Joy's Chocolate Bundt Cake

Here's another yummie I made a while back but never posted. It just looks like Easter doesn't it? It looks like spring. But I didn't bake it in spring or for Easter. Actually, I think I might have. But I never got it onto the blog though, did I?

If I miss the window for posting something, I have to wait until its time comes back around. If I miss it again (and again)... and then take a break from blogging... well, here we are...years later, talking about this cake as if I made it yesterday (don't I wish!)

Now, a chocolate cake is fine any time of the year. Seriously, it just is. But once I sprinkled those candied sunflower seeds on top (to distract from my weird icing technique), it just plants itself firmly at Easter or the weeks surrounding it. 

There was of course a frosting fail on this one. It's always something, and this time it was the frosting.* There's a whole back-story about how I contacted Joy (The Baker, herself) regarding the frosting issue I was having and how very very gracious she was with her replies. It was so long ago now, that the details aren't important. What matters is how delicious this cake is (frosted or not), and how lovely she was about taking the time to listen and respond to my questions. She is the real deal, and her recipes rock.

Chocolate Bundt Cake with Chocolate Sour Cream Glaze from Joy the Baker

[also on page 179 of the (awesome) Joy the Baker Cookbook]

My Notes: As I mentioned above, I had issues with the glaze and ended up whipping it in the mixer which turned it into the fluffy gargantuan mass of frosting you see in the photo. I have never frosted a bundt cake in my life, and hadn't a clue what to do with it all. I had no choice but to just wing it since I was taking it to an event. Weird but delicious.

*Actually a lot of the time it's the frosting that gives me the most problems. Apparently it's a "thing" with me. Which then obviously is why I don't do a lot of frosted cakes! The fact that this scrumptious cake is supposed to be GLAZED and not frosted should tell you something.

Brick Walls, Vintage Computers, and Cherry Flavored Birdseed

Just when everything looks like it's starting to get back on track and within sight, when things start going your way (or going again at all)... well, that's when a brick wall suddenly materializes right in your path. Kapow. A cheerful thought, I know.

Our computer died last week. D.E.A.D. Miraculously, I was able to get everything off the hard drive before it's last gasping breath. I had gotten quite lazy with backups... I'm cured of that now, let me tell you. By the way, when was the last time you backed up your hard drive, hmm? To paraphrase something I read recently:

The best time to back up your hard drive is an hour ago.
The second best time... is right now.

As if I didn't have enough hurdles in the way of getting back into a more regular blogging schedule, this latest one is fairly insurmountable. We just don't have the funds for a new (or even new-to-us) computer at the moment. And until we do, it's back to the Cuter Computer for us (the little old iMac that we bought when we were first married). I don't call it "The Trooper" for nothing. That little blueberry has now outlasted two bigger, newer, faster computers, and just keeps on truckin'... slowly and seriously limited in it's capabilities... but it boots up and it works. Dependably. Truckin' along. Though some might consider it, technologically speaking, the dark ages. All I can say is: C'est La Vie... this is our new normal... it is what it is... and all that rot.

Perhaps this break is a good thing? Giving up blogging and Pinterest for Lent would be suitably sacrificial in this day and age (though perhaps a more meaningful exercise had I chosen to give it up). Regardless of how, when, and why it happened, turning my back for a while on the spammers, scrapers, and other leeches who suck the joy out of blogging... might be nice at that. Unfortunately, I will also miss the people and things that put the joy into it as well.

During this downtime, I'll continue to Make it, Bake it, Buy it, and Fake it... in other words, I'll keep writing and photographing for future posts. But I also plan to...

• Work diligently on my quilt project (the piecing is almost done! Yea!)
• Catch up on a few books I've been wanting to read*
• Clean out my refrigerator (it is way past due)
• Try to find out why they put artificial cherry flavoring in the wild birdseed we buy (seriously!)
• Get to the bottom of why it's easier to eat a larger portion of mashed potatoes than baked potatoes.
  

