A fellow student missed our first class on Friday and sent around an e-mail asking to meet up to get a copy of the readings. But! This person writes, "I will also bring along some delicious baked goods for the person kind enough to help me out."
And when I read that I *actually* felt a pang of jealousy...like there's only one baker in this town, kid, and it's ME. But maybe this person is going to BUY delicious baked goods and not actually MAKE them. That would be okay.
I've been reluctant to post anything else as it means I'll be one post away from Fatty...and pretty soon his entry will sink to the bottom of the page and then it won't even appear anymore.
So...I think my first post post-Fatty has to be that my friends took really good care of me this weekend -- warm fuzzies abounded and I feel really lucky to have them. One of them was even willing to sit through 27 Dresses with me. (I know, I know...but there aren't many happy movies out right now and I've already seen Juno...and I have heard that Atonement is depressing...and I just wanted something silly and mindless and happy.)
And...before the movie started, there was a preview for this movie: Run, Fat Boy, Run.
You may recall Fat Boy was my cat's name when I adopted him. So...aww...
(By the by, I took the "Find Your Perfect Dress Quiz" on the 27 Dresses website...and my result follows.)
I used to hate having cat hair on my clothes. I felt like it was an unmistakable sign to coworkers and people on the street that I was a tragic spinster who lived for her cat and who therefore subsisted on Lean Cuisine, the half-empty bottle of merlot that perpetually existed on her kitchen counter and her prized Sex in the City DVD collection...
Now I find cat hair on my clothes and I gently remove each hair, knowing that someday soon there won't be any more reminders like this of the dear sweet boy I loved for so long.
On January 24, I had to do one of the hardest things I've ever had to do and put my cat to sleep. He was very sick...and he was ready. He wouldn't even let me hold him on the last day -- he kept kicking me, so I put him down and he just went under a table in the corner with his back turned to me. And I guess that was a good thing because they told me I could hold him for as long as I wanted...and if he had just been with me and purring, I don't know how I could have ever let him go.
He was the best cat I could have ever asked for and I loved him so much. I don't know if it's possible to have a pet soul mate...but if it is, he was mine. And he just has such a huge part of my heart. We were sort of like lost souls who found each other...
I had moved back in with my parents in Alaska after college and was working at a bank and wondering what had gone wrong in my life...when I saw an ad in the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner about a cat that was up for adoption. Fat Boy was his name. The ad said, "He has as much personality as he does bulk." I was sold.
He had a brother named Bacon...and the adoption sheet his former owner left behind said they were expecting a baby and just couldn't afford to keep the cats. I could only take one...and so I took Fat Boy.
He was so sick when I first brought him home...he had picked up something at the pound. It was so hard to get him to come out from under my bed...and we had to give him eye drops and nose drops and ear drops. We also had to shove pills down his throat. And I wasn't sure what his personality was going to be like...and I was worried that maybe he and I wouldn't be a good fit. But it was when I shoved pills down his throat and he purred the whole time that I realized I had a really good cat. (When I took him to the vet and the vet told me he was substantially older than they had told me at the pound, I said, "No! He can't be old! I have already fallen in love with him!")
He was just such a happy cat. In fact, there's a phrase in England -- "happy as Larry" -- and so I briefly contemplated changing his name to Larry in a subtle nod to my recent English roots. But then I was worried that I'd do irreparable psychological harm if I changed his name and so I left it as-is. (Several years later, I had a roommate who had dated a woman who worked at an animal shelter and who told me they just slap any ol' name on animals at the pound and so I probably *could* have changed it. But...I sort of did anyway. A roommate before that roommate used to sing the Morrissey song, "You're the one for me, Fatty," to him and so eventually we shortened "Fat Boy" to "Fatty.")
He flew out with me to New York when I first moved here...and it wasn't until I sent him off in his gigantic blue carrier (he was too big to carry on the plane) that I started to cry at the airport in Fairbanks -- it hit me that I was really moving across the country and I didn't know what was going to happen, etc., etc. And I was worried about my boy. But Alaska Airlines is nice and gives you a little tag once you are seated that says, "I'm on board, too!" so I knew he was on his way as well...and it even inspired conversation with some of my seatmates. (As in, "What's that for?" My response? "Oh, I have a cat!" [A sad little side note: I was on the Subway last night when a woman with a knit cap that looked like a mouse got on board and an old man said to her, "Is that a mouse?" and she said, "Yes, it is," and he said, "Watch out for cats!" and she said, "Yes, I know...I have cats at home," and I thought, "I don't have a cat at home anymore..."])
He used to curl up his paws under this chest when he was sleeping...and it was so sad at the vet last week -- he had an IV in one arm and he kept trying to curl his paw under, but he couldn't.
He used to also drink water out of his paw. My mom loved that.
