Here I am, world

I still exist….but only just. I haven’t done much baking or singing, but I have been doing a lot of typing – that’s just how things roll at the j-o-b.


Because I am a great starter (not finisher), I’ve come up with a new project that requires me to write down some daily goals for the next 100 days; things like: be kind, keep an open heart and mind, be grateful, don’t eat yourself into a coma, be positive, let go, finish things. I’m on Day 4, and so far, this kid’s doing alright.

It’s hard, though.

It’s hard when I’m eating a salad and all I really want are some damn pancakes. It’s hard to stay positive when cancer is once again rearing its ugly head in my dad’s system. It’s hard to be grateful when people I care about die (RIP Uncle Se and Uncle Don). But I have to try. Because if I don’t…well, a stinking pit of sadness is just an ugly place to be, and life is supposed to be beautiful, right? My dad always says that "Life is what you make it" and I want to make it...for now, I just want to make it.

So I'm going to pick up my heels (flip-flops) and walk out of the muck one step at a time. Wherever it leads me.

Some people call me a freak...and that's ok by me

When I was a kid, I made it my mission in life to scare the ever loving crap out of anyone I could get my hands on. Actually – I still do that today. No one was/is safe. Not my brothers, my cousins (especially Paula), my friends – no one. Whether it was telling people at a sleepover that my house was haunted or a haven for vampires, or that the old building down the street was the scene of a mass murder involving little children, I reigned supreme in the fright department. My imagination knew no bounds! After watching The Omen (1976 version), I made sure to check both my little brothers’ heads for the mark of the devil. God only knows what I would have done had I thought I found it. Wow, now that I think about it, that’s a little weird.

I still love scary things (and scaring people…especially my cousin Paula) – movies, TV shows, books, music (the weeping in Morissey's rendition of "Moon River" is creepy) - you name it. There’s just something so fun about the other side. I love the chill that travels down the spine and the hair that raises on the arms when you feel that someone’s there in the room with you even though you know you’re the only one in the building; or when an eerie silence is suddenly punctuated by a soft sigh filled with heartbreak and longing; or when you see something out of the corner of your eye that disappears once you finally gather enough courage to turn your head. I won’t go into detail about how my piano once played itself or how Nate and I captured a ghost on camera, but let’s just say I’m a firm believer in the unknown.

So of course, Halloween is my FAVORITE time of the year (along with Thanksgiving, but that's just because of the food). When I’m not busy reading scary stories, going on ghost tours, or watching countless hours of horror shows that make Nate and my parents question my sanity, I am, of course, baking. For today’s Halloween party at work, I made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies with pecans. I also threw in some chocolate chip pecan cookies, which I think were the bigger hit, but the picture came out icky, so I'm not posting it.

Besides, there is much scaring to be done and so very little time.

Happy trick or treating!

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies with Pecans

Adapted from: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/crystals-chocolate-chip-pumpkin-cookies/detail.aspx

Just add pecans and don't overbake (I took them out at 17 mins!)

A red stapler kind of day

6:00 a.m.

Mind: Come on, Body. It’s time to get up and go for a run. It’s bright and early and the day is filled with all kinds of promise. You’ll feel better about yourself. You’ll have unlimited energy to carry you through the day at work. You will be sharper, faster, stronger, better, unstoppable. Your day won’t suck if you start it off right. Get it, girl!

Body: You shut up. Shut up right now.

So…that conversation didn’t go as well as I had hoped. The mind can be annoying, but the body is a bitch in the mornings. I’m always looking for that connection that people talk about – where the mind and body are friends and you’re happy and healthy and walking around in the world to the tune of lightly falling rain and Buddhist meditation bells. With the way things have been going at work lately, the only things I walk around with are the chip on my shoulder and an intense desire to punch things.

Pardon the dramatics. But seriously – sometimes work sucks. Like really bad. I need a red stapler.

In much happier news, I did make one good decision this morning (besides not driving my car off a cliff) – baking peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. Oh yeeeah!

A little crisp around the edges, yet moist enough to melt on your tongue, not too sweet, but sweet enough…THAT right there is a good connection. Kinda like when I added Raisinets to oatmeal cookies last week:

Now excuse me as I get back to work while listening to Buddhist meditation bells through YouTube.

Peanut Butter-Milk Chocolate Chip "Thank God I didn't Drive Off a Cliff" Cookies
Adapted from: http://www.verybestbaking.com/recipes/30357/Old-Fashioned-Peanut-Butter-Chocolate-Chip-Cookies/detail.aspx

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 cup (2 sticks) butter or margarine, softened (I used butter)
• 1/2 cup creamy or chunky peanut butter (I don't like chunky)
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 large egg
• 1 3/4 cups (11.5-oz. pkg.) NESTLÉ® TOLL HOUSE® Milk Chocolate Morsels (I did not use this brand, and I wasn't stingy with the chips either...2 cups)
  

Directions

• PREHEAT oven to 375° F.
• COMBINE flour and baking soda in small bowl.
• Beat butter, peanut butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar and vanilla extract in large mixer bowl until creamy.
• Beat in egg.
• Gradually beat in flour mixture.
• Stir in chocolate chips
• Drop dough by rounded tablespoon onto ungreased baking sheets.
• Press down slightly with bottom of glass dipped in granulated sugar. (I didn't have time for this step this morning)
• Bake for 8 to 10 minutes or until edges are set but centers are still soft. (Checked them at 8 and added an extra minute)
• Cool on baking sheets for 4 minutes; remove to wire racks to cool completely.
• Stuff yo damn face

Requiescat in pace

When I was 6, my dad took me for a ride around our neighborhood on an old bike he picked up at a garage sale. Obsessed with Shel Silverstein’s poem “Where the Sidewalk Ends”, I was always looking for opportunities to venture beyond the confines of our cul-de-sac. Fascinated by the sights and sounds around me and high off of the wind blowing through my newly feathered Dorothy Hamill cut, I lifted my face towards the sun and smiled. How vibrant all the colors seemed, like a moving wall of newly developed photographs come cartoonishly alive. How much bigger everything was back then too - the streets…the cars…the threat of a dog’s bark…the notion of forever.