So stay well, keep busy (or not), have a lovely Valentine's Day, and if you happen to win the lottery or have a spare logic board laying around**... think of me!  :^)

*Starting with: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver
**for an iMac G5 17" with iSight (never hurts to ask, right?)

Rip It Out and Re-do It! (embracing the do-over)

When I was a kid, and something wasn't going my way, I'd call out, "Do over!" The slate was immediately wiped clean and I would start again. Somewhere along the way to adulthood though, I forgot about the beauty of do-overs and began resenting anything I had to start over or do more than once. Perhaps as I grew older I became more aware of time passing... of the limited time we all have, and I didn't want to waste any of it doing the same thing twice? Maybe. 

Lately though, I've begun to re-consider the do-over, the second chance. How many times in life do we wish that we could go back and do something over, do it better, or at the very least, do it differently... say it differently. Should we just accept that we did the best that we could at the time and move on? That certainly sounds like the healthier option. And I think with most things, it is. After all, we can't go back in time, so the trick is to do the best we can right now.

But where is the point at which we look at something and say, "That's good enough" and can be truly happy with it... or think, "No, better re-do it", knowing it may forever nag at us if we don't? How do we know when to start over and when to just let go and move forward?

I've started making a new baby quilt and these are the thoughts that have been swimming around in my head as I progress with it. Is it any wonder that it takes me so long to finish one of these?! 

One of the blocks I'd made the other day kept bugging me. I walked away for a while. Something about it just bothered me. So I slept on it (not literally of course). And in the light of a new day.... it still sat there with a scowl. Or was that me? I rearranged the blocks. Rotated them this way and that. Looked at them from every angle. I'd spent a whole day trying to talk myself into accepting it as-is and yet I wasn't happy. 

No, there was nothing for it but to rip apart the offending block and do it over. I scowled some more, but as I finally sat down with a cup of tea and got to work with my seam ripper, something happened: I embraced the do-over for what it was, a second chance. Just the thought of getting rid of all that future angst I would no doubt have, if I left things as they were, started to lift my spirits. The tea probably helped also.

The do-over is simply part of the process. That's what popped into my head. The frustration? It went out the window. In the end, I had a better quilt block and hardly any setback at all. I will forever be able to identify the once offending block, but now it will be without any internal nagging or regret. Instead, it will be with an inward smile of satisfaction that I did do the best that I could at the time.  Because sometimes the best we can do... is to call a do-over.

Tempus... Fuhgedaboudit

Holy holly-berries, Batman! It's winter already?

Tempus Fugit! (whether you're blogging or not)... Time Flies.

I'm rather stunned that my last post was about tomatoes way back in October, and here we are wading in up to our knees in Winter. Sigh. Well, enough about that. I won't bore you with what transpired between then and now, frankly because there was no single dramatic absence-causing event at the root of it. There never is. And I guess that's probably a good thing when you come right down to it.

This break away from my blog, like most things in life, was more due to a snowballing series of little (sometimes good and sometimes bad) randomly occurring things all ganging up on me. You know, like how an avalanche starts.

Just another way of saying… Life Happens.

So, perhaps you are asking yourself, "Gee, will her next post be about daffodils in the spring? Or homemade bug spray for summer camp-outs?" The answer is, "No, it won't be that long of a wait." I won't make promises, but hey, at least (if you are a subscriber) you won't be annoyed by my posting too often, right? I don't know about you, but my inbox and my feed-reader overflow-eth with stuff to read and catch up on. It's a bit overwhelming. Time for some eClutter-clearing if you know what I mean. But maybe that can wait until next year.

O.K. Just what do you mean, it IS next year? When did THAT happen? Where have I been? Oh wait... we covered that already didn't we. Well then...

I want us all to have a Happy New Year

I don't do resolutions, but the beginning of a new year IS a good time to start something you've been putting off... something you've not had the time for... something that will nourish your soul, quench your creativity, or feed your mind. Most people have a few of those things on their back-burner. Pick one and start today. After all, there's no better time like the present... and there's no better present to yourself than the time to do something you've been putting off.

Cheers... to one and all!

