For a baby shower this time...a few more of these and I can quit my "real" job!
The commissioner/father-to-be also suggests I dub my contest pie “Hold on, Wait a Minute, Let Me Put Some Brooklyn in it!”-Pie.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Our Friends at Gawker...
Thursday, March 29, 2007
It's Quite Literally a Jungle Out There...
From a NYT story today about dating, apartments and deal breakers. Something of a horrifying experience, I'd say:
"The second experience involved an artist who lived in an East Village tenement. As he entered her apartment, a free-flying parrot relieved itself on his head. Then a large rabbit darted out from somewhere and licked his feet. A baby gate separated a second rabbit from the first — there had been a nasty penis-biting episode, his date explained. Also, the kitchen wall was covered with antique egg beaters, which looked to Mr. Heindl like weird tools."
And yet not only did it work out...but now they have a nine-month-old daughter and they live in my neighborhood...
The story continues with Mr. Heindl explaining how a deal breaker turned into marriage:
“I seriously thought, ‘Shall I run? No, I like her, I like her, I’ll check it out,’ ” he says. “I thought about it, I asked myself, ‘Why are you doing this?’ and I decided it showed she can really nurture, because one was like a really old rabbit, a geriatric rabbit. And she baked, obviously.” (Italics mine.)
So...I think this means there's hope for me yet. All I have is an obese cat. And he has never pooped on anyone.
"The second experience involved an artist who lived in an East Village tenement. As he entered her apartment, a free-flying parrot relieved itself on his head. Then a large rabbit darted out from somewhere and licked his feet. A baby gate separated a second rabbit from the first — there had been a nasty penis-biting episode, his date explained. Also, the kitchen wall was covered with antique egg beaters, which looked to Mr. Heindl like weird tools."
And yet not only did it work out...but now they have a nine-month-old daughter and they live in my neighborhood...
The story continues with Mr. Heindl explaining how a deal breaker turned into marriage:
“I seriously thought, ‘Shall I run? No, I like her, I like her, I’ll check it out,’ ” he says. “I thought about it, I asked myself, ‘Why are you doing this?’ and I decided it showed she can really nurture, because one was like a really old rabbit, a geriatric rabbit. And she baked, obviously.” (Italics mine.)
So...I think this means there's hope for me yet. All I have is an obese cat. And he has never pooped on anyone.
I can't wait until May 2!
My beat-boxing air guitarist friend alerted me to this: http://www.foxsearchlight.com/waitress/
He says it's "right up (my) alley."
You can even Match the Pie to Its Description!
Ooh - now that I think about it...my parents will be here May 2. I think "the story of one woman trapped in a life from which she dreams of escape. Jenna's secret ambition is to save enough money from her waitressing job to leave her overbearing and controlling husband. Jenna is a sharp, sassy woman with a gift for making unusual pies whose recipes are inspired by the trials, tribulations and circumstances of her life. An unwanted pregnancy changes the course of events giving her an unexpected confidence via letters to her unborn baby" will be a tough sell to my dad. So I may have to wait until May 6...which, coincidentally, is Pants' birthday.
He says it's "right up (my) alley."
You can even Match the Pie to Its Description!
Ooh - now that I think about it...my parents will be here May 2. I think "the story of one woman trapped in a life from which she dreams of escape. Jenna's secret ambition is to save enough money from her waitressing job to leave her overbearing and controlling husband. Jenna is a sharp, sassy woman with a gift for making unusual pies whose recipes are inspired by the trials, tribulations and circumstances of her life. An unwanted pregnancy changes the course of events giving her an unexpected confidence via letters to her unborn baby" will be a tough sell to my dad. So I may have to wait until May 6...which, coincidentally, is Pants' birthday.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
I've been outta town...
...so I didn't bake at all this weekend. I tried to gather my thoughts last night and recall every pie-related (or maybe just food-related) incident over the past 5 days so we can catch up. Here goes nothing:First things first, I got a pie bird! Only $3.95 at Sur La Table! Looks like a blackbird.
I also got a sign at this wacky store in Walnut Creek called "Calypso Twist." My aunt said the place made her happy. I was a little skeptical...but it was indeed a happy place. And now the sign hangs in my kitchen...
I had to look at RVs with my parents at the Solano County Fairgrounds ("Deals on Wheels"; "No reasonable offer refused!") and then we decided to drive to Lodi to look at even more RVs. (I opted out for downtown Lodi...) This inspired my mother to sing the Creedence Clearwater Revival classic, "Stuck in Lodi Again" in the backseat of my aunt and uncle's monstrous SUV. I was a *little* grumpy until we stopped off at food stand along the way. It's a little blurry in the photo above, but they had a pie club ("Buy 7, get the 8th free!")...as well as baby pigs for sale for $50. (This would sort of be a good time to bring up Hampton, my uncle's barber's son's pig who really likes women with high-pitched voices, but I fear if I delve into that, I'll never get back on track and we do have a lot of ground to cover over the past few days).
On our last night, we ate at Chez Panisse...where I tried cardoons and smoked duck. This probably goes without saying, but it was really, really good. I didn't even know what cardoons were before that. Afterward, I was curious whether or not FreshDirect carries cardoons. They don't. They look like celery...but our waiter said they're in the artichoke family.
On the plane back, I finally finished "Julie and Julia" (I read too much of it on the way back from Alaska and had to take a break). I don't remember the *exact* passage, but there was something in it about chopping nuts that reminded me of making Sex in a Pan (don't worry - that pudding dessert, my lovelies) with my very first roommate in New York. I could only find walnuts in the shell...and didn't have a nutcracker, so my roommate and I attempted to crack the nuts with hammers...but that was really loud and there was a baby upstairs (it was at night), so we ended up hunkered down in my closet cracking the walnuts on phone books (to muffle the sound) with hammers. You'd think something like that would bond you for life, huh? Sadly, this was not the case. But, that's neither here nor there, as a former editor would say.
I also started reading "My Life in France" (the latest Julia Child book) and was stunned to discover that Julia learned to cook (at least the fancy French stuff) at 37. This means I literally have TONS of time to find my calling and that it IS still possible for my life to have direction, purpose and meaning. And that it's okay if maybe I'm stumbling a bit. And that it's important to remember that Rome was not built in a day. And all that stuff. (There was actually a sign at Calypso Twist that said something like that. It's not the one that's hanging in my kitchen though. The one in my kitchen specifically mentions "pie.")
Before I left, my mother sent me a recipe for Elvis' pound cake...and it seems like I've been seeing a lot about pound cake since then. I have to spend some time gathering my thoughts before executing an actual blog entry about it - she said something about a pound of flour and a pound of butter and that's how it got its name?
My Saveur subscription lapsed, but I had to buy a copy at the airport ($5!!) because there was a great big ol' coconut cream pie on the cover. (I haven't actually read the article on the Massachusetts diner, so we'll leave it at that for now...) There was also an Emile Henry ad for their fancy-pants pie pans...but I like Pyrex a lot. Guess it would be worth experimenting to see if it's worth paying the extra bucks for an Emile Henry pan. I'm ashamed to admit there was a time when I didn't think I needed to waste money on a pastry blender either...
Saveur also has a calendar of events of sorts...that includes the Interstate Mullet Toss April 27 through 29. I also didn't read what Saveur had to say about it, but I definitely remember my classmates talking about the Flora-Bama Mullet Toss when I lived in Mississippi. However, I have yet to witness the spectacle...
Thursday, March 22, 2007
It's Springtime
My mother is always in good spirits after the vernal equinox as it means she no longer lives in perpetual darkness...
For those of us who do not live on top of the world, the differences are perhaps subtler. In a similar vein, colleague recently requested a lemon cheesecake and since I am chairwoman of the Birthday Committee at my office, I figured this would be a good way to say, "Happy Birthday, March."
(Fun Fact: my grandmother lived in Burlingame, CA for years and years and years. Even MORE Fun: SFO is in the vicinity and I'm flying there tomorrow.)
The really interesting thing about this cheesecake is that it called for a water bath (my second in one week!) I was worried again about scalding myself...but assume it had something to do with the cheesecake cracking? My cheesecakes always crack, so I was willing to experiment.
I decided to improvise with the crust - Lorna Doone! - as I had no idea how many of those little cookies were in half a cup...and who has time to grind them up and measure them and then grind up more and measure again and so on and so forth? It also calls for a lot of butter, so the crust wasn't at all as grainy as my cheesecakes are usually wont to be. In any event, it kind of reminds me of that NYT story about improvising...I also couldn't be bothered to actually wash my teaspoons, so I used a regular spoon and eyeballed the lemon juice and zest. (I live on the edge on weekdays.)
(While this sucker was in the oven, I was flipping channels and came across something about female bodybuilders on TLC. They were preparing for a big competition and had cans of Pam backstage! Do they spray themselves with it?? The commentator said something about them eating sugary foods right before the competition to make their veins bulge...)
I was pleased to see the cheesecake did not crack in the oven...but only one side was browned. It looked kind of like flan or creme brulee. I had to get really creative about storing it in the refrigerator, stacking a bunch of stuff to nestle my cheesecake in tight: plate, springform pan (which I think is warped), wax paper and another plate on top. This setup was intended to prevent any weird refrigerator smells from contaminating my cheesecake.
My colleagues seemed to enjoy it...but I have to admit I feel kind of like a freakshow bringing in multiple cakes a week. So...I may hold off for awhile and let some anticipation build (and to perhaps create the illusion that I do actually have other hobbies...).