Delirious with the sheer exhilaration of traveling at what I was sure to be the speed of light, I let my little flip-flopped foot dangle far enough down that it got caught in the spokes for just a second (yes, we were practicing unsafe riding habits at the time, but this was the 80’s and my dad was younger than I am today). The pain was instant, and I immediately erupted into the kind of wailing reserved for little children and the broken hearted. I still remember my dad carrying me in one arm while awkwardly wheeling the bike home with the other. 

Pieces of the conversation we had on our seemingly endless journey home have been lost to me over time, but my dad recently reminded me of one of the questions I asked him on that day. In between pitiful sobs I had asked if the pain would last forever, to which he assured me it would not. And it didn’t. Because that kind of pain can be muted - sometimes with just a kiss and the promise of an ice cream cone (and/or through basic first aid, of course). It’s the other kind – the pain that stems from losing someone or something that can’t ever be replaced – that just goes on and on, losing its sharpness over time, but never really disappearing.

I hate cancer. Really hate it.

Stubbornly fighting off death for as long as he possibly could, my uncle lost his valiant battle against colon cancer on Monday at 9:25 a.m. He was 83, but I thought he’d outlive us all. He was THAT tough. He was a man who favored crossword puzzles, kicked ass at Jeopardy and tennis, and loved the US Marine Corps being a former military man himself during his younger years in the Philippines. He once helped me score an “A” on an essay for my high school Honors English class. The topic was on heroism. He always encouraged me to sing, and I will do that for him at his funeral this Friday. He was  good to me and my not-so-little-anymore brothers, and we will miss him dearly.

Rest easy now, Uncle Se. Thanks for everything.

I've got a big rack

“Hi – is this umm…Angel? I saw your ad on Craigslist. I just wanted to know…how big is your rack?”

No - I haven’t come to any sudden realizations about myself, and if I had, would this really be the way to explore those uncharted waters? No, of course not. I’ve marathon’d through enough episodes of Criminal Minds and Law & Order SVU to know that looking for a good time via “Casual Encounters” is just not the way.

However, I needed a portable bakery rack, so I decided to peruse the “For Sale” section of Craigslist. I weighed the pros and cons of buying used (pro – finding one for under $100 when they normally go for $500 new; con – getting murdered) and decided to give fear the finger in the name of necessity. Besides, I’ve taken kickboxing classes… although this really didn’t help the time I got into an altercation with a deranged woman at a Fountain Valley Sizzler. Nothing retracts a leg faster than the threat of a firearm.

The good news was that the rack wasn’t in the dangerous city of Fountain Valley; it was in San Bernardino. Oh, and I wasn’t planning on going alone (Nate wrestled in high school - 135 weight class). Years of research gathered from such award winning shows as CSI and The First 48 have proven that going alone to a stranger’s house is once again - not the way.

Anyway, we survived. Angel from the 909 didn't end up being the west coast's version of the Craigslist Killer and he gave me the deal of the century by only charging $80 for this thing! It can hold like a million cupcakes! I love my new rack. It took 4 people and a few cans of polish to get this thing shiny, but it will serve me well. Also note that it’s big enough to stuff a body in. This is it pre-sanitized:

I’m still finishing up some last minute details for this weekend’s (ad)venture, which is why I haven’t been around much. The past 2 weeks in the real j-o-b have kicked my ass, and at times I’ve come pretty close to tapping out (it’s an MMA kind of day). Still so much to do. I don’t even have a sign for my little stand. What I do have is a foam tri-fold poster board, some green and brown gift wrapping paper, and rubber cement. It’s DIY time, aka WTF time. I guess I should have ordered a real sign earlier…and printed out hundreds of ingredient labels earlier...and gotten black ink for my printer even earlier that that so I could print the hundreds of labels in the first place ….and put together the boxes and cupcake inserts earlier…..and finalized the recipes earlier….and found bulk cocoa powder earlier rather than buying several expensive 8oz containers at Ralph’s….I should have done all of these things and more instead of crying in the shower like a mid-90’s still mad at the world Alanis Morissette.

Thank goodness for family and friends who are willing to drop everything they’re doing just to help me out. Yes, I pretty much forced them and they will most likely hate cupcakes by the time this is all over, so I have to think of another way to repay them.

Cookies maybe?

It's a free country - go nuts if you want to

The year: Summer of 1996
Location: Never Never Land (aka my aunt’s living room in Las Vegas, NV)
The players:    Me, as Wendy
                        Nate, as Captain Hook
                        Karlo (3 yr old cousin), as Peter Pan

Nate: Har har har I’m going to get you with my hook, Wendy! My big hook!
Me: Oh dear, not your big hook! (dude - that doesn’t even sound right). Save me Peter, save me!
Karlo: But I can’t! Wendy’s supposed to be skinny!

AND…CUT. End scene. Quickly, please.