He used to freak out in the mornings when I was getting ready for work or school. He'd literally stand in my bathroom doorway and just meow and meow and meow. It used to really drive me crazy. And every morning, I'd pick him up and say, "Oh, Fatty, we go through this every day. I have to get ready." And I'd hug him tight and say, "Be a good boy and sit here..." and put him down on the toilet. And it wasn't until I turned on the hair dryer that he'd ever calm down. (I used to joke that I needed to get a BabyBjorn to keep my hands free while I was getting ready.)
And every morning when I left, I'd check the coffee pot to make sure it was off and check my hair straightener to make sure it was off and then say to him, "Bye, Fatty...you be a good boy. I'll see you tonight." And now I have no one to say anything to when I leave. It's a strange feeling when I walk out the door. Sometimes I even think I can hear his paws treading across the kitchen floor when I'm in the bathroom as if he's about to stand in the doorway and meow at me. And the other morning, I rolled over and expected him to be at my head because he usually moved up by my pillow sometime in the course of the night...
I also miss his meows when I open the front door. Now there's no one to greet me when I get home.
And the next time I use a can opener, I'm going to be really sad. He used to freak out with can openers, too. His former owners must have fed him wet food and it left an indelible impression...
About a year ago, the vet had me put him on wet food to try to help him lose weight. She said it was like putting him on Atkin's. And that was around the same time that I noticed he was incredibly staticky. So...I had this harebrained theory that it was because of the wet food...and then one of my friends said, "You idiot! It's the weather!" Oops.
My mom suggested I put away all of his stuff as soon as possible as it would just be too hard to do later...but I got to his tray and I couldn't anymore. He was such a messy eater, so I went to the Fred Meyer in Fairbanks to get him a tray right after I adopted him. I was looking for something sort of masculine, but the best I could find was one with periwinkle stripes. And that was his tray the whole time I had him. (I also haven't had the heart to put away his litter box yet.)
He didn't like catnip. I'd never seen a cat before that didn't go crazy for catnip...but then a friend suggested that perhaps he was so big, he needed an inordinate amount to get a fix...
Another friend told me I'd have a special place in heaven for adopting an obese child...
I was almost surprised the last time I took him to the vet and he only weighed 22 pounds...
I used to live in Red Hook, Brooklyn...and the thing about Red Hook is that it is kind of remote, but a few years back it seemed on the verge of really taking off (I don't know if there's still any hope with the Ikea?)...and so a few stores opened up here and there on one particular street. I had a friend who was a food writer and who heard about a new bakery in Red Hook ("It's Red Hook! It's baked goods! It's like the ultimate Lisa experience!" she said.) and so I went with her to check things out.
On this very same street there was also a pet shop and a wine store. And it was pretty close to Valentine's Day...and so I guess they were trying to incorporate all three businesses because there were fliers at the bakery about a Valentine's Day singles mixer in which you were supposed to bring your pet to the bakery to drink wine. I thought it sounded kind of weird...but it wasn't until I got home and was holding Fatty and caught sight of myself in the mirror that I realized he took up my whole torso and so there was just no way I could possibly carry him around a bakery all night should I ever be compelled to go to some wacky singles mixer...and I sort of had a little laugh to myself.
Shortly thereafter I was on a "date" and the guy told me a story about his dog. So...I thought I'd counter with this tale of my cat...but afterward, he said, "Oh, right. A single girl with a cat. You'd *really* stand out." And then he added, "Do you knit? Oh, that's right. You bake."
And here we are almost several Valentine's Days later...
The vet said he tried to ruffle Fatty's fur to make him mad because sometimes agitating them will make them eat. But it didn't work...and I said, "Yeah, it takes an awful lot to phase him."
...which is rapidly approaching this week (!), my aunt's local paper says Bakers Square has a downloadable coupon for a free slice (www.celebratepie.com), the California Raisin Marketing Board will be sending out recipes for various raisin pies and Chicago taxi drivers will hang apple pie-scented air fresheners in their cabs!
10. It's high in fat! 9. It's the name of a recreational drug that combines heroin with crushed tablets of certain over-the-counter cold medicines. 8. Is the source of displeasure in the phrase, "Who cut the cheese?" 7. It is a symbol of happiness and success in the motivational tome, "Who Moved My Cheese?" but perhaps just serves as a reminder of everything you haven't accomplished and can prove paralytic to some? 6. Is the name of "America's loudest lounge singer." 5. Cheese Prices on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange Have been Volatile 4. A double cheeseburger from McDonald's provides nearly half your recommended daily intake of sodium! 3. Just ask anyone who is lactose intolerant! 2. It may cause people to do crazy things. 1. It symbolizes male ego.
I'm not quite as quick to spurn traditional baking books as my buddies at Gothamist (I -- heart -- Ken Haedrich!), but I admit this book *could* broaden some baking horizons. (Except -- with all due respect to the Pennsylvania Dutch -- I don't think it deserves bragging rights for including shoofly pie...)
