tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030050649441478112024-03-18T20:18:06.040-07:00Cake, Hope, and Love"Where there's cake, there's hope. And there's always cake." Rudy Tock, from Life Expectancy, by Dean KoontzLizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-5135052541380490372012-09-26T18:43:00.000-07:002012-09-26T18:43:06.654-07:00The End<style>@font-face {
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This entry is long overdue. I made the last cake amidst a flurry of visitors, packing,
and last minute experiments before heading off to Europe for a conference and
some intense sight seeing. There
was no time for blogging.
Admittedly, I was probably putting off writing this entry a bit, because
the completion of this entry is truly the end of this project. And that makes me sadder than I thought
it would.</div>
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Coincidentally, this cake also made me sadder than I thought
it would. Entitled “Towering Hope
Chocolate Walnut Torte,” it was comprised of eggs, eggs, a touch of chocolate,
a sprinkling of walnuts, and eggs.
I was slightly irked that I was forced to finally invest in a legitimate
angel food cake pan, but with a short ingredient list and a name containing the
word “hope,” it seemed a sure thing that the cake would be a simple ending to
the cake adventure.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ZoH-piyHzoXl1yR0t6j5ensn-JWctE_UJPo73XCHTQoZcp-RX5L1w701-QN34GZo8G1FkA_phNebdCODhbcYAhEsoH5VnVvNmD-5RQ4es4nPF3ZJCBiV_qFVZy8aoCRDopTpbE9GCIE/s1600/DSCN0685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ZoH-piyHzoXl1yR0t6j5ensn-JWctE_UJPo73XCHTQoZcp-RX5L1w701-QN34GZo8G1FkA_phNebdCODhbcYAhEsoH5VnVvNmD-5RQ4es4nPF3ZJCBiV_qFVZy8aoCRDopTpbE9GCIE/s200/DSCN0685.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
But endings are never simple. The essential instructions were to beat egg yolks, beat egg
whites, mix together with some other stuff, bake. Of course, in the process of separating the one dozen eggs,
yolk number 11 fell into the whites.
Thankfully, it came out easily and intact with a slotted spoon. Or so I thought. I knew something was wrong when the
KitchenAid had been working on the whites for 15 minutes and failed to yield a
“soft shape.” I had to turn off
the KitchenAid and switch to a hand mixer, and then go back to the KitchenAid,
so that nothing overheated. But at
long last, I did get what I thought were fluffy, firm egg whites, so I mixed
everything together and put it in the pan.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvTzrYt99akd_yZ9Sx5nZ1oHu_s2PUgzrKSHWx1pKaJSNv3U9_HC9E5-tuT6d2JDKgP0zfx-qh1Yx15LYRjz_ELhiygHFuFwiWMS4NFGGfzxJBFaR_TnxUX-xmnnwzNgU1sPti-Rv1PcM/s1600/DSCN0688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvTzrYt99akd_yZ9Sx5nZ1oHu_s2PUgzrKSHWx1pKaJSNv3U9_HC9E5-tuT6d2JDKgP0zfx-qh1Yx15LYRjz_ELhiygHFuFwiWMS4NFGGfzxJBFaR_TnxUX-xmnnwzNgU1sPti-Rv1PcM/s200/DSCN0688.JPG" width="200" /></a>The baking process was another indication of a problem. According to the instructions, “during
the baking, the top of the cake will rise in a dome shape, but it will become
almost level with the top of the pan when it is done.” My cake, while it smelled enticingly
chocolaty, never rose. When I took
it out and flipped it upside down to cool, it fell out of the pan, and instead
of a light, airy cake, I had a heavy, dense mess. There must have been some contaminating yolk in the whites,
or my beaters weren’t as clean as I thought, or I should have used a metal bowl
for the whites instead of glass,
or in the lengthy process of beating the whites, the yolks may have
deflated. There could have been
any number of problems. I have had
some close calls, and some not-quite-rights, but never once during this process
have I had a complete failure. It
was a devastating experience, especially since it was supposed to be the end, a
time of reflection and hope. But I
was hopeless and cakeless, and the only reflection was the irrational metaphors
my melancholy mind created to equate the failed cake with my current life
situation.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCa6cGqo6m2OXAFvia5HpqCN6z0BiZdc_IB180XI8GKYoBEU0-mC8YxDCDENDU6LCZ65V6odzxTvQSRJR72r0fvAeqbnKpWJB6mErDx8B2t_XAQB1CBPHWGvGcIKrY_yPEmqo3H3G-tOw/s1600/DSCN0689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCa6cGqo6m2OXAFvia5HpqCN6z0BiZdc_IB180XI8GKYoBEU0-mC8YxDCDENDU6LCZ65V6odzxTvQSRJR72r0fvAeqbnKpWJB6mErDx8B2t_XAQB1CBPHWGvGcIKrY_yPEmqo3H3G-tOw/s200/DSCN0689.JPG" width="200" /></a>Even worse, I had