Concord Grape Jelly (and the errors of my ways)

So.... I mentioned having a ton of grapes the other day. Well, it wasn't really a ton... it was 13 pounds. I exaggerated. I can't even say that it seemed like a ton of grapes. I've actually had hands-on experience with what an actual ton (or twenty) of grapes is like when Hubby and I help with the wine crush at our favorite winery each autumn.

Our harvest of Concord grapes was like a drop in the proverbial bucket (barrel?) compared to that. But since my backyard is a far cry from ever being called a vineyard and my kitchen is certainly no winery... those 13 lbs. still seemed like a whole awful lotta grapes.

Making the most of what we've been given
The vines came with the house, stealthily growing under the ivy on the back fence. And although we didn't plant them, pay them any attention, or even want them... there they were: fat, juicy, sweet, abundant, and free. They were a truly a gift to us, and I wasn't about to waste them.

Mea Culpa, Pituophis Catenifer

I was going to write about basil yesterday... or cilantro... or maybe strawberries. I hadn't decided, but as you can see, fate intervened...

After breakfast, I'd wanted to putter a bit amongst the herbs on the back patio before it got too hot. As soon as I stepped outside though, I saw a distinctive shape behind the lounge chair. Retreating behind the the safety of the sliding-glass door I saw that it was indeed a snake. I ran for Hubs who came over and assured me it was a gopher snake, "They're good snakes—they eat gophers."

There was one hitch... the poor little dear was caught in the plastic netting we'd had over the blueberry shrubs all summer. The plastic netting I took off of the blueberries two weeks ago and hadn't put away yet. My bad. My really bad.

Soup Happens (and sometimes it doesn't)

This has been the summer of food fails. Some of them I've written about, (the Farro Fiasco) and some I haven't... like the beautiful Plum Crisp, redolent of ripe summer days... yet tasting like bitter  betrayal. Then there were the Blueberry-Lemon-Oat Scones that never could hold it together). I can attribute all these fails (and more) to what I like to refer to as "user error". Entirely my fault, each and every time. I know what went wrong in each, and I'll make adjustments next time I try them.

Recently I made a big pot of soup. I know it's summer and I should be writing about sno-cones and sprinklers, but what the hey, we still have chilly evenings more often than not. If it's going to feel like March, I'm going to cook like it's March. The soup I made was unusual. Unusual because we didn't like it. At all.

All Dressed In Romano

So, as you may know, I've been plinking around on a ukulele lately and have consequently discovered where all the olde-timey songs have gone... they're in ukulele instruction books. Gems such as Buffalo Gals, My Darlin' Clementine, and Polly Wolly Doodle... just to name but a few.

Depressing doesn't fly on a ukulele

Many of the old songs are of the folksy "bad-dudes on their death-bed" genre, lamenting the imminent final reward for someone who's lived a less-than-law-abiding life. Songs like Tom Dooley: depressing enough lyrics until you delve into the history (at which point you'll probably want a hot bath and some penicillin). And then there's The Streets Of Laredo, about a nameless young cowboy's last dying moments, apparently already dressed for his coffin. What's his story? Who knows. He no doubt "done wrong" though... and again, it's a real downer. 

The Streets Of Laredo was good for practicing certain chords and chord-changes* though, so I reluctantly added it to my notebook. It wasn't long before I found this version of it tucked at the end of a YouTube video. After I stopped laughing, I added the "new" lyrics to my notebook. Now I smile each and every time I practice it.

The Territory Ahead

When I recently put my uke down for a few moments, I decided to make farrotto. It's a risotto... but with farro instead of ris (rice). Totally experimental for me. Completely new territory. I've never even made a traditional risotto before. What was I thinking?

Whole Wheat Onion Buns For Slider-Loving Life Forms

Something has happened to my onion-hating husband. I think he may be a replicant. The other night he brought home some ground beef... so I made burger buns since we haven't had cheeseburgers in an age.

These weren't just any burger buns though. These were Whole Wheat Onion Buns. Now, my good ol' hubster hates onions, and won't hesitate to let that fact be known. The other night as the buns were baking though, this impostor man walks through the kitchen and says to me, "Ooh, something smells really good! What are you making?". 