This may *also* be an appropriate time to express my undying love for Joyce...and really all the Modernists, really. (Swoon.) And it's almost Valentine's Day. Perhaps for the occasion I should do a special entry here combining two things I love -- if James Joyce was a baked good, what would he be? Perhaps I will also throw in Woolf and Eliot...because, well, I love them, too. (And, as I *may* have already mentioned, Eliot and I have the same birthday.)
At the risk of sounding overly sentimental (or very much like a tragic spinster), I'm worried about my cat. For the past few days it's been like he has a cold -- he's very congested...but now it's getting worse. He tried to jump up on the bed and didn't make it...and usually in the mornings when I'm getting ready he comes into the bathroom and meows and meows and drives me crazy until I turn on the hairdryer and he finally quiets down and sits down on the toilet while I finish straightening my hair...but he's been really quiet the past few days...and when I was petting him tonight I could really feel his spine...and I know that's not a particularly fleshy part of his body...but he *is* a large cat -- the last time I took him to the vet, he weighed in at 22 pounds -- and I don't remember ever being able to feel his spine like that before.
I have a pot of water boiling on the stove to try to make my apartment a bit more humid (my mom's suggestion to help him breathe easier). But...I'm worried. I have to take him to the vet...but he's an older cat. And he's my whole family in New York and I love him more than anything. And I'm afraid of what the vet is going to tell me. He's the best cat in the world and he's all I have in this city and I don't know what I'd do without him.
A friend was catsitting while I was away for the holidays and remarked that he "radiates love." And it's true!
Another friend coined the term "Fat-sitting" for watching him while I'm gone.
And a friend visiting from England just posted a photo on Facebook in which he labeled him as "ridiculously oversized cat." But I think even my skeptical British friend was charmed by him in his own way.
So...if you wouldn't mind thinking positive thoughts for him and our trip to the vet, I would really appreciate it.
If 2007 was the year of the pie, I have decided 2008 will be the year of the cake -- wedding cake, to be precise (at least through the end of March). I have friends who are getting married next month and they are having a reception in Brooklyn on March 29. So...I have ten weeks to conceptualize a cake, procure the necessary materials, bake it and transport it.
I've never really done anything like this before...especially in terms of size and scope (my Boston cream pie and my red velvet cake both turned out HUGE...but that was more of a happy accident)...although, then again, I don't exactly know how many people will be at the reception, so perhaps a grandiose cake is unwarranted. I do know (or at least I'm pretty sure) that my friend was only half-joking when she suggested a 15-layer cake shaped like the Statue of Liberty or a to-scale replica of the Brooklyn Bridge with a marzipan body in the river and marzipan taxi cabs and tourists and cameras.
(My suggestion to do the hot pants cake from my "Naughty Cakes" book was promptly shot down.)
I recently saw the Jennifer Garner flick, "Catch and Release." I was sort of hoping for mindless romantic comedy...and I'm not sure that's what I got. It was okay, I guess...but I thought maybe it tried a little too hard to be deep and meaningful and some of it was ever-so-slightly hokey. But...there was a scene in which somebody opens the refrigerator and there is a wedding cake inside (that they never got to eat...sniff, sniff). Jennifer's fiance had been quite an outdoorsman, so the cake had a decidedly outdoorsy feel -- three layers with two pine trees up top and the bottom two layers covered in green and pine cones. I liked it. So...that's sort of what I was thinking.
But, who knows...there's a cake supply shop in the 20s and 6th Avenue or so...so that may be where I start (the perfect way to avoid working on my master's project!).
I was recently reminiscing with a college roommate about the year we lived together...
He used to be a DJ *and* a breakdancer and was super-cool and really into music (natch)...and way back then, he somehow got me to admit (during afternoon tea in the kitchen, no doubt) that I secretly love Tim McGraw (yes, it's true -- my secret shame). We had *another* roommate from Finland who was also a fan and so I suppose that took the sting out of it a bit. But here's my defense: to me, it's sort of like Saved by the Bell -- something that is so bad that it transcends "bad" and becomes something else entirely (in other words, good in its own magical way). I mean, c'mon:
"I wish I had a dime for every hole that's in the carpet."
"That girl is such a hazard that she ought to have a sticker, saying, 'Hard on the ticker.'"
Well, it wasn't *quite* as joyous as, say, the bundles that Christina and Nicole brought home this weekend, but...I finally joined the ranks of the KitchenAid mixer elite...(which is perhaps roughly equivalent in certain circles).
Yes, it's true -- I finally settled on a color. (Sorry, Anonymous...I did Empire Red. It matches a lot of the stuff I already have!) And as I was leaving the store with Big Red in tow, I was certain I was getting knowing glances from shoppers recalling when *they* first brought home *their* mixers.
Some of them just smiled...but others said things like, "I love mine!" and I felt kind of like I had joined a special foodie club.