He may have once deemed me an unfit Wendy due to our difference in size, he being about 3 feet tall at the time, me being 19 and outweighing him by a good 100 pounds (OR SO), but as I stood there looking down at this midget of a  Peter Pan with a habit of quoting from the movie Independence Day – “We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!” – I thought to myself, “This kid is going to be something special someday.” And he is. He is a remarkable young man who just started his first year at the United States Military Academy at West Point and the family couldn’t be more proud of him.

Friends who have requested my baked goods know my paranoia of mailing things across state lines...well, mailing things in general. I do not like broken cookies. I hate the idea of them not tasting fresh by the time they arrive at their destination. This makes me break into a cold sweat. It makes my stomach hurt just thinking about it. I have issues. But this weekend I put down the crazy juice for a minute and packaged 2 dozen oatmeal raisin chocolate chip pecan cookies for Karlo's parents to send in a care package this week. It’s the least I can do. I sealed the bags and tied them with the only ribbon I had. Pink (sorry, man). I’m praying that they end up intact and still taste good by the time they get there. Fingers crossed.

The rest of the cookies were taken out of my hands by a barrage of cousins before I even made it through the front door of my mom and dad's house. There were two different types: the first batch I made with raisins and no chocolate chips and the next batch was with chocolate chips and no raisins. You can interchange the two if you want. Hell - you don't even have to add nuts if you don't want to. Why? Because we live in a free country and every day is Independence Day. Thanks to all of those special individuals who make it so, especially to the grandpa I never met but love nonetheless, all my uncles, cousins, friends, in-laws, and Nate, who joined up as a reservist before he even started his senior year of high school. Freedom is so sweet.

Raisin Pecan Oatmeal Cookies (with or without Choco Chips)
Adapted from: 2008, Barefoot Contessa Back to Basics, All Rights Reserved

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups pecans
• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1 cup dark brown sugar, lightly packed
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 2 extra-large eggs, at room temperature
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• ½ tsp of ground ginger (I added this just to see what would happen - I don't think I added enough to make much of a difference, really)
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt (I used regular salt)
• 3 cups old-fashioned oatmeal
• 1 ½ cups raisins
• 1 ½ cups chocolate chips (I like chocolate)

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

2. Place the pecans on a sheet pan and bake for 5 minutes, until crisp. Set aside to cool. Chop very coarsely. (I didn’t do this since Trader Joe’s did all the work for me. Much easier to go this route.)

3. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar together on medium-high speed until light and fluffy. With the mixer on low, add the eggs, one at a time, and the vanilla.

4. Sift the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, ginger, and salt together into a medium bowl. With the mixer on low, slowly add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture. Add the oats, raisins, and pecans and mix just until combined. (You can add the chips to this too...or not. Whatever you want, my friends!)

5. Using a small ice-cream scoop or a tablespoon, drop 2-inch mounds of dough onto sheet pans lined with parchment paper. Flatten slightly with a damp hand. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until lightly browned (I usually like to stay on the low side, but these took 14 minutes. I kept opening the oven door every minute to check. This is not usually recommended, but I am a nervous baker). Transfer the cookies to a baking rack and cool completely.

Hoarders - Special Bakery Edition

I’m not back in the kitchen yet since I’m still on the road to recovery pedaling away on Father Time’s creepy bicycle, so I decided to do little market research this week instead. No, this was not just a flimsy excuse to stuff my face with overpriced cupcakes and an elusive Hungarian apple strudel – this was an honest to God attempt at …stuffing my face with overpriced cupcakes and an elusive Hungarian apple strudel (so sue me -Victoria’s Secret never called me back). This was a very enlightening exercise, and while the two establishments I visited shared a common bond of flour, butter, and sugar, they couldn’t be more diametrically opposed in terms of a little thing called sanitation.


The first joint – man. The location was great. Corner spot in a place full of old world charm, big sign advertising homemade apple strudel. And it was open! Every other time I’ve been there the damn place has been closed.

Well, remember how I said I’m a germaphobe that can switch off the OCD in the face of hot deliciousness? Not this time. While the lady I met was perfectly lovely and filled with a wealth of knowledge on how to peel apples for Hungarian – not German – apple strudel, I was too distracted by the clutter littered throughout the bakery. How could anyone sit at the tables when there were boxes of crap everywhere? It wasn’t as if they had just moved in. That place has been there for awhile now. Nate picked up an apple that was trying to escape the building and sat it next to a bowl of congealed Cheerios. How does that even happen to Cheerios? I kept an eye out for cat carcasses and cockroaches brave enough to face the light of day, but luckily I didn’t spot any. When she was telling me they also served wonderful, freshly baked croissant sandwiches as if we were standing in the middle of a high end tea salon and not a real time episode of Hoarders, I kept thinking, “Who in their right mind would ever eat here?” Not me, and I’m pretty crazy.

I won’t go into too much detail about the next place I visited since they’re famous, overrated, and overpriced. Nice place with cute girls in matching shirts and ribbons. Cute cupcakes sprinkled with lots and lots of sprinkly goodness. Did I mention overpriced and overrated? I’ve never been impressed with the actual cake part of their business, but I do like their frosting, especially the orange flavor. I asked how often they bake, and the girl said every hour. Every hour??? People really like cupcakes, damn.

If God smiled down upon me and gave me a million bucks and the choice of which bakery I’d like to own, I’d pick the first place hands down. For real. I would demolish it and start from scratch. It would be elegant yet cozy, like Barefoot Contessa but with bigger portions and better theme music. It would smell wonderful and more importantly, be clean, with nary a rodent hair in sight. It would be mine and I’d be so thankful. It’s amazing to me how much potential is sitting right there in that owner’s apple peeling hands. So much potential. Oh well, maybe someday.

