It's sort of like that episode of Seinfeld...

Okay...maybe not exactly...

BUT...I might have mentioned I made those giant muffins the other night? (Partially because I didn't have very many cupcake holders...and partially because I am gluttonous.)

However...these muffins are SO LARGE that by the time I've eaten the top, I am no longer hungry. So I'm left with muffin bottoms. See? Kind of Seinfeld-like.

But the plot thickens...and, again, because of Google: I had no idea "muffin top" was also a pejorative term.

Muffins!

I decided I really wanted to make muffins last night...but I wasn't *quite* willing to make them from scratch. I had to pick up some incidentals at my local grocery store anyway...so it wasn't much more trouble to throw a box of muffin mix in my cart (not Jiffy - per my earlier entry). So...I was perusing the box as I was mixing things up...and noticed there was a recipe for "Very Berry Muffins" that called for dried cranberries and almonds...and it just so happens that I have had a bag of dried cranberries and a bag of almonds in my pantry forever...and this was the perfect excuse to get rid of them. Kismet!

And...I actually just Googled "muffin" looking for inspiration for a title for this entry and found this crazy website. Enjoy!

The Proof is in the Pudding?

Or the pie video?

Pie Contest on TV??

I heard from a friend the other night that there was a bake-off on TV this weekend...I imagine it was a rerun as I'm pretty sure the 2007 APC Crisco National Pie Championships isn't slated to air until November...but, nevertheless, it was kind of exciting...

I received my first issue of "Pie Times" from the American Pie Council...and it has a list of all the consumer members of the APC. My name is in there. I am one of 31 people. Hmm...

They also keep sending me Crisco Country Favorites recipe booklets (although I think I'm speaking too soon because I just Googled it and it looks like there are only three volumes...which means I have the whole set! Thanks, APC!) Apparently there's a Crisco Country Favorites Cook-Off as well...I'm too late this year...but, boy, oh boy...in 2008...

Hogzilla

I was killing time at the end of the day at some point last week and came across this story about a giant wild hog.

Thematically, it probably isn't appropriate here...unless the boy and his dad plan to eat it, I suppose...

And it's probably callous to use this as a segue into grilling...but it is Memorial Day weekend, after all, and it's hard to separate grilling and the official start of the summer...

My mother was visiting around this time last year and gave me a crash course in grilling...but I haven't actually attempted it by myself since then. Sure, I had friends over last summer and we grilled things...but I always handed over the reigns to someone else. So...I'd like to make some sort of proclamation that it's one of my goals this summer to develop a certain comfort level with grilling...but then I feel like maybe that's a stupid thing to say...and who am I kidding, it's not like I really grilled out all that much last summer either. (I have some lively upstairs neighbors...and I can be a *little* shy sometimes...and, yes, on a certain level I know that they really don't care what I'm doing on my little patio...but part of me does worry about stumbling around with a Smokey Joe in plain view of those lively neighbors.)

I actually saw a segment on Rachael Ray this morning about whether or not to leave the lid open or closed (answer: leave it open for fish; close it for chicken). I actually have a TON of stuff in my refrigerator that I could grill - including fish! And now that I know to leave the lid closed...

And by some happy accident, I also heard about Rachael's 10 Ingredient Challenge. (This also reminded me of that Southern Living contest deadline that's coming up really, really soon...) So...I think I'm going to declare this the "Summer of Cooking Contests." And perhaps I can sneak grilling into that a little bit...so that I become more comfortable with tossing stuff on a barbie and, you know, perhaps find fame and fortune via one of these cooking challenges. Or at least keep myself out of trouble until August...

Killer Pies

You may recall a few months back, I did a "Flamingo Surprise" for my aunt's 60th birthday. And it wasn't just because she was turning 60 - which in and of itself, obviously, is a big deal. She has an amazing knack for gift-giving and is constantly sending me packages at work...either for holidays (think Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter...) or just because. She mentioned she was sending me a pie book that she found on a recent trip with my uncle. But, much to my surprise (and delight), the package that arrived on Friday also included this apron that apparently she had made for me. The photo is actually one of my contest pies...you can even see part of the oven in the background...so it's nice to have some sort of commemoration of the appliance that I frantically searched for in Orlando (and almost didn't get at all, if you recall)...so...I know my apron photo leaves a *little* something to be desired...but I really wanted to blog about it and couldn't really do it sans photo, right? (So I took a quick picture of it and that was that...) I've had it hanging on my baker's rack...but will perhaps find a better place to display it. Thanks, Auntie Leslie!