It's uncanny how much like my husband this alien interloper is. But I guess that's the whole point of replication isn't it.

Peep Cake: A Tutorial

...or Why Baking Is My Hobby And Not My Profession

1.  Take one easy chocolate cupcake recipe and bake it in round cake pans. Pour the extra chocolate glaze you made over each layer and hope it sets up faster than you know it will.

2.  Plan on piping a sentiment on top of the frosted cake. Fold parchment paper into a small cornet and fill with remaining glaze. Set aside in a small glass.

3.  Transfer the glazed cake layers to a pretty vintage cake plate, breaking the top layer in half while maneuvering it into place. Make sure to get lots of cake and glaze stuck to your fingers in an attempt to reunite the two halves.

Tassenkuchen a.k.a. Coffecake

Tassenkuchen. A cake that's not too sweet. A cake that goes great with a cup of coffee or a pot of hot tea. Coffeecake in other words. Tea cake, maybe. Or just do as I do and call it... Breakfast Cake.

Using Cosby-esque logic, this cake has milk and eggs and wheat and fruit in it... why wouldn't it be good for breakfast? I dare say, it's healthier than the plates of greasy beige food at the local Lenny's. Or the box of vitamin-enriched sawdust and food coloring that passes for cereal. As a bonus, kids will think you are epically awesome. Or even awesomely epic.

We've had this cake as breakfast for the last three days and it's actually a pretty darn pleasant way to begin the day. Besides, it makes a nice change from our usual porridge. Of course, if you are in the habit of taking tea in the afternoon, or coffee with friends, by all means have this cake later in the day. It's not very sweet or moist, but has a really nice eggy-buttery-ness to it with a subtle lemon peel scent. Come to think of it, it's probably fine at any time.

From Curdled To Creamy... or How Julia Child Saved My Sandwich

I'm a mayo girl... I'm even a Mayo girl (heritage-ly speaking that is). I don't like dry sandwiches, and have to have a smear of mayo inside each slice of bread or I'm just not happy. 'Tis true. So when Hubs and I decided we couldn't finish off this roasted turkey without having a turkey sandwich or two... the wallet said, "If you want mayo on it, you'd better make it yourself!". And why not? It's just eggs and oil, a little mustard, salt and vinegar or lemon juice. We have all of that in our pantry and fridge at any given moment. Besides, I've made it before, it's a cinch...

Never Send A Blender To Do The Job Of A Food Processor.... I'll never stray again.
Not wanting to stray too far from the recipe/method I used before, I chose the Machine-Made Mayonnaise (page 363-364 of Julia Child's The Way To Cook [1989])... but I thought I'd use my new blender instead of the food processor. This soon proved a mistake. It began with the continuous fine spray of egg and oil out the center of the lid as I drizzled in the oil. And it ended with a blender full of separated mayonnaise-y liquid and a very disheartened girl whining about her cursed beginners luck.

Next Lime, Things'll Be Different

Yesterday there was a big bowl of limes on my counter. I found a Lime Marmalade recipe in a book I have on preserving, and there was a Lime Curd recipe on the facing page. Between the two of them, I felt I would make good use of the limes and have a couple of tasty treats to stash in my pantry to boot. So much enthusiasm, so much eagerness and optimism. There's only one place for all that unabashed positiveness to go... yep, right into a brick wall.

You see, the Lime Marmalade turned out beautifully except for one little detail... it's bitter. B-I-T-T-E-R. And I can't stop moping like a small child. Out came the old "kick me, I had a food-fail" mental whine-list. It goes something like this: What a waste of... time, fruit, sugar, canning lids, electricity, and oh, all that clean-up afterward... for nothing! Ugh! (now repeat multiple times)

Was it any wonder that I had major amounts of trepidation about making the lime curd today? I dragged my feet for as long as I could but I knew that if I didn't make it today, it just wasn't going to happen. I hung what little hope I had on the stick of butter that goes in it. Marmalade has no butter in it, but curd does... and butter makes everything better, right? With a stick of butter as my shield and banner, I marched myself back into the canning-arena (formerly known as my kitchen).