Felled by gluttony and sloth - capital vices make not a capital day

There are quite a few things in life that scare me, but here are just a few: sharks, using public restrooms, eating where a public restroom is in my line of vision, standing too close to a trashcan, eating where a trashcan has me in its line of vision, carbon monoxide poisoning, spiders hiding in shoes, people who talk on their cell phones in restaurants, people who laugh really loud in public, people who talk during movies - wait, wait, wait - I’m starting to pull from the wrong list now. The last few are from my “Things That Really Suck” list, which is rather long.

So public restrooms…trashcans. Yeah. Germaphobe here. In my home library, I have a shelf dedicated to books on bacteria (the bad kind) and other infectious diseases. “Going viral” has an entirely different meaning for me than it does for Rebecca Black. Hand washing? I take it to another level. However, there are two things that cannot be shaken despite the incessant 5-alarm panic bells in my brain that caution me to be ever vigilant against the nefarious Germ Nation: my love of buffets and my obsession with 1-hour $15 reflexology massages.

These things render me stupid. Some kid sticks his fingers in the mashed potatoes? Didn’t Jesus say to turn the other cheek? My “masseuse” (I use this term loosely) takes a quick break in the mysterious room in back to finish her lunch and forgets to wash her hands before coming back? Okay, as long as she gives me extra time.

You know, now that I think about it - as much as I love getting massages, I find myself unable to completely relax for fear of falling asleep and snoring so loud I am shaken awake (because THAT hasn’t happened before). I also have a compulsive tendency to stare at the clock every few minutes and tell myself, “It’s almost over. Why?!? Why is it almost over? Damn you, Father Time..............and your really creepy scythe."

found on: http://mt.wiglaf.org/aaronm/2009/09/father-time---uk-circa-1900.html

Wow. I think I'll go ahead and add this picture to the list of things that scare me.


Anyway, I went to a buffet AND got a massage this past weekend and now I have a cold. See what happens when you are more Rhythm Nation than Germ Nation? When you chuckle in the face of an iceberg, Titanic style? Okay, I think it's time for some meds.

I need to get better soon. I have some orders to fill this weekend and I also need to get cracking on the little cupcake project I mentioned yesterday – the 1000 cupcakes project (damn, that’s a lot of cupcakes). 


Immune system, please don’t fail me now! I don’t bake when I’m sick because I don’t want to put others at risk of catching my germs - no matter how many times I wash my hands. That’s just how I do... especially now that I have a certificate saying I passed the ServSafe California Food Handler assessment test. Look out, world!

And naked cupcakes win the gold! 2012 Olympic dreams with coach Paula Deen

I wasn’t brave enough to attempt these chocolate cupcakes without a recipe this weekend. Cupcakes have never been my strong suit. While I often imagine myself going for the gold in the 2012 Olympics on balance beam (been watching too much Make It Or Break It) and competing on such Food Network shows like Chopped and Iron Chef, Cupcake Wars has never been in my fantasy lineup. My brother will tell you that I’m crazy because I can’t even cook real food anyway, but that’s beside the point. In a universe of my mind’s own creation, me and Paula Deen are homies who spend the night at each other’s houses trading butter fried butter recipes over three different types of freshly made sweet tea. Yes, I know this is weird.  And yes, my brother is right about me not being able to cook real food.

A few years ago I went to Savannah, GA under the guise of “Civil War enthusiast”. Okay, it wasn’t a complete guise. I will admit to being somewhat interested in that particular period of American history. That sounds better than the real truth anyway, which is that I wanted to eat my way across the South. I just HAD to try Paula’s restaurant, The Lady and Sons. I got a little too excited and teared up in the buffet line, but that’s what happens when heaven is no more than a heartbeat away staring you in the face. To be perfectly honest, the fried chicken looked better than it actually tasted, but I've still got nothing but love for Paula. Anthony Bourdain needs to stop with the hate.  And yes, I am a real Civil War geek with a burgeoning stash of Confederate money and a minie ball.

Back to cupcakes.  They scare me. A few weeks ago I hosted a baby shower for one of my best friends. I put together a dessert buffet that included strawberry rice krispy treats, chocolate chip cookies, chocolate and vanilla cupcakes, and other assorted sweets.  Everything turned out so pretty – pink and cream parasols, floating candles as centerpieces (never mind that the sun was still up), picture frames housing cute little baby poems I created myself – it all looked so nice - even the cupcakes with their pink and white frosting. See?

Well, the cupcakes sucked. I overbaked them by about 3 minutes. When your taste tester (my dad) utters, “Wow, what happened here?” that can only mean one thing. Bad. After assuring me that they weren’t THAT dry, I decided against lobbing them at the president of the HOA’s head and put them out for the party instead. I didn’t hear any complaints and even got a few compliments on them, but the guests may have just been mesmerized by these wonderful and inexpensive paper lanterns:

This recipe is much better than the one I used for the baby shower. It's super easy and makes for an almost preternaturally moist cupcake. I still think it could be more chocolatey, so next time I’m going to add coffee to the boiling water, which is supposed to enhance the flavor of the cocoa powder. Other than that and a lack of frosting, they were a success!

I need to step up my game on these because in a few weeks I’d like to participate in the Santa Ana Community Youth Block Party event. My friend Betty Lam is part of a wonderful organization that's helping to make a difference in the lives of these kids.  Please check it out!  http://www.bccoforangecounty.org/Events.html

1000 people are expected to be coming through. 1000! That’s a damn lot of people and cupcakes.  Other than mistakes, I’ve never made 1000 of anything, but I’m going to try. This is my own personal Cupcake Wars - my Olympic gold balance beam routine - and it’s about to get a little crazy up in here. 

