Sunday, December 30, 2012
Pear-Cranberry Lattice-Top Pie
I present to you my last (but definitely not the least) baked creation for the year 2012.
This beautiful lattice-topped pie came about, in part, because I had received a giant box full of juicy, red pears as a gift. Not a bag. Not a basket. A BOX full of, honestly, the most delicious pears I've ever eaten in my life. Not kidding. So for about a month I've been eating pears every single day. Mid-afternoon craving? Got a pear. A commercial break? Got a pear. Bored out of my mind? Got a pear.
Don't judge. They were tiny pears. They were friggin addictive.
The pie was baked, in other part, because my cousin Sam was visiting, and he really, really wanted a pie. I may yell at him, call him names, make fun of him, hit him, kick him, and tell him what to do, but I love my oppa. He's the best. So of course I had to bake him a pie.
Two pies, actually. An apple pie and a pear-cranberry pie.
It's like Sam won the genetic lottery for ridiculously kind and generous pie-baking cousins.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Apple Pie
Today's post is dedicated to my cousin Sam.
My oppa is the boss, the shiznit, the crazyman who's tearing through the streets of LA yelling obscenities. He is also whom I have labeled my "inferior cousin," because it's crystal clear who came from the better end of the gene pool. I definitely have the better brain- that's for certain. I also have the better boobs.
Sam is a Marine- of the few and the proud Marines, just so you know. (He'd appreciate the clarification.) Sam is also 6 feet tall even, smart when he wants to, and strange all the time because that's just how he operates. No one really knows what's in that brain of his, unless he tells you himself. But then again I'm not really sure if he knows what's in his brain.
My cousin Sam is also an absolute sweetheart. He laughs like he means it, and he gives these huge, awesome bear hugs that I love. He spoils you silly and is nice enough to listen to you blab about a stupid boy. Usually after 20 minutes of your ranting he'll only take 2 seconds to come up with an answer, and the really amazing thing is that he turns out to be right all along. Dang it.
What can I say? My cousin is an adult who's forever a kid at heart. He's brave and loyal and fierce and makes mission impossible, possible. He'll annoy the heck out of you then tell you to lighten up, which you probably needed to do anyway.
He's terrible at responding to texts, but he loves anything I bake, so I deal with it. He has also promised not to intimidate/threaten/beat up the guys I date, so I'm really proud of the progress he's made so far. It's been a long, tough road to this gem of a realization.
This is his "You talking about me?" face. |
This year he visited post-Christmas with his girlfriend and we went to the aquarium. It was so entertaining to watch him stare at the piranhas. See, I went to stare at Nemo and the jellyfish like a normal person.
I asked him what he wanted as a Christmas/New Year's gift, and he told me he really really wanted a pie. That pies are his favorite, that he can finish a whole pie by himself, that he doesn't care what kind of pie it is as long as it is PIE. Okay, okay, I said, I'll bake you pies.
In fact, I baked him TWO pies: an apple pie, and a pear-cranberry pie. And you know what? I could've baked him a hundred more.That's how extra extra special this crazy person is in my family.
Dear oppa, if you're reading this, I want you to know that I'm not going the route of a corny "I love you" message. Instead I want to you read the rest of this post and admit that I'm the superior cousin. We're settling this debate once and for all. My pies are proof.
But still...you rock.
...and FINE. I love you. Crazy person.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Christmas Cake 2012
What's a particularly important holiday for you?
For some of my Indian friends, it's beautiful Diwali, the Festival of Lights. For others, it's Ramadan or Rosh Hashanah or a day of national and cultural importance, like Chuseok for us Koreans or the Chinese New Year or the Fourth of July for the good ol' U.S. of A.
I consider Easter my favorite, but Christmas comes a close second. Although lately I've been disappointed by how Christmas is characterized these days by the words that accompany it, like "present" or "tree" or "dinner" or "sale." Christmas is about Christ. That shouldn't be jeopardized by any parade or a giant sale at Macy's.
So, as special of an occasion this was, I wanted to bake a cake to match it.
I tried my hand at a two-tiered cake for the first time. I was being impulsive and stubborn and overly ambitious and waaaaay in over my head. AND I didn't give myself enough time to practice and study beforehand. Typical, stupid me.
Long story short, my cake turned out barely all right, but I learned the hard way that cake projects should not be underestimated. For example, you don't mess with the top layer after it's been set and secured. You just don't, because it will make the cake lopsided. Also, planning means sitting your butt down and drawing the dang thing out and figuring out batter amounts, frosting type, jam, etc. Not going with it. Not for Christmas, nuh-uh.
Thank God the cake tasted delicious, otherwise I would've been devastated.
