It was awesome.
That's all.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Identity Crisis
So, I had a bit of an identity crisis. While making my second batch of homemade cupcakes, I thought to myself, "could it be that I love baking more than cooking? I'm not a baker. I don't make little fondant flowers. I don't know the difference between all-purpose, pastry, and cake flour! I don't even own a mixer! But something just feels...so right. I am not a detail oriented person. I like creating dishes as I go, adding a little bit of this or a dash of that. Baking is too much like chemistry. One misstep and the whole thing blows up. I don't measure ingredients perfectly, mix for the right amount of minutes, and fold the batter when it's at its most delicate point... Do I? Gasp! Who have I become??? Maybe the ADD inside of me has just been craving for structure all along! Maybe the free flowing me and flexible structure of cooking are just too malleable to ever bond together into a solid foundation!"
Then after two trips to the grocery store (once for sugar... then back for powdered sugar), experimenting with the delicate balance of icing sweetness, and the odd art of food coloring, I came back to reality. I am definitely NOT a baker. I couldn't wait to throw some leftovers into a fried rice "goulash" without measuring one damn thing! Phew, it felt good!
Lemon Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Icing:
(I shamelessly give credit to Betty for the cake mix)
Then after two trips to the grocery store (once for sugar... then back for powdered sugar), experimenting with the delicate balance of icing sweetness, and the odd art of food coloring, I came back to reality. I am definitely NOT a baker. I couldn't wait to throw some leftovers into a fried rice "goulash" without measuring one damn thing! Phew, it felt good!
My cupcake whirlwind:
Vanilla cake with buttercream icing. (Should be a cinch, right?)
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| Yellow cake batter |
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| FYI: Homemade batter is a lot of work! Why didn't I use Betty Crocker? |
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| Cupcake scoops |
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| Pink food coloring about to be mixed in my buttercream icing |
 | |
| Wowza! That's Pink! |
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| Let's tone it own, like Jenny says. |
Good Piping:
Bad Piping:
Lemon Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Icing:
(I shamelessly give credit to Betty for the cake mix)
 |
| Please note the adorable owl wrappers. |
Well, I guess I quickly averted my crisis. No, I will never be a baker, although making yummy treats is really fun once it's over and it's easier to share a cupcake with a friend than sharing spaghetti and meatballs. No, I will continue my madness of experimental cooking. I don't know what got into me; I guess the sugar just went to my head.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Baked Green Beans
I coated green beans in a bit of canola oil and roasted them on 400 for 10 minutes on baking sheet. Then I tossed them with slivered almonds, dried cherries, salt and pepper and roasted them again for 8-10 more minutes. What a fun way to transform this simple side!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
The Cool College Sister
As you may recall, I recently had to upgrade my cookbook deficiency as I tried to overcome severe defeat in the form of a French pastry. My "after bills" salary is...well ...meager to say the least, so instead of ending up with another dud from the bookstore, I went to the library to take a different recipe for a test drive. My sister was with me for the weekend, and she came along, obligingly.
I found my book and we headed to the counter. On our way, I casually mentioned that I may have a late fee or two, and that she should just play it cool. Her eyes narrowed, suspiciously. At the front desk, the librarian smiled her stiff-mouthed smirk as she scanned my libary card key-fob. She told me that I had $3.50 worth of late fees, which I happily agreed to pay. I looked at my sister and smiled. She sheepishly smiled back, somewhat embarrassed.
All of the sudden, the librarian grimaced and began to and look concerned. She told me to wait at the counter, she'd be right back. I smiled, trying to act cool, like I didn't know what the problem was. What I actually did know, that my sister probably suspected right about then, was that I didn't just have $3.50 in late fees. No. In fact it wasn't a late fee at all. My sister looked at me again, miserably. I could tell what she was thinking, "my supposed-to-be-cool-but-might-as-well-be-wearing-mom-jeans older sister is going to be scolded by a librarian in my old neighborhood where there are probably kids that I used to go to highschool with standing around every corner watching and laughing in hilarity."