One colleague asked if there was mascarpone in it. I couldn't believe it! I was thrilled...what a fine palate he has.
For those of us who do not live on top of the world, the differences are perhaps subtler. In a similar vein, colleague recently requested a lemon cheesecake and since I am chairwoman of the Birthday Committee at my office, I figured this would be a good way to say, "Happy Birthday, March."
(Fun Fact: my grandmother lived in Burlingame, CA for years and years and years. Even MORE Fun: SFO is in the vicinity and I'm flying there tomorrow.)
The really interesting thing about this cheesecake is that it called for a water bath (my second in one week!) I was worried again about scalding myself...but assume it had something to do with the cheesecake cracking? My cheesecakes always crack, so I was willing to experiment.
I decided to improvise with the crust - Lorna Doone! - as I had no idea how many of those little cookies were in half a cup...and who has time to grind them up and measure them and then grind up more and measure again and so on and so forth? It also calls for a lot of butter, so the crust wasn't at all as grainy as my cheesecakes are usually wont to be. In any event, it kind of reminds me of that NYT story about improvising...I also couldn't be bothered to actually wash my teaspoons, so I used a regular spoon and eyeballed the lemon juice and zest. (I live on the edge on weekdays.)
(While this sucker was in the oven, I was flipping channels and came across something about female bodybuilders on TLC. They were preparing for a big competition and had cans of Pam backstage! Do they spray themselves with it?? The commentator said something about them eating sugary foods right before the competition to make their veins bulge...)
I was pleased to see the cheesecake did not crack in the oven...but only one side was browned. It looked kind of like flan or creme brulee. I had to get really creative about storing it in the refrigerator, stacking a bunch of stuff to nestle my cheesecake in tight: plate, springform pan (which I think is warped), wax paper and another plate on top. This setup was intended to prevent any weird refrigerator smells from contaminating my cheesecake.
My colleagues seemed to enjoy it...but I have to admit I feel kind of like a freakshow bringing in multiple cakes a week. So...I may hold off for awhile and let some anticipation build (and to perhaps create the illusion that I do actually have other hobbies...).
One colleague asked if there was mascarpone in it. I couldn't believe it! I was thrilled...what a fine palate he has.
I missed a day!
...which means there's SO much to catch up on.
The NYT had a bunch of really good food stories yesterday.
I really liked some of the descriptions in It Boils Down to This: Cheap Wine Works Fine even though a friend described them as "pompous":
"I whisked several beurre blancs — the classic white wine and butter emulsion — pouring in a New Zealand sauvignon blanc with a perfume of Club Med piña coladas, an overly sweet German riesling and a California chardonnay so oaky it tasted as if it had been aged in a box of No. 2 pencils. "
And..."Next I braised duck legs in a nonvintage $5.99 tawny port that reminded me of long-abandoned Halloween candy, with hints of Skittles and off-brand caramels."
I also really, really liked Tortillas Like Mamá’s, but This Is No Bodega. I even tried to find a recipe for pupusas, but didn't really find anything that looked incredible. (There was one on the Food Network that would do in a pinch, but it didn't blow me away.)
(Baking connection! "The Rancho Liborio bakery is a study in cross-cultural merchandising. The Cuban bread has to have the right delicate crust and texture for dipping in café con leche. The compact Mexican loaves called bolillos (four for $1) are sold near Salvadoran pastries called peperechas, layered with pineapple. The tres leches cake is a hit with almost everyone, including African-American shoppers from the area.")
And I thought For Orange Zest, Substitute Kool-Aid was also really interesting. My mother definitely tinkers with recipes. I suppose I do, too, to a certain degree...
The NYT had a bunch of really good food stories yesterday.
I really liked some of the descriptions in It Boils Down to This: Cheap Wine Works Fine even though a friend described them as "pompous":
"I whisked several beurre blancs — the classic white wine and butter emulsion — pouring in a New Zealand sauvignon blanc with a perfume of Club Med piña coladas, an overly sweet German riesling and a California chardonnay so oaky it tasted as if it had been aged in a box of No. 2 pencils. "
And..."Next I braised duck legs in a nonvintage $5.99 tawny port that reminded me of long-abandoned Halloween candy, with hints of Skittles and off-brand caramels."
I also really, really liked Tortillas Like Mamá’s, but This Is No Bodega. I even tried to find a recipe for pupusas, but didn't really find anything that looked incredible. (There was one on the Food Network that would do in a pinch, but it didn't blow me away.)
(Baking connection! "The Rancho Liborio bakery is a study in cross-cultural merchandising. The Cuban bread has to have the right delicate crust and texture for dipping in café con leche. The compact Mexican loaves called bolillos (four for $1) are sold near Salvadoran pastries called peperechas, layered with pineapple. The tres leches cake is a hit with almost everyone, including African-American shoppers from the area.")
And I thought For Orange Zest, Substitute Kool-Aid was also really interesting. My mother definitely tinkers with recipes. I suppose I do, too, to a certain degree...
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Crust Trouble, Dancing with the Stars...and Junior High Memories
This may actually turn into ruminations on ABC's prime time programming last night as that's what was on in the background (I don't have cable), but I'll make a concerted effort to tie it back into baking.Have I already blogged about displacement? My aunt taught me that when measuring Crisco, you add water to the measuring cup to get a better idea of how much you have left to add. I prefer to use smaller measuring cups and just scoop it out of the tub (I ran out of sticks and FreshDirect only had small tubs...and after three crusts, I've pretty much decimated my new small tub). I found the banoffee crust to be a bit too sticky and was a little worried, but I'm more careless when baking after work, so I added a *little* more flour and then made an executive decision that everything was going to be fine (The Secret??).
It was at this point in Dancing with the Stars that they introduced NBA hall of famer Clyde Drexler who is an impressive 6'7". What they don't know, however, is my very own father is 6'10" and so 6'7" does not really astound me. I liked Clyde though - he seems like a really nice guy. For whatever that's worth.
Other DWTS thoughts?
Heather Mills and her partner first met up in Brighton! If you read my post yesterday, you know how I feel about Brighton! (I also thought it was funny that they referred to Mills as a "charity campaigner" as if "divorcing a Beatle" wasn't really what made her a "star...")
At this point I realized I had forgotten to poke holes in the bottom of my crust and tried to do it mid-baking. (Oops.) Holes or no holes, this one still turned out pretty ugly. And part of it crawled down the side during baking...I don't know why. I think another call to my aunt is in order. (While I was spooning in toffee, the whole crust moved independent of the pan...)
My final DWTS take-away: Billy Ray Cyrus. Guy didn't do so hot last night. And he may sing about mullets now, but it was obviously his achy-breaky heart that made him famous. That song was on the airwaves when I was in the 7th grade.
And...I was in band in junior high. I played the flute...which sort of reminds me of the time my friend Erin took me to a secret beach in Malibu (where she swore I didn't have to worry about people seeing me in swimwear) and then a creepy man in what I initially described as "the worst g-string ever" - but then my roommate (from my sophomore year in college who prides herself on being the shallowest person I know) told me was actually a "t-string" - appeared out of nowhere...and Erin and I moved away from him at the secret beach because he was a little too close for comfort and kinda, sorta, you know, naked...and we were just kind of hanging out and doing our thing when we looked at each other and asked, "Do you hear music?" and looked over and saw the creepy guy in the t-string playing a flute. He was standing there on the secret beach in his t-string, playing his flute as if it was the most natural thing in the world...
But, back in junior high, our big band hurrah was a local parade and our big rival was Cook Jr. High. (We were the Spartans of Slater). My band director picked a patriotic tune and had us all hyped up about how talented and professional we were in our white jeans with red stripes up the sides. Cook? Played Achy-Breaky Heart. And guess who won top honors in the parade?? I hated that song for a looong time afterward.
Now though - I admit I'm glad I never had to learn to play a Billy Ray Cyrus song on the flute.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Two and a Half Pies
So, this weekend Job #1 was creating my first commissioned work, a chocolate coconut meringue pie. Except that I couldn't find a recipe for that exact pie and I am not so talented as to be able to bake sans recipe...so, long story short, I decided to do a chocolate cream pie and a coconut meringue.The coconut meringue recipe I found on Epicurious.com called for cream of coconut (is there a big difference between that and coconut milk??) and FreshDirect didn't have cream of coconut, so I had to go to the grocery store anyway. I also needed to buy coconut extract and was impressed by the extract selection they had at my little Met Foodmarket...but, unfortunately, all the extracts of the Met Foodmarket rainbow did not include coconut. Vanilla (natch), almond, lemon, imitation butter (!!)...but no coconut.
I also had to use Oreos with the frosting scraped out instead of Nabisco chocolate wafers. Improv!
And...I *thought* I had unsweetened baker's chocolate at home but I really had semisweet baker's chocolate (and only an ounce!) so I improvised by using all of the bittersweet chocolate I had purchased for the occasion (7 ounces instead of 5) in addition to the last ounce of semisweet baker's chocolate I had to my name. (For the record, I am officially out of baker's chocolate now.)