I don't want to read "That looks fine to me" comments here. I'm too embarrassed to post a side pic of Jesus's birthday cake this year. Please let's agree to trust me on this one.
Many apologies for the lack of detailed picture-by-picture instructions on how to make Swiss meringue buttercream and how to stack a two-tiered cake. I promise next year's cake will be wonderful. I also guarantee you many more cake projects in 2013.
Despite everything, though, it's a great day. Jesus, I'm glad you came to us. I'm flawed in small and big ways, yet you remain as perfect as ever.
Merry, merry Christmas indeed.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Dorie Greenspan's Sables (Basic Sugar Cookies)
I totally used to believe in Santa.
My mom had me and my brother write these wish lists for him a week before Christmas. We three would sit together and talk about where we would like to find the presents. If they are on the very bottom shelf of the bookcase on Christmas day, then that's it, it would be settled: Santa exists. And of course,
I thought about asking the little ones at my mother's church if they believed in Santa. Not to steal Jesus's thunder or anything, but just for fun. In the end, though, I decided better against it. I really did not want to be the stupid fool who interrupted them in the middle of Angry Birds. Plus I had this feeling they would stare at me like I was the weirdest grown-up ever, talking to them about Santa when they have clearly moved onto 1st grade.
Kids are so smart these days, they have to see things in order to believe it. Kids are so scary these days, they'll tell you what they like and what they would like to have now.
This Christmas, they wanted cookies.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Ginger Icebox Shortbread Cookies
What I'm about to discuss today has nothing to do with ginger shortbread cookies whatsoever. But I want to talk about it, so leave me alone.
I want to talk about couples who make out in public.
Uh-huh. You read that right.
The most intense couple award goes to these two kids from my high school who found the space and time to lock lips during crowded locker breaks. The guy was a wrestler (I think) so he had these massive arms that bulged out of his already tiny T-shirts. He also looked like he was ready to bench press some serious weight at any given moment. Anyway, when classes dismissed and the halls filled with all of us trying to get places, he would lift his tiny girlfriend by the waist, slam her against the top lockers (ouch!), and proceed on with their business. Naturally it was very awkward trying to get my geometry book from two lockers over.
But the most memorable couple award goes to the kids who were making out smack dab in the- get THIS- middle of a 4-way stop at the park. In front of the Senior Center, no doubt. I'm sorry, but I'm having trouble understanding how that's even remotely romantic. I mean, if that's what floats your boat, then sure...but in front of folks who are getting ready for their ballroom dance night? If someone else gets this, by all means please let me know.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Gingerbread Snacking Cake
I've been trying to figure some stuff out.
What are my post-graduation plans? What does it mean to be friends with somebody? How does one find a good, God-focused church? What is behind the mysterious bonding process that allows some people to just "click" and others to merely nod and walk away?
What does "peace" on the Korean peninsula look like? Will peplum still be a trend next year? Is it an obdurate effort that keeps you in love with someone for many years after you've fallen in love with them? How do I get my mom to stop freaking out about my (lack of a) love life? Which brand sells a good BB cream? Do I even need BB cream? Should I set aside a year to travel, learning Spanish and taking pictures of baguettes in Paris and drinking tea in Hong Kong...get away from everything here?
....and on and on and on and on. You get the gist.
As I'm baking I tend to shut out the outside world. I retreat into my mental space where I pull and twist and tug on all these ideas inside my head...or sometimes I don't think about anything at all.
My 20s is turning out to be topsy-turvy and all of crazy and complicated and messy and unpredictable. Just like everyone else's 20s, I suppose.
I'm just mixing cake batter and sprinkling powdered sugar and seeing where it all goes.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Pecan Pie (Thanksgiving 2012)
I have a habit of reading the Acknowledgements page inside books.
It's the really personal aspects of it that appeal to me. Fiction or nonfiction, I feel like I'm getting away from the author's "writing voice" and to his or her "speaking voice." The voice that might, for instance, tell Mom how publishing's coming along and how it's a pain in the butt but darn it, this thing will get here before summer. Or chat briefly with the barista who brews their morning/afternoon/dead of night coffee. Or answer a terse "Nope" to the question "Do you need anything?"
Elaborate or concise, emotional or mechanical, acknowledgements are both precious and necessary. This is already the second Thanksgiving I'm celebrating here on this blog, and so I thought it'd be nice to have my own Acknowledgements section for today.
So, without further ado, I'm deeply grateful to:
- God, for all the love, blessings, and grace. I know I'm a handful. More importantly, I know that you know I'm a handful. Every good thing I have I credit back to you, Jesus.