Speaking of crazy,  Nate was messing around with my iPad and wanted to draw a picture of me to add to my profile. This is not me. This is a brokedown picture of Abraham Lincoln that started off as me and went in a totally different direction because Nate is a Civil War geek too.

Recipe for moist chocolate cupcakes (that have yet to be frosted)
 Adapted from: http://thefarmchicks.typepad.com/farmchicks/2009/01/moist-chocolate-cupcakes-with-vanilla-buttercream.html

1 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1 3/4 cup flour
3/4 cup cocoa powder
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 cup milk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 tsp vanilla
1 cup boiling water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Fill muffin pans with 24 cupcake liners.  Sift dry ingredients into a mixing bowl.    Add eggs, milk, oil and vanilla.  Beat with a mixer for approximately two minutes, occasionally scraping the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula (or whatever you have on hand - I used a rice scooper).  Add the boiling water (next time I'm adding coffee), and beat, just until blended.  The batter is pretty watery, but that's how it's supposed to be.  Evenly ladle (or pour) the batter into the liners.  Bake for 20-25 minutes (25 minutes? No way, man! I took mine out at 19 and they were just fine), until the center of the cupcakes springs back when lightly touched.  Cool before frosting. (I'll do that part later).

Making it, not breaking it - oatmeal raisin chocolate chip success

I’m tired. In my advanced age, pulling an all-nighter is just not a good idea anymore. I couldn’t help it. I was too excited about having  a 4 day weekend  and didn’t want to waste any time in getting the party started. I had everything I needed to ensure a most excellent evening:  a Nate who wasn’t worried about work,  some cherries,  an orange soda, the last few remnants of the monster  granola bar,  and Netflix.

We started off with the heavy,  Academy Award  quality film "The Reef", starring 4 people and a shark.  If you are not afraid of sharks, watch this movie.  You will be afraid of this one. He is the ultimate hater shark, the shark that will not give up. He hates people - these 4 in particular  - why? I don’t know. Maybe it was their accent.

I’m not one for sharks, by the way. When I was a kid, I wanted to pet one. This is not my dream anymore. You cannot engage in dialogue or playful splendor with a shark. And I don’t believe that sharks do not like human flesh, that they take one bite out of you and decide that you don’t taste good enough to finish. Who made that up?  Who knows with 100% certainty what a shark's gastronomical preferences are?  This is baloney to me.

Nate left halfway through the next BAFTA caliber film, “The Resident”, starring Hilary Swank and Denny from “Grey’s Anatomy”.  Two words: nail gun. This is a weapon of mass destruction,  but only when aimed at someone’s head.

At the conclusion of this work of art,  I settled in for something a little less brainy, something I could just lose myself in. Ah yes, the world of competitive gymnastics – “Make It Or Break It”, which is ridiculous.  Ridiculously good, that is. The intrigue, the drama, the mean girls, the abstinence theme DJ Tanner keeps ramming down our throats (Candace Cameron will always be DJ Tanner to me)…entertainment at its finest. Who needed sleep when I was only 10 episodes away from finishing season 2?

Alas, sleep came. 

Interestingly enough,  this brain fog did not affect my baking this morning. What I turned out look like actual cookies – oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies.  I have no idea what I did, but I’m totally ok with these. And now...back to "Make It Or Break It"!

The oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookie that never was...or, the monster granola bar that could feed a very small village

This is what happens when one erroneously considers themselves to be a baking savant, a sort of cookie Rainman, if you will. Spitting in the face of early onset Alzheimer’s (see previous post), I set out to make oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies without a recipe.

People – baking is a science. There’s not a lot of room for mistakes in terms of how many cups of flour and eggs a recipe calls for, or a teaspoon versus a tablespoon of baking soda or baking powder. That kind of stuff matters. A lot. In all honesty, they're not too bad. They’re just a little flat and stuck together. So let’s just say these aren’t cookies. Let’s call it a big oatmeal raisin chocolate chip granola bar! A monster granola bar that can feed approximately 15 people.

This crazy exercise reminded me of the time I developed an unhealthy obsession with baking cheesecake. The summer before my grandma had her stroke - I think I was about 8 at the time – she became my partner in cheesecake crime. And man, did we commit a lot of crimes against the baking world. We didn’t have a cookbook – geez, we didn’t even have the right tools like a mixer or measuring spoons. What we did have was the recipe off the back of a cream cheese package and some blind ass faith. To be fair, desserts weren’t a common thing in my Asian household. Fruits were/are our dessert, because nothing motivates one more to finish their food than a nice big banana and some orange slices.

But this was America and I wanted cheesecake. Grandma and I turned out disaster after disaster. Graham cracker crumbs as a crust? Never grounded fine enough. Cream cheese? Never beaten until smooth. I don’t know how exactly, but one version came out gelatinous. And what the hell was a springform pan? I didn’t even know what that was until college. These things did not jive with my 8-year old brain and my grandma’s old world cooking sense.

One weekend we got it right. It was a little thin (we used a 9x13 pan) and tinted a strange violet color (canned blueberries), but it was the right consistency and tasted like real cheesecake! Victory was ours. It's one of my most favorite memories ever. We didn’t have another baking summer like that again after she got sick.

As an adult in today's modern society that includes such things as the Internet and an iPad to take into the kitchen with me - and as someone in possession of the right baking equipment, I realize I don’t have to subject myself to this kind of experimentation anymore. I can do other things to keep my brain healthy and active…like play more chess or learn to read and write Chinese. But this was fun, and it reminded me not only of grandma, but of a time in my life when I didn’t give up until I got the results I wanted. Where did that me go? Time to find her.