I was thumbing through the pie book that came along with this (Killer Pies) and was surprised (or shocked...or something) to discover that there's actually a recipe from the Stagecoach Inn Bed and Breakfast in Cedarburg, Wisconsin. I have perhaps mentioned my family in Wisconsin before? The pie recipe itself is for "sweet apple" and is intriguing to me because it calls for sour cream. I've put plenty of sour cream in cheesecakes and the like...so I guess it would be interesting to see what would happen in an apple pie. I would think that sour cream would cut the sweetness (sort of like why my aunt eats cheddar cheese with apple pie)...but, then again, I still have a lot to learn about baking...and maybe it actually heightens the sweetness? After all, the name implies it is a sweet one. (Unless they're just being ironic. But that would be weird.)

Nonetheless...the restaurant itself here takes me back a few summers when I was somewhat enamored with a boy who later flunked out of leather tanning school and who, the last I heard, was an insurance salesman after a brief stint selling shoes. Now, I won't spoil the ending because there was a wedding that magical summer that will undoubtedly be one of the very first tales in the short story collection that makes me my first million...as it really was one of the first truly humiliating experiences that nevertheless proved I can bounce back from just about anything and also proved that perhaps my father is right and the best revenge is living well. So...I just need to actually sit down and take the time to compile these stories...and then, you know, shop around for an agent...and then actually get published...but, boy, oh boy...as soon as all of that happens, it's a humdinger and I think you'll enjoy it. So, stay tuned.

But that's not all. My new book also has a recipe for "wet bottom shoofly pie" which I suppose could be useful for the upcoming pie contest in Lancaster, Penn. I'm pretty excited because two friends (and potentially one coworker) have signed on to make the trip with me...so I won't have to worry about wandering around a pie festival solo this time, feeling like the world's biggest loser (which in reality show terms would mean that I lost a lot of weight, wouldn't it?). One friend's mother actually hails from Lancaster and she says there's a Mennonite recipe book somewhere that might also have some shoofly recipes for me...(there was a group of Mennonites who used to sell whoopie pies outside of my office building in Jersey City...well, actually, I'm sure they still sell whoopie pies in Jersey City...I'm just not around to see it with my own two eyes anymore).

I've kind of been reading about shoofly pies lately (Have I already blogged about the theories behind the name? Either it was so sticky it attracted a lot of flies...or the crumbly stuff on top looks like cauliflower and so it's a variation of the French "chou-fleur." And I can't not mention the film Amelie here as even though I do not speak French (but my mother can say, "I do not know if the truck will make it over the bridge or not..."), I'm fairly certain that someone says that word in the movie (surely when talking about Mr. Collignon's veggies?).

In any event, it sounds like there are an awful lot of consistencies of shoofly pie (from cakey to wet-bottom?)...so even though I'm still pretty sure creativity rules the day at this upcoming pie contest, I'll have to experiment with these different consistencies and find what works best for me.

The Killer Pie book also had a recipe for a "coffee butter crunch pie" that sounds really good...but I was kind of perplexed by the crust. It calls for crust mix and then the addition of nuts and chocolate and the like. Perhaps I'm being a snob? And there's nothing wrong with using crust mix? I don't know...I'm awfully comfortable with my aunt's crust...but then I worry about messing around with a good thing and think that perhaps it would be very foolish to think that I could replicate this "killer pie" crust without crust mix.

I'm a BIG fan of coffee...and so this pie got me thinking about how I really would like to make a similar pie, so I looked up coffee pies in another pie book and found essentially the same thing - Jiffy pie mix and an assortment of goodies. (My oldest childhood friend was visiting my family in Mississippi many, many moons ago...and she and I decided to make muffins one morning...and we opened a box of Jiffy muffin mix and found maggots. That pretty much did it for me and the Jiffy brand.) So...I guess it doesn't really matter because I don't have an excuse to make this pie and I can't very well make it and leave it at home...and if I bring it into work tomorrow it's like announcing to the entire world that I had nothing better to do with myself over a long weekend and I'd like to really downplay the whole pathetic loser image if I can. So...no coffee pie this weekend even though I think it sounds really good.

(A quick Epicurious search for "coffee pie" yielded no results. Perhaps this means I should do a little experiment of my own with crust mix versus Aunt Jan's patented crust in these coffee pies...)

Friday Catblogging

His new favorite spot.

Clancy's Cake

The stats:

10 pounds of sugar

9 pounds of butter

Approximately 8 pounds of cake flour

72 eggs (mostly egg whites)

And...a gallon and a half of whole milk

Fourteen hours later...et voilà.

I was Googling "Schadenfreude..."

And by some happy accident, I stumbled upon this.

It gets better: the entry date? My birthday. And guess where I was on September 26, 2006? I was watching Avenue Q (with a sombrero under my seat...), listening to puppets sing songs, including one entitled, "Schadenfreude."

Fascinating!

This has NOTHING to do with baking or cooking...but I DO like to tell stories and the only kind of writing I can do is about myself...and - I don't know - there are just a lot of moving parts here I think are really interesting:

This Is Your Life (and How You Tell It)

I won't tell you HOW I know this...

BUT in the season finale of The Bachelor last night, Andy took the final two women to his hometown...which was...drumroll...