- Mom (and the part of the family I'm on good terms with), for your patience, cuteness, dork factor, and the late nights listening to my rants and concerns.
- 소영집사님, for all the prayers, encouragements, and advice about life. I find it incredible how one person can embody so much empathy and compassion for others.
- My guy friends- the best guys a girl can ever wish for. At least three of you had genuinely complimented me at one time and told me I'm beautiful. It was such an honor. I won't ever forget it.
- Ms. Gaston, for all the enthusiastic Facebook "like"s, the stalwart support, and your never-ending positive energy. You're one of the bravest people I know, because you teach high school students and say you love it. You mighty soul, you.
- Tomi, for letting me bring out my silly/fun/sassy side. I don't show that side of myself to most people. Thanks for not running away when I start making funny faces.
- The staff at Emory College Writing Center! Words can't explain how much I miss my home away from home at Emory. I can't wait to come back and read papers with you again at Callaway.
- and lastly, my readers. I'm deeply appreciative of every chance I have to share something with you. Thanks for dealing with my awkwardness. That means a lot.
With much love,
Rae
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Basics: Pie Crust
People will be impressed when you bake a pie from scratch.
This is one of the truest statements I can type, with confidence.
No, putting a frozen, fully assembled store-bought pie into a preheated oven does NOT count as baking a pie from scratch. It may be delicious, but it's still not made from scratch. You may like the taste and convenience of that prepackaged pie- and that's more than fine- but that pie's still not made from scratch.
Let us pinky promise and hold ourselves accountable to two things: 1. To withhold judgment on those who like their pies pre-made from Publix but baked to perfection at home but 2. To give credibility where it's due when bakers lovingly craft their pies from the essential ingredients.
Say you make the filling yourself, but use a ready-made pie crust. That pie will be semi-homemade and partially baked from scratch. People will be impressed. And they will tell you you're cool and amazing and thoughtful.
But. BUT! Say you go the whole nine yards, measure out the dang ingredients, mix the fruits and the sugars, AND roll your own pie crust at home. Can you imagine the accolades, the hugs, the adoring looks rightfully bestowed upon your boss self?? That you took the time to learn about pie crusts, get your arms covered with flour, and master the art of pie baking?
Yeah. This^ needs to happen.
Of course homemade pie crust isn't for everyone. Not everyone is meant to roll their own crust, let alone bake a pie in the first place. Still, it's more of a reason for someone to be impressed, knowing you're not used to dealing with pie dough. Plus it's really fun, not to mention totally worthwhile. At least give it a thought. Bear with me. Bear with the process. You won't regret it.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Sweet Potato Biscuits
Way back when I used to live in Korea, I used to take piano lessons from a lady who lived in the next apartment building over.
My piano teacher beautiful and talented and she was also scary as hell. She was a ferocious force to be reckoned with. When you're a kid, there are certain adults you know instinctively not to cross...and she was one of them. You couldn't fool her if you tried. She knew you hadn't practiced by the way you walked in the door. But she also got you to master "Fur Elise" before your seventh birthday.
She was also known for being this queen bee of all the housewives. She was sassy, she was smart, and she knew things most people didn't. If she cooked a certain dish or tried a new project or wore something new, everyone else followed and copied. If she did it, then by golly they had to, as well.
One day, she invited us to eat sweet potatoes at her home. I thought to myself, what's the big deal with sweet potatoes? Then I got there and realized these sweet potatoes were different. They were reddish instead of dark brown. Their flesh was orange and moist instead of deep yellow and somewhat dry. They were sweet, just in a different way.
Ladies and gentlemen, that was little Rae was eating her first American sweet potato.
Every time I eat a fat, orange tuber, I think about that day. When I baked these biscuits, I thought about my piano teacher. And I wonder how she's doing, if her two children have grown to be as strong and talented as their mother. I think one day I'll give her a call. Tell her thank you for all she did.
Tell her how she scared the heck out of me but it's all good.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Amaretto Pound Cake
Lately a few of my friends have been trying their hand at desserts from this blog.
Ben baked banana bread (yeah, the same awkward one I mentioned in my last post). Tomi baked coconut macaroons and peanut butter cup cookies. They even posted pictures, and the food looked ridiculously delicious. I was so proud.
To be honest, though, it felt a bit surreal. I guess I always feel like most people visit my blog, glance over the pictures, and scroll down the page, saying, "Oh, that's nice." So when people actually bake something I wrote about, it's hard to believe it really happened. At least for me, anyway, at this stage of blogging. I always feel like such a newbie.
But then recipes like this amaretto pound cake come along, and I think to myself, gee, I should maybe loosen up on the visibility of this thing. Screw the pessimism that says nobody will really care. Let the haters hate and let awesome people bake.