Upsetting The Apple Tart

This is a story of two tarts. Two apple custard tarts. I would like it to have been a story of one bad apple tart and how it redeemed itself and became a good apple tart and made everyone around it happier for having been near it. This is not that story.

No, this story is about two apple tarts that were alike in many ways but were dramatically different in others. One's strength was the other's weakness. Neither of them were very good, but neither were they all bad. Their goodness, overshadowed by their badness, brought joy to no one and left only disappointment in the hearts of those who tried to love them.

Apple Custard Tart #1: Went together beautifully. Crust was flaky and delicious. But when you hear the voice in your head say: "Wow... that sure seems like an awful lot of ground clove!", listen to it. Ponder. Evaluate. Trust your knowledge and experience. Tell yourself it's o.k. to not follow the printed directions to the letter. Allow that typos happen and other people's tastes are not your own. Someone may actually want a numbing sensation after finishing their dessert. Perhaps they have some pending dental work? What a waste. I couldn't even look when Hubs dumped it into the trash can.

Waffling

"To waffle" is a verb. It refers to indecision. I wouldn't know anything about that. Yes, I would. Well, no... o.k. maybe a little. Let's just say... It's something I'm working on. 

"To waffle" could also refer to the act of making waffles. We wouldn't call the person making the waffles, a "waffle maker" (that's what we make the waffles with). So if you waffled, you would be a waffler, right? And just so we're straight on this... being a waffler is not the same as being THE Waffler; as in the wannabe super-hero in the movie Mystery Men. If I were a super-hero, a waffle maker would not be my first choice in weaponry. Of course, wielded unconventionally, a waffle maker (especially an old all-metal one) could put some serious hurt on a bad guy. But super-hero or not, if you needed something solid and heavy with which to defend yourself or your home, chances are your waffle maker is in the back of that awkward corner cupboard in the kitchen, or above the fridge behind three florist vases, seven logo glasses, and a Salad Shooter. Better to be the kind of domestic super-hero who can whip up a steamin' batch of fragrant waffles on any given Saturday morning. Waffles make people happy, and making people happy is the most super of all super-powers.

Someone who has truly mastered the waffle maker, would of course be known as a Master Waffler. Achieving this skill-level is no small feat. I should know. I am a novice-waffler. Recently bequeathed/burdened with a gift of not one, but two pre-owned waffle makers, I know that the road ahead is crispy and filled with little square divots designed to trip me up as I discover the secrets of enwafflement*.

When Life Hands You Fallen Cupcakes...

I am... not a very good cupcake baker.
I have... two cupcake cookbooks filled with photos of unattainable cupcake perfection.
I can... never seem to fill the cupcake pan neatly or evenly.
I have... had nothing but disastrous results when making cupcakes.
I will... be glad if some day perfectly baked cupcakes were ever to come out of my oven.
I do... so hate cleaning the cupcake pan afterward.
I am... supremely happy that there is, a mile or so from my house, a cupcake bakery. So if my planned dessert doesn't work out, the Hubs can always run over and pick up a few high-priced but gorgeous and tasty professionally made cupcakes.

I'm practicing making positive affirmation-type statements... how am I doing? Like the cupcakes I just made, these statements start out o.k. enough, but then something goes wrong. And don't even get me started on frosting! Ugh. Same story. As with most things, I probably just need more practice. Clearly there is some sort of mental-block to overcome.

The Good, The Bad & The Bruschetta

When you make the decision to stop buying bread and start baking it at home, you have to find ways of using up the failed loaves. Because no matter how many times you make it, there will be failed loaves. It's designed that way so we learn humility.

Croutons are always an option, as are breadcrumbs (and I'll tell you, it's a whole lot easier to grind up a failed loaf for breadcrumbs now, than to demolish a beautiful loaf later because you didn't realize you were out).