Yup, that's what she was thinking. I know. Her eyes said it all.
Another librarian came out to assist the other customers that had been lining up behind us since we got to the counter. My sister looked like she was going to be sick. Finally our librarian returned to the desk. She looked at me and held up the back of the green and white hard-backed cookbook that I returned a few weeks ago. The cover was still torn in half and crudely put together with clear packing tape, and the corner of the spine was chewed into oblivion. I looked up. She looked back at me, wordlessly, like "so, what the hell am I supposed to do with this?"
I started to chuckle nervously and tried to crack a few ridiculous jokes about my dog, and a chewing factory, and other nonsense. The other customers started to roll their eyes while I cracked a few more awkward jokes and pulled out my debit card. "I'd be glad to pay for the book," I said. Without much of a comment, she accepted. I though it would be a clean getaway. But alas, the once confident librarian became flustered when she had to figure out how to use the credit card machine, cash register, and computer all at once. She scanned and re-scanned my key-fob, and ran and re-ran my credit card. At that point I didn't care how much the book was or how many times she charged my account, meager income or not. My sister's body language was utter misery and my shrug-it-off resolve was beginning to crumble. After several painstaking minutes we walked out of the library with my new $35 chew toy, our eyes not meeting until we were buckled in the car.
I suppose I have lost my status as the cool college sister. I am now the awkward, library outcast. Now she is the cool college sister, and there is nothing I can do about it.
I found my book and we headed to the counter. On our way, I casually mentioned that I may have a late fee or two, and that she should just play it cool. Her eyes narrowed, suspiciously. At the front desk, the librarian smiled her stiff-mouthed smirk as she scanned my libary card key-fob. She told me that I had $3.50 worth of late fees, which I happily agreed to pay. I looked at my sister and smiled. She sheepishly smiled back, somewhat embarrassed.
All of the sudden, the librarian grimaced and began to and look concerned. She told me to wait at the counter, she'd be right back. I smiled, trying to act cool, like I didn't know what the problem was. What I actually did know, that my sister probably suspected right about then, was that I didn't just have $3.50 in late fees. No. In fact it wasn't a late fee at all. My sister looked at me again, miserably. I could tell what she was thinking, "my supposed-to-be-cool-but-might-as-well-be-wearing-mom-jeans older sister is going to be scolded by a librarian in my old neighborhood where there are probably kids that I used to go to highschool with standing around every corner watching and laughing in hilarity."
Yup, that's what she was thinking. I know. Her eyes said it all.
Another librarian came out to assist the other customers that had been lining up behind us since we got to the counter. My sister looked like she was going to be sick. Finally our librarian returned to the desk. She looked at me and held up the back of the green and white hard-backed cookbook that I returned a few weeks ago. The cover was still torn in half and crudely put together with clear packing tape, and the corner of the spine was chewed into oblivion. I looked up. She looked back at me, wordlessly, like "so, what the hell am I supposed to do with this?"
I started to chuckle nervously and tried to crack a few ridiculous jokes about my dog, and a chewing factory, and other nonsense. The other customers started to roll their eyes while I cracked a few more awkward jokes and pulled out my debit card. "I'd be glad to pay for the book," I said. Without much of a comment, she accepted. I though it would be a clean getaway. But alas, the once confident librarian became flustered when she had to figure out how to use the credit card machine, cash register, and computer all at once. She scanned and re-scanned my key-fob, and ran and re-ran my credit card. At that point I didn't care how much the book was or how many times she charged my account, meager income or not. My sister's body language was utter misery and my shrug-it-off resolve was beginning to crumble. After several painstaking minutes we walked out of the library with my new $35 chew toy, our eyes not meeting until we were buckled in the car.
I suppose I have lost my status as the cool college sister. I am now the awkward, library outcast. Now she is the cool college sister, and there is nothing I can do about it.
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