So let’s see where this takes me…more blind ass faith baking to come!

A challenge for my weary brain

I was at the gas station the other day and the strangest thing happened. I forgot my PIN #. At first, I was furious at myself for not playing more chess or learning to read and write Chinese because I read somewhere that that’s supposed to help fight Alzheimer’s. I hightailed it out of the gas station Thelma without Louise (or gas) style, thinking that the flashing “see attendant now” notice meant I was in for some trouble – like the “you are so busted because they think you are trying to use a card that does not belong to you” kind of trouble.

I cruised into in a Target parking lot and gave myself a little pep talk, trying to convince myself that the PIN # would magically come to me if I just bought something from a place where I practically lived.  So - I slowly walked up to the register armed only with the cold sweat running down my back, God’s love, and some scotch tape (why…why tape when I needed paper towels?).  After exchanging a few pleasantries with the nice Target girl, I slid my card through, and let my fingers do the walking. What can I say? It worked. I didn’t even look at the keypad. That’s some 10-key skills right there. My brain knows Target. My heart loves Target.

Weird, right? No - not so weird! Do you know how many passwords I have stored in my brain? Multiple passwords for work, email, your mama’s email (ok, no), several different bank accounts (don’t ask). Seriously. There is a lot of mental diarrhea going on up there and it’s no wonder I was left temporarily stupid at the gas station.

Now that it’s been ascertained I am not suffering from Alzheimer’s, I have decided to put my brain through some rigorous exercise. However, rather than play chess (makes me sleepy) or learn Chinese (too hard), I’m just going to focus on developing my baking skills some more. Tomorrow I will attempt to bake blindly - NO, not with a blindfold -  I’m talking without a recipe, relying solely on my somewhat faulty memory, crazy intuition, and insight from Nate’s old “Where There’s a Will There’s an A” study videos.

If all goes well, I have a story to tie in about the summer my grandma and I baked a number of cheesecakes that never seemed to turn out right – the summer before she got sick and we never had a chance to bake together again. If things don’t work out…I guess that story still fits. 

And if it doesn’t go well, I’ll just try again until I get it right......or until I surrender due to the high price of ingredients being no joke. 

Oh mascarpone, how I love you

At first glance, the cinnamon rolls I pulled out of the oven this morning seemed like a really cruel joke, kinda like a size L in a Forever 21 store. They didn’t look like they were supposed to – the whole thing looked more like a cinnamon roll cake, or monkey bread gone wrong. I cursed myself for not getting up before the rising of the sun to use a traditional yeast recipe.

I didn't, really. I mean, come on - Alton Brown has an "overnight" recipe that takes almost 12 hours to complete. No, no, no. I specifically wanted no-fuss/no-yeast cinnamon rolls because what normal person has that kind of time on their hands?

In the end, it all turned out quite nicely, and I found myself giving a round of applause to the star player,  frosting.  Hooray for mascarpone frosting!  I think I made the wrong type (more like whipped topping), but when slathered over the hot rolls, it melted into a beautiful glaze that transformed the whole look and feel of the dish (messy, moist, and gooey - just as cinnamon rolls should be). This was a lot of work and I'm not really sure I'd attempt them again anytime soon. They were a hit at the office though, and that always makes me happy.

 

Cinnamon rolls with mascarpone frosting:
Adapted from gastronomyblog.com: https://sites.google.com/site/gastronomyrecipes/cinnamon-rolls-with-cream-cheese-icing

 Filling

• 3/4 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar
• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves (since cloves have never been on my list of “must have’s” I used pumpkin pie spice, which is a combination of ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, & allspice)
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted


Dough

• 2 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting the work surface
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/4 cups buttermilk (I used 1 cup skim milk and ¼ cup of heavy whipping cream since I didn't have buttermilk and didn't have time to make my own)
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Directions
1. Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 425°F. Grease both a 9-inch nonstick round cake pan and a wire cooling rack. If you have nonstick cooking spray, use that.

2. The melted butter is used in both the filling and the dough. Melt the total amount (7 tablespoons) all at once in a heatproof measuring cup, and use as the recipe calls for it.

3. For the filling, combine the brown sugar, granulated sugar, cinnamon, pumpkin pie spice (or cloves), salt, and 1 tablespoon melted butter together in a medium bowl until the mixture resembles wet sand.

4. For the dough, whisk the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt together in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk the milk, cream, and 2 tablespoons of melted butter together. Stir the milk/cream mixture into the flour mixture with a spoon until absorbed (about 30 seconds).

5. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead until smooth, about 1 minute. I had to use quite a bit of flour because the dough was really sticky (I must have gone wrong somewhere)

6. Pat the dough with your hands into a 12 by 9-inch rectangle. Brush the dough with 2 tablespoons melted butter. Sprinkle the dough evenly with the brown sugar filling, leaving a 1/2-inch border. Press the filling firmly into the dough. I got a little wild at this point and threw in a handful of toasted pecans. I just spread them throughout the filling.

7. Use a scraper or metal spatula to loosen the dough from the work surface. Starting at a long side, roll the dough, pressing lightly, to form a tight log. Pinch the seam to seal. Roll the log seam-side down and cut it evenly into however many pieces you want – I came up with 8. Turn the pieces over on their flat sides, and with your hand, slightly flatten each piece of dough to seal the open edges and keep the filling in place.