You know why? Pound cake is the absolute bomb. No exotic ingredients. No complicated prep work. No breaking the bank. Simply flour, sugar, butter, and eggs baked to cake perfection. This particular recipe adds some sweet aromatic amaretto liqueur to the batter. The toasted almonds on top make it look so professional. It's so delicious I've already baked it on three different occasions.
Dang it, you know something this good has to be shared.
There are no step-by-step pictures today. No drawn-out, detailed explanations. All I'm going to tell you is that you can toast the almonds on stovetop over medium heat or in the oven at 350. About 10 minutes or so should do it. (Don't let them burn, though.)
Before I leave this post here, a million hugs to Tomi and Ben. I miss you :)
And if you're a future reader, a big hello and a nice-to-meet-you.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Citrus Cornmeal Shortbread
When I started this blog, I had not considered food photography at all.
My thinking went something along the lines of: "I'll bake, snap a few shots, write up a blurb, and click Publish." The blog, being up and running, was of the utmost concern. The elements of lighting, camera angle, composition, etc. just went shooosh over my head.
It was about two posts in that I realized beautiful pictures were a must, and about a year in that I looked back at my previous posts and let out a horrified gasp.
There it was, my beautiful loaf of banana bread, forcibly caught at an awkward moment. I'm sure if it could've talked, it would've said, "Hey...so.....what the eff..."
I like to think I survived this far on the sheer kindness of people who like me enough to like my pictures for me. I'm a work in progress, the same with this blog. It's just awesome that I get to do it with the most enthusiastic people cheering me on. Still, not everything I bake turns out delicious. I also take way more off pictures than I'd like to admit.
Dare I say I like it that way? Dare I say that very awkwardness is incredibly endearing?
For instance, I baked these gorgeous shortbread cookies. They're actually more beautiful in real life. Cornmeal seems like it should belong in a warm bowl of grits, but here it's like they were meant to be shortbread. I thought the golden cookies would pair well with a blue plate with golden rims.
Long story short, I baked these cookies. I took a picture.
I liked. Very much. :)
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Brewer's Blondies
Chocolate is the national dessert obsession.
I get this.
It's a superstar. It's a badass. It's sexy and sweet and as cool as it gets. It's both sophisticated as a flourless torte and as down to earth as the most wonderful chocolate chip cookie. I have a whole category devoted to chocolate, and for good reason: chocolate is boss and it's here to stay.
A brownie is one of the best confections you can make with chocolate. Case in point: A while back I baked the most scrumptious marbled cream cheese brownies. I went nuts over them. My friends went nuts over them. It's pretty darn difficult to find someone who frowns at the mention of a brownie.
Everyone knows what a brownie is. This much is obvious.
But how about a blondie?
I myself had never heard of a blondie until my sophomore year of college. I think it absurd, as well. So what exactly is a blondie, you ask? Blondies are dessert bars based on tons of molasses-laden brown sugar. It's like a brownie in both method of baking and texture, but a blondie lacks chocolate in its base (although it can still have chocolate chips in the base batter). Some people use melted butterscotch chips in the batter, which, too, is delicious. All in all, blondies are in their own class of cool. No more shall they be a poor man's brownie.
Especially when they feature malt powder and Whoppers. Woo-hoo!
Monday, October 22, 2012
Devil's Food Cake with Mocha Buttercream
An entire childhood of watching parents and grandparents in the kitchen. Keeping great-grandma's time-tested peach cobbler filed in the recipe box. Gathering on Thanksgiving to see who made the best dessert this year. Learning how to decorate sugar cookies from Dad. Sound about right?
I, however, didn't grow up smelling apple pies or chocolate cream pies at the kitchen counter. Neither of my parents is a professional baker, although they both were cooks at certain points in their lives. The fateful discovery of a long-lost sweets recipe from a great-aunt? Ha! Not in this gal's household.
I grew up on plenty of kimchi and miyukguk (seaweed soup)- and loved it. Pastries were an occasional treat, but not a single stick of butter was bought until my junior year of high school. Honestly, I can't even recall what I cooked with that butter.
Baking became this rhythm in my life even before I knew I was listening to it. Long story short, I started to bake as a way to give.
Birthdays, anniversaries, end-of-the-year farewells, holidays, and numerous thank-you occasions came by, and little me had nothing to give to the people I loved. By the time I entered third grade it was automatic for me to compare and buy my cereal by the unit price. I didn't feel unduly deprived, mind you, nor was I destitute, but I grew up knowing that money was a finite resource in my household. Simple as that.
