Blackberry Peach Prumble

Holy shit, I baked again. I know, I’m truly as shocked and confused as you, knowing the infrequent and haphazard nature of this behavior.

I was hit by a rebellious streak today, frustrated that:

• fruit has become a corked grenade in my life, something that must be eaten with caution because my body has given up on regulating sugars as I would wish
• the days are observably shorter and the calendar has stubbornly abandoned its summer months
• i’m bone-weary and needing a nesting weekend

So, I baked.

deliciousness

And I ate.

And it was good… except that one bite of improperly mixed-in salt.

How has spontaneity revealed itself in your world lately?

cherry almond cobbler, with a few bites missing

Anyone who’s been around these parts for a while can attest that I’m not exactly a foodie, much less any sort of chef. I really like kitchen utensils and I love to eat but ovens intimidate me and I still have no idea why the Dutch are so frequently involved in their usage. That being said, I found myself compelled to bake something a few nights ago.

I went cherry picking last weekend, got a wee bit overzealous in my hunt for the perfect specimen and ended up with a gazillion fresh cherries in my house. This, I quickly discovered, became tantamount to torture because, since my diagnosis, I can no longer plop down on a couch and happily consume pounds of fruit in one sitting. I knew I had to do something, and fast.

By happenstance, I recently discovered a new blog Honey + Jam and, lo-and-behold, Hannah decided to post a recipe for Cherry Almond Crumble this week.

How’s that for karma or coincidence or… just dumb luck?

I GOT INSPIRED!

I also got kind of confused. If you take a look at Hannah’s recipe she mentions light brown sugar and dark brown sugar. I haven’t a clue what the difference is between the two so decided it couldn’t possibly matter that much. Also, the inclusion of almond extract in the ingredients list intimidated me a bit – what, exactly, is that and where the hell would one find it? Trader Joe’s does not carry it. So I concluded it couldn’t be that important. Also, I only had a partial stick of butter in the fridge. Maybe if I melted it really slowly and lovingly, I could stretch out its strength? I was even gonna skip the corn starch because, once again, the aisles of Trader Joe’s did not produce that particular item. Imagine my utter shock at discovering I actually had a tin of it on the top kitchen cabinet shelf – the one that requires I climb my drawers and balance precariously on my slippery tiled counter to reach. Yippee! I still don’t understand what corn starch is or what it does BUT I OWN IT.

So I gathered my hodge-podge ingredients and began to assemble my masterpiece at 11 p.m. on a Tuesday. Chaos ensued. And then, vindication.

THE DISH IS EDIBLE!

It’s actually entirely yummy.

A few concluding notes:

1. Cherry Almond Crumble probably tastes even better if you include all the listed ingredients.
2. A cherry pitter thingamajig might come in handy. I did all the pitting by hand and ended up looking like I’d massacred my cat.

What’s your latest kitchen feat or fiasco?

by LensENVY / flickr

I have a sweet tooth. I’ve given up trying to deny it. I like dessert. Dark chocolate is, indeed, better than much of the sex I’ve had. The French have every right to their perceived snobbery when one considers their pastry offerings. So, it is to be expected that I pause at the sight of sugary delights and I feel compelled to try any new confection about which I hear. Particularly if I am not required to make it myself.

This is why I found myself with four packages of artisan peanut brittle on my desk the other day. I’d stumbled across Morning Glory Confections a while back and filed the info away to be investigated at a later date. The later date arrived just before Halloween as sugar mania took over the world. I went online and purchased four out of the six flavors of peanut brittle offered by this Los Angeles-based company – Chai Tea & Cashew; Cocoa Nib, Coffee Bean & Pecan; New Mexico Chili & Pumpkin Seed; and Fleur de Sel & Peanut. Don’t the unusual ingredients themselves catch your imagination?

I still get giddy at the idea of these flavors.

Unfortunately, the potential grandeur of these combinations was not fulfilled in reality.

I roped two co-workers into a little taste-testing game. They both happen to be huge peanut brittle fans, and we had great fun escaping our offices for a moment of foodie experimentation.

I really wanted the brittles to blow me away, the way fresh dark chocolate or perfectly balanced strawberry-rhubarb pie does. They didn’t.

They weren’t BAD. But at 5 bucks for 2 oz., I want stupendousness. My co-workers agreed.

my order

The packaging was nice – simple, clean – but a bit wasteful. I wished that the labeling had been put on the inside ziplock bag instead of on a secondary clear box into which the ziplock bag was placed. Clearly, Annie Leonard is having an effect.