The chocolate cream pie recipe called for forcing custard through a sieve...which, if you recall, is what I had to do with that Boston Cream Cake-thing. Even though it was kinda gross...I have to admit that the end result - homemade pudding, I guess - was seriously one of the greatest things I have ever had in my mouth. Period. It quite literally made my tastebuds dance and sing. (Says the recipe: "This beautiful pie is great for entertaining, since the rich, creamy filling will be a surefire hit with anyone who likes chocolate pudding." I wouldn't necessarily call myself a HUGE chocolate pudding fan...but, oh, man. It was good stuff. I would even be tempted to secretly make it in my apartment where I live by myself and where no one would ever know...and just eat it all myself. With my cat. Except then I'd be a cautionary tale...and I'm thinking here that by putting that statement out into the cosmos that perhaps it will be a deterrent...but, who am I kidding? I'm totally going to do it anyway...might as well embrace spinsterhood with gusto.)
I still haven't figured out the single crust. I rolled it out a LOT so that there was enough to fill the pan and spill over the edges, but then it seemed too thin...and it ended up bunching a little...and I tried to crimp the edges to make them pretty, but have in my notes here that I was worried about it being tough...probably because I thought I had handled it too much.
You also have to pierce the bottom of a single crust with a fork (or use pie beads or some such nonsense?)...and it came away from the sides during baking.
Other observations:
Cream of coconut kind of looks like lard.
Meringue takes FOREVER. I spent a good 20 minutes beating the hell out of it with my hand mixer on high...and it's the first time I have ever used the "power boost" feature. But the recipe called for "stiff, glossy peaks" and it was definitely glossy at a certain point, but whether or not it was actually stiff when I gave up and said, "To hell with it..." is debatable. I'm surprised my arm isn't sore today.
"In keeping with the tradition of southern desserts, this [coconut meringue] pie is sweet. Dr. Stallworth uses buttermilk in the filling to provide a hint of tang, but northerners may want to accentuate it even more by adding a tablespoon of fresh lemon or lime juice to the filling," Epicurious says.
In homage to my Southern roots, perhaps, I stuck with the buttermilk for "a hint of tang." And, while I am obviously not allowed to sample my commissioned work, I think it smelled pretty darn good. (And I was able to store it in my beloved Elegan cake holder.) Fingers crossed my coworker has a happy anniversary...
Re: Banoffee...
Look! It says, "This pie, an easy take on toffee with bananas (hence the name), made its debut at The Hungry Monk, a pub in England, in 1972. Traditional recipes involve boiling unopened cans of condensed milk, but since that sometimes results in explosions, we thought you might prefer our method."
I'm very excited about this pie...so much so that I thought I could make it after midnight and had to actually abort the mission when I pulled out a pathetic single crust from my oven and realized I was too tired to give it the attention it deserved.
In order to avoid explosions, you have to open the cans of sweetened condensed milk and pour the "milk" into an empty pie pan and cover it with foil and place it in a roasting pan and add boiling water and then leave it be for two hours (refilling the water as necessary...). I used a roasting pan I borrowed from a friend of a friend at Thanksgiving and still haven't returned (oops) and was kind of scared I was going to scald myself when removing the water bath from the oven. Thankfully, this story ends happily.
I was really excited when I removed the foil and discovered that I had made toffee! It kind of looked like brains though. (Stirring it up and chilling it should - fingers crossed - eliminate any brain-like consistency.)
And here's my great-big England tie-in: coincidentally, the second Bridget Jones movie was on TBS all weekend. I think I've already established my position on that film, so I won't beat a dead horse. But, it was sort of like a car wreck in that I couldn't exactly look away...and then at the end, I heard a familiar voice singing, "Your Love is King." I had to verify this online just now, but I was right! It was Will Young! For those of you who were not watching reality TV in the UK in 2001, he was the winner of England's Pop Idol long before Simon Cowell (okay, a year before Simon Cowell) hopped across the pond to insult would-be American singers. Will Young and Gareth Gates were the final two contestants and I was a HUGE Will fan. (Gareth was pretty in a boyish sort of way, but Will had the pipes). My boyfriend's mother had 4 sisters and all of them voted obsessively for Gareth and I got all caught up in it - i.e., "If there is any justice in this world, Will Young will win Pop Idol!" And so he did...and now he makes cursory appearances in Mrs. Henderson Presents and on Bridget Jones soundtracks. (Ironically, this realization came on the same night that Anderson Cooper interviewed Simon Cowell on 20/20...but please don't think less of me for watching Pop Idol - it was the first year of the show! It was a new and exciting phenomenon! It's not like I voted for Clay Aiken. [Although perhaps I should admit that I *did* actually vote for Mario Lopez in a moment of weakness in the final episode of Dancing with the Stars last season. But Saved by the Bell, like, defined my generation. And Screech lives near my cousins!])
In any event...after the horrifying Bridget Jones sequel was over, Wimbledon was on! And say what you will about romantic comedies, but this one was filmed in Brighton which was where I went to school for two years and so I have lots of happy memories there. (And, one might also argue, it was exceedingly appropriate since banoffee pie originated in the U.K...)
But, sadly, I left the crust dough out too long and it was a *little* too dry by the time I tried to actually work with it...and I thought I could be really smart and fold over the excess crust to compensate for any thinness and make it easier to crimp...and I was really excited when I realized that each and every pie I attempted to bake required stiff peaks at one point or another...but then I removed my single crust from the oven and found that it did a weird creeping-down-the-sides-thing and seemed a bit gummy, so I decided to cut my losses and save banoffee for another night. But I'm halfway there with the toffee!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Culinary References Abound!
...in this ESPN.com story, Ugly Basketball is Beautiful for IU, UCLA, about Saturday's match up.
Case in point:
"Put it all together on the same court Saturday, and you have a recipe for sludge soup -- which is, of course, a dish best served to a coach like Sampson or UCLA's Ben Howland, who'll appreciate it for reasons having everything to do with a grinder's mentality and nothing to do with art."
And...
"There isn't much mystery meat on this plate. UCLA, the national runner-up a year ago, gets to Saturday's game as a team that spent weeks this season as the top-ranked club in the country, and it wasn't until end-of-the-season flops against Washington and Cal that anyone really wondered if the Bruins were vulnerable. Indiana, emerging now through the fog of the end of the Davis years, has just finished suggesting that it is ready to begin re-establishing its reputation behind a defense-first system."
Since I am notoriously a sports curse, this begs the question of whether or not I should/can watch that game as it sounds like it is going to be an ugly match.
Either way, I'm really glad that Mata guy doesn't have that weird face mask thing this season...
Case in point:
"Put it all together on the same court Saturday, and you have a recipe for sludge soup -- which is, of course, a dish best served to a coach like Sampson or UCLA's Ben Howland, who'll appreciate it for reasons having everything to do with a grinder's mentality and nothing to do with art."
And...
"There isn't much mystery meat on this plate. UCLA, the national runner-up a year ago, gets to Saturday's game as a team that spent weeks this season as the top-ranked club in the country, and it wasn't until end-of-the-season flops against Washington and Cal that anyone really wondered if the Bruins were vulnerable. Indiana, emerging now through the fog of the end of the Davis years, has just finished suggesting that it is ready to begin re-establishing its reputation behind a defense-first system."
Since I am notoriously a sports curse, this begs the question of whether or not I should/can watch that game as it sounds like it is going to be an ugly match.
Either way, I'm really glad that Mata guy doesn't have that weird face mask thing this season...
Thursday, March 15, 2007
I made cake. From a box!
Another one of my colleagues is leaving and requested a plain ol' Duncan Hines cake with Duncan Hines frosting in honor of his departure. (I just looked at their website and noticed they have a Baking Club!) I obliged, but felt like I had to do a *little* something extra. It just so happens that I was out with said colleague once long ago and got a little tipsy and - long story short - was feeling somewhat candid, so I made fun of his green shirt and told him I think he's smug. So...it's a happy little accident that we're so close to St. Patrick's Day because green sprinkles are remarkably easy to come by. The rest of my colleagues think I made a green cake to honor my Irish heritage. But a select few know it's a nod to my previous faux pas...
I was totally examining the box last night for blog-worthy material, and came across a little decal in the corner that says, "As recommended in WILTON METHOD Cake Decorating Schools."
Fondant, tiered cakes and gum paste - oh, my!
But, seriously, I had no idea the offerings were so comprehensive! Sugar Artistry? Chocolate Inspirations? Marzipan Magic??
My very first job ever was working at a bakery in Georgia. Which is actually where I discovered I have a hidden talent for cake decorating. I'm sure the folks at the Wilton Method Cake Decorating Schools would put me to shame...but I can write on a birthday cake in a pinch.
I was totally examining the box last night for blog-worthy material, and came across a little decal in the corner that says, "As recommended in WILTON METHOD Cake Decorating Schools."
Fondant, tiered cakes and gum paste - oh, my!
But, seriously, I had no idea the offerings were so comprehensive! Sugar Artistry? Chocolate Inspirations? Marzipan Magic??
My very first job ever was working at a bakery in Georgia. Which is actually where I discovered I have a hidden talent for cake decorating. I'm sure the folks at the Wilton Method Cake Decorating Schools would put me to shame...but I can write on a birthday cake in a pinch.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
For the Math and Science Whizzes Among You...
Happy Pi Day! (3/14...get it??)
(This is especially true for my friend who looks like Jesus and who was almost on Beauty and the Geek.)
Also...
http://www.piday.org/index.php
They're giving away a free t-shirt today! Would be mighty ironic for the pie contest, no??
(This is especially true for my friend who looks like Jesus and who was almost on Beauty and the Geek.)
Also...
http://www.piday.org/index.php
They're giving away a free t-shirt today! Would be mighty ironic for the pie contest, no??
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
I really like my new pie book...
However, it's making me somewhat covetous of all sorts of gadgets.