Baking was easy. It was economical. It also had the wow factor. People liked that you took the time to mix, drop, and bake cookies from your home. Soon I began cooking up homemade fudge, separating them in little goodie bags, tied ribbons, then gifted them to loved ones who meant the world to me.
After fudge came cookies, cakes, cheesecakes, and fast forward to now and... here we are!
It's really been an amazing experience. I'm beyond grateful.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Blueberry-Blackberry Whole Wheat Muffins
It is not sufficient to say that I have stationed myself in the back corner of this cafe. Taking over the area, is more like it. Sitting smack dab in the middle of the only couch in the store. Shoes off and cross-legged on the shiny black leather. Hogging the cushions. My book and notes and pen all over the table. My North Face bookbag resting near my foot like an old dog that doesn't like to be bothered.
And me, sipping my coffee like, "what's up?"
To be (moderately) fair, there's hardly anyone here. One gentleman by the windows at the far end is reading a newspaper, the other is sitting at the high tables to use the electrical outlet. About an hour ago a group came through- for brunch after morning service, I figure.
No biggie. Just little me with my coffee and my red leather journal. Studying, writing, reading. Just chillin'...with music hailing from the top speakers.
This is one of my most favorite things in the world.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Whole Wheat Bread with Walnuts and Cranberries
Well, technically it's 44% whole wheat bread, but who's punching numbers here (besides me)?
This, right here, is a 100% deeeeeeeelicious bread.
So delicious that I baked six loaves already and plan on making another four in the next two days. That's pretty legit.
This bread made me believe in the power of toasted nuts... i.e, the extra depth of intensely nutty, woody (can I say woody?) flavor that magnifies the blend of whole wheat and molasses. That, paired with tart-sweet dried cranberries, was bread heaven.
This recipe is low-maintenance, straightforward, and virtually foolproof. If you measure correctly, then you won't have issues with mixing and kneading. The only hindrance I found was the position of the oven rack. The very first time I baked this bread, the fire alarm went off...and some things went down. The middle hadn't fully risen and the bottom was burned. I was bummed out. But baking near the middle instead of the bottom rack fixed that problem, and I just had fun with the process.
Baking bread at home is special that way. You learn as you go. You get to know your dough.
This bread is wonderful to have for breakfast with some good coffee. But it's also rustic yet tender enough to serve at the dinner table with your entrees. I like it plain and slightly warmed, but you can eat it with a slab of butter, jam, honey, whatever you like.
So it is with many blessings that I send you sweet souls to bake your own breads. Have fun, and eat to your heart's content.
And please, please don't burn down your house.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Homemade Wheat Thins
I was never really a Cheez-Its kinda gal.
But I was, and IS, a total Wheat Thins gal.
When I have those wheat thins, I don't wanna share. When I have those wheat thins, they disappear in about two days. When I have those wheat thins, I see no other cracker.
If you give me Wheat Thins, I like you lots.
If you're a boy who gives me Wheat Thins, then mister, we might talk. Unless you're creepy. Then I'm just going to take the box and run.
I found the recipe for these homemade wheat thins from Smitten Kitchen, a.k.a one of the best food blogs out there. I was thrilled, but I have to be honest here and say that these didn't live up to my (mile-high) expectations. Ms. Perelman is no doubt a fantastic baker and cook, so her wheat thins must have been nothing less than wonderful. Mine, on the other hand, I liked very much, but not enough to let go of the box from the store.
BUT that doesn't take away from the fact that I devoured these crackers in, again, a couple of days. The whole wheat flour gives the dough such an irresistible, nutty aroma. I stopped short of kneading and just... breathed. They're crunchy yet tender. Buttery. Tasty.
In short, these babies have their own charm.
Do you have to bake them? Gosh, no. But you can take a look at how I made them, because it's pretty cool. You can also, out of the goodness of your heart, leave me a nice comment or send me a sweet text, and totally make my day ^O^
Oh, and get me a box of Wheat Thins. Can't forget that.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Mango and White Chocolate Biscotti
It still surprises me to see people dish out the big bucks for biscotti.
Why people would try drop cookies at home, but not biscotti, I have no idea. I think it has something to do with the double Ts. Maybe a "don't bake it when you can't spell it" rule I don't know about.
In all seriousness, though, I think it's the elegance. The fancy shmanciness that's so intimidating.
Believe it or not, baking biscotti is easy once you get the hang of it. And it's so easily adaptable to whatever your preferences. Did I mention that these also make for some fantastic gifts? I've never had anyone who didn't love the biscotti I made and gifted.
So just bake these already. Set aside a chilly afternoon just for baking. Dunk 'em in hot cocoa or coffee. Even the broken pieces are delicious.
