Chocolate-Ginger Brownies

I love a good gingerroot. I love a good bar of chocolate.

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.

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!

Carrot Cake

I think I'm improving at this baking thing.

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.

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?

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.