invited people over for a final cake gathering, and would have to disappoint
them. My guests, however, were not
deterred by my sad news and insisted we still try it. So we made homemade ice cream, a process that led to much
laughter and many bruises, and ate Flat Failure Chocolate Walnut Torte with
vanilla ice cream. It actually
tasted fine, but I vowed to conquer the cake the following week.</div>
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So I bought another dozen eggs and tried again. This time, I worked as quickly a
possible to ensure there was no time for either mix to lose the air whipped
in. My egg whites beat perfectly. The cake rose and stayed in the pan
when I flipped it over. And the
end result was a light, airy, chocolaty, nutty cake. It was aesthetically pleasing, quite delicious, and there
was plenty to share. And that is
how this cake adventure ends.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtW7ZLyaElhEc5T31xoMLBMX2ZWblbMPKJwisVJWafHW5fKmmVxQrlTeBCVbBtcZ4u1VHYqN3j8HZQpm8hcfRpqamtPQ2jdjwazvNngA-RdVAfSjxF1WxX6UpLT5A9OiCqCaiZvZoY00/s1600/DSCN0694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtW7ZLyaElhEc5T31xoMLBMX2ZWblbMPKJwisVJWafHW5fKmmVxQrlTeBCVbBtcZ4u1VHYqN3j8HZQpm8hcfRpqamtPQ2jdjwazvNngA-RdVAfSjxF1WxX6UpLT5A9OiCqCaiZvZoY00/s200/DSCN0694.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWcFT4EJCUh5tUKzdj_ajD9qqcug3T2EVEHQ1w4BmC5sflT_vh5Laa5Lk6IPf2MjZ4Vkb7r4y1N1nOv_YSYWL958vdw9i3JZvPhyphenhyphenj6Mc4NN2nYdlBRuMAjW3P77r9ZU8nf49KmP8uWyBA/s1600/DSCN0691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWcFT4EJCUh5tUKzdj_ajD9qqcug3T2EVEHQ1w4BmC5sflT_vh5Laa5Lk6IPf2MjZ4Vkb7r4y1N1nOv_YSYWL958vdw9i3JZvPhyphenhyphenj6Mc4NN2nYdlBRuMAjW3P77r9ZU8nf49KmP8uWyBA/s200/DSCN0691.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNonVTIICfo2IQnKzT-2HvLHpd06d6Gx-UuhQi6BZACR87GILux21CASyXzl_uoYbxIij1j7o2jzseIT6ppSV5XsWO4L2hZ_G2Bw9mBiLDqRln_whJIDBhtceXFnsV9Bd18A-Zv4Lx0I/s1600/DSCN0696.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNonVTIICfo2IQnKzT-2HvLHpd06d6Gx-UuhQi6BZACR87GILux21CASyXzl_uoYbxIij1j7o2jzseIT6ppSV5XsWO4L2hZ_G2Bw9mBiLDqRln_whJIDBhtceXFnsV9Bd18A-Zv4Lx0I/s200/DSCN0696.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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At the end of her project, Dr. R reflects on a few questions
about the changes over the past year, and I thought I might consider them as
well. First, is the world less
safe than when I started? In her
Year of Cake, Dr. R witnessed Hurricane Katrina, an oil spill, and bombing in
Israel. As for me, I’ve seen an
endless of number of economic crises and violent shootings, and watched the
debates over gay marriage and women’s health issues tip toward the boiling point. In this election year, campaign battles
are being undertaken through social media, which in turn has been taken over by
anger and ignorance, and I am terrified of what this election could bring. But I’ve also witness the discovery of
the Higgs boson particle, and the world experienced a brief period of
unification in the 2012 Olympics, signs that this crazy world still has room
for progress and hope.</div>
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Am I happier or better for eating cake every week? Dr. R says yes, and I have to
agree. Maybe a few pounds heavier,
but I think it’s worth it. On this
journey, I discovered the power of cake: to bring people together, to light up
someone’s face, to bring a bit of sweetness to a bitter day. I think cake is called for far more
frequently than we indulge in it, and while it’s nice to know I am not required
to bake every weekend, I foresee the continuation of cake days (or pie or
cookies or brownies) whenever there is time or a need for a sweet treat. Sunday morning, in fact, I was up early
making the strawberry pie I promised Maureen, and we had Pie & Bones night
that evening. There’s just
something comforting about ending a weekend with baked goods and good friends.</div>
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Dr. R also reflects on the changes in her family, good and
bad. Tragically, her oldest
daughter was diagnosed with MS at the end of her year, which is why the
proceeds of this book go to MS research.