I really like the pie bird that allows steam to escape through its beak! (What's-his-name said these are kind of hard to come by nowadays...or at least that some of them can be kind of expensive.)
And...the suggestion to use an oven guard instead of a cookie sheet with foil (which I've tried time and time again) is very, very intriguing!
This book also has lots and lots of fun facts about all that is pie.
Although...I'm not so sure about the cherry pie "tip" - learn how to tie the stem in a knot with your tongue while you're waiting for it to bake?? Perhaps I'm being prudish, but that seems a little risque for pie bakers, doesn't it? Or at least it doesn't exactly jive with my notion of the average reader. Perhaps there's a lesson in there somewhere...
I really like the pie bird that allows steam to escape through its beak! (What's-his-name said these are kind of hard to come by nowadays...or at least that some of them can be kind of expensive.)
And...the suggestion to use an oven guard instead of a cookie sheet with foil (which I've tried time and time again) is very, very intriguing!
This book also has lots and lots of fun facts about all that is pie.
Although...I'm not so sure about the cherry pie "tip" - learn how to tie the stem in a knot with your tongue while you're waiting for it to bake?? Perhaps I'm being prudish, but that seems a little risque for pie bakers, doesn't it? Or at least it doesn't exactly jive with my notion of the average reader. Perhaps there's a lesson in there somewhere...
Apologies for the Screwy Spacing Below.
I can't figure out how to fix it.
I went a *little* crazy in the process.
It ruins a perfectly good post!
I went a *little* crazy in the process.
It ruins a perfectly good post!
My Top 10 Baking Crises
Something always seems to go wrong when I'm in the kitchen and it panics me and I worry myself sick...but everything *also* always has a magical way of working out. With that in mind, I thought it might be fun to pay homage to my 10 most memorable near-meltdowns.10. The Sex-in-a-Pan disaster. This pudding and Cool Whip-inspired dessert has a nut crust and the combo packs a powerful punch (one of my floormates in college said her mother made something similar called "The Next Best Thing to Robert Redford"). I tried to bring it into work in the summertime, however, and it got pretty soupy en route. I had to make a mad dash for whipped topping on my lunch hour in order to cover up the soupy mess...but the whipped topping itself was still pretty frozen by the time I had to spoon it on top of the soupy mess and I was afraid my colleagues would be revolted. (They weren't.)
9. The Blueberry Pie that tasted like nothing! We had a big BBQ at my old apartment and I really wanted to flex my baking muscles. I felt like I had done apple pie to death and so I tried to branch out. My aunt's recipe says to boil the fruit down and then to add spices "to taste." So...I'm not sure if I boiled the berries too long or if I didn't add enough spices or what went wrong...but it was a big mouthful of gelatinous nothing. The BBQ guests, however, went absolutely nuts over my mother's cornbread...which I swear I could make with my eyes closed. (Maybe even with my hands tied behind my back, too.)
8. The 5AM Coffeecake. When relations soured at my old apartment, I avoided my roommates like the plague. This meant I could only bake when they weren't home...or, when they were sleeping. That was the case bright and early one morning when I actually baked before dawn rather than risk running into one of them.
7. The Pecan Pumpkin Pie. I thought this sounded like the greatest compromise ever - the best of both worlds! But when I brought it into work to share with my colleagues, they were brutally honest. Especially one woman. The lesson I learned? People like pecan pie or they like pumpkin pie, but they do not like them together in one pie.
6. The Case of the Jiggly Pies. I had an orphan Thanksgiving with friends in New York a couple of years ago and was responsible for dessert. My roommate was doing the turkey and fixins at another apartment and I was supposed to arrive at a specified time, pies in hand. I made the chocolate coconut pecan tart without a hitch, but she insisted on pumpkin pie from The New Best Recipe Cookbook (which she actually gave me for my birthday last year) and I had to jot down the recipe over the phone...if the darn thing had baked in the specified time, I would have been on time. But it just wouldn't set and so I had Thanksgiving revelers calling to ask, "Where are you?" and had to blame the jiggly pies, thus delaying the entire meal.
5. Andy's Grasshopper Pie. I blogged about this recently, so I won't beat a dead horse. Suffice it to say I had the wrong color booze and it looked like pea soup until I added enough food coloring. And I dropped a meat thermometer in my stove.
4. The Tunnel of Fudge! I thought this would be the perfect way to celebrate the anniversary of my old office's move to New Jersey (Get it?? We had to take the PATH train under the Hudson River...) but I tried to use a new silicon bundt pan and I'd never used silicon bakeware before. The recipe said the "tunnel of fudge" was supposed to "magically appear" during baking. But this, too, was incredibly jiggly and I couldn't tell whether or not it wasn't done yet or if the jiggly part was the fudge tunnel that had magically appeared.
3. The Leaky Pie on the Subway. I've already bemoaned the incident with my baked goods carrier on the morning train - it is intended for rectangular dishes and I tried to strap in a circular pie dish. I couldn't get a seat that fateful morning and was precariously balancing all of my belongings (in addition to said baked goods carrier). Then, all of a sudden, I heard, "Ma'am? You're leaking" and was horrified to see a pile of sugary, cinnamon-y goo at my feet.
2. The Lizbeth-themed sugar cookies! When one of my work friends was preparing to move far, far away, I decided the best way to celebrate her tenure was to bake sugar cookies (I think she specifically said, "No chocolate") and then write Lizbeth-y phrases on them with icing. The matter was complicated, however, when I could not find icing at my local grocery store. The employees there were slightly hostile (I was telling this story to a friend way back when and tried to explain my hesitancy by saying, "They could be kind of mean" and he said, "Mean? Good lord - they're hateful as hell!" So...that made me feel better about my reluctance to ask for help. Finally, I spied what I *thought* was blue icing. I purchased it and went home to decorate cookies. But after I wrote my first phrase on my first cookie, I realized that the "icing" was bleeding through the cookie. Horrified, I re-examined the package and realized that I had, in fact, purchased concentrated food coloring for icing rather than icing itself. Luckily, my roommate's live-in boyfriend (yes, that was passive-aggressiveness) had recently had a birthday (it's actually coming up again soon, if memory serves) and so there was icing on hand as a result. I had to abbreviate some of my phrases, but I was able to make it work!
Drum roll...
1. Without a shadow of a doubt, it's the Burning Coffeecake. I have a recipe for a coffeecake that requires two layers of batter with canned pears in the middle. As such, it requires a certain degree of eyeballing when you're pouring the batter. It's not so tough with one...but I was trying to make TWO and obviously didn't do them evenly. Long story short, one overflowed onto the bottom of the oven...it burned and set off the fire alarm. To make matters worse, I had forced a friend to stay after work to go to a going away party with me and he, in turn, forced me to stay at the going away party longer than I wanted to and so I didn't get home to start baking these coffeecakes until 11 or so. So...by the time it was burning it was around midnight. I was wearing pajamas. The fire alarm company called and I explained that it was an accident - I hadn't eyeballed my coffeecakes very well but everything was under control...when I heard sirens.
"They're not coming here, are they?" I asked.
"There's no way we can cancel a call like this," they said.
I reluctantly went downstairs and opened the front door to find no less than a dozen firemen in two trucks. They had the hose out and everything and were preparing to save me.
"I'm so sorry!" I kept saying over and over again.
8. The 5AM Coffeecake. When relations soured at my old apartment, I avoided my roommates like the plague. This meant I could only bake when they weren't home...or, when they were sleeping. That was the case bright and early one morning when I actually baked before dawn rather than risk running into one of them.
7. The Pecan Pumpkin Pie. I thought this sounded like the greatest compromise ever - the best of both worlds! But when I brought it into work to share with my colleagues, they were brutally honest. Especially one woman. The lesson I learned? People like pecan pie or they like pumpkin pie, but they do not like them together in one pie.
6. The Case of the Jiggly Pies. I had an orphan Thanksgiving with friends in New York a couple of years ago and was responsible for dessert. My roommate was doing the turkey and fixins at another apartment and I was supposed to arrive at a specified time, pies in hand. I made the chocolate coconut pecan tart without a hitch, but she insisted on pumpkin pie from The New Best Recipe Cookbook (which she actually gave me for my birthday last year) and I had to jot down the recipe over the phone...if the darn thing had baked in the specified time, I would have been on time. But it just wouldn't set and so I had Thanksgiving revelers calling to ask, "Where are you?" and had to blame the jiggly pies, thus delaying the entire meal.
5. Andy's Grasshopper Pie. I blogged about this recently, so I won't beat a dead horse. Suffice it to say I had the wrong color booze and it looked like pea soup until I added enough food coloring. And I dropped a meat thermometer in my stove.
4. The Tunnel of Fudge! I thought this would be the perfect way to celebrate the anniversary of my old office's move to New Jersey (Get it?? We had to take the PATH train under the Hudson River...) but I tried to use a new silicon bundt pan and I'd never used silicon bakeware before. The recipe said the "tunnel of fudge" was supposed to "magically appear" during baking. But this, too, was incredibly jiggly and I couldn't tell whether or not it wasn't done yet or if the jiggly part was the fudge tunnel that had magically appeared.
3. The Leaky Pie on the Subway. I've already bemoaned the incident with my baked goods carrier on the morning train - it is intended for rectangular dishes and I tried to strap in a circular pie dish. I couldn't get a seat that fateful morning and was precariously balancing all of my belongings (in addition to said baked goods carrier). Then, all of a sudden, I heard, "Ma'am? You're leaking" and was horrified to see a pile of sugary, cinnamon-y goo at my feet.