Chai Tea & Cashew Brittle (via Morning Glory Confections)

My lab rats and I each had a different favorite flavor, when push came to shove. I went with the Chai Tea and Cashew, thinking it would pair well with a strong espresso. The Cocoa Nib, Coffee Bean & Pecan brittle had too much coffee bean and not enough cocoa nib, and the coffee bean tasted burnt, but it ended up being LR#1′s preference. The New Mexico Chili & Pumpkin Seed was too savory; as LR#2 put it, it tasted like taco seasoning. And the Fleur de Sel & Peanut just wasn’t special enough to warrant the hoopla, in my opinion, but LR#2 rated it the best of the bunch. None of us would purchase any of the flavors again, however.

I am bummed. I had hoped, when ordering my batch, that I would be able to rave about this handmade sweet and perhaps introduce you guys to something extra special we could all add to our holiday buffets. Alas, my conclusion is that it’s just not worth the expense.

That being said, however, check out Morning Glory Confections and be your own judge if you wish. I still think the CONCEPT is fantastic.

Oh, well.

One of these days, my sweet tooth will land in something truly remarkable and I’ll tell you all about it…

pile of pumpkins

It’s the first day of November and autumn is fully upon us. Halloween is over, though the trail of candy wrappers may linger. The pumpkins have been discarded. The sweaters have been pulled out. I invested in a new pair of boots. I even made a pumpkin pie. Sorta.

I try to avoid dairy as much as possible – that whole lactose aversion thing plus honest-to-goodness allergies. But pumpkin pie, for me, is integral to this season and the impending holidays. When I was in Trader Joe’s on Saturday, I walked by the pyramid of canned pumpkin pie filling and pumpkin pie spices.

I FELT INSPIRED.

I’ve never made a pie before in my life, but that did not stop me from tossing a can of the pumpkin filling into my basket. A jar of the pumpkin pie spices followed the same trajectory. Then, I realized I had no idea what came next. Luckily, the can had a recipe on it and the Trader Joe’s folks kindly made a sign that mentioned they sold pie crust. I went on a hunt for the crust while contemplating how to get around the necessary ingredients listed on the back of the can.

Ingredient #1: Heavy Cream… Heavy cream is dairy.

Ingredient #2: Milk… Milk is dairy.

DILEMMA.

Lo and behold, I had a EUREKA MOMENT!!

Heavy cream is kinda like cream cheese… Cream cheese is kinda like Tofutti imitation non-dairy cream cheese… What if I just mixed the pumpkin pie filling with some Tofutti. Wouldn’t that make a pie?

I purchased my four ingredients – canned pumpkin pie filling, pumpkin pie spices, frozen pie crust and Tofutti.

I arrived home WITH AN AGENDA.

I turned on the stove, set out my ingredients and… realized I DID NOT OWN A PIE COOKING PAN, or whatever they’re called – pie tin? pie plate? pie glass circular thingamajig?

My Martha Stewart baking moment came to a screeching HALT.

I spent an anxious Saturday night, waiting for Halloween day to arrive so I could… purchase a pie baking container!

I dashed out to Target first thing on Sunday morning, tried to avoid the hoards of zombie shoppers as much as possible and acquired my first glass pie  - OH MY GOD, DOES ANYONE KNOW IF THIS THING HAS A PROPER NAME?!? – thing.

And I made a pie. I was a little nervous about whether Tofutti can actually be heated or not, since I’m not exactly sure what it is, but my oven did not explode. It was very easy to stir the canned pumpkin filling and the container of Tofutti together. I may have put too much pumpkin pie spice in the bowl because the teaspoon would not fit into the jar so I had to dump the spice onto the spoon and – WHOOPS! I ignored the recipe’s call for eggs, since I didn’t know what eggs do in a recipe and maybe the Tofutti was already doing that. I also ignored the call for sugar because my sugar is on a very high shelf which would require pulling out the step ladder and that just seemed like unnecessary exertion.

I let the pie bake for 50 minutes. It looked very pretty. Then I let it cool. You’d never know it wasn’t exactly like the pumpkin pie your grandma made.

I even ate a slice.

It. Wasn’t. Bad.

More importantly, I’ve lived to tell the tale.

