Baking, Part 2

This is the cake

This is the toddler on cake
Any questions?

If you haven't already tried the yogurt cake recipe from Bringing Up Bebe, see the previous post and give it a try. Suggestion from baker extraordinaire Carolyn: use the recipe to make muffins instead of a cake. She says it makes them brown all over, which sounds awesome. Also, they probably won't be liquid in the middle, as my above cake was.

I continued my brownie experiments too (and I wonder why my jeans are feeling tight). This brownie recipe is AWESOME, and really easy. Almost as easy as making brownies from a box. And so much tastier. I used Ghiardelli cocoa powder, which probably helped.

Anyone have a favorite Christmas cookie recipe they want to share? I'm going to have to track down Aunt Dotsie's cream cheese cookie recipe. That is my all time favorite. I'll share it here if she lets me.

Happy baking!

Baking is NOT an Exact Science

In honor of everyone's favorite food holiday, I'd like to encourage those of you who are intimidated by baking to give it a try. Here's what bakers don't want us to know: it's not an exact science. I know, this flies in the face of conventional wisdom. But a friend posted something on Facebook about improvising when baking recently, and when I questioned her further, she insisted it was possible, that all I needed was trial and error. I remained skeptical.

But just as when you're pregnant, suddenly you see baby bumps everywhere, with my baking antenna up, I kept hearing the same message: there is wiggle room. Feeling brave, I attempted the yogurt cake recipe, found in Bringing Up Bébé, a lovely memoir by Pamela Druckerman, an American woman raising her children in France. Druckerman claims a toddler can make this cake on their own and not mess up, because the measurements don't have to be exact. I was intrigued, but thought I'd try it myself before involving Daniel.

My only problem was that the only yogurt I had was Greek. When I folded this into the batter, it seemed too thick, so I added some milk and hoped for the best. It came out beautifully—my friend Carolyn said it looked like something from a patisserie. I don’t know about that, but it tasted good, and looked good too.

Spurred on by my success, I offered to bring dessert to a friend’s house after a last minute dinner invitation. Daniel was napping, so I scanned the cabinets. I had chocolate chips, but not enough to make Blondies, my only baking standard. I looked in my trusty How to Cook Everything for a Brownie recipe. It called for unsweetened chocolate, but I figured semi-sweet chips would just be a bit sweeter. (A substitution I wouldn't have dared make a few weeks prior.) After I began melting the chocolate and butter, I realized that all our eggs were hard-boiled. Grr.

With my new baking confidence, I scanned the internet for an egg-free brownie recipe, and found one that uses flour and water as a binder instead of eggs. It called for cocoa powder rather than chocolate, so I was really putting my improvising theory to the test. I figured with chocolate, butter, flour and sugar, even if they weren't a masterpiece, how bad could they taste? I sprinkled some sea salt and chocolate chips on top of the batter for good measure and prayed to the kitchen gods.

My dinner companions oohed and aahed when I revealed the pan of brownies. I sliced them, noting a cakey consistency, then wished I would have tasted them at home. But I channeled Julia Child, and decided to just laugh it off if they were horrible. Thankfully, they tasted quite good. Yes, they were more cake than brownie, but still delicious.

Maybe I’ll ask Santa for some baking tins and attempt the cupcakes with caramel filling Liz told me about. This new hobby could really increase my dinner invitations.

Practicing Forgiveness

“Forgiveness is not forgetting, it’s letting go of the hurt.” Mary McLeod Bethune

Tuesday morning, I heard a talk about forgiveness. The speaker shared some helpful ideas, and read the above quote. I sat there thinking, “I’m really not angry with anyone right now.” Then Carl came home from Sweden.

After a whirlwind long weekend in Europe, Carl was understandably tired. We disagreed about something, he got angry, I got angrier. So much for absence making the heart grow fonder.

Luckily, I knew enough to not continue the fight that night. I even (miraculously) controlled my urge to talk shit about him with my girlfriends. Somehow, I managed to do things that helped: I focused on work, I practiced yoga, I meditated, I carved out writing time. I did talk about it, but only with two friends who think highly of Carl, not the people who would get on my self-righteous express.

After some time and space to cool down, I realized my part of the problem: while Carl had been away, I had done too much. I had gone to the shore and back, I had hosted a birthday party for myself, a Father’s Day dinner, and prepared for Daniel’s birthday party. Also I had worked, done all the usual household stuff, and cared for a baby who cut four teeth and had a horrific rash. By the time Carl returned, I was a firecracker; he just lit the fuse.

It’s annoying to realize my part of things. If I blame everything on Carl, I can just feel sorry for myself, play that comfortable victim role. But that's not really what I really want. When I see my part, I have choices about my behavior. In this case, once I realized how exhausted I was and why, I let myself off the hook a little. I vowed to refill my internal well, by resting, eating well, nurturing myself. I forgave myself for falling into my old habit of overextending, and promised to do less next time I’m on my own with Daniel for a few days.

As for my husband, he, like all of us, is entitled to have a bad day. My job is to take care of myself well enough that other people’s bad moods slide over me. This actually works. If you haven’t tried it, I can’t recommend it highly enough.