Lancaster, Pennsylvania!

I think it's a sign!

Freudian Slip?

In a story I wrote yesterday about multi-factor authentication, I typed: "It can also mean taking a page from the baking industry’s book..."

(There's an 'n' missing somewhere...)

So Many Contests...

So little time?

I entered the "World's Greatest Shoo-Fly Pie Bake-Off & Eating Contest" today. (The baking division, natch.) It's free...it's within driving distance...and it gives me a new project.

I'm a little perplexed by it as they say, "Taste is the last thing the judges consider." It appears that creativity is the name of the game (i.e., the registration e-mail suggests, "Have fun - bring your sense of humor into your entry. For example, one entry last year that caught the judges' eye was submitted with a flyswatter.")

I made a shoo-fly pie more out of curiosity than anything else once...and I wasn't a huge fan of it. But perhaps if I spend the next few weeks experimenting with it, I'll find something really spectacular.

Also....it seems Southern Living has a recipe contest of its own. It says you can enter more than one category, but I'm afraid "Sweet Endings" is all I'm cut out for. Time's running out...so I will definitely have multiple recipe thinking caps on tonight...wish me luck!

Corn Muffins & A Teetotaler

I felt compelled to make muffins today...I suppose I should keep mixes on hand for moments such as these. But, long story short, I didn't have any fruit or anything in my "pantry," but I did have all the ingredients for cornbread, so I decided to make my own little version of corn muffins.

Turning my mother's cornbread recipe into muffins only yielded 11, so perhaps I was a *bit* too generous when scooping out the batter. (I remember fighting viciously with my cousin whenever we baked cookies as kids - she'd get really mad at me for making cookies that were too big...and also for eating the batter...I guess I was a glutton from a young age.)

I had a friend who was a big Kenny Rogers fan. Or maybe that's overstating it a bit...Kenny Rogers was in an old movie she liked about a washed-up race car driver who becomes something of a role model for a bunch of rascally kids and so I decided to bake her Kenny Rogers' corn muffins at one point (my favorite part: "He knows when to hold 'em and he knows when to fold 'em. He also knows how to make awesome corn muffins..."). I remember being kind of disappointed by the recipe though (my mom's recipe is a good'un). I can't remember how we stumbled upon the Men Who Look Like Kenny Rogers website (perhaps - and this is going back into the far-reaches of my memory - because there was a guy in our office building who, in fact, did look like Kenny Rogers...and even though she's happily married, I think there was some sort of ongoing joke about how he made her heart go pitter-pat). So, long story short, even though I wasn't particularly impressed by his corn muffin recipe (I've also never been to Kenny Rogers' Roasters, so perhaps this is ignorance talking...it says it has the world's greatest chicken...one would think his corn muffins wouldn't be far behind...), I do think the website is worth a look.

I used to know a man in Fairbanks who could totally be on that website. I won't name names...but he was obviously a lot older than me...and not a lot happens in Fairbanks in the winter, so when he offered me a ticket to a hockey game, I wanted to take it so I'd have something to do...but I wasn't sure if he was being a dirty old man. I asked around at work and my fears were confirmed...luckily my office was closed on the day after Thanksgiving, but his was open so I was able to write him a nice little note and put the ticket in an envelope and run into his office building and say to the receptionist, "Can you give this to your boss who looks like Kenny Rogers?" and she said, "Sure. Do you want to talk to him?" and I said, "No, no...thanks anyway though..." and ran back out to the car.

Coincidentally, I was madly in love with the delivery boy at this office...and just thought I was going to die if he didn't notice me someday. (I may have blogged about having to see the worst skiing movie in the entire world with him once...which would have been a magical occasion if it hadn't been the worst skiing movie in the entire world...and how there was a clock on the wall and I looked over twice and it didn't appear to be moving...and so I thought, "Phew! The clock is broken!" but then I looked again and it was actually moving - it was just that time was moving that slow...and then I had a panic attack in the bathroom during intermission and thought, "I can't sit through another hour of this! I just can't!" and how I was going to tell him I was ill and had to go home...but then realized that would make Monday at work awfully awkward...so I made myself sit through the second half...)

One more incident with this boy who was the apple of my eye for a brief, shining moment: my parents travel a lot. So at one point when I was living at home, they were gone for a week...and I didn't really know anyone in Fairbanks, so I decided to just cook a whole bunch of stuff and - no pun intended - eat up the weekend that way. So...I went to the grocery store and bought well over $100 worth of groceries just for me. My cart was overflowing...and so I took everything out to the car and packed up the trunk. Then I went back inside because I wanted some wine...and, you know, Fairbanks is a small town. You run into people. So I think it's important to note that never before had I ever run into Ryan at this grocery store...and I have been back numerous times since that day and I have never run into him at that grocery store again. But...Ryan was something of a health nut and he did not drink...and so as I was leaving the liquor department, bottle in hand, I remember thinking, "Wow, it would be really embarrassing if I ran into Ryan right now..." and then as if by magic - poof! - there he was. And I totally could have just said, "Oh, hi..." and kept walking...but being the neurotic mess that I am, I felt somehow obligated to explain myself...and so I started babbling on about how I had over $100 worth of groceries in my trunk and he just gave me an uncomfortable little smile.