We shall be eaters of homemade biscotti, you and I.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Sweet and Spicy Peppernuts
To the obnoxious driver who passed me on Hwy 29 and shot me a look,
Okay.
First of all, you suck.
Secondly, it was a hill. You know what happens when you drive up a hill? I'll give you a hint: it does the opposite of speeding up.
Look, dude. I understand that sometimes we're in a hurry. I understand that some of us have real issues with drivers who only go 5-10 above the speed limit. I even understand that sometimes we just have bad days. I have them, too.
But that's not an excuse to stick your head out the window, glare, and mouth an obscenity. And what are you even doing out at noon, anyway? You seriously look like you should be studying in a 12th grade English class somewhere. Not driving around like an aimless high school dropout.You know, possibly living at home and blaming his old man and the government for everything crappy in life.
Listen. I wish you a good life. I really do.
Because no one should be that pissed to take it out on the road.
To be perfectly honest I also wish you a speeding ticket. And that your girlfriend would leave you for the cop who gave you that ticket. But other than that, I wish you a curse-free life on and off the road.
So no more crappy road behavior, alright? Awesome.
Sincerely,
The maker of these Sweet and Spicy Peppernuts.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Blueberry Smoothie
Not a lot of people know this, but I used to part-time at a smoothie store.
Job description included blending about 14 different kinds of smoothies in 4 sizes, as well as bubble teas, milkshakes, and protein shakes. Add in cookie/ice cream/muffin/candy prep and a 10ft-long line for three hours on a Saturday afternoon and you get a picture of how I might have come home at night.
However, in the middle of fruits and ice flying everywhere and the cash register ringing musical mayhem, I noticed something. I noticed that, as some people ordered, they mentioned something along the lines of: I'm so glad I'm getting a smoothie instead of (pretzel, chips, pizza, etc.).
i.e. smoothie= good, health-conscious treat that's actually tasty. And why not? Smoothies are made with fruits! They're blended right in front of your eyes! What could be wrong with a smoothie?
Well, the bananas and kiwis are fresh. (Trust me- I peeled enough of them at the last minute to know for sure.) Those are great quality frozen berries. That's genuine acai berry juice.
However, almost every fruit is sweetened with sugar syrup. (Strawberries and peaches come in their own.) A tablespoon of turbinado sugar goes into every regular-sized smoothie. Specialty syrups are everywhere.
So, all things considered, the fancy store smoothie probably won't help your waistline...nor your mistaken notions of a healthy menu.
But that's why we can make smoothies....at home!
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Blueberry Pancakes
Almost gone is the season of many an hour of frolicking on the beach in a teeny bikini...which I never did. 'Tis a time of farewell to cruise ships, Hawaiian sunsets, and pictures of said Hawaiian sunsets posted on facebook from those who actually went. I will miss the stifling Georgia humidity...NOT. (Amen to that.) Nor will I miss the mosquitoes, tan lines, and friends going away on internships/vacations/summer school.
What I will miss are the brilliant sunshine and the boundless energy of summer. The freshest, ripest, juiciest berries and mangoes and lemons and watermelons at the farmer's market. Children in sky blue T-shirts for their VBS. Outdoor barbecues and extras for everyone. The cool evening wind grazing the edges of my running shorts at the local park. The sense of the days bringing something unexpected, exciting, thrilling.
I made these pancakes with the best of summer in mind.
They're packed with plump blueberries and a little bit of semisweet chocolate to balance out the tartness. Topped with extra berries, bananas, crisp nectarines, and a drizzle of honey, these pancakes are what a good summer should be: breathtaking and memorable.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Surprise Cookies
Some of the nightmares I might have, in random order:
- Finding myself enrolled in a differential calculus class the day before the final exam. Having to take the said final without learning a thing. And the grade counts toward my GPA. (Yes, this was an actual dream I had.)
- My two favorite cousins hating each other. And then hating me.
- Being chased by a stalker.
- Boyfriend thinking my food is nasty. (This is okay; in real life you just dump that loser.)
- Standing in international court for a political crime I did not commit (it was a conspiracy). Having to defend myself in- oh, I don't know- Swahili, Cantonese, or Dutch.
And....
- Finding myself back in high school.
High School.
I don't understand people who say high school was the best time of their lives.
I mean- really? They are the years of awkwardness aplenty (NOT the cute kind), pimples, standardized tests, waking up at 5:30 AM, not knowing how to dress yourself, how to BE yourself. It's the place where people know how to spell Abercrombie but not apropos.
Maybe it really was a great time. Maybe if you were popular or led your basketball team to State or were prom queen or a national anything champion, then I might understand. Maybe if you had the good fortune not to experience poverty, bullying, or a harrowing heartbreak. Maybe. But the best time of your life? I'm not so sure.