8. Place 1 roll in the center of the prepared pan and then place the remaining rolls around the perimeter of the pan. Brush the rolls with the remaining 2 tablespoons butter (I forgot this damn step).

9. Bake until the edges are golden brown, 20 to 25 minutes (20 minutes worked for me).

10. Use an offset metal spatula to loosen the buns from the pan. Wearing oven mitts, place a large plate over the pan and invert the buns onto the plate. Place the greased cooling rack over the plate and invert the buns onto the rack. This is risky business, be careful.

11. Cool a few minutes before frosting.

 

Frosting:

From: http://www.marthastewart.com/313528/mascarpone-frosting

• 1 cup heavy cream

• 8 ounces mascarpone cheese, room temperature

• 1/2 cup confectioners' sugar, sifted

Directions

1. With an electric mixer on medium speed, whisk heavy cream until stiff peaks form (be careful not to overbeat, or cream will be grainy).

2. In another bowl, whisk together mascarpone and confectioners' sugar until smooth.

3. Gently fold whipped cream into mascarpone mixture until completely incorporated.

4. Frost your rolls!

 

 

Talk about a case of the Mondays...

In these economic times, I know I should be grateful for having a job. And I am. Really. But sometimes, the idea of spending another 20 years of my life here doing the same thing every single damn day makes me want to punch myself in the face. Repeatedly. Wake up!

There aren’t many things that I can say I’m good at. I’m a fairly decent baker, a good daughter, sister, girlfriend. I was voted staff member of the year at the big college I work for because I’m such a good employee (Googling recipes and weight loss before and after pics, notwithstanding). I type like my fingers are on fire. Go me, what a skill. But the number one thing I can do? Sing.

I love singing. I also hate it. I hate it because I don’t get to do it for a living. I know that’s a choice. If I really wanted to, I could pursue a career in music like so many other people I know. I could also starve like them. I just don’t know how to pursue it without feeling like my heart will break into a million pieces if it doesn’t work out. Because really, how often does it work out? I don’t even want to be famous. I just want to be able to make money doing something I love.

Hmm, but I also want a house. How likely is it that a bank will approve your loan application if you list “street performer” as your occupation? “Tips only” as your primary source of income?

There's a quote that I really like:

If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you. - from the Gospel of Thomas (or Peter Straub, according to another website)

I’m 35, but I'm already regretting at 50 what I didn’t do today. That's sad. When I was 20, 35 seemed like a funny, far-off place. Yet here I am in this not-so-funny, mixed-up place, with regrets I pull behind me like a long string of tin cans. I collect them as I go, and as the years pass by, the rattling behind me grows ever deafening.

Maybe I should just try. Try something. Start a little bakery, audition for a reality TV singing show, buy a food truck and specialize solely in desserts because I don't know how to cook, get some voiceover training so I can sing in commercials and receive a royalty check every time they play my stuff. If I don’t do something soon, the desire to break free will ultimately lose out to the fear, and the sadness stemming from an inability to take action - any kind of action at all -  will eventually devour me whole. At that point, punching myself in the face will have seemed like a good idea….the realization too late in coming.

And on that note, here are some Chocolate-chip Banana Muffins to get this week started!

Adapted from allrecipes.com

Ingredients

• 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil
• 1/2 cup plain yogurt (I used ¼ cup heavy whipping cream & ¼ cup skim milk because I didn’t have yogurt)
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup mashed ripe bananas
• 3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips (I went with a whole cup)

Directions

1. In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

2. In another bowl, combine the egg, oil, yogurt, heavy cream, and milk. Stir into dry ingredients just until moistened. Do not over mix.

3. Fold in bananas and chocolate chips.

4. Fill greased or paper-lined muffin cups two-thirds full. Bake at 350 degrees F for 22-25 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. (I pulled mine out at 19 minutes because I was going to be late to work. They came out perfect…moist and chocolatey. Not overdone or under – just right)

5. Cool for 5 minutes before removing from pans to wire racks (I didn’t have time to cool these suckers so I just threw them in a carrier and took them to work)

Photo by Bebe B.

My heart, how it sings

Sigh. The ultimate tower of chocolate cake I visualized all yesterday afternoon turned into the ultimate tower of equal parts FAIL and SUCK when it came to execution. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out where I went wrong. Greased pans, check. Floured? Damn, how could I forget that? Was that the misstep? Maybe. Or, more likely, in my haste to get the party started, I just didn’t let the layers cool long enough before taking them out of the pan. In a fit of rage, I crumbled most of the mess into tiny little pieces.


This was going to be a celebration cake for my dad, a “thank freakin’ God cake”, really. The good news we got yesterday regarding his cancer status made my heart grow 100 times bigger in my chest. But, because I am a firm (and oft times, misguided) believer in signs – granted, my own made-up ones (a hummingbird came out of nowhere and grazed my head – obviously that means I’m going to be a millionaire!), it’s got me worried again. What does it REALLY mean when your cake falls apart like that? When you think you've done everything right and it still doesn't turn out the way you'd hoped? I've baked this cake a million times and have never had any problems before. But now, rubble is everywhere - the floor, the table….my hair. Destruction. Creation. Life. Death. Transformation.

From the 3 nine-inch cake rounds, I salvaged enough of the solid pieces to create a small chocolate heart filled with vanilla butter cream. It certainly isn’t very pretty, but it’s intact and it’s moist, just like a cake should be. And even though I didn’t get to build my ultimate tower of chocolate, I still consider it a celebration cake. I’m still so thankful for everything…everything....for a heart that’s been left whole, unbroken.