I remember this happening, how sad she was, and how strong. Scientists approach scary issues by
learning everything there is to know, because if you understand it, it’s not so
scary. Dr. R read everything she
possibly could about MS and ongoing research, and even e-mailed scientists
working on the disease, all of who responded. There was, of course, happy news for her family too. Maybe that’s why she chose this cake:
to represent the hope they needed to get through the bad, and the hope their
blessings gave them.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwE3pn3x55iJ3XZEj3dKp18Qs_Ppet-Ud-GA5nFTRAipbBq-wWg32R8Xnx0xPxQYOiv47gih9kM0vxPmws-TuSUQfb69b5ldQtnDPzsa0PfYwJzvb99eZPkIFMyhL4gHXk3-7BFw73sdY/s1600/DSCN0509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwE3pn3x55iJ3XZEj3dKp18Qs_Ppet-Ud-GA5nFTRAipbBq-wWg32R8Xnx0xPxQYOiv47gih9kM0vxPmws-TuSUQfb69b5ldQtnDPzsa0PfYwJzvb99eZPkIFMyhL4gHXk3-7BFw73sdY/s200/DSCN0509.JPG" width="200" /></a>As for my family: My sister is settled into graduate school
living through all of the trials and tribulations graduate school brings. My mom got a promotion, complete with a
raise, at work, and has a more colorful social life than my sister and I
combined. My grandmother moved out
of the house she’s lived in since as long as I can remember, the house my mom
grew up in. And me? I got the green light to graduate in
the spring, which brings on an overwhelming amount of work, planning final
experiments, writing a dissertation, applying for postdoctoral positions,
planning a move. I just received
my first invitation to interview for a position in a lab at NYU, which has sent
me into full panic mode. Am I
ready? Am I smart enough? Is this really what I want to do? It seems kind of unreal… I feel neither
old enough or mature enough to be interviewing for real jobs.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_yeX7Mh_DN80RVJqBzRYKl0PeieEmOJa8y6whnjbisMW2tRHNjkQy54CWoUk7Q3GrR_NcGIQcwSkRCjlsltMfi8IJgXMOEBtroUNf0E9Wool4LOlGCSFctA3HII-D5NX28YG9FIe6S0/s1600/DSCN0992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_yeX7Mh_DN80RVJqBzRYKl0PeieEmOJa8y6whnjbisMW2tRHNjkQy54CWoUk7Q3GrR_NcGIQcwSkRCjlsltMfi8IJgXMOEBtroUNf0E9Wool4LOlGCSFctA3HII-D5NX28YG9FIe6S0/s200/DSCN0992.JPG" width="159" /></a>I’m also planning the trip I will take to solidify the transition
between the end of graduate school and the beginning of the next stage of life:
El Camino de Santiago, a 500 mile pilgrimage across Spain. I think it will provide a necessary
mental break from science and a chance to reconnect with life, with myself. In the past year, I’ve noticed that
people spend far too much time trying to prolong and perfect life and not
enough time living it. I think
that, every once in awhile, it’s ok to drink a bit too much of a really good
red wine, just because it’s really good.