"Petite Cake" by Maggie Austin

A friend of mine got married last week. I wasn’t able to attend, due to this entirely inconvenient thing called a job, but I did find myself thinking a lot about weddings in honor of her big day. I’ve never been married myself, not even close. But I love the hope, promise and commitment that the ceremony promises. I also love the pomp of it all. And every once in a while, I’m struck by the sheer beauty of something that is usually reserved for this (ideally) once-in-a-lifetime event and rebel at the idea that it should be reserved solely for nuptials.

Kate over at Wit & Delight highlighted a collection of cakes a few days ago. One of them made me gasp out loud in glee.

"Rose Frill" by Maggie Austin

It was made by Maggie Austin, who is based out of D.C.

"Painted Bas-Relief"

I dropped over to her website and… OH LORDY BE!

"Cake Petals" by Maggie Austin

She is an artist of the highest order.

"Tiffany Pond Lily" by Maggie Austin

She even makes cookies!

Molded and Hand-painted Cookies. Seriously!

And now I must decide when I’m next throwing a party.

"Hydrangea" One of my favorite flowers!

In Washington.

"Bees"

Almost too beautiful to consume, no?

the recipe book

I’ve kept this recipe book for 22 years, but I’ve never used it.

Until yesterday.

I have no idea why I was suddenly struck with the impulse to open it up and make my favorite Brazilian dessert.

Partly, I think it was because I have a book club meeting this afternoon and needed to bring a dish. I don’t normally make anything; I rely on Trader Joe’s to see me through the potluck experience while others in the group out-do themselves with culinary masterpieces. I’m getting a little irritated with my own status-quo, however. I no longer get any pleasure from the “non-cook” moniker. In fact, I secretly resent it now. Also, after not eating chocolate for three years, I’m letting it court me again. Then there’s the little issue of not having read the book we’re supposed to discuss today. Is it wrong to try to distract everyone from that tidbit of news with a coma-inducing sweet?

Or did I do it because I’m feeling nostalgic about my care-free, travel-heavy, debt-free youth?

I have been making an attempt to act on my impulsive, fleeting thoughts. Perhaps that is why I opened up the book – the idea entered my head. Could it really be as simple as that?

Regardless, I DID pull out the receitas and found the recipe I wanted:

YUM!

BRIGADEIRO. Little balls of sin.

(does ANYONE still not get the correlation between chocolate and sex?)

The recipe is written in Portuguese because that was the only language I was speaking by the end of my stay in Brazil. My handwriting reflects the exaggerated bubble print many teen girls adopted in the ’80s. The cooking instructions fail to mention the temperature at which everything should be cooked or the best way to create the finished product. The quantity of each ingredient is vague because my Brazilian mom didn’t measure anything.

Of course, you already know this is going to be a disaster, right?

the recipe

This is my translation of the recipe:

BRIGADEIRO

Ingredients: 3 soup spoons of chocolate powder, 2 soup spoons of butter, 1 can condensed milk.

Instructions: Put everything in a pan and mix it with a wooden spoon until you can see the bottom of the pan. Let cool. Roll it and pass it in granulated chocolate.

Um… Okay…

I have a pan. I have a wooden spoon. I have all the ingredients.

Except I think I put only two spoonfuls of chocolate powder in the pan instead of three, but I made them heaping because I wasn’t sure whether they were supposed to be measured or not and I’m not sure my soup spoons are the same size as the ones we used in that Brazilian kitchen 22 years ago.

I mix constantly but I can see the bottom of the pan from the very beginning so I have no idea when I’m supposed to stop stirring. I put it on medium heat because, well, it’s medium. I know I’m going to have to roll the stuff into little balls after it cools and I know what the finished product is supposed to look like but the chocolate liquid starts to boil and OH MY GOD CAN CHOCOLATE BURN?

I make a completely uneducated guess as to when to stop. I take the pot off the stove, even though the recipe doesn’t say that, because I’m thinking there’s a better chance it will cool that way and the recipe says to let it cool.

I wait half an hour.

I stick a spoon in the mixture to retrieve enough to roll into a ball and WOW IT’S STICKY. I realize the bottom of the pan is still hot. I stick it in the refrigerator. It then occurs to me that condensation might form which would make it MORE liquidy rather than less so. I pull it back out of the frig and stick it back on the counter.

I wait another hour.