Truth be told, my high school years were terrible. I remember feeling overwhelmed, exasperated, and so utterly alone. I would have laughed more, had I had even a moment to take a breather first from ten AP classes, two part-time jobs, and constantly. asking. for. rides. I had so many secrets. Home seemed like a WWIII battleground. I felt as if I was carrying all of the weight of my world here in my little heart.
As a result, I was pretty unhappy. I gather most people mistook that sadness for irritation or plain meanness. Perfectly understandable, by the way, and I send out a huge apology for anyone whom I had wronged intentionally or unintentionally.
Here's the thing, though: it was only after leaving high school that I got to see it for what it was, and what it was not. It was a place that broke me- to pieces, it felt- sometimes, but it was not a place of utter devastation that I thought it was. Because when I got to college, I found that I was a lot stronger, and a lot smarter/funnier/more giggly than I thought. I also found what I liked, and didn't like. I discovered the joy of baking. I reconciled with my family. I learned how to wear liquid eyeliner. I learned that I have no tolerance nor respect nor time for those who can't bear to see me successful and happy.
What's more surprising is how some people from my high school changed, as well. A shy, reserved (but totally sweet) runner turned into this vibrant social butterfly. Some really bright folks who had to watch how much their intelligence unnerved some dummies are now living it up in the big city. Some outgoing, confident individuals turned out to be most insecure and pernicious. A few got engaged or married. I even think I heard a jail story somewhere.
It is shocking how I am now connecting with the people I thought I'd never talk to again. And how it took me a year after leaving high school to know and appreciate the most lovely teacher. How, with enough time, some things always stay the same and some things must change.
I know this is probably the lengthiest intro yet in this blog, but I just wanted to share my little examples of life's surprises. So that you wait it out if high school, college, grad school, or even post-grad life is bearing down on you...or if you feel betrayed by everyone you know...or if you feel there's nothing good or deserving in you.
Wait it out. Surprise yourself. Own your life.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Basic Chocolate Ganache
This isn't sauce.
This... is a little piece of heaven we bakers call ganache.
Ganache is a wonderful French confection that, in its basic makeup, is a combination of chocolate and cream. Solid ganache can be scooped and shaped to make truffles. Liquid ganache can be used as a glaze on top of a cake. Whipped ganache makes for a pretty darn irresistible frosting.
In short, ganache is a superstar in baking heaven.
And it's so unbelievably easy.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Chocolate-Ginger Brownies
But ginger and chocolate, together? In a brownie?
Curiosity, commence.
Luckily for me, the perfect opportunity presented itself through a sudden and intense morning craving for something, anything, sugary and chocolatey and sweet. I didn't even think about a proper breakfast. These brownies would be breakfast.
Nothing wrong with that.
Monday, August 27, 2012
How to Make Brown Sugar
I've had times when I looked at a recipe, wanted to bake something, then gave up...
...because I didn't have brown sugar in the pantry.
But that was BEFORE I found out you can make your own brown sugar.
Excuse me, but I'm a girl who grew up thinking brown sugar was an inherently different kind of sugar than granulated sugar. Why? Because my mama told me so.
Obviously Mama was wrong. (I'm sorry, Mommy.)
Brown sugar is just white granulated sugar, mixed with (guess what?) molasses. Yup! The thick, almost sickeningly sweet syrup you can use to make, for one, super cool gingerbread cookies. For 1 cup of white granulated sugar, you add 1 Tbsp of molasses, and mix, mix, mix. Voila! You have brown sugar.
And get this: dark brown sugar is just extra molasses mixed into white granulated sugar. Mind totally blown. Because I think this kinda stuff is cooooooooool.
Still not convinced? I have step-by-step pictures. Take a look!
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Carrot Cake
Slowly, but surely.
I started to bake around fifth grade, which was approximately... 9234758273847362 years ago. I used to buy those 99 cent blueberry muffin mixes from the grocery store. Ooh, and those corn muffin mixes in the tiny blue and white boxes. Fun little things.
Back then it was too easy. An egg and a half cup of oil. Sometimes just a half cup of milk. Mix. Pour. Bake. Don't burn down the apartment. Eat. Share with little brother.
Now I have to measure flour. Correctly. (Yes, there is a correct way to measure flour!) There's "folding" the batter that's mixing but not really mixing mixing. Yes, that one extra step matters. Reminder: measuring spoons are there for a reason.
Now I've also grown up and started to bake wonderful things, like this carrot cake! It's so wonderfully moist, fragrant, and oh so beautiful, in my opinion. (I admit I did stare at it for a while before sending it off.) The decoration is just piped star tips on top and shells at the bottom. The tiny pecan pieces added another dimension of elegance to the cake. It was that easy.