A friend of ours sparked an idea that sounded so much better this time: bruschetta. She had been watching Julie & Julia on DVD the other day and called me up to ask if I had the recipe for the bruschetta Julie makes in the beginning of the movie.*  Turns out, you don't really need one.

Bruschetta is one of those wonderful "peasant" foods that are infinitely adaptable to anything and everything you have on hand. I have one cookbook that devoted a whole section to bruschetta and not one of the toppings uses tomatoes!

We wanted the tomato-laden version though, and while it's a little early in the year for fabulous flavorful toms, we were craving that tomato-basil goodness. That, and the bread pan-fried in olive oil! After all, that was the part that made everybody sit up and notice. Rather than a light brushing of olive oil, or at most a "drizzle" prior to toasting or broiling the bread, this was calling for a swimming-and-sizzling kind of approach!

Movie-Night Bruschetta How-To

1. Dice six of the most fabulous tomatoes you can get your hands on. If they're excessively juicy, throw them into a strainer for a few minutes after dicing. 
2. Roughly chop a good-sized handful of fresh basil leaves and toss in a bowl with the tomatoes. 
3. Chop up a handful of your favorite olives, removing any pits along the way. 
4. Cut half of an onion into a small dice and add it the mix, if you think you'll like that. 
5. Heat up a skillet over medium heat, adding approximately one tablespoon of olive oil per slice of bread. 
6. Add bread in a single layer and flip to coat both sides with the oil. Sourdough, a baguette, or any rustic-type loaf (preferably day-old) works really well. Watch bread closely and flip it again once the first side is a nice golden brown. 
7. When the second side is done, move the toasts to a paper towel to cool slightly. 
8. Slice a clove of garlic in half and rub the top of the toasts all over with the cut-side of the garlic clove. 
9. Place the toasts on a platter and top generously with the tomato mixture. Sprinkle with ground pepper and sea salt. Be sure to serve it with big napkins... this is no dainty dish!

Notes: We used Roma tomatoes and seeded half of them (cannot wait to use real garden tomatoes!). Our bread was very dense and I knew it would end up being too crunchy and/or chewy if we cut it too thick, so we cut it quite thin. With good bread, slice it to 1/2" or 3/4" even.

Things we learned along the way...
-Kitchen knives in movies are sharper than regular kitchen knives.
-Actors in movies are much neater eaters than my husband and I.
-Bruschetta and a glass of wine makes for a fine dinner... just like in the movies.
-Husbands may mock the gusto with which the movie-husband ate his bruschetta, but in the end, they wind up quoting his lines word for word without even realizing it. 

Some other bruschetta recipes lurking in my bookshelf...

• Bruschetta and lots of variations: page 265-266, How To Cook Everything, Bittman (1998)
• Desperate Measures (Kevin Crafts, 1993) has a basic Bruschetta on page 79
  
• Wonderful "non-tomato" versions (with wine recommendations) on pages 61-63 of The Perfect Match, St. Pierre (2001)
• Bruschetta with Tomato, Black Beans and Arugula on page 34 of Gourmet's Quick Kitchen (1996)
  

*She knew that I had been gifted with the mother-lode of J & J-related stuff this last Christmas. However, in the movie, the bruschetta was prepared prior to Julie's blog project and so, would not be found in Julia's cookbooks.

Soft And Bittersweet

The situation in my kitchen early yesterday morning may be the only circumstance where anyone would be upset because their buns were too firm. To paraphrase a favorite movie, "We're going to need considerably softer buns!".* Here's the lowdown: I have two recipes from my mom for hot cross buns. I made one of them last year and it was a smashing success (they were just like mom used to make). This year, I couldn't remember which of the two recipes I had used before.** So I picked one. I may have picked wrong. Or perhaps it was user error and the fault lies in my execution of the recipe in question. We may never know.

Everything seemed to go like clockwork, without a hitch, every step of the way. Uh, except that the dough didn't rise. These were for brunch on Easter Sunday, and well, with yeast breads as well as with Easter, the rising is the most important part. They tasted fine (we ate them all up), but they were firm and dense when they should have been soft and wonderful. Clearly I'll need to make these again soon in order to figure out what went wrong. Oh darn.