I try to make a ball again from the mixture. I ignore the fact the it is the same consistency that it was an hour previously. I refuse to be defeated by the fact that the stuff seems to prefer to remain on my fingers than form a ball. I begin dumping blobs of it into a bowl of chocolate sprinkles.

Blobs are similar to balls, right? (do not even THINK about making a correlation between that question and how long it’s been since I’ve had sex!)

I use up FOUR BOTTLES of chocolate sprinkles in a vain attempt to give the substance some structure.

I end up with monstrosities.

shabby brigadeiro

And I suddenly remember the hostess of this month’s book club only eats a macrobiotic diet.

I eat one of my brigadeiros in despair.

Revelation! Ugly is GOOD.

Excuse me as I slip blissfully into sugar shock…

By Sally Mann

Cupcakes make me want to go find a hula hoop, put my hair in pigtails, and not worry about calorie counts or bank accounts. They make me want to try cooking again. They make me think everyone should really do the Zoom arm trick more often.

Yes, I’ve anthropomorphized cupcakes. But I am not the only one!

I recently, with the help of KCRW’s Good Food, stumbled across artist and writer Jessie Oleson. She makes her living by channeling the power of cupcakes.

By Jessie Oleson

I had no idea that she was just the tip of the iceberg. There are a crazy number of websites dedicated solely to the idolatry of cupcakes. Cupcakes serve as muses for painters, sculptors, designers… the list goes on. I couldn’t resist spotlighting a few creations I find most pleasurable.

Cupcake Belt Buckle: Just in case you didn’t already have enough cupcake keeping your jeans tight around your waist.

Available at everafterstore.com

Cupcake End Table: Perfect for your first mod apartment, or a very cool dentist’s office.

By Jellio

Cupcake Cat Toy: Okay, it’s not actually a cat toy, but you better believe that if I brought a knit cupcake into my house, it would become one.

By Brenda aka Loomlady

Cupcake Couture: Bet you thought this one was about you, but no. Even cupcakes deserve their finery. Just imagine, however, what kind of spluge effect I might accidentally create if using these wrappers. Sorta makes me want to find out.

By Cupcakesavvy.com.au

Cupcake with Mice: For no other reason than I think this art work is rad and I hope the children’s story it illustrates gets published.

By Paola Jofre

Clearly, people invest a lot of time, energy and emotion in their relationship with cupcakes. I am not quite ready for this kind of commitment. I may crack, and go purchase a muffin tin in which to bake another batch, but that is it.

In other words, you will not see my feet looking like this:

Art by Amanda Cancilla. Foot by Cupcake Butt / Flickr

At least, not anytime soon. Nice pedicure, though.

My Cupcake

Clearly I will never get a job at Sprinkles. I used Betty Crocker’s lemon cake mix, Betty Crocker’s pre-made vanilla icing and Betty Crocker nonpariels. I followed the directions. I even remembered to turn off the mixer before pulling it from the bowl.

But Betty forgot to emphasize that batter behaves like The Blob as it cooks. She failed to mention that paper cupcake holders do not retain their form if placed on a cookie sheet instead of in a muffin tin. She neglected to insist that people like me only be allowed in the kitchen with supervision.

My cupcakes baked into pancakes.

Cupcake in Profile

What does one do with 24 very tasty, but deformed, lemon cupcakes covered in thick icing and generously decorated with nonpariels – particularly since, once I’d done my sprinkle-shaking, my enthusiasm for the entire venture morphed into mild shame at the visual outcome?

I couldn’t let these poor step-children suffer the ridicule of my co-workers, knowing their complete lack of aesthetic appeal. I couldn’t keep them in the house, knowing they might all disappear within the generous space of three meals. I couldn’t relegate them to the dumpster, knowing I’d only be enabling the local raccoons’ sugar addictions. So, instead, I hid them under tin foil and gave them to my next door neighbors of 2 years, whose names I do not know.

Lo and behold, my neighbors loved my dear, misshapen cupcakes. Now, they think I’m the best neighbor, ever. They’ve even made a point of seeking me out with offers to eat more of my cupcakes whenever I choose to make them again.

This whole experience has taught me a few things. First, 24 cupcakes translates into a LOT of cupcakes. Also, there’s some truth to that old adage about finding pleasure in the simple things, and joy in the kitchen. Lastly, people are surprisingly jovial after you unexpectedly feed them dessert.

Now, if only I could remember my neighbors’ names…