I completely freaked out in the car and called my friend Jonathan who was in the car with his boyfriend at the time far, far away...so, unbeknownst to me, he put me on speaker phone as I regaled the humiliation of looking like a wino in front of the love of my life.

This is the same Jonathan who was my date to my cousin's wedding with the reception at the bowling alley in Wisconsin...before the ceremony, my dad apparently saw me running around in a panic and said to Jonathan that someone will have to "tackle (me) and sedate (me)" before my own wedding...which I guess kind of makes sense in light of the whole humiliation-of-looking-like-a-wino-in-front-of-the-love-of-my-life-episode I just shared with you.

My Waitress Review

(Disclaimer: I have a friend who is super-smart...and we go to the movies sometimes and this friend always wants to dissect them afterward and I get really nervous because this friend is so super-smart and so I want to come up with something good to say...but, more times than not, I just come out with, "Err, um, it was good..." and I have a funny feeling this friend is constantly disappointed in my reviews.)

For lack of a better way of putting it, I thought Waitress was really sweet...

This will sound stupid, but the opening sequence made me really proud of what I do...granted, I do not have visions of pie as Jenna does...but I get how pie-making can be really cathartic. I've written about this before, but 99% of the time, I'm a neurotic, tongue-tied mess with a high-pitched voice (that gets really super-high when I'm nervous...which is basically all the time). Baking is sort of how I relate to people...

I was also kind of jealous of all the kitchen space she had to work with...whether at the diner or at home. (But, then again, I went to Pies and Thighs this weekend...which is a really, really tiny space...and they are able to produce a very good crust (at least on the rhubarb pie) that has cinnamon and stuff in it...and there were probably four or five people packed into that tiny little kitchen...including one woman pressing graham cracker crumbs from a Cuisinart into a glass pie plate...so I guess it's not the size of the dog in the fight but rather the size of the fight in the dog...or something like that.)

And I do like those coming-into-your-own, landing-on-your-own-two-feet, good-things-happen-to-those-with-noble-hearts, you-have-the-power-to-change-your-own-life kind of stories...even if there was sort of a darker slant lingering there at times.

A few random coincidences I noticed: Andy Griffith was reading the Redhook Picayune.

I swear the lampshade in her hospital room was the same Laura Ashley pattern I had in my bedroom growing up. And there was a picture hanging on the wall (also in her hospital room) that I think my mother had hanging on a huge wall in our living room in Santa Rosa. It was a giant blank space and I remember going to a frame store at the mall with her to buy a bunch of pictures to fill up said blank space...and I must have gotten fidgety because the saleswoman told me I could pick out a print and a frame to put in my own room...and I remember being torn between Bugs Bunny and a female rabbit in a Looney Tunes-inspired version of American Gothic...and one of Porky and Petunia Pig dancing. (I was 7.) I ultimately opted for Porky and Petunia...and picked out thick black and pink frame to go with it...and remember being kind of confused when the saleslady told me a smaller pink frame would go better. (In hindsight, I bet that black and pink frame was pretty expensive...which I guess proves I was either greedy or had really good taste from a young age. Funny little side anecdote: there's an organization that puts on a ball of sorts for financial journalists each year. At my previous job, only a select few received invitations. However, at my "new" job, many more get to go. I ran into one of those former colleagues in my neighborhood prior to last year's ball [he was moving nearby] and we made idle chitchat, touching upon this Prom for Financial Journalists and he said that it was great because "everyone gets wasted and everyone gets laid." I chose to interpret this to mean I was going to meet my soul mate. So...yet another former colleague decided to help me prep for the event [I actually ended up wearing what was supposed to be the bridesmaid dress for my sister's wedding that never actually happened] and she's a lot more, um, forthright than I am and I guess I was a little hesitant to embrace one of her suggestions and she said, "Lisa, don't take this the wrong way. But you have really bad taste.")

Spoiler (sort of): I was also happy to see Jenna win the pie contest...and I think her creativity is sort of the key to pie contests (see this year's APC Best of Show winner). So, perhaps next time I'd do things differently. My aunt, however, alerted me to a Shoo-Fly Pie Bakeoff in Lancaster, PA on June 23...so perhaps that will be the new April 20. I do need a new project...but how does one get creative with Shoo-Fly Pie?

Stuff I've Been Meaning to Write About for the Longest Time...

You might have noticed I finally updated my Link List. I've really just plagiarized a section in Bon Appetit this month on Food Networking. I'm especially fascinated by FoodCandy - we'll see if I'm ever brave enough to "let the world know (I) exist by syndicating (my) food blog."