I'd like to say that the inaugural run was something truly spectacular...but I was actually expecting to be snowed in today and was huntin' for some good, old fashioned comfort food when I came across a Paula Deen meatloaf recipe that is too embarrassing to name specifically. But maybe if I paraphrase her "I'm not your dietitian, I'm your cook"-quote, you'll understand that this was one crazy meatloaf and I might actually have a heart attack and drop dead any minute now.
First off, I couldn't find a can of fried onions. (Do they make them anymore??) But...it seems like every recipe I ever make always starts out with sauteing onions and garlic, so that's what I did.
I also didn't use mayo because I don't really *like* mayo (my sister, who is the exact opposite of me in sooo many respects, liked it so much when she was little that she could eat it out of the jar with a spoon).
I also added a crapload of carrots and parsnips because I got to take some home from work the other day and I didn't really know what to do with parsnips (despite the helpful winter veg section in BonAppetit this month) and I wanted to test out Mrs. Seinfeld's sneaky veg theory. There has to be something to the whole "Deceptively Delicious" (and the book that sued it) concept as I couldn't tell there were parsnips *or* carrots in there...although my meatloaf was incredibly orange which made it rather difficult to tell when to remove it from the oven (Paula suggests to do so "when the meat is no longer pink").
I was sort of watching the Giants game while all of this was going on...and for some reason I feel a certain allegiance to them. I'm not sure if this means that I'm becoming more of a New Yorker or if it's because I've always had a soft spot for the underdog. A friend IMed me during the game to ask the score and I told him that Dallas was up and he said, "Oh, good! You're a Dallas fan, right?"
I asked him he would think that. His logic? Because Dallas is close to 'Sippi. I then explained that Atlanta, New Orleans and Tennessee are *also* close to 'Sippi. Plus, I don't have very strong ties to Mississippi anymore...and my sports allegiances are kinda screwy anyway. (Javy! Javy!)
I am a little nervous about next weekend's game though. My family bleeds green and yellow. Although, then again, I suppose Eli & Co. could inadvertently avenge the Bruins in the '99 and '00 Rose Bowls (when UCLA lost to Wisconsin and my family rejoiced). It's kind of funny -- I had a Super Bowl "party" last year and everyone in attendance was rooting for the Bears and I felt sorry for the Colts, so I adopted mock affection of Peyton for a single night...and look what happened!
Although, then again, I suppose Wisconsin's part of my life whether I like it or not...once upon a time, I had a cheesehead.
Remember when Javy rejoined the Braves on December 17 and I was really excited and I was looking for the photo from the Christmas in Atlanta when I gave my cousins and my sister Javier Lopez t-shirts? Well...I was cleaning my apartment today and found it on top of my refrigerator! I'm not *quite* sure what it was doing up there...unless I was planning to put it on my fridge and it either fell down or I just didn't have enough magnets and I left it up there for safekeeping and forgot about it. But...all's well that ends well, eh? And here it is! Look how young we look!
Blognut has "Celebrities Caught Thinking about Donuts."
And last year around this time, I was writing up a storm in preparation for Orlando.
Tasty Lacy's had a purpose!
But now I'm just writing about random stuff...and while I do still enjoy having a forum to write about whatever I want...rather than, say, mutual funds or some other vile financial topic...I feel like I need to reinvent my blog persona! Or at least provide some sort of compelling reason for folks to stop by...
So...if anyone has any bright ideas about how to spice things up around here, I'm all ears.
The DSNY actually *did* come by to recycle my Christmas tree! (I was afraid maybe they wouldn't come down my little street and then I'd have to, like, go outside with a saw and hack it into bits and all my neighbors would be able to see and it would be super-embarrassing.)
I'm proud of myself -- I had a loaf of bread that had gone stale and I didn't want to just throw it away, so I decided to make bread pudding. I didn't have everything on hand for this recipe, so I improvised! Which is not like me at all! And I think it actually turned out okay...so it could be, like, the beginning of a whole new era in baking.
I had some ReddiWip left over from Thanksgiving that I used in place of whipping cream (although I doubled the amount as it seemed a bit airy...and therefore not likely to have much impact in the amount specified). I also just used whatever baking chocolate I had on hand and I totally didn't chop it. (I never chop it...and it always melts just fine.) Mind you, it's not likely something I would serve at a dinner party or anything like that...but to use up stale bread -- just regular bread, mind you...not even crustless French bread -- it was pretty good.