One thing that went right was the candied orange peel I made to put in the buns. We were fresh out of candied orange peel, but you just can't have hot cross buns without it. We did have a box of oranges though... so I looked up a recipe and gave it a go. A little messy for sure, but it turned out fantastically well. The only thing better would be to dip them in dark chocolate. But then, what wouldn't be improved by that?

The syrup that the orange peel cooked in, was infused with orange essence and I just couldn't see pouring it down the drain. I used a little of it to sweeten some plain yogurt, then drizzled it over the fruit salad we served. I'll probably try it in my tea next and if it gets warmer out (which I hope will be soon), it would be great in lemonade. It should work pretty much anywhere you would use simple syrup. When all was said and done, the only things I didn't use up were the pith and the membrane from the oranges, and those went into the compost. A little fuss, a little muss, but no packaging, and no waste whatsoever. Sweet.

Hot Cross Buns page 56, Sunset Cook Book Of Breads, 1975
Here's a similar recipe, also from Sunset magazine... Orange Hot Cross Buns at MyRecipes.com

Notes: Plum out of currants, I used 1/3 cup each of golden raisins and chopped dried cranberries in addition to the chopped candied orange peel that I made (see below). I also put a tsp of dried lavender flowers in the scalded milk as it was cooling. I liked these changes/additions to the flavor, they were subtle but noticeable. And I don't believe they had anything to do with the dough failing to rise. That just may have to remain a mystery.

Candied Orange Peel, page 679-680, How To Cook Everything, Bittman, 1998

Notes: Recipe called for a small amount of corn syrup but said it was optional. We were out of corn syrup, so I opted not to buy a bottle of it right now and made the recipe without it. There is a lot of the candied peel left. Maybe I'll try dipping it in dark chocolate after all.

* The movie was Calendar Girls and it was the scene in which they were in need of "considerably bigger buns" for the sake of modesty (if that made no sense, go rent the movie and it will).
** This here is pretty much the reason I started this blog in the first place.

Cinnamon Roll Muffins

I'm working my way up to real bona fide honest-to-goodness made-with-love cinnamon rolls. Like the ones Nana used to make (What? I can dream can't I?).

Baby Step #1: Make Easy Cinnamon Roll Muffins from Joy The Baker
Based on Quick and Easy Cinnamon Bun Bread at Baking Bites
(All the flavor of a cinnamon roll without the hassle!)

The part about making muffins that I never liked is filling up the muffin tins*. This statement in particular: "Divide batter evenly...". No matter what I do, it never comes out even. There are always one or two that look "less than" rather than equal. Then there's the borrowing from the fuller cups to even out the lesser cups, and pretty soon it's all a big mess. I need to let go. I know this and that's why I've decided to make muffins more often. It's good practice for letting go (and we get to eat them after). Case in point, these Easy Cinnamon Roll Muffins. I filled up the muffin cups with batter and there were a couple little runty ones. Oh well.**

The recipe gives the option to press the topping into the batter or swirl it in. Decisiveness being something else I'm working on, I decided to do both. I pressed half of the muffins and swirled the other six in order to see which way will work best. I'm letting go and making decisions. Such progress.

Next lesson: Listening to that little inner-voice. Like the one that told me it might be a good idea to put a cookie sheet underneath the muffin tin in case of spillage. Nope. I ignored it. I was in a "trusting in the world and all it encompasses" kind of a mood. Ha. Our pizza stone (which lives on the bottom rack of our oven) took the brunt of the cinnamon-sugar molten ooze-a-thon that followed. Not sure why it happened. It cleaned up easily enough though, and the muffins still tasted really good. Fiddle-de-dee. I'm letting go and accepting, listening to the intuitive little voices, and having another muffin... It's best to do this while they're still warm by the way.

*Cleaning out the muffin tin afterward is a strong second on this list.
**See how good I'm getting already.

Better Luck Next Time Rum Cake

Rum Cake, page 66, Desperate Measures, Kevin Crafts, 1993