2. The Lizbeth-themed sugar cookies! When one of my work friends was preparing to move far, far away, I decided the best way to celebrate her tenure was to bake sugar cookies (I think she specifically said, "No chocolate") and then write Lizbeth-y phrases on them with icing. The matter was complicated, however, when I could not find icing at my local grocery store. The employees there were slightly hostile (I was telling this story to a friend way back when and tried to explain my hesitancy by saying, "They could be kind of mean" and he said, "Mean? Good lord - they're hateful as hell!" So...that made me feel better about my reluctance to ask for help. Finally, I spied what I *thought* was blue icing. I purchased it and went home to decorate cookies. But after I wrote my first phrase on my first cookie, I realized that the "icing" was bleeding through the cookie. Horrified, I re-examined the package and realized that I had, in fact, purchased concentrated food coloring for icing rather than icing itself. Luckily, my roommate's live-in boyfriend (yes, that was passive-aggressiveness) had recently had a birthday (it's actually coming up again soon, if memory serves) and so there was icing on hand as a result. I had to abbreviate some of my phrases, but I was able to make it work!
Drum roll...
1. Without a shadow of a doubt, it's the Burning Coffeecake. I have a recipe for a coffeecake that requires two layers of batter with canned pears in the middle. As such, it requires a certain degree of eyeballing when you're pouring the batter. It's not so tough with one...but I was trying to make TWO and obviously didn't do them evenly. Long story short, one overflowed onto the bottom of the oven...it burned and set off the fire alarm. To make matters worse, I had forced a friend to stay after work to go to a going away party with me and he, in turn, forced me to stay at the going away party longer than I wanted to and so I didn't get home to start baking these coffeecakes until 11 or so. So...by the time it was burning it was around midnight. I was wearing pajamas. The fire alarm company called and I explained that it was an accident - I hadn't eyeballed my coffeecakes very well but everything was under control...when I heard sirens.
"They're not coming here, are they?" I asked.
"There's no way we can cancel a call like this," they said.
I reluctantly went downstairs and opened the front door to find no less than a dozen firemen in two trucks. They had the hose out and everything and were preparing to save me.
"I'm so sorry!" I kept saying over and over again.
Nevertheless, about half of them came inside my apartment to open windows...and they were actually really nice. One of them even said, "Hey - don't worry about it! I burn french toast all the time!"
I tried to offer them coffeecake (I had two, remember?), but they refused.
Then I tried to bake them pies to say thank you (this was around Thanksgiving, too...), but, unfortunately, I couldn't figure out how to alert them to my presence (do fire departments have doorbells?) so I ended up just taking the pies to work and they never knew I baked pies specifically for them.
I tried to offer them coffeecake (I had two, remember?), but they refused.
Then I tried to bake them pies to say thank you (this was around Thanksgiving, too...), but, unfortunately, I couldn't figure out how to alert them to my presence (do fire departments have doorbells?) so I ended up just taking the pies to work and they never knew I baked pies specifically for them.
Monday, March 12, 2007
It is with a heavy heart...
That I pass along this: Rockies release veteran Lopez: Iannetta's progress made backstop expendable
I wish I could bake him a pie to make him feel better.
I wish I could bake him a pie to make him feel better.
I got my first commission!
That's right, folks, I am officially a working baker.
One of my coworkers commissioned me to bake a pie for his anniversary next week!
His wife's choice? Chocolate coconut meringue.
He even paid up front!
One of my coworkers commissioned me to bake a pie for his anniversary next week!
His wife's choice? Chocolate coconut meringue.
He even paid up front!
Fly's in the Buttermilk...
Technically speaking, Strawberry Rhubarb was the next pie on my list, but rhubarb was kind of hard to come by and so I settled on a close second - Shoofly. This was actually a Pants request (and I've been singing "fly's in the buttermilk..." ever since). I could have sworn that Shoofly pie was Southern in origin, but The Joy of Cooking says it's Pennsylvania Dutch.And this, of course, immediately sends me down Memory Lane and makes me think of Florence. When I was in high school (in Georgia), I used to volunteer at a nursing home. I'd go once a week and visit with residents and try to talk them into playing Bingo with me. Florence was one of my favorites. Every week, she'd say the same thing: "I'm Pennsylvania Dutch. I'm a registered nurse. My daughter, Skippy, is a real beauty. My son, Todd, likes to travel."
I heard this so many times that I will forever associate Florence with all things Pennsylvania Dutch (even funnel cakes at the state fair...).
Florence was one of the more sociable residents. Some were a bit harder to coax out of their rooms. One such resident was Irene. I knocked on her door once to try to get her to play with us. And when she told me to come in, I was shocked to find her walls were adorned with Travis Tritt posters.
My delicate inquiry? "So, Irene, are you a big country music fan?"
Her response? "No! That's my nephew!"
And, sure enough - one of her pictures was signed, "To Auntie Irene. Love, Travis."
How about that?
Speaking of state fairs (remember?) Pants actually suggested once (perhaps not in complete seriousness) that I should spend a year going to all 50 state fairs and entering pies in all of them. Afterward, I could write a book, she said. But then another friend let me borrow American Pie: Slices of Life (and Pie) from America's Backroads which is a fairly similar concept. (I actually had an epiphany this weekend about a children's book and spent some time sketching out some ideas to make it happen. Think "Ode to the Pie Crust Shield," but with zany characters and a moral at the end.)
Coincidentally, I was also looking for a copy of The Writer's Market this weekend so I can start pitching pie-related stories. The bookstore in my neighborhood didn't actually have what I was looking for, but I couldn't leave empty-handed, so I ended up buying a book called simply, Pie, after seeing what seemed to me to be a better recipe for Shoofly pie than what The Joy of Cooking had to offer (more spices and stuff - it seemed more interesting). I haven't had time to sit down with Pie properly, but I'm also really excited about Ken Haedrick's "Required Reading: What it Takes to Make the Perfect Pie" and his notion of mise en place (everything in its place) when it comes to preparing to bake. I actually do everything he says you should do except measure all the ingredients out ahead of time. (Although, to be fair, I usually panic at some point while reading a recipe beforehand and have to tell myself to just take it one step at a time.) I can see measuring everything out ahead of time if I had my own cooking show. But it's just me and I don't have an endless supply of measuring cups, etc. So I think I'm going to stick to my tried-and-true method of pie prep for now. (Flipping through I noticed he also has "Fun Facts" about stuff like pecans...so I think I'm really going to like this book. I ended up ordering The Writer's Market online...and while I was at it, I also purchased The Pie and Pastry Bible as I've had a gift certificate burning a hole in my pocket since Christmas.)
(I was doing a bit of research before even purchasing Pie and trying to find a good Strawberry Rhubarb replacement [before it dawned on me that Shoofly was just what the doctor ordered] and found that my Saucepans & the Single Girl book has not one but TWO recipes for savory pies. One is Quiche Lorraine (does that count as a pie?) and the other is called "Beer Hall Pie" which kind of sounds like a meatloaf with crust.)
Where were we? I went to the grocery store armed with Pie and began searching for molasses. Did you know that in addition to unsulphered molasses they also sell robust molasses? (The recipe called for light molasses and the back of the robust jar said it was darker in color, so I opted for unsulphered even though I have no idea what that actually means.) And - for you trivia fiends out there - a friend alerted me to the Boston Molasses Disaster when I was talking about using molasses this weekend. I had no idea!
My verdict on molasses? It smells kind of funny and it poured curiously fast. (Isn't molasses supposed to be slow?) And there was a crazy scientific reaction when I added baking soda - it all started bubbling up. And The Joy of Cooking calls for dark brown sugar...but Haedrick's recipe uses light. So I had to use dark brown sugar in Haedrick's recipe and could very well have screwed it up completely.
Haedrick also calls for refrigerating your crust, but I never do that so I didn't listen to him. I did have a hard time pinching the edges (I never make a single crust...so I'm used to having a top layer to cover up an ugly bottom layer), so perhaps I shouldn't have been so cocky after all.
AND...this time I got to use my pastry blender for the crust and the filling. That's never happened before!
Haedrick also says you're supposed to spin the pie 180 degrees after it's only been in the oven for 10 minutes and that was not an easy task. It was hot...the middle was jiggly...
I haven't actually tried it yet (I brought it into work as people will eat anything), but my final verdict is that this is not a pie that is going to win any beauty contests. (But perhaps Miss Congeniality is still a possibility?? Har, har, har...)
And, just as a sidenote, I went rollerskating at the Roxy on Friday (for the first time since my 7th birthday party?) and was making small talk with a friend of a friend who I don't know very well. I mentioned baking. His response? "I have an engagement ring at home."
It's not actually the first time I've gotten a proposal like that. I had to call this one off shortly thereafter, however, because my "fiancee" said I'd have to do his dishes first. And it's kind of funny - while I was baking I was listening to "The Sound of Young America" on NPR and the host was interviewing British comedian Jimmy Carr. They played bits from his act. One part went a little something like this: "Men fantasize about having two women...one to cook and one to clean." And I guess there was a horrified woman in the audience because Carr's next comment was, "Oh, don't worry, madam, it's postmodern misogyny."
So, fingers crossed my ex-fiancee is a postmodern misogynist as well, I guess. He does something with commercials and said that he envisioned a commercial for me with lots and lots of pie-throwing...until someone gets to one of my pies and then everyone stops in their tracks and says, "We can't throw that. It's an LL pie."
