’s make Elephant Ears.  And you know what?  Let’s use store bought puff pastry, because we’re going to need these cookies toot sweet!

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Remember a few days ago when we were talking about husband hugs?

Here’s the deal with me and husband hugs: I’m more than willing to wait for them.  Sure, I can come with a serious case of the ‘wants’, but I’m usually able to talk myself into a bit of patience.

Your comments to my last post about hugs and husbands totally touched my heart.  They helped me realize why husband hugs are so great, because they come from a place of deep love and comfort.  That doesn’t just happen overnight.  That’s the serious stuff-  the stuff that comes with time, patience, understanding, commitment, love… you know, all the good stuff.  I say all of this to say:  I’m content.  Not to worry.  I’m more than willing to chillax on the husband hug front until it’s right and proper.

I’m flexible.  I’m sweet.  I’m happy:  just like this coffee cake.

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Tonight, from San Francisco, I’m raising my glass to one heck of a memorable year.  

 There have been highs and lows, lots of learning, some tears and plenty of beauty.   

Loads of goodies have come out of my oven.  Photos have filled the memory of my computer, and silly stories have flowed out onto the Internet.  

Here we are at the end and at the beginning.  Like a hop, skip and quick restart.

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These are the four pictures that are going to make you seriously consider why you aren’t in your kitchen right this second making these pancakes.

These are the four pictures that might just have you prioritizing the next few hours, the next few days, heck(!) your entire weekend around these pancakes.

Yea… that just happened. I just dropped that madness on you. I know… totally unfair.

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