A huge improvement from basic frosted cake, and also from a botched carrot cake that went just so wrong but inspired awesome pancakes. High-five, self.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Lemon Cake
Don't you get tired of the question, "When life gives you lemons, you....???"
I'm bummed that lemons became the go-to metaphor for the crappy things that happen in life. Lemons are good little fruits! They are the prettiest shade of yellow, the kind that I want in the most perfect sundress. They are loaded with the antioxidant vitamin C. They freshen up any stale and damp space. You never get tired of seeing little ones pucker up after sucking on a slice.
Also, there's the typical answer to the question: "...make lemonade!"
I don't know about you, but I don't make lemonade that much. Maybe once a year. There are so many delightful things you can make using lemons: mousse, bars, martinis, custards, souffles, glaze... And don't even get me started on lemons and entree dishes, lemons and beauty products, oh my oh my.
If anyone really wanted to know, what I really think, when life "gives [me] lemons," I'd have an answer. I would say thank you life, this really sucks (to be honest), and I'm going to pout for just a bit, but I'll get over it. I'm going to drive to the new farmer's market down the road, buy some fresh jumbo lemons, juice them, and bake a kick-ass cake. I'm going to smile, talk to funny people, and do that nod-bob thing while listening to latin dance tunes in the car. I'm going to be kind to myself.
I really like this cake. It's so moist, so tender, that I almost cracked the layers while transferring them from wire rack to decorating surface. My mom, who doesn't like cakes that much, ate an entire piece by herself. It strikes the perfect balance between lemony tanginess and sugar sweetness. It's delicate and elegant.
I hope every one of you who reads this finds every reason to be happy today. Life's too short not to be happy when you can, don't cha think?
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Coconut Drop Cookies
I was watching a television show one day in which there was a discussion about the "ideal" thigh to calf to ankle ratio. The "golden ratio," was what they called the 50-30-20 cm measurements. One must do certain exercises, the pros insisted, and the audience members nodded away like little bobble-heads while mouthing "oooh"s and "ahhh"s.
So of course I got out my tape measure and measured my own thigh and calf and ankle to see how I compared to the golden ratio. My ankle measured at 20.5, calf at 36, and I didn't even get to measuring my thigh. And afterwards I just had to laugh at the ridiculousness of this whole thing, like, WHAT the heck am I doing in my room, bending down at the waist with one knee bent and trying not to drop a tiny tape measure around my leg?
I think it's really important to be at a good, healthy weight where you are satisfied with the way you look. I also think it's important to be thought of as attractive. But a long time ago I had to face the simple truth, that I was built to be a tiny bit soft around the edges. Dare I say I like myself, and my body, regardless of numbers? Because I do. That's got to be a heresy in today's world, but I don't want to convert.
So I eat my cookies, but I also eat my greens. I love it. I don't overeat. I don't do diets. If I want to lose weight, I lace up my running shoes and get my butt outside.
I genuinely enjoy my food, and these coconut drop cookies are one of them. They taste as if they were coconut macaroons reborn as chewy, dense drop cookies. They keep very well and make for some excellent presents. They are nutty, sweet with a hint of salt, and textured with good-for-you old-fashioned oats.
Now that's golden, in my opinion.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Peanut Butter Cup Cookies
Any peanut butter fans out there? 'Cause Ima talk to you today.
Okay, you guys...don't get mad. But. I'm...okay...with peanut butter. I like it...fine. Despite peanut butter's popularity, I'm not too crazy about slathering it on a crisp apple slice, a stick of celery, even on sandwich bread with jelly.
I know some people who eat their PB straight out of the jar. I don't get it. It sticks everywhere. It gets plastered to the roof of your mouth. It makes that smacking sound.
So...I wasn't sure about these cookies. I mean, if I don't like peanut butter, then why should other people like it, right? Perfectly vain logic here, folks.
Thanks to the kids at the church who are having their VBS this week, these cookies came into existence. And they are amazing... The kids, I mean. Silly you. ^^
Okay...these cookies are amazing, too. (Duh! Isn't that why you're reading this post??) In fact, these are some of the best cookies I've ever tasted in my life.
Something definitely magical happened when peanut butter and sugar came together. Chopped Reese's cups and chocolate chips...together...required no explanations. This recipe is a total keeper.
Now, I'm going to shush and let you make these for yourself.
P.S. To the diehard fans of the legume who might have been offended by my earlier statements and were considering a tiny lil' kidnap-and-kill...we're okay now, right? I said, the "best cookies!"
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