Bon Appetit was actually a WEALTH of blog-worthy material this month...I especially like the Mikasa "Shareware" round lidded boxes...but the foodie-themed ribbons they dug up also sort of "make" them (see page 98). Maybe I wouldn't feel the same about them without the foodie-themed ribbons. Or maybe it's the foodie-themed ribbons that I truly want...

And I of course was THRILLED to see an entire section on champagne - "A Party with Fizz."

"Champagne isn't just for the toast," it says. "With this casual menu and our bubbly course-by-course pairings, you can pour it from start to finish - even with pizza."

Bon Appetit's version of pizza, of course, is shiitake and chanterelle with goat cheese. (So perhaps it would still be silly to drink champagne with, oh I don't know, Pizza Hut's Meat Feast?)

The salad is mache and green apple with pancetta and almonds. There's orzo risotto and a lemon cream tart...but there's also a raspberry-apricot compote with champagne and lemon verbena!

And they make champagne recommendations for each course! My heart be still!

Ooh - Fun Facts!

Pigblogging, Too?

My old buddy, Hampton.

Friday Catblogging

I have heard this is all the rage (or somewhat of the rage) among bloggers in the know...so I'm tossing my hat in the ring, too.

However, I should hasten to add that I live a very fulfilling life and I am not going to die alone.

Huh - Wikipedia says:

Catblogging

(traditionally "Friday catblogging") is the practice of posting pictures of cats, in typical cat postures and expressions, on a blog. Sometimes a comment on the cat or the situation shown is provided. Cats had been on web pages already, but "catblogging" as a distinct and defined practice originated on Calpundit by Kevin Drum. He also established Friday as the canonical catblogging day.

Pants is Baking a Wedding Cake!

Even though we were never able to coordinate to go to the Cake Store or to do a trial run, I wanted to wish Clancy Pants the best of luck as she bakes and buttercreams a wedding cake tomorrow! (Keep your eyes peeled for a potential guest blog...)

And...if all goes well, perhaps she can bake a cake for ME someday! That is, after I, um, don't go to a class to meet the love of my life...

Apparently My Mother's Advice Was Wrong...

At least per the Times:

Mr. Right, It Turns Out, Does Not Take Classes

Weekend Update

Good news! I finally got my Jammie Dodgers! And I still have TWO whole packages left...which I think shows ENORMOUS willpower on my part. When they are gone perhaps I will try to make Linzer tortes. I have heard they are kind of challenging...but they really are my favorite.

And...it was funny - last weekend, I heard no less than three references to Steve's Key Lime Pies. One was from the guy who cuts my hair...who also said that his mother baked pies and she used lard in her crusts...which produced a delightfully flaky crust...albeit one that was perhaps somewhat fatty.

After leaving my hairdresser with the pie-baking mom, I went to the grocery store to pick up the remaining items for a key lime (remember Steve?) and a lemon meringue pie. I was a little weirded out because my grocery store only had organic lemon and lime juice (I know, I know...but I would have had to squeeze a LOT of limes and lemons and I just didn't have the time...even though my Pie book says that if there's one pie you use real lemon juice in, it's a lemon meringue. Oops. But time was of the essence, so I slummed it). So...I wasn't sure if I was overpaying for juice for organic lemons and limes or not. But I couldn't find any regular lemon or lime juice. I also decided to go a little crazy and throw in some lime zest even though the key lime recipe I had did not call for it (then I found our family key lime recipe - it was on the back of the pie crust recipe that I had tucked away with all the stuff I took to Orlando...phew - not lost forever).

It was pretty much smooth sailing with both pies until I got to the meringue part. I've really only made meringue once before and I remember it was something of a pain...but eventually stiff peaks formed. This time, however, I was completely unable to produce stiff peaks...and I beat it forever. (Literally that translates to a grand total of about 30 minutes...with a few breaks in between.) My mother later said if there's any sort of residue in the bowl at all that you won't get stiff peaks. So...oops again. And even though I was afraid of being the laughing stock of the BBQ, I had no choice but to throw the stiff-peak-less meringue on top of the lemon curd and bake it so I could get a move on.

And then a funny thing happened. I'm really terrible when it comes to small talk and mingling at social events...so I did a suitably awkward job of making my presence known at this thing...but then when the pies came out, people ate them up and all of a sudden we were talking and interacting and whatever awkwardness I sometimes feel just about being me miraculously disappeared. One guy said he hadn't had homemade pie in years. A woman said she used to swear by Nigella Lawson's book, How to be a Domestic Goddess. Others asked about Waitress. (More on that later.)

My point is not that I did not have fun at the BBQ or enjoy the food or like meeting new people - not at all - but rather that I guess baked goods help me relate to people?

Next year...

I'm there!