It’s ok to splurge on that fabulous pair of shoes. It’s ok to savor every sip of a giant
pumpkin spice latte in the crisp fall air for those precious few steps between
the car and a long work day. It’s
ok to lick the raw cookie dough (or cake batter) off the spoon and giggle with
your mom, your grandma, your daughter, or your roommate while the kitchen fills
with the sweet scent of homemade baked goods. To skip a workout to catch up with friends you haven’t seen
in weeks. To lose a night of sleep
to a marathon of your favorite show, or a marathon phone conversation with your
best friend. To skip brushing your
teeth before bed because your partner has already fallen asleep curled up next
to you and you just want to absorb every peaceful moment. To eat a giant piece of cake, even
though it’s full of – dare I say it – carbs, for absolutely no good
reason. These are the experiences
that make up the true substance of life, and I pray I never become one of those
people so obsessed with “success,” “health,” and doing everything by the book
that I let these moments pass me by.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;">So that’s it. An entire year of cake. I can’t think of a better ending than the one used by Dr.
R., so I’ll leave you with the final words of The Cake Chronicles: “And
remember that when life gets you down, there is always a slice of hope close
by, whether it be angel, pound, chocolate, or chiffon.”</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivW_HQvkndppXz11GveqznB7Udt0XYVaKD4w5eOAnOGbRlleTzlvdqDhhyphenhyphendoADf8UVFdCpqXAg7rDj0YgMO306o36F-0DHXVuZh0GnoiKUkghrnEjQcbqLxTqEKqf21KWe4rs0G-WjPrg/s1600/DSCN0707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivW_HQvkndppXz11GveqznB7Udt0XYVaKD4w5eOAnOGbRlleTzlvdqDhhyphenhyphendoADf8UVFdCpqXAg7rDj0YgMO306o36F-0DHXVuZh0GnoiKUkghrnEjQcbqLxTqEKqf21KWe4rs0G-WjPrg/s200/DSCN0707.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-10957838613137590852012-08-23T18:45:00.000-07:002012-08-23T18:45:25.412-07:00The cherry on topTechnically, this is the last chapter of the cake book, and bears all aspects of a respectable last chapter. The text is rich with memories, wisdom about coming full circle, and wishes for the future. But the epilogue remains, as does one more cake.<br />
<br />
The penultimate cake was a Michigan Sour Cherry Pudding Cake. There were two issues with this cake: first, you'll remember my less-than-fond feelings towards cherries; and second, I don't have access to Michigan cherries. Or sour cherries, for that matter. So I grudgingly bought the dark cherries available to me at the Farmer's Market, pitted 3 cups, and set about making my DeKalb Farmer's Market Dark Cherry Pudding Cake with little enthusiasm.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivw1yEwpRBuNMcSwS3pUc2eU8DZuAoDF9aDncCmkngcZtePqbxoMPB4U6waxssbrnSIcvrkb5LcMSua-PCrPHgdyC8zMXg-Gj0ekpLTCq94CRyBZHfu3OZ8yNxDAeDLphGzSGl_j7J1Ew/s1600/DSCN0677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivw1yEwpRBuNMcSwS3pUc2eU8DZuAoDF9aDncCmkngcZtePqbxoMPB4U6waxssbrnSIcvrkb5LcMSua-PCrPHgdyC8zMXg-Gj0ekpLTCq94CRyBZHfu3OZ8yNxDAeDLphGzSGl_j7J1Ew/s200/DSCN0677.JPG" width="200" /></a>Thankfully, aside from the pitting of the cherries, the cake was extremely easy to make, and was actually baked in a pie plate instead of a cake pan. Any recipe that requires me to bring out my mom's old brown Pyrex glass pie plate earns points in my book, cherries or no cherries. I have accumulated several pie plates, from cheap metal ones that never cook quite right to an oversized, thick, fancy, maroon ceramic Longaberger pie plate my grandmother got me for Christmas that promises to bake the best pies ever. I've used all of them, particularly for Thanksgiving, when I am assigned the role of Pie Baker Extraordinaire. And I will say that that Longaberger one is quite lovely and the only plate tough enough to handle my massive apple pies. But if I'm only making one pie, my go-to plate is that old brown Pyrex plate. It was the plate my mom used to make my grandmother's pecan pie on Thanksgiving, and the only plate (as well as the only recipe) I will use for pecan pie to this day. I also vividly remember eating my mom's strawberry pie from that plate on summer evenings, scraping the last of the crust and gooey filling from the bottom of the cold plate. I swear that strawberry pastry is made of magic. I've made it once or twice, and Maureen has requested it repeatedly. I have yet to make one this year, but have promised that the first dessert I make upon completion of this cake marathon will be the strawberry pie. I will use my Pyrex plate, we will enjoy giant slices over an episode of Bones, and I will save one last piece to eat the following evening right out of the pie plate.