So...I decided enough was enough and I went to Williams-Sonoma after work, determined to choose a mixer. There was a whole wall devoted to them at Columbus Circle -- every conceivable shape and size. And while as of late I had been leaning toward white (simple? classic?), I don't really like the pale trim the white mixers have these days and so white was out of the running once again. I was still hemming and hawing -- Empire Red or Metallic Chrome? -- when I saw a Valentine's Day display in the baking section...and there was something about the red mixer, nestled in between canisters of red velvet cake mix, that spoke to me. I know, I know...it sounds a little nuts (and I think maybe it was actually just the lighting)...but there it was and suddenly everything seemed clear. (There are *also* some potential fengshui implications with red that I am too embarrassed to admit publicly...and I did actually spend a moment wandering around the store asking myself, "This is the mixer of all mixers! You're going to have this for a long time! Are you *sure* you're not just picking red because a roommate a million years ago told you about the ancient art of placement and arrangement??" I decided that I wasn't and that it would match my pots and bowls...and I even realized it's almost like that hot pink color that I actually like a lot but would be too worried to purchase out of fear that tastes and styles would change and suddenly I would find myself with a very tacky mixer. So I really can't lose.)
But, alas, they did not have Empire Red in stock...and so I will have to go to another location. But...now I've had a couple of days to ponder red...and I'm still happy with it. So...now it's totally all systems go.
I made those coffee-walnut cookies this weekend...partially because they sounded really good...and partially because I had everything on hand. (Somehow I have amassed an extraordinary collection of nuts.)
I don't generally make a lot of cookies and I certainly don't make ones that require refrigeration...but I was patient enough to wait for them to chill for two hours (overnight might have been a bit excessive and made the dough pretty crumbly anyway) and then I sliced the "logs" into perfect little cookie ovals. The verdict? They're pretty good...kind of an interesting twist on butter cookies, I suppose.
I fear eating them at night will keep me awake (what with the whole coffee bean and all...) but thus far, my sleeping patterns have not been impacted.
They don't travel very well though...I've handed out more than one baggie of cookie bits.
I remember where I saw another quinoa reference...it's in the February edition of BonAppetit -- there's a recipe for quinoa tabbouleh from a place called Rancho La Puerta in Tecate, Mexico.
When I was in college, one of my friends from high school discovered a cartoon with vegetable characters -- Larry the Cucumber and Bob the Tomato -- that were supposed to instill "Sunday Morning Values" in children. Normally this isn't something I would pay much attention to...but she played one of the so-called "Silly Songs" for us...and I seem to remember thinking it was absolutely hilarious. Fast forward, ahem, a bit...and now one of those videos -- "The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything" -- is going to be a feature-length film. I was waiting for the Subway with a friend the other night and he made a comment about one of the posters...and so I blew him away with my in-depth knowledge of the original cartoon.
So...I was searching for videos on YouTube to prove just how funny this cartoon can be...and the following is what I came up with. My new assessment: it's a little goofy -- but not *quite* as hilarious as I remember it...I was waiting to find a clip that would make me laugh until I cry...but, alas, I did not find such a video. (Which reminds me...in one of the trailers for the Jack Nicholson/Morgan Freeman flick, "The Bucket List," one of them lists "laugh until I cry..." which, as Urban Dictionary attests, is totally something I have done before.)
Our grandson Nick (age 11) has turned into quite the baker and dazzled everyone with a sponge cake, made from scratch, complete with creme anglaise!! There is quite a competition going on between him and Sierra (age 12) as to who makes the best angel food cake (also from scratch) which is their grandma's favorite dessert....I'm going to push for a cupcake bake-off for my birthday in February!! There is also talk of an Iron Chef type competition between the 3 kids and their spouses/partners involving hamburgers for R's birthday in April or our annual Father's Day camping trip in June...
I'm doing my master's project on the effectiveness of nutrition education programs in low income communities in New York City...and so I've spent a lot of time with nutritionists lately. One of them mentioned quinoa as a good source of protein...
I admit I had never heard of it, but now I am seeing references to it everywhere. In fact, I was thinking about blogging about a story I heard on NPR the day after the Iowa caucuses (the reporter said Hillary Clinton's camp looked like they had swallowed whole lemons...which, without making any political commentary whatsoever, I thought was a really great description...) and I came across this: Quinoa: A Sacred, Super Crop.
(My argument would likely be stronger if I could remember *other* recent references...but, alas, I am lazy, and so you'll have to take my word for it.)
I am even tempted to make those quinoa-stuffed peppers...
So...I was good last year and Santa brought me lots of gift certificates for housewares...and so I think I finally get to bite the bullet and get a KitchenAid mixer.
But...how do you pick a color? One has yet to speak to me...
I saw one in hot pink once that I kind of liked...(I'm not really a fan of the lighter pink that is still available)...but I distinctly remember that my mother had a mustard yellow mixer from her first wedding that was uber-trendy at the time but was really ugly by the time I was old enough to pass judgment. So...I worry that some of the flashier colors would eventually go the way of my mother's mustard yellow mixer and my own children would turn their noses up at me.
I got a collection of bowls and pans a few Christmases back that were red...so I'm tempted to get Empire Red so it matches them. Then again, I'm not sure I'm in love with that shade for the mixer itself.
White and Onyx Black seem boring...
But Buttercup Yellow, Cornflower, Clementine and Lemongrass seem dangerous.