Citrus Pies Galore

I offered to bring a lemon meringue pie to a BBQ this weekend and was looking for recipes on epicurious...and remembered this one - lemon meringue ice cream pie in toasted pecan crust - that I saw in Bon Appetit last month. It says, "This dessert has it all — a pecan crust is filled with a layer of vanilla ice cream, topped with lemon curd, and then frozen. And the finishing touch? A golden brown crown of meringue."

But...I'm a little dubious about transporting an ice cream dessert...thankfully, there are also plenty of room temperature options. So I still have some time to decide whether or not I want to live dangerously.

And since I'm going to make a lemon meringue, I figure I might as well kill two citrus pies with one stone and do that key lime pie, too. I *still* haven't come across my family recipe in my apartment though...

There's a key lime pie recipe on epicurious that calls for key lime juice...and, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure the last time I made key lime pie I used regular limes. Is that a cardinal sin?? (For the record, FreshDirect does not sell key lime juice...and FreshDirect is usually my go-to website for anything that I think will be too complicated for my neighborhood grocery store. So...I may have to slum it with regular limes again. Although...in their defense, they do sell actual key limes, so I suppose if I wasn't a lazy bum and squeezed them myself, I could, in fact, procure key lime juice. Ooh - quick note about the word "procure": I was at the Atlanta Braves Clubhouse store once and saw a cardboard cutout of a player - maybe Tom Glavine? - and so I asked a salesman if they had any Javier Lopez cutouts and he said no...so I asked him if he could procure one for me and he laughed and said, "Procure??" And I said, "You know...get?")

Ooh - there's also a recipe for a key lime cheesecake. My coworkers do love cheesecake...

And get a load of this one - key lime pie with passion fruit coulis and huckleberry compote. I don't even know what coulis is!

And there are key lime cannolis, too. Who'd-a-thunk?

And...let the record show that this is the second time in the spate of a week that I could have used that lemon zester that I did not purchase while my mother was visiting.

About that 8-Layer Beauty...

It sounds like a lot of layers, but they're actually pretty thin...

I did, however, have to mix the batter for 10 minutes with a hand mixer...which made me realize the wisdom of a standing mixer. And the Kitchen Aid mixer is really something of a status symbol, isn't it? Part of me really wants the hot pink one, but part of me remembers my mother's mixer - which I think must have been a wedding present when she married my father in the early 70s as it was that sickening yellow color. And while it was uber-sophisticated at the time, but the time I came around, it was one ugly mixer. Long story short, I imagine my children would be horrified by a hot pink mixer.

I also only have two round cake pans...which meant baking four separate batches. (And eyeballing eight separate layers is - ahem - no piece of cake either. Some are definitely a lot thicker than others...the first few actually turned out almost crepe-like because I was so nervous about running out of batter...not that ending up with fewer than 8 layers would be the worst thing that ever happened.)

Two pans didn't *quite* fit in the oven, so I had to sort of force 'em and they were *kind of* on top of each other and therefore a slight angles and so the layers themselves are a *bit* lopsided.

I was also totally pressed for counter space - I don't have much to begin with...and cooling 8 8-inch rounds obviously requires a LOT of space. But I made it work...

I did not, however, make the frosting work. It was super-hard to get the stuff to stick on the sides (And 6 cups of powered sugar? Whoa, Nelly!)...so I got frustrated and threw the peanut butter cup chunks on top of it which promptly melted into a big goo and now it's the ugliest cake in the world and has been hiding underneath foil in my refrigerator all week. I can't leave it in there all weekend in good conscience and then give it to my coworkers...so I think I'll give frosting another stab tonight.

Batter UP

...which is enormously clever since "batter" could be the actual stuff I used to make cupcakes...or simply a sly baseball reference.

So...my office softball team has its first game tonight and I made them softball cupcakes for the occasion. (I did it last year and it was a big hit. Although last year it was really hot in my apartment when I made them and I seem to remember the frosting sort of melting and sliding right off of them and then I freaked out about what to do...that was after I bought a big tube of red icing to make the softball ribbing on each and every one of them...but squeezing out the stuff was a lot harder than it looked - the lines were too thick and I was going to run out [meaning some of my "softballs" would be ribbing-less and therefore really just plain cupcakes]...so I tried to switch to a cake decorating kit...but then I couldn't get the cap to stay on...and I'm not sure how I managed to squirt out curved lines on a dozen or so cupcakes...but I did and the softball team was very grateful.)

So...after somewhat spontaneously attending a Maker's Mark event at the Brandy Library (sorry, Grammy, I could not drink an entire "Creole Fashioned..."), I headed back to Brooklyn for softball cupcakes, part deux. Not much to report. I made 'em big because I couldn't fit many of them in my carrier. And I STILL had to keep 5 or so at home. But they didn't melt this year. So...progress! (While I was making them, I got a call from a friend who pointed out the icing woes of my past...luckily it did not deter me.)