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMutC_bQ6eGqDmJbauWnp-sBQdxOz2dBAUI71_TpNLlYQRWL-WjlmCsjGCmeKEFrMUKBHNUbziowLGE7EX_D_bSlEcSVi4i95VWnFXAl-aMOY6pAVxnscyn5nW5KeJZ173z2XPUX5UUE/s1600/DSCN0678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMutC_bQ6eGqDmJbauWnp-sBQdxOz2dBAUI71_TpNLlYQRWL-WjlmCsjGCmeKEFrMUKBHNUbziowLGE7EX_D_bSlEcSVi4i95VWnFXAl-aMOY6pAVxnscyn5nW5KeJZ173z2XPUX5UUE/s200/DSCN0678.JPG" width="200" /></a>I hoped my treasured pie plate would bring a little luck to this cake, because I was unconvinced of its ability to actually become a cake while examining its pre-oven state. It was essentially cherry halves floating in a puddle of egg and milk. But, in the oven the cherry soup went, and off I went to make good use of the 50 minutes I had while it baked to clean my horribly messy apartment so as not to be embarrassed when guests arrived for Cake and Bones. When the timer went off, I returned to a puffy, golden heap of cherries. I texted Maureen to tell her we probably would not enjoy this cake.<br />
<br />
I am pleased to admit, however, that I was completely wrong. The cake was more like thick vanilla custard topped with baked cherries. Maybe it was the magic of the pie plate, maybe it was the perfect combination of ingredients, or maybe cherries are just starting to grow on me, but this cake was good. Maureen was also surprised to find she enjoyed it, but suggested trying it with other fruit. In fact, upon reading the intro to this cake, Dr. R does say it can be made with peaches, plums, blueberries, or almost any other fruit that suits your fancy. I think blueberries would be fantastic. Next time.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhTAMKonBeeJZD_VvKBYAZVbSQ0asQRUL2FgQiWy1wQcY4Y9eR3lXFR4EeXu3n3wcs_UmDR6AXpgVIjIzXcvZgQS3s_F5gOyxmwPmWeXRtLuhRxMo_Fl6r7h9rOvxvIMco4khFWPLi0Y/s1600/DSCN0679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhTAMKonBeeJZD_VvKBYAZVbSQ0asQRUL2FgQiWy1wQcY4Y9eR3lXFR4EeXu3n3wcs_UmDR6AXpgVIjIzXcvZgQS3s_F5gOyxmwPmWeXRtLuhRxMo_Fl6r7h9rOvxvIMco4khFWPLi0Y/s200/DSCN0679.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
The other detail I was pleased to read in the intro to this cake was that it is made to serve 6. Because Tim, Maureen, Chris, and I ate all but one piece. I felt less guilty about the amount we had devoured.<br />
<br />
This cake, like my mom's strawberry pie, is perfect for summer: served cold, slightly creamy, and full of bright, juicy summer fruit, a fantastic complement to a hot late summer night. And it's so simple! I vow next summer to try it with every beautiful, delicious summer fruit I can get my hands on.<br />
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This weekend brings the last cake. I am feeling quite sad over it, as is everyone else. Like I won't continue to bake when I'm done or something. I can't believe I've done this for a whole year. I suppose I should start considering my deep thoughts for my final post. And probably stock up on tissues.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-49659102805235687072012-08-03T12:09:00.000-07:002012-08-03T12:09:25.233-07:00Summer Bakin'Once again, I am a month behind. I'm getting so close to the end, and I'm kind of looking forward to it. Time is short, money is tight (and so are belts, let's be honest). This project has been a truly wonderful experience, but I am ready to be able to bake at will, and not accrue a month's worth of blog debt.<br />
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So, let's go all the way back to the 4th of July. My sister was in town, so she, Chris, and I threw a party for the holiday (with help from everyone who came... I hang out with some talented chefs... or shoppers... we all have our gifts). Naturally, we had to have cake for the occasion, and while I had originally planned to use the week's cake, Chris and I made the mistake of looking through the summer issue of Taste of Home magazine and finding a feast's worth of recipes we wanted to make, including an awesome-looking red, white, and blue cake. I had to make it. The recipe called for a box white cake mix, which I snobbishly scoffed at, and broke out the white cake recipe from the beginning of the project (you know, THE white cake). I have no doubt it made this cake way better. Anyway, the red and blue are from strawberries and blueberries boiled to make a syrup and then mixed with gelatin and poured over the cake. Mine didn't turn out quite as tie-dyed as the magazine picture, but it got the point across. The frosting was plain and simple whipped cream. You'd actually be surprised how many people have never had real whipped cream. I get asked a lot, "What is this frosting?! It's so good!" It's kind of disappointing to have to say it's just a pint of whipping cream and some sugar. I should start making up something fancy so I sound impressive. But, short story long, this bonus cake was fun, delicious, and perfect for the 4th of July.