So...I may end up just getting Metallic Chrome. *That* would match my Cuisinart. But then the bowl's practically the same color as the machine and that seems boring, too. Sigh.
It isn't hard to do, but I was getting very nostalgic after going through my 2007 calendar to put birthdays, anniversaries, etc. in my 2008 calendar. And I guess I didn't realize until then what a big year it was in so many respects. From the very beginning, there was the discovery of National Pie Day on January 23...and it sort of became banner year for me -- from this very blog (and writing about stuff I like) to being brave and going to the pie contest in Orlando solo (even though I am not self-actualized) to quitting my job to go back to school...there were lots of mini milestones. And...not to descend *too* far into a yearning for the past that might be construed as maudlin at best...but...2008 seems like it will have a milestone or two of its own (okay, okay...covert-ish reference to graduation)...so here's best wishes for the new year and your own milestones -- be they blogs, contests, master's or whatever -- as my oldest friend in the world used to say when we were in elementary school -- floats your boat.
P.S.: I forgot to say yesterday that my cousin's husband suggested frying Pillsbury orange rolls should I ever be in the mood for, you know, something fried.
Kind of a crazy coincidence because one of my good J-school friends is from Colombia and so I've been spending a lot of time with her and her friends lately: Colombian Recipes
I've always wanted to make a gingerbread house and so my aunt purchased a kit at Costco (now open in Grafton!) and my niece and I made one together on my first day in Wisconsin. It was remarkably easy -- the kit includes a stand with grooves and so you just ice the grooves, slap in the ready-made gingerbread, et voila!
My niece suggested we turn it into a bakery...but Auntie Lisa has big handwriting and so you'll notice all we got was "Baker" above the door...with a "y" above the window. (Baker...y!)
And...those pillars in front are compliments of my cousin the landscaping expert.
This is also perhaps a good time to mention the strangely addictive properties of Christmas sugar cookies? They were *everywhere*...and I didn't even like the cookies all that much. But there was totally something about the icing. Man, oh, man.
I was put in charge of dessert this year...which was great...but also kind of difficult because everyone likes different things and it's pretty much impossible to please everyone.
My cousin's husband saw a recipe for fried pies in Gourmet and said that was what he wanted literally just as soon as I walked in the front door. That issue also has a recipe for coconut cake (but one, like Alton Brown suggests, that requires you actually use real coconut and a power drill...which in one respect I think could be kinda fun to do once...but, in another, seems like a complete waste of time given that Baker's makes it so darn easy). So...that recipe inspired me to make a coconut cake (although not that *exact* coconut cake)...and my aunt likes coconut cake...but then at least two cousins voiced great disapproval and vowed not to eat it if I made it.
One cousin loves cheesecake -- but only plain cheesecake. I have a recipe for a pumpkin cheesecake and a cappuccino cheesecake that always go over well...but felt I have made those a lot this season and so I was longing for something different. My aunt has some ancient recipe books (one from the Pillsbury Bake-Off and another from Good Housekeeping...) and there was a recipe for a peppermint cheesecake in one. This seemed like a good solution. The cheesecake-loving cousin refuses to eat one with any flavor, but luckily my aunt and I found a mini cheesecake pan and so we were able to make her a tiny plain one in addition to the big, bad square (see entry below!) peppermint cheesecake.
And even though no one requested it, I really like a recipe for chocolate cream pie I stumbled upon once upon a time and so I made it even though no one asked for it.
Got that? We had a coconut cake, peppermint cheesecake (plus mini plain cheesecake), chocolate cream pie and fried pies. (I think my family is still eating it all...)
Here's where the crises begin. Now, I'm used to baking alone. I live alone. I bake alone. Sometimes I have problems...and sometimes I call my mom for help. But I always figure it out and my coworkers (or classmates) always generously eat it up even though sometimes my cheesecake is too warm or my pie leaked on the Subway or whatever else goes wrong with any given baked good on any given day.
One *could* say the coconut cake was a disaster from the very beginning. My aunt did not have round cake pans, so I used rectangular ones. (I desperately wanted layers....although maybe it would have been smarter to have just used one big pan.) I *swear* I used nonstick spray, but when I attempted to remove the layers from the Pyrex that had gently held them in the oven, coaxing them to rise and set, they refused to budge.
And then all of a sudden, I had an uncle and a cousin standing over me saying, "Did you use nonstick spray? You didn't do enough! Why didn't you use more?" etc., etc. I finally got one of the layers out a bit...but then a corner crumbled off and I had no choice but to try to fasten it back on again later with icing. At this point, my uncle and cousin were trying to pry out the *other* layer while I watched nervously and then blurted out, "That's okay! You really don't have to do that!" as I had visions of the cake crumbling to bits on the floor as they tried to wrestle it out. Finally, my uncle said, "I better stop. I'm going to get in trouble." And they let me wrestle it out myself.