Not bad, eh?
Friday, March 9, 2007
I had an epiphany while straightening my hair this morning.
Basically, yesterday was not a very good day. And by the end, I realized that I am not very good at my job. And while this initially manifested itself as the tiniest of nervous breakdowns on the Subway (as I like to do a good job with the things that I do), I realized this morning that I don't actually want to be a good financial journalist and so I really shouldn't be upset. This was just supposed to be a stepping stone before launching into the next phase of my life - whatever that may be.
And I'm afraid of being too confessional here - there were definite moments in "Julie and Julia" in which I was totally surprised by her candor. (And, besides, I'm *pretty* sure I would regret it later if I spilled my guts here in a moment of passion only to realize later that I probably shouldn't have offered up the entire contents of my soul in an online forum. So I'll try to hold myself back.)
I've always seen 30 as a big deadline by which point I'd have accomplished a whole heck of a lot. And while I still have a couple of years to go before I reach said deadline, the sad truth is that in just two short weeks, we will officially be 6 months away from my next birthday which means I will have officially pissed away another half of a year of my life and I have nothing to show for it. Same stupid job, same apartment...still going to die alone. (You can try to say it, too, Pants, but everyone knows it's my phrase.)
Earlier this year, I was all abuzz with this whole pie-making thing and I was sure that it would change my life. I mean, I guess it's still possible...but the fact of the matter is that I do not have anyone to go with me to Orlando for the pie-making contest which makes me feel like I cannot go at all because only sad, pathetic losers would go to pie-making contests by themselves, right?
As a sidenote (I'll get back to my original point eventually - I promise), a friend was recently telling me about The Secret. She said she was trying to purchase The Departed on Amazon.com and noticed it was the #2 Best Seller. So, curious, she sought out the #1 Best Seller and found The Secret. I haven't actually watched the DVD or read the book, but I got the CliffsNotes version from her: if you think positively, good things happen to you. So, without really thinking about it, I found myself stopping negative thoughts (I'd gasp in the middle of such thoughts and say to myself, "The Secret!") only to instead come up with a more positive spin. This has happened with everything from waiting for the F train in the morning ("Oh, it'll probably be a G train...") to getting a new job ("Oh, she'll probably say they still have a hiring freeze...and I'm not really qualified anyway...").
But yesterday I wasn't in a very Secret-y mood and I fell back into my usual line of thinking. This morning, however, I think I had a moment of clarity. I have to go to that pie-baking competition. And while it's too bad that I've moved around so much and don't have that one special close friend who has to do what I say because we've known each other since time immemorial...and so I can just say, "Orlando. April. I need support. You're coming with me..." and that friend has no choice but to comply...that doesn't mean I should give up on this completely.
I think I'm tougher than I - or anyone else really - give myself credit for. Case in point: as I was leaving work yesterday, I got stuck in the elevator with a bunch of guys going to poker night. I was not in a very good mood as I was feeling like something of an abject failure...and so one of them made the requisite joke about how funny it would be if I came along with them. And, yes, he's right - it would be hilarious - me, with my high-pitched voice and countless neuroses trying to hold my own with a bunch of cards and some poker chips. The absolute definition of irony. And then another one of them said something about how it's "always the quiet ones" who do something that surprises you - like play really good poker. And, yes, I'm pretty quiet most of the time. I'm shy. It takes me awhile to warm up to people. But once I do, I do actually have things to say. And I guess I'm just sick of people making jokes about me being quiet because I've been hearing them forever and all it really does is prove that they don't know me very well at all because I can actually talk about things.
So, that being said, I think I can go to Orlando alone. Granted, I will completely freak out when my crust doesn't come together the way I want it to or when I cut my hand on the apple wedger or whatever baking crisis come to pass. But, on the other hand, I've done some really scary stuff in my life all alone and I'm perhaps a better person because of it. I flew all the way across the country by myself at the tender age of 17 to go to college. Then, two years later, I flew all the way across the country and the Atlantic Ocean by myself to study abroad for a year. I had mixed results - college in LA wasn't such a good move, but England was one of the best things I've ever done for myself. My point - probably too touchy-feely for the blog I never intended to be at all confessional - is that I can go to Orlando by myself and I can bake pies and I can write about it. I have to - I've spent the past year being miserable about work and trying to find a way out...but I haven't really done anything about it. I've talked about pitching stories and I've talked about putting together a collection of short stories, but at the end of the day, I really don't have anything to show for it. I get home from work and I'm so flustered and/or tired, I end up doing nothing at all and this is how a girl becomes nearly 26 and a half and still has a job that she hates and feels like her career is going nowhere and she doesn't know what else to do with herself.
So...I am going to write pitch letters like crazy this weekend. And I'm going to put together that collection of short stories (I admit this will probably take me more than a single weekend). I am going to become the master of my own destiny. And now I am thinking more like The Secret. And hopefully this means I will accomplish something before I'm 30. And maybe give those pie-bakers a run for the money in Orlando, too.
And I'm afraid of being too confessional here - there were definite moments in "Julie and Julia" in which I was totally surprised by her candor. (And, besides, I'm *pretty* sure I would regret it later if I spilled my guts here in a moment of passion only to realize later that I probably shouldn't have offered up the entire contents of my soul in an online forum. So I'll try to hold myself back.)
I've always seen 30 as a big deadline by which point I'd have accomplished a whole heck of a lot. And while I still have a couple of years to go before I reach said deadline, the sad truth is that in just two short weeks, we will officially be 6 months away from my next birthday which means I will have officially pissed away another half of a year of my life and I have nothing to show for it. Same stupid job, same apartment...still going to die alone. (You can try to say it, too, Pants, but everyone knows it's my phrase.)
Earlier this year, I was all abuzz with this whole pie-making thing and I was sure that it would change my life. I mean, I guess it's still possible...but the fact of the matter is that I do not have anyone to go with me to Orlando for the pie-making contest which makes me feel like I cannot go at all because only sad, pathetic losers would go to pie-making contests by themselves, right?
As a sidenote (I'll get back to my original point eventually - I promise), a friend was recently telling me about The Secret. She said she was trying to purchase The Departed on Amazon.com and noticed it was the #2 Best Seller. So, curious, she sought out the #1 Best Seller and found The Secret. I haven't actually watched the DVD or read the book, but I got the CliffsNotes version from her: if you think positively, good things happen to you. So, without really thinking about it, I found myself stopping negative thoughts (I'd gasp in the middle of such thoughts and say to myself, "The Secret!") only to instead come up with a more positive spin. This has happened with everything from waiting for the F train in the morning ("Oh, it'll probably be a G train...") to getting a new job ("Oh, she'll probably say they still have a hiring freeze...and I'm not really qualified anyway...").
But yesterday I wasn't in a very Secret-y mood and I fell back into my usual line of thinking. This morning, however, I think I had a moment of clarity. I have to go to that pie-baking competition. And while it's too bad that I've moved around so much and don't have that one special close friend who has to do what I say because we've known each other since time immemorial...and so I can just say, "Orlando. April. I need support. You're coming with me..." and that friend has no choice but to comply...that doesn't mean I should give up on this completely.
I think I'm tougher than I - or anyone else really - give myself credit for. Case in point: as I was leaving work yesterday, I got stuck in the elevator with a bunch of guys going to poker night. I was not in a very good mood as I was feeling like something of an abject failure...and so one of them made the requisite joke about how funny it would be if I came along with them. And, yes, he's right - it would be hilarious - me, with my high-pitched voice and countless neuroses trying to hold my own with a bunch of cards and some poker chips. The absolute definition of irony. And then another one of them said something about how it's "always the quiet ones" who do something that surprises you - like play really good poker. And, yes, I'm pretty quiet most of the time. I'm shy. It takes me awhile to warm up to people. But once I do, I do actually have things to say. And I guess I'm just sick of people making jokes about me being quiet because I've been hearing them forever and all it really does is prove that they don't know me very well at all because I can actually talk about things.
So, that being said, I think I can go to Orlando alone. Granted, I will completely freak out when my crust doesn't come together the way I want it to or when I cut my hand on the apple wedger or whatever baking crisis come to pass. But, on the other hand, I've done some really scary stuff in my life all alone and I'm perhaps a better person because of it. I flew all the way across the country by myself at the tender age of 17 to go to college. Then, two years later, I flew all the way across the country and the Atlantic Ocean by myself to study abroad for a year. I had mixed results - college in LA wasn't such a good move, but England was one of the best things I've ever done for myself. My point - probably too touchy-feely for the blog I never intended to be at all confessional - is that I can go to Orlando by myself and I can bake pies and I can write about it. I have to - I've spent the past year being miserable about work and trying to find a way out...but I haven't really done anything about it. I've talked about pitching stories and I've talked about putting together a collection of short stories, but at the end of the day, I really don't have anything to show for it. I get home from work and I'm so flustered and/or tired, I end up doing nothing at all and this is how a girl becomes nearly 26 and a half and still has a job that she hates and feels like her career is going nowhere and she doesn't know what else to do with herself.
So...I am going to write pitch letters like crazy this weekend. And I'm going to put together that collection of short stories (I admit this will probably take me more than a single weekend). I am going to become the master of my own destiny. And now I am thinking more like The Secret. And hopefully this means I will accomplish something before I'm 30. And maybe give those pie-bakers a run for the money in Orlando, too.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
I was watching "Stranger Than Fiction" last night...