(The rest of the crumbs are in my fridge. I know this sets the stage for cake pops, but I hate cake pops, so I’m going to stretch the boundaries of my creativity to come up with something else. Was the invention of cake pops similar to the origins of the chocolate chip cookie? An accident? How could it not be? Why on earth would someone ruin a cake like that? Genius, though. Seriously – I see those things everywhere).

Photo by my talented friend, Bebe B.

Even a cookie can't save me now

Into the mixer goes the butter, cold butter. Then sugar, like sand, two colors - white and superfine, like the kind you find in an hourglass;  brown and hardpacked, like the kind that's been kissed by the ocean. Toss in a few eggs, a dash of real vanilla- never imitation - never; Off to the side, the flour has been patiently waiting its turn after a quick round of introductions with the baking soda and a pinch of salt. Ready for the magic to begin? Combine the two worlds, wet and dry, and stir in nuts that have been lightly toasted in cinnamon; add chips - semi-sweet, milk chocolate, white - whatever makes your day. Inhale. Taste. Spoon out. Bake at 375. Watch - or occupy yourself with something else for the next 8 minutes.

In 8 minutes I can change out the laundry and throw in a new load. I can walk a few laps around my complex and check my mailbox (again) for the iPad cover my BFF made by hand and said she sent over a week ago for my birthday. I can pick up a book, then get distracted by the smells from my kitchen. Or, I can do research. I can google all the different types of  lymphomas and have a schizo conversation with God blasting him for deciding it was my dad's turn to take a spin on the cancer-go-round, and thanking him because out of all the cancers to get, it's the "best" kind since it's the most treatable. In 8 minutes I can beat myself up pretty good for not going into the field of medicine. Surely I would have come up with a cure by now - I mean, it's my dad...and I'd do anything for my dad.  I'd try, I'd really, really try to fix him.

In 8 minutes, the timer will go off and even these won't save me now: 

Thanks again, Bebes for taking the picture(s)...

UPDATE: In a coversation with my dad that took less than 8 minutes, I found out that there are no significant changes to his condition (this is good). Cancer is still there, but not wreaking havoc in his system. These are slow growing tumors and the doctor is taking a "let's just monitor them for now" approach, which sounds ridiculous, but is the lesser of two evils (more chemo would do more harm at this point). His next CT scan is in a few months and we'll hop on the cancer-go-round yet again at that time. For now, I think one of these is in order:

Mini-cheesecakes caught on camera...

Cameras are being installed in our office! For security purposes, supposedly, but I know what they're trying to do. They're trying to monitor how much work isn't getting done because I'm too busy looking up dessert recipes and weight loss before and after pictures. Well! Had I not delved into the world of mini-cheesecakes (not the kind where you stick a Nilla wafer on the bottom of a cupcake liner), I never would have been able to create these:

This was my second attempt at this madness (the first batch came out lumpy and was quickly introduced to la basura). The graham cracker crust was a bit too crumbly for my liking this time around, but the consistency was lump free (room temperature cream cheese, people...room temperature cream cheese).

MINI VANILLA CHEESECAKES

Adapted from cakeonthebrain.blogspot.com who adapted it from the Williams Sonoma recipe on the back of the bakeware box (I used a Chicago metallic mini-cheesecake pan, but didn't like the recipe on the box)

For the Crusts: 1 cup (114 g) chocolate cookie or vanilla wafer crumbs (I blended up some graham crackers)
2 T sugar
pinch of salt
2 T unsalted butter, melted

For the Filling: 16 oz (500 g) cream cheese
2 eggs
1/4 cup (60 ml) heavy cream
1/2 cup (125g) sugar (I added 1 tsp of pure vanilla)

pinch of salt

For decoration: I used strawberries with dark chocolate shavings and blueberries with white chocolate shavings

1. Have all the ingredients at room temperature. Preheat oven to 350degreesF. Lightly grease the cups of the 12-cup cheesecake pan.

2. To make the crusts, stir together the cookie crumbs, sugar and salt in a small bowl. Add the melted butter and stir until combined. Divide the mixture evenly among the cups and using your fingertips, press it evenly into the bottom (it's probably a good idea to measure out the crumbs so you get consistent looking mini-cheesecakes, to be perfectly honest with you. If you don't measure, you will end up with wonky looking cheesecake botoms like mine)

3. Bake until the crusts are set, about 10 minutes. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let cool completely. Reduce the heat to 300degreesF.

4. To make the filling, in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the flat beater, beat the cream cheese on low speed until smooth, 2 to 3 minutes. Increase the speed to medium-low and add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the cream and beat until incorporated, about 1 minute. Add the sugar and salt and beat until incorporated, about 2 minutes, stopping the mixer occasionally to scrape down the sides of the bowl.

5. Pour the batter into the crusts, dividing it evenly among the cups (the batter should be looking pretty smooth operator at this point). Bake until the cheesecakes are set, about 18 minutes (the recipe says 20 minutes, but the first time I did that they came out overdone. Every oven is different though, so just watch for it. A little jiggly-ishy on top doesn't necessarily mean it's undercooked. These things will still continue to cook for a little bit even after you pull them out of the oven).

6. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let cool completely. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours beore unmolding (I overnighted these babies).

7. To unmold, gently push up to remove the cheesecake from the cup (carefully, carefully). Use a small spatula or butter knife to remove the cake from the metal bottom. If the cheesecakes are sticking to the pan, gently run a toothpick around each cheesecake to loosen it before pushing it out of the cup. Makes 12 mini cheesecakes.

Special thanks to my good friend Bebe B. for the photo shoot at the office today. We make HR fun.