Now on to the real stuff...<br />
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The weekend after the 4th of July called for a Fresh Raspberry (or Blueberry) Breakfast (or Dinner) cake. Clearly there's some wiggle room, so I turned it into Fresh Blackberry and Blueberry cake, since I had blueberries left over and blackberries were on sale (and delicious). It was super simple to make, one of those recipes you could make the old fashioned way with a spoon and some elbow grease. The end result was somewhat like a large, flat muffin: slightly sweet, moist, bready cake full of bright, juicy berries. I took it to Tim and Maureen's for Cake and Bones, which is becoming a Sunday evening tradition. We didn't eat it for dinner, but we did polish off a good portion of it.<br />
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The chapter for this cake is entitled "How to Not Go to Work," which made me laugh a lot. Dr. R outlines her week off, which really wasn't a week off at all, since she made a trip to lab and edited a graduate student's dissertation. But she did spend a lot of time doing the things we all put off for work: writing, laying in the hammock, spending time with her daughter, catching up with neighbors and friends. And of course baking. It's an amusing chapter, but makes a good point: "It's important at times to refrain from human do-ings to become human be-ings." I think we all forget that more than we should. Cake baking and Cake and Bones nights are good little reprieves at the end of what is always a full, busy week, which is why I'm certain Cake Day will live on long after the final recipe in this book is baked.<br />
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The next week's cake was a disappointment from the get-go: Downy Yellow Cake with Milk Chocolate Buttercream Frosting. Sounds delicious, right? Don't be fooled by adjectives. It's still just yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Which is my LEAST favorite cake combination in the entire world. It's so boring... what is yellow cake? It's not chocolate or vanilla or peanut butter or fruit; it's just... eggs. And chocolate frosting is not my favorite, and in general I feel there's always something off about the combination of flavors. But apparently it's the favorite combination of everyone else. There was much excitement and anticipation from the crowd, and much eye rolling from me. I think this soured my relationship with the cake a bit, because, while the cake was easy enough, the frosting spitefully dealt me fits.<br />
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I should have known the frosting would be trouble when it required 1 pound of milk chocolate and half a pound of dark chocolate. When I relayed my disbelief to Randy, he commented, "You know it's a good cake when you have to measure the chocolate in pounds." A valid point. But I was still skeptical. And rightly so. The frosting took forever to melt (I mean 1.5 pound of chocolate, right? See photo), and then wouldn't cool. To speed the cooling process, the recipe recommends putting it in the refrigerator and stirring every few minutes. The trick, though, is that you have to catch it exactly on time, or it over solidifies and becomes unspreadable. Which, of course, is what happened. So then I had to re-soften the frosting in the oven, but again, the window of time between too solid and too liquid is small, so naturally the frosting melted. A second round of cooling made it somewhat workable, but I wasn't thrilled with the result.<br />
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Tim, Maureen, Chris, and I all helped ourselves to fairly impressively sized pieces. Yellow cake with chocolate frosting happens to be Maureen's favorite, and she loved the cake, which made it worthwhile. I thought it was just ok. Better than a box or the store, but still just boring. This one goes in the "By request only" folder.