And was thrilled that Maggie Gyllenhaal's character is a baker. She's a bit more hipster-y than I am (and presumably smarter as she got into Harvard Law...unless, of course, I was able to pull off a brunette version of Reese Witherspoon's feat)...but I thought her speech about baking for study groups until she ultimately decided baking should be her full-time purpose in life sort of hit close to home.
And while I can't be totally sure - and this could very well be wishful thinking - I swear Dustin Hoffman played a professor at UCLA.
And while I can't be totally sure - and this could very well be wishful thinking - I swear Dustin Hoffman played a professor at UCLA.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
An Old Job, Nearly Forgotten Friends & Packaged Snack Foods
(Or, alternatively, "Disasters in Icing & Trouble in Transport.")
So...I hitched a ride on the Acela Express today (I am reminded of a smartass comment a former colleague made before Javy began his brief tenure with the Red Sox last season - something to the effect of my beloved hitching a ride on the Acela Express to Boston...which was really insulting at the time....even though I guess I have to admit it *could* have been more or less true. But I'm sure he flew to Denver this time!) and couldn't help but notice a package of cookies on the snack cart from Mrs. GoodCookie. This, of course, reminds me of Mrs. Freshley whose eponymous brand populated the vending machine in that very same office building where I worked with the aforementioned smartass. One of our mutual coworkers (who is also something of a smartass in his own right...and who I still occasionally see when his band performs) used to eat anything from the vending machines and was the sole reason we discovered Mrs. Freshley in the first place. While I never sampled any of Mrs. Freshley's fare, she is the winner of a Best Taste Award and I think there's something to her motto - "fun bakery products" - that I myself would like to emulate. (For her part, Mrs. GoodCookie boasts, "Now that's a good cookie.")
I purchased another copy of Southern Living for my trip which has an entire section on cupcakes (cupcakes seem to be very in vogue right now) and - get this - a 3-tier cupcake carrier designed by Martha Stewart. As many people know, transportation is always my biggest problem (leaky apple pie on the Subway, et al) and so I think the Martha Stewart Everyday 3-Tier Cupcake Carrier sounds like a dream! (The article also talked about the individual Cup-a-Cake Holder...but which is cute and everything, but I'd need at least a dozen of them to serve my purposes). Case in point: my office softball team was in need of some cheer last season (or perhaps I was just in need of a baking project) and so I decided to make them cupcakes with white frosting and red icing as ribbing so they looked like little softballs. I had purchased a cake decorating kit long, long ago and assumed I could just screw one of the cake decorating kit caps onto the icing tube and squeeze away but I found it wasn't quite as easy as that...and, long story short, I made some funny looking softballs which then had to be stuffed into a plastic container for transport. Oh, how easy it will be to transport the funny looking softballs next season with the Martha Stewart Everyday 3-Tier Cupcake Carrier!
So...I hitched a ride on the Acela Express today (I am reminded of a smartass comment a former colleague made before Javy began his brief tenure with the Red Sox last season - something to the effect of my beloved hitching a ride on the Acela Express to Boston...which was really insulting at the time....even though I guess I have to admit it *could* have been more or less true. But I'm sure he flew to Denver this time!) and couldn't help but notice a package of cookies on the snack cart from Mrs. GoodCookie. This, of course, reminds me of Mrs. Freshley whose eponymous brand populated the vending machine in that very same office building where I worked with the aforementioned smartass. One of our mutual coworkers (who is also something of a smartass in his own right...and who I still occasionally see when his band performs) used to eat anything from the vending machines and was the sole reason we discovered Mrs. Freshley in the first place. While I never sampled any of Mrs. Freshley's fare, she is the winner of a Best Taste Award and I think there's something to her motto - "fun bakery products" - that I myself would like to emulate. (For her part, Mrs. GoodCookie boasts, "Now that's a good cookie.")
I purchased another copy of Southern Living for my trip which has an entire section on cupcakes (cupcakes seem to be very in vogue right now) and - get this - a 3-tier cupcake carrier designed by Martha Stewart. As many people know, transportation is always my biggest problem (leaky apple pie on the Subway, et al) and so I think the Martha Stewart Everyday 3-Tier Cupcake Carrier sounds like a dream! (The article also talked about the individual Cup-a-Cake Holder...but which is cute and everything, but I'd need at least a dozen of them to serve my purposes). Case in point: my office softball team was in need of some cheer last season (or perhaps I was just in need of a baking project) and so I decided to make them cupcakes with white frosting and red icing as ribbing so they looked like little softballs. I had purchased a cake decorating kit long, long ago and assumed I could just screw one of the cake decorating kit caps onto the icing tube and squeeze away but I found it wasn't quite as easy as that...and, long story short, I made some funny looking softballs which then had to be stuffed into a plastic container for transport. Oh, how easy it will be to transport the funny looking softballs next season with the Martha Stewart Everyday 3-Tier Cupcake Carrier!
Other than that, I'm kind of stuck...
I worry I'm running out of things to say here. And I still have over a month until the contest! (Have I peaked??)
I mean, I guess it's not like I have absolutely no idea what to write about under the "baking" umbrella. I could mention my mother and link to the recent NYT story about bread.
Mom says, "We had another quiet weekend, too cold to go outside. Dad bottled two of his beers. He got me a sourdough starter from one of his financial people. Apparently it is from the Brooks Range and over 40 years old. I made bread this weekend and was THRILLED -- it finally turned out. I pretty much babysat it all weekend but the end product was so very rewarding --after all this time, to finally have success."
So, congratulations to Mom.
And...I was scouring my favorite news websites and see Rachael Ray and her dog had a bit of trouble in Union Square Park.
But, I'm afraid that's all I've got in terms of blogworthy food topics.
Ooh - my mother wants to go to Chez Panisse when we're in San Francisco later this month. And I just made reservations to go to Peter Luger when she is visiting me in New York next month. So, presumably I have some good eatin' ahead of me.
And...a weekend or two ago I was shopping for round cake pans to make that Boston cream pie and my only real option was to buy a 6-piece bakeware set that included two cake pans, a cookie sheet, a rectangular cake pan, a muffin pan and a loaf pan. While there was some overlap with stuff I already had, I'm very excited to finally be able to make banana bread the way God intended. (I've never had a loaf pan before.) I also added cooling racks to my arsenal.
That's officially it. I hope I do not develop a form of blog writer's block (blog-block?).
I mean, I guess it's not like I have absolutely no idea what to write about under the "baking" umbrella. I could mention my mother and link to the recent NYT story about bread.
Mom says, "We had another quiet weekend, too cold to go outside. Dad bottled two of his beers. He got me a sourdough starter from one of his financial people. Apparently it is from the Brooks Range and over 40 years old. I made bread this weekend and was THRILLED -- it finally turned out. I pretty much babysat it all weekend but the end product was so very rewarding --after all this time, to finally have success."
So, congratulations to Mom.
And...I was scouring my favorite news websites and see Rachael Ray and her dog had a bit of trouble in Union Square Park.
But, I'm afraid that's all I've got in terms of blogworthy food topics.
Ooh - my mother wants to go to Chez Panisse when we're in San Francisco later this month. And I just made reservations to go to Peter Luger when she is visiting me in New York next month. So, presumably I have some good eatin' ahead of me.
And...a weekend or two ago I was shopping for round cake pans to make that Boston cream pie and my only real option was to buy a 6-piece bakeware set that included two cake pans, a cookie sheet, a rectangular cake pan, a muffin pan and a loaf pan. While there was some overlap with stuff I already had, I'm very excited to finally be able to make banana bread the way God intended. (I've never had a loaf pan before.) I also added cooling racks to my arsenal.
That's officially it. I hope I do not develop a form of blog writer's block (blog-block?).
So, obviously, it's just going to take him a *little* extra time to get up to speed defensively.
RockyMountainNews.com reports:
0 runners thrown out by catcher Javy Lopez, who has allowed eight runners, including three Monday, to steal while he has been in three games. Lopez got hit his fourth double of spring training Monday.
0 runners thrown out by catcher Javy Lopez, who has allowed eight runners, including three Monday, to steal while he has been in three games. Lopez got hit his fourth double of spring training Monday.
Monday, March 5, 2007
And, last but not least...
I spent Saturday night in Brooklyn with a friend. There was a new restaurant in her neighborhood that she wanted to try and then we stopped by a local watering hole. We were sitting at the bar (there was nowhere else really) when a big, bald man from Minnesota sat down next to us. He ordered a martini and raised his glass to us. "To Saturday night at the Royale," he said. We smiled politely and engaged in small talk before going back to our conversation. Before too long, he took out a notepad but we didn't really think much of it until he produced an origami crane. This then spurred some additional small talk before we returned to our initial conversation. Finally, he said, "Did I hear you say that you're both writers?"
Indeed he did.
So...he asked what kind of writing we do which prompted a brief discussion of financial journalism before he asked what it is we'd really like to do. I mentioned food. He said he'd met Julia Child once and then expounded upon the life and times of Ms. Child.
"Do you know what branch of the service she was in?" he asked us. We guessed the Army but we really had no idea.
I can't remember the exact acronym (OSI?), but he said whatever branch she was in was a precursor to the CIA.
"Ah," we said...and smiled and nodded.
"That tricky bitch," my friend added.
Indeed he did.
So...he asked what kind of writing we do which prompted a brief discussion of financial journalism before he asked what it is we'd really like to do. I mentioned food. He said he'd met Julia Child once and then expounded upon the life and times of Ms. Child.