Lemon Bars & Baseball Memories

I'm afraid my entries have been quite haphazard post-contest and so I'm hoping today will be the beginning of a new rhythm here (as I begin to sing, "To the beat of the rhythm of the night" in my head...). Or maybe not. Maybe I've just been paranoid.

In any event...my parents were in town last week which should (partially) explain the sporadic (read: no) posting. My mother and I were wandering around SoHo and went into Dean & Deluca and I was kind of surprised to see what sad-looking pies they have there. The cakes were pretty impressive (irises made out of frosting!)...but the pies not so much. I wonder if it was a fluke...or if there's a real opportunity there. (My dad and I had a serious "chat" about my fledgling pie biz over dinner one night...)

There were probably a million other food-related things I thought about last week and I totally intended to blog about each and every one of them, but I didn't take very good notes and so that's really all I remember. I did, however, feel compelled to make lemon bars this weekend. I've never made them before...and they seem kind of spring-like, don't they? (I actually borrowed a roasting pan around Thanksgiving from a friend of a friend...and if memory serves, lemon bars are one of her favorites...I have neglected to return said roasting pan...so I should really save some of these lemon bars and wrap them lovingly in her roasting pan before I ring the doorbell and run away...)

I also came across an 8-layer cake in Saveur - apparently a traditional Maryland treat? I decided it would be good for May birthdays in my office...but then wondered whether or not the amount of work would be justified...(More later.).

And I totally forgot about softball cupcakes and a banana cream pie that I have also promised to produce this week. What's it they say? No rest for the weary?

Regarding lemon bars again: I was actually surprised there weren't more recipes in all of the books I have (I *still* don't have a computer at home and hence could not access epicurious.com). The New Best Recipe book was the only one that had one. I was also kind of shocked by how many eggs go into a curd. (I HATE eggs. I obviously bake with them...but I do not eat them for breakfast.)

It was also kind of fun that you have to force the curd through a sieve before pouring it on the crust - harkens back to my pudding-making days...

And I guess it's time for me to invest in a candy thermometer, because I had to use my meat thermometer again to gauge the temperature of the curd and it was supposed to read 170 when it was done, but I only got it up to 160 when it boiled and thickened and I obviously had to take it off the heat. (I also think folks were kind of grossed out about me using a meat thermometer when I made the grasshopper pie - just for the record, I don't think I've actually used it to measure the temperature of meat yet...and even if I had, I definitely washed it before plunging it into the pea-soup-colored goo.)

I also had to grate quite a few lemons...and I *almost* bought a lemon zester while I was at Dean & Deluca with my mother, but I decided against it. (I - shhh - just use a cheese grater.) It might have been nice to have the actual zester though...as my mother says it makes it really easy.

The verdict? It's kind of exciting to make something new ("I made curd!")...even though I was a little nervous that I was using the wrong size pan (I have 8" square; it's supposed to be 9). And I probably baked it a little too long as one corner looked a bit, well, curdle-y. But all in all they turned out pretty good. (One of the best things about baking bars and brownies and the like is that you can cut them up before transporting them anywhere and so you can sample a decent-sized piece and no one is any wiser. Except that I kind of inhaled a bunch of confectioner's sugar before my first bite of lemon bar...which somewhat dampened the overall experience.)

So...it just so happens that the Braves were playing the Dodgers as I was making these lemon bars. And I was really surprised to see the Braves wearing red (do they have new home uniforms??). It also took me down memory lane - so indulge me for a bit...

My sophomore year at UCLA, I organized an outing to Dodger Stadium for my floormates. We were a pretty close bunch and we did a lot of stuff together...

And there was a boy...

We'll call him Jeff. He lived on my floor...but I didn't meet him until around the holidays because I can be a *bit* of a shut-in sometimes...and it wasn't until my roommate (who prided herself on being the shallowest person I know) literally dragged me kicking and screaming to a pizza party that I met this Jeff...who it turns out had been living down the hall from me for months. And this may sound weird if I say it like this - I immediately thought he was the greatest person ever because he was kind of like the male version of me. We both spent our formative years in the South; we both came to UCLA because our dads lived in the state and we were eligible for in-state tuition; we both really liked baseball; we were both studying English (he was actually minoring in it...Neuroscience was his major...and he got all excited about the brain being the last frontier and how there were all sorts of things he wanted to discover about it...and I completely swooned); and I think our birthdays were, like, 5 days apart. I was convinced he was my soul mate.

I was in a community service group called - don't laugh - the Bruin Belles (it used to be some sort of escort-y type service for visiting sports teams...but by the time I got there, we just did good deeds!)...and, like any good community service-themed sorority-like organization, we had a winter formal. Now, I am not brave by any stretch of the imagination, but I knew that Jeffs were not a dime a dozen, so I decided to circuitously ask him to accompany me to the Bruin Belles Winter Formal (could I be any more pathetic??)...but really just as friends. And, shockingly, he complied. It wasn't the greatest night of my entire life...but it wasn't half-bad. And - really - can you ask for much more from something called the Bruin Belles Winter Formal?