The other problem was that I didn't know where the big platters were in my aunt's house, so I ended up putting a rectangular cake on a circular plate. And don't get me wrong -- icing is great as it can hide numerous flaws. But...pretty soon my ugly cake that had lost bits of its bottom when I pried it from the pan started to mix with the icing a bit and so you could see cake bits through the icing. It was unsightly. Luckily, you are supposed to use coconut flakes as garnish and so I thought, "That's okay! I'll just use a LOT of coconut flakes!" But, alas, when I was finished with the stupid thing it looked like a giant hunk of shag carpet.
To make matters worse, my family has a lot of dogs and so to prevent the dogs from consuming my "coconut cake," my aunt hid it in the microwave...which is above the oven...and the oven was on all day...and everyone knows heat rises...so by the time we removed the cake from the microwave post-dinner, most of the icing had sort of melted and sagged. I'm not really one to compliment my own cooking, but it was actually a delicious cake (and I'm not really even all that into coconut) -- very moist. Perhaps the moistest cake I have ever made. But you totally had to ignore the looks.
Dessert Disaster #2: remember the cheesecake? Well...you're supposed to use peppermints as garnish. So...I broke in my new square cheesecake pan...made the chocolate crust with the help of my niece...added the filling...baked it...and it was ready to cool overnight. I had used the Cuisinart to make the filling and so I had also crushed my peppermints while I had the Cuisinart out. So...there was a moment when I thought, "Should I add the mints now or should I wait until tomorrow?" and I thought, "Oh, what the heck...I'll just throw them on now."
Fast forward to Christmas Day when the whole family is feasting...I go to the fridge in the garage to bring in my peppermint cheesecake...and wouldn't you know that not only did the mints melt and turn the cheesecake pink, but it also *cracked* while it was cooling...and so my cheesecake looked very much like brains.
"Eww! Is it supposed to look like that??" my relatives asked.
No. It's not.
So...much like the coconut cake, the only way to save this dessert was with garnish. I had to find the extra peppermints. And find them I did! I was about to get out the Cuisinart once again when one of my relatives said, "Why don't you just put them in a baggie and use a meat tenderizer to crack them?" Seemed logical to me...so I started banging away and one of my cousin's husbands made a joke about how no one should mess with me...but then *another* cousin's husband said, "And you wonder why you can't find a husband!"
Picture for a moment my distress when I heard his sister-in-law, my happily married cousin, cackling in the living room as a result of this joke. And, you know, there are things I could have fired back with to defend myself...but they would have been mean and they would have caused hurt and upset and so I had to just swallow my pride and say, "Too far, Andy. Too far!" and then I added something about how Columbia has one of the best J-schools ever and I am a student there and I am doing great things with my life! (I don't really think this phased them though.)
And all of this is not to say that they didn't all really appreciate all the baking and desserts...and I totally could have just made one thing -- all the extra desserts were of my own volition. But, you know, things are different out there...and sometimes I very much feel like a black sheep. Or Bridget Jones. Or maybe a hybrid.
Whenever I visit my family in Wisconsin, I always see a lot of movies. That's partially because they own pretty much every DVD in existence...but also because I am not self-actualized enough to go to the movies by myself and so I don't see them in the theater all that often in NYC and I have a gaggle of cousins out there who are practically always willing to see something with me.
My first night in America's Dairyland, one cousin and her husband were looking up movie times. She said she wanted to see Sweeney Todd. Her husband read the review that mentioned murder and cannibalism and he was sold. However, it wasn't until we sat down in the theater and Anthony Hope opened his mouth and began singing in the first scene that I thought, "Oh yeah! This is a musical! Andy is not going to like this..."
He described it as "gnarly" afterward...but I think that first scene gave him quite a fright and he kept talking over and over again about how his wife and I conned him into seeing a musical.
Now, I know hers were savory and mine are sweet...but I quite enjoyed Mrs. Lovett's opening song about the "worst pies in London."
Fun fact: my parents saw Sweeney Todd in San Francisco about a million years ago and the role of Mrs. Lovett was played by Angela Lansbury. (Another fact, less fun and more nostalgic: after my grandmother died, I inherited her "Murder, She Wrote" DVD collection.)
I'm sorry it's been so long! I actually have a little Post-it note here with ideas for blog entries that I have jotted down about every baking-type thing that has happened since I last sat down and properly wrote something...(it was hard to do in Wisconsin as I had a five-year-old at my heels...which was great fun for me...but, alas, detrimental to my blog). But I think there's only a handful of people who actually still read this anyway...and I have a hunch these are the kind of people who will like me regardless of how often I blog.