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Finally, we have the cake from two weeks ago, Tangerine Cake with Brown Sugar Icing, which made up for the yellow cake debacle at least two-fold. It was a ridiculously easy throw-in-bowl-mix-and-bake kind of cake, with pecans and mandarin oranges, and fell solidly into the breakfast cake category. The frosting was nearly caramelized brown sugar, intensely sweet. It was a slightly strange combination of flavors, but it was magical. Maureen and I had had a particularly harrowing weekend, so we enjoyed our slices of cake with margaritas, and much of the stress soon subsided. I took the rest to work Monday, but our lab is small right now, so I had a lot left, and unfortunately for my waist, I made sure it was gone by the end of the week.<br />
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This chapter discusses the difference between a house and a home. A house is merely a physical building. A home is not about the physical space, but about emotional, spiritual, and psychological place, a place where one feels safe, happy, content, and is surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones. I have been thinking about this a lot recently as I get ready to graduate. I love living in Atlanta; to me, it feels like "home," and I am not excited to move away, particularly to a place with a less optimal location. But at the same time, there is something missing to make it feel complete. My family is 700 miles away, my significant other is 800, many of my friends have graduated and moved away or become less available. And I think that having those people close is a critical part. I think that, when I finally do have to move, being closer to my family and being with Randy will make any place, regardless of how "optimal" the location may be, feel like home. And of course, there's nothing like the smell of cookies or cake in the oven to make even the ugliest apartment feel more homey. Home is where the heart and the cake pans are. ;-)<br />
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I confess that I had to skip last week, because I had a wedding last weekend in Ohio followed immediately by a conference in Boston. Time and travel made it impossible to get any baking done. But my week was not devoid of cake... the priest at the wedding of my beautiful Little gave a fantastic homily using cake as a metaphor for marriage. There were silent giggles shared among those of us familiar with my cake story. And of course there was an amazing wedding cake, one I will contemplate adapting for the amateur baker. This weekend I am still away, so I will have to do two cakes in the upcoming week. But looking at the book... I only have two left. In one week, I will have baked my way through an entire year of cakes. I feel a little teary-eyed just thinking about it.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-15471468074438260132012-07-01T19:06:00.002-07:002012-07-01T19:07:25.026-07:00Fruit Cake (but not fruitcake)I feel like I am drowning in cakes made with fresh fruit lately. The strawberry shortcake, the orange marmalade cake (omg, I still dream about how good that was), and now three more cakes made with the abundant summer fruit available. Best season for food. I dread winter and its drab ingredients. Good thing I have months before that happens.<br />
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The cake from three weeks ago was called the Great Flower Cake, so named because it looks like a flower once assembled. It utilizes a massive amount of whipped cream and strawberries, which seemed fantastic when reading through the recipe, until I saw the "Cake Assembly" section. This section is reserved for particularly complicated cakes, such as the Yule Log. I nervously went back to look at the pan preparation, and sure enough, there it was: a jelly roll pan. A roll cake?! NOOOOOOO...<br />
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I begged Tim, Maureen, and Chris to come over (and by begged I mean, "Hey, wanna help me make a cake?") to help me maintain composure and sanity during what was sure to be an epic adventure. I was nervous from the start, because the cake part of said roll contains no flour, getting its delicate structure from eggs and pecans, which made it extra nerve-wracking to flip out of the piping hot pan. The filling was simply rum-flavored whipped cream (it was supposed to be Grand Marnier, but I had rum, and I figured daiquiris combine strawberry and rum, so I just went for it), easily prepared and spread thickly on top of the flat cake. Then came the moment of truth. Thankfully, instead of having to roll the whole giant cake, I had to cut the cake lengthwise into long, thin strips, and roll the individual strips, one around the other, to make a giant cinnamon roll-looking cake (or a cake roughly the size of one regular Cinnabon... Emily: Do I sit in it or eat it? :-p ). The delicateness of the cake required two sets of hands, which Maureen helped me with, while Tim took copious amounts of pictures, which actually look pretty cool...