In any event, after I did a big brave thing by not *quite* asking him out, the ball was definitely in his court and he actually did call me up and actually did want to do stuff together again. My imagination ran wild - I planned our wedding and named our children in between the phone call and the designated night of our first actual "date" I guess it would have been. Keeping in mind that Jeff lived on my floor - and, don't get me wrong - it was a big floor - but I was working on an English paper and had my door open, waiting for him to knock and then promptly sweep me off my feet. He had been visiting his dad earlier that day...and so when Jeff did not knock on my door, I assumed he got caught in traffic and continued to plug away at my English paper. Then one of our neighbors stopped by and I told him I was waiting for Jeff and he said, "Oh! I just saw him in the bathroom." So...I waited some more. But still no Jeff. I *might* have called. I *might* have actually walked down the hall. But eventually it became clear that there was not going to be any Jeff.

My roommate, meanwhile, never really liked him (she said he dressed like a little boy...and even went as far as calling me a "pedophile" once for liking him so much). And she was always eager to get me dressed up and take me out with her sorority sisters who I suppose she deemed more desirable than my faux community service "sisters." We also had roommate contracts on this floor that stipulated certain things like cleaning and studying and noise levels. In our roommate contract, we specified that vacuuming would be done once a week and that we would alternate. So...I did it the first week...and then it was never done again. And I refused to vacuum on principle, but I never ceased to remind my roommate of the possibility of vacuuming whenever I saw the vacuum outside our floor leader's door. So...one day I tried to renew my passport in LA - which turned out to be the weirdest day of my entire life and is certainly a story for another time - and I returned to our hallowed floor and just wanted to hide away in my room. My roommate had big plans to go out that night and tried to convince me to go out with her. I declined. She whined. I told her that if it would make her feel better, she could dress me up however she wanted to, but I wasn't leaving our room. So...she happily outfitted me in a pleather and pasted glitter on my eyelids , etc. , etc.

Now, when I came home I saw the vacuum outside of our floor leader's door and so I had gently reminded her that instead of going out that night, she could vacuum...and when she was done giving me a makeover, she said, "Lisa? Is that vacuum still outside of Dan's door?" and I was so excited by the prospect of her vacuuming that I ran to peek out in the hallway...and the next thing I knew, I saw her running toward the door to slam it shut. Luckily, she gave me some huge heels and I was able to shove a toe in between the door and the frame to prevent it from closing...and I begged her, "Please let me back in. I look ridiculous. I can't be out here. Please just let me back in."

And - story of my life - out of the corner of my eye, I saw a person emerge from the end of the hallway and start to walk toward me. My begging became more frantic, "Please, please let me back in."

My roommate, slightly giddy - drunk on her own power - says, "Not until you promise to come out with us tonight!"

I tried to explain that I'd had a really ridiculous day and I just wanted to stay at home...when she noticed I was getting increasingly frantic and she said, "Why are you so upset? It's not like he's out there."

And through clenched teeth, I said, "Yes...he is..." just as Jeff breezed past me in this ridiculous get-up and said something like, "Hittin' the town tonight?" to which I had to say, "Yes...yes I am."

The point of this whole thing is that the Braves/Dodgers game came a bit later in that same school year...and I was kind of on the fence about whether to invite Jeff or not. Ultimately I decided to tell him about it since he was such a big baseball fan...but he was wish-washy...and then he decided that he would actually come, but he was kind of standoffish the whole time and I had to accept that maybe he wasn't my soul mate.

This was in the height of my Javier Lopez obsession, so obviously I was wearing a Lopez t-shirt...and at one point during the game, a man yelled, "Hey, Lopez, sit down!" and my friend thought it was the funniest thing in the world that I responded to the name "Lopez." I tried to explain that I knew what I was wearing, but no dice.

It's probably kind of ridiculous to say all this here - like I said, I'm still trying to figure out how to blog without a contest to link it all to...but I am reminded of Hedrick Hall when I think of the Braves and the Dodgers.

Ode to BB

(Well...sorta.)

One of my very favorite editors has moved on to bigger and better things, so I wanted to publicly wish her well...and to say thanks for all of her unending support - from the stories I have to write to make a living...to my blog and my harebrained baking schemes.

Take, for example, her reaction to the pie-baking competition: "I'm so glad you went too LL! Your pies were gorgeous and I'm sure you gave them a run for their money! Plus, such fantastic material to write about!"

She's also trying to talk me into writing a pie cookbook someday...(You heard it here, folks...)

And...she bakes!

Some BB recipes:

http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/000398.html

http://allrecipes.com/recipe/praline-pie/detail.aspx

So...best of luck, BB! We'll miss you!