Without any further ado...I kicked off Winter Break '07 with a pit stop in Chicago to visit one of my classmates. Now, I've been to O'Hare about a million times and I've done major touristy stuff in Chicago like the Art Institute (Hello, Seurat!) and Sears Tower (with the Englishman I almost married in '02 and his mum was convinced we were going to die in another terrorist attack) when blowing through to visit my family or for business trips or whatever...so what I really wanted to do was just kind of hang out in a Chicago 'hood and see what it's like. My friend lives in Wicker Park...so we did a lot of wandering and boutique shopping and cafe visiting and stuff like that. We stopped by a place called Alliance Bakery that has really fantastic cakes in the window -- my friend says she wants to get her wedding cake there (she's actually engaged...it's not just wishful thinking).
We were waiting for the fiance to get off work and so we headed out to Michigan Avenue to do more shopping (disclaimer: my friend is *not* actually a mail order bride...I just Googled "fiance" and that was the first site that popped up and I really felt I couldn't *not* link to it)...and I had to stop by the Chinese (?) bakery on Michigan Avenue with the crazy wedding cake in the window with 12 bridesmaids and groomsmen. I have a photo in front of it from over the summer (see my Facebook profile photo above)...my friend took *another* one...and since she is about to get married herself, we were checking out prices and stuff on signs in the window...and I noticed that they had prices for cheesecakes -- including square cheesecakes. I had never heard of such a thing, but my friend insisted that they *do* exist and that her mother maybe even had one.
Fast forward to me at the Kohl's in Grafton, Wisconsin looking for tights with my aunt and my niece on Christmas Eve Eve...and what do you suppose was on sale in housewares? That's right -- a square cheesecake pan. So now I own one.
I was recently at a Michael's somewhere in Wisconsin looking for wreath-making materials with my aunt. (My grandmother used to have a wreath composed entirely of tiny Christmas presents and I really liked it a lot, so I wanted to recreate it.)
Just for kicks, we hit up the baking aisle (who knew Michael's had such a thing??) and so I was marveling at all the fondant and the crazy cake pans when I came up their selection of decorative cake figurines. And wouldn't you know they had a set of soccer players...which is the *exact* same set I bought when I couldn't find a running man and I was baking a cake for a guy I knew who was doing the NYC Marathon. (This one particular soccer player totally looked like he was running and so it wasn't too much of a stretch.)
I can't remember exactly what I baked -- or even when I gave it to him -- but I *do* remember that the marathoner did not adequately appreciate my efforts. Rumor has it his company has since been sold and now he is a millionaire. Sigh. Sometimes I'm too damn nice for my own good!
Friday Catblogging!
I used to hate having cat hair on my clothes. I felt like it was an unmistakable sign to coworkers and people on the street that I was a tragic spinster who lived for her cat and who therefore subsisted on Lean Cuisine, the half-empty bottle of merlot that perpetually existed on her kitchen counter and her prized Sex in the City DVD collection...
At the risk of sounding overly sentimental (or very much like a tragic spinster), I'm worried about my cat. For the past few days it's been like he has a cold -- he's very congested...but now it's getting worse. He tried to jump up on the bed and didn't make it...and usually in the mornings when I'm getting ready he comes into the bathroom and meows and meows and drives me crazy until I turn on the hairdryer and he finally quiets down and sits down on the toilet while I finish straightening my hair...but he's been really quiet the past few days...and when I was petting him tonight I could really feel his spine...and I know that's not a particularly fleshy part of his body...but he *is* a large cat -- the last time I took him to the vet, he weighed in at 22 pounds -- and I don't remember ever being able to feel his spine like that before.
Well, it wasn't *quite* as joyous as, say, the bundles that Christina and Nicole brought home this weekend, but...I finally joined the ranks of the KitchenAid mixer elite...(which is perhaps roughly equivalent in certain circles).
Remember when Javy rejoined the Braves on December 17 and I was really excited and I was looking for the photo from the Christmas in Atlanta when I gave my cousins and my sister Javier Lopez t-shirts? Well...I was cleaning my apartment today and found it on top of my refrigerator! I'm not *quite* sure what it was doing up there...unless I was planning to put it on my fridge and it either fell down or I just didn't have enough magnets and I left it up there for safekeeping and forgot about it. But...all's well that ends well, eh? And here it is! Look how young we look!
I've always wanted to make a gingerbread house and so my aunt purchased a kit at Costco (now open in Grafton!) and my niece and I made one together on my first day in Wisconsin. It was remarkably easy -- the kit includes a stand with grooves and so you just ice the grooves, slap in the ready-made gingerbread, et voila!
I was put in charge of dessert this year...which was great...but also kind of difficult because everyone likes different things and it's pretty much impossible to please everyone.
I'm sorry it's been so long! I actually have a little Post-it note here with ideas for blog entries that I have jotted down about every baking-type thing that has happened since I last sat down and properly wrote something...(it was hard to do in Wisconsin as I had a five-year-old at my heels...which was great fun for me...but, alas, detrimental to my blog). But I think there's only a handful of people who actually still read this anyway...and I have a hunch these are the kind of people who will like me regardless of how often I blog.