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The cake was then topped with strawberry slices in a spiral pattern to look like a flower, and glazed with a blackberry jelly and rum glaze (supposed to be currant jelly and Grand Marnier, but... sometimes you gotta improvise. Where do you even find currant jelly?!). Dr. Robinson promises that the cake is worth the effort, and that was not a lie--the four of us ate almost the entire thing. It was fantastic. The cake was not too sweet and a texture somewhere just between crisp and soft, complimented perfectly by the sweet, airy whipped cream, and the tart, juicy berries. There are no words that can do it justice.<br />
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I was kind of taken aback when reading the chapter accompanying this cake. Apparently, Dr. R was interviewing for a position at a university in Atlanta the week she made this cake. Somewhere that would "hire [her] and give [her] lots of money" and give her the funding to "make [her] mark as a scientist," which she felt she had not yet done. In the end, she chose to turn down the position, because she didn't want to give up her short commute, lovely neighborhood, and the good schools for an Atlanta commute. (Amen to that.) I wonder which university it was... Georgia State? Georgia Tech? Emory? Is that why she suggested Emory when I said I wanted to go somewhere in the southeast? I had no idea she had interviewed here. And here I am, I left the comfort of my home for an Atlanta commute. Was it worth it? Actually, probably. I just hope that Dr. R feels now that she has made her mark as a scientist. Or at least is content with the fact that she has made her mark as a mentor, a writer, and no doubt a parent.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XBHI0LYMMrW9hBgBgRundHuqIQYGNelHs-yoNPe8QwsZuylx_IhrrAPEpZ8pk5P_Wd4uhyphenhyphenJu8aedhp6T3vSo21AKb86d5e_U_J_FjhWaEXQ4tCdqoj8nYca2n20N__uplyz3CcWUoAc/s1600/DSCN0491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XBHI0LYMMrW9hBgBgRundHuqIQYGNelHs-yoNPe8QwsZuylx_IhrrAPEpZ8pk5P_Wd4uhyphenhyphenJu8aedhp6T3vSo21AKb86d5e_U_J_FjhWaEXQ4tCdqoj8nYca2n20N__uplyz3CcWUoAc/s200/DSCN0491.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
The next week's cake was Hawaiian Wedding Cake. Which, after trying, solidified my decision that I should probably just live in Hawaii. Does food get any better? Coconut, pineapple, fresh fish, macadamia nuts, and those amazing purple sweet potatoes I can NEVER find to make myself. If this is what they eat at their weddings, I'm so in. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh16MxuE3nk_pmPOFNOTu2x950k2jRsqjeM740hXvkJQcG3k9G4B7lx5dL6v2JCQFWSWOB30lp_FxEBGFf29iSyxECir5ROqAOyvNDNQrklFlNxaMt0cxnsE3EDDr15NCN0IchxLiUDeFc/s1600/DSCN0496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh16MxuE3nk_pmPOFNOTu2x950k2jRsqjeM740hXvkJQcG3k9G4B7lx5dL6v2JCQFWSWOB30lp_FxEBGFf29iSyxECir5ROqAOyvNDNQrklFlNxaMt0cxnsE3EDDr15NCN0IchxLiUDeFc/s200/DSCN0496.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
The cake is essentially carrot cake, but instead of shredded carrots, it uses shredded coconut. Before this little project, I felt somewhat ambivalent toward coconut. But my baking adventures made me realize... I LOVE coconut. Seriously. I cannot get enough. So this cake was fantastic to start with. But then it was also filled with pineapple and pecans and topped with cream cheese icing (another direct line to my heart). So good, and so easy, and so perfect for summer. It was a hit in the office as well.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxO0jlkpVfUEziooXtiuUCdjsKKxAMChx2_Nj