"Do you know what branch of the service she was in?" he asked us. We guessed the Army but we really had no idea.
I can't remember the exact acronym (OSI?), but he said whatever branch she was in was a precursor to the CIA.
"Ah," we said...and smiled and nodded.
"That tricky bitch," my friend added.
My Own Observations
1. I only recently broke down and bought a pastry blender. Up until now I've just used my hands to mix flour, Crisco and water and I've been pretty happy with the results. But, after actually using the proper tool, I have to admit that the pastry blender produces much finer pieces of Crisco/flour that, in turn, produces a much flakier crust.2. My apricots looked sad. I bought them last week but they weren't ripe enough to use, so they've been ripening on my window ledge all week. Oopsie. And they were kind of expensive (and I am kind of poor) so I didn't buy as many of them as perhaps I should have. (While I was baking, that Carly Simon song came on which was somewhat appropriate and reminded me of an argument friends had once over whether the line was "your scarf it was apricot" or "your scarf it was halfway off.") I also baked it for a *little* too long so it turned out to be a *tad* on the dry side...
3. My flour/sugar surplus is gone! For as long as I can remember, I've had more flour and sugar than I've known what to do with...now all of a sudden, I do not have a giant bag of flour or sugar in my pantry. (Old Mother Hubbard??)
4. This didn't hold true with that fiasco of a Boston cream pie (which turned out to be the biggest cake I have ever seen in my life...as I think I forgot to blog about finishing up the darn thing), but I usually like exact measurements and so I was kind of freaking out about how much sugar, cornstarch, nutmeg and cinnamon to use. I hate to be on repeat, but I made blueberry pies for the first time ever before we had a big BBQ at my old apartment and after boiling the fruit down and adding what I thought was a decent amount of cinnamon, etc., etc., it tasted like nothing. So I was totally paranoid about spices this time around.
5. There is something beautiful about an uncooked pie. Maybe it is my overinflated sense of self-importance, but there's a real feeling of accomplishment when you stare down at this incredible foodstuff, full of promise...before it has leaked all over your oven and set off your fire alarm and/or turned out to taste like nothing...
6. I ended up with a lot of extra crust this time (I was less paranoid while rolling it out and let the pieces that wanted to run free do exactly that) and remember my aunt used to sprinkle them with cinnamon and sugar and bake it for us as a special treat as we were impatient when we were little and the requisite hour to an hour and a half was too long to go without something to show for our efforts whenever we helped her make pie.
7. I tried to make L-shaped vents this time (my signature vent??). I prefer the cursive, Laverne-like L...although that is harder to pull off as it means actually cutting circles in the dough.
Wise Words from my Aunt
I decided this weekend that I would finally do my "fresh versus frozen fruit"-experiment which meant that I had to call my aunt before I could do anything. My fruit of choice was apricots (although I had to settle for frozen peaches, so this experiment wasn't an *exact* science...but then my aunt told me that apricot pie is a special exception that always requires fresh fruit so I can hardly hold my grocery store accountable for my lack of scientific integrity as this pie wasn't well suited for experimentation from the get-go).
My aunt said you have to have at least two layers of fruit. The layering goes a little something like this: first you put the apricots down and then cover them with sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon so that they are nicely (and evenly) covered. Then you repeat until you run out of fruit. There's supposed to be more cinnamon than nutmeg...but that was about all I could get out of her as far as specific amounts are concerned.
She recommended three to four pounds of fruit, with each piece cut into quarters. And she also advised making a "sugar bowl," or a bowl with both sugar and cornstarch. "If you mix it in it won't get lumpy," she says. "And then it won't be a runny pie." (And anyone who has set off the fire alarm at 11PM, prompting a visit from the fire department while baking in pajamas, knows how important it is to have pies that leak as little as possible...as to avoid awkward encounters with the Red Hook Raiders.)
Interestingly enough, she said you do not have to defrost frozen fruit before baking with it. And it makes sense - she used to bake up a storm and then freeze all the pies for a rainy day...and I remember her freezer packed with pies that she could just throw in the oven (after putting foil around the edges...or using one of my beloved pie crust shields.)
Any other advice? "I like to eat it warm," she says.
My aunt said you have to have at least two layers of fruit. The layering goes a little something like this: first you put the apricots down and then cover them with sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon so that they are nicely (and evenly) covered. Then you repeat until you run out of fruit. There's supposed to be more cinnamon than nutmeg...but that was about all I could get out of her as far as specific amounts are concerned.
She recommended three to four pounds of fruit, with each piece cut into quarters. And she also advised making a "sugar bowl," or a bowl with both sugar and cornstarch. "If you mix it in it won't get lumpy," she says. "And then it won't be a runny pie." (And anyone who has set off the fire alarm at 11PM, prompting a visit from the fire department while baking in pajamas, knows how important it is to have pies that leak as little as possible...as to avoid awkward encounters with the Red Hook Raiders.)
Interestingly enough, she said you do not have to defrost frozen fruit before baking with it. And it makes sense - she used to bake up a storm and then freeze all the pies for a rainy day...and I remember her freezer packed with pies that she could just throw in the oven (after putting foil around the edges...or using one of my beloved pie crust shields.)
Any other advice? "I like to eat it warm," she says.
Friday, March 2, 2007
This doesn't really have anything to do with "baking" either...
But! Sleepy little Fairbanks is in the Times today:http://travel.nytimes.com/2007/03/02/travel/escapes/02Alaska.html?ex=1330578000&en=a3c734a97d969d85&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
(I could also argue that baking is associated with traditional notions of "home" and so this, too, is appropriate for my blog.)
Coincidentally, my mother's cat, who also calls Fairbanks home, has learned to flush.
From Out of the Blue...
I heard yesterday from an old friend who I met at my very first job in New York - that is, ushering at the now-defunct Mamas and Papas musical. We'll call him Marty. He says he reappeared after months and months because he's going to Alaska this weekend. So...we were catching up and I was telling him about my blog and so on and so forth and he filled me in on his comings and goings over the last few months? Years? It's been a long time.
I knew he could beatbox, but it turns out that Marty is also quite the air guitarist. Last May, he won a regional air guitar competition and then went on to place third in the national competition. He described himself as an "oily bohunk" in his act...and after a little research on the good ol' World Wide Web, I learned he calls himself "Count Rockula." He lost out to some guy who goes by "Hot Lixx Hulahan," but Count Rockula assures me it was more of a judging glitch in which the powers that be didn't want to give up too much too early and saved higher scores for those who performed later.
Marty also says that he is "obsessed with the word "snickerdoodle.'" That was all I got out of him baking-wise, though. He was on his way to poker night and so, unfortunately, I was unable to confirm whether he is "obsessed" with the actual cookie, too.
I knew he could beatbox, but it turns out that Marty is also quite the air guitarist. Last May, he won a regional air guitar competition and then went on to place third in the national competition. He described himself as an "oily bohunk" in his act...and after a little research on the good ol' World Wide Web, I learned he calls himself "Count Rockula." He lost out to some guy who goes by "Hot Lixx Hulahan," but Count Rockula assures me it was more of a judging glitch in which the powers that be didn't want to give up too much too early and saved higher scores for those who performed later.
Marty also says that he is "obsessed with the word "snickerdoodle.'" That was all I got out of him baking-wise, though. He was on his way to poker night and so, unfortunately, I was unable to confirm whether he is "obsessed" with the actual cookie, too.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
And even though this has nothing to do with baking...
It's worth noting that Javier Lopez doubled twice and drove in two in the Rockies' spring training debut.
(Although one could argue that I am as proud of him as, say, a wife or a mother. And if we were to look at these roles from a more traditional perspective, baking and/or cooking would be integral and therefore this is totally appropriate fodder for my blog.)
Only 31 days and 3 hours until Opening Day!
(Although one could argue that I am as proud of him as, say, a wife or a mother. And if we were to look at these roles from a more traditional perspective, baking and/or cooking would be integral and therefore this is totally appropriate fodder for my blog.)
Only 31 days and 3 hours until Opening Day!
I've sort of been saving this for a rainy day...
I keep seeing ads on the Subway for Ace of Cakes and in the back of my mind I have meant to blog about it all along. I wish I had cable! A friend of mine profiled this guy (I think?) for a Baltimore newspaper...and had some funny stories. I guess that's my six degrees of separation??
Perhaps the "bad boy of baking" is my soul mate. I think one could argue that I am a "good girl." We'd be interesting foils of one another, no? Kind of like Sandra Bullock and her husband? Except she didn't meet him until she was in her forties...(I think. I've been traveling a lot for work and in the past few years have developed a crazy fear of flying - so much so that I'm convinced I'm headed for certain death whenever I board a plane - and so my special treat to myself when I have to fly is that I get to read silly magazines that talk about how old Sandra Bullock was when she first got married.)
I see that numerous decorators who work for the "bad boy" were born in 1983. That makes me feel old.
Perhaps the "bad boy of baking" is my soul mate. I think one could argue that I am a "good girl." We'd be interesting foils of one another, no? Kind of like Sandra Bullock and her husband? Except she didn't meet him until she was in her forties...(I think. I've been traveling a lot for work and in the past few years have developed a crazy fear of flying - so much so that I'm convinced I'm headed for certain death whenever I board a plane - and so my special treat to myself when I have to fly is that I get to read silly magazines that talk about how old Sandra Bullock was when she first got married.)
I see that numerous decorators who work for the "bad boy" were born in 1983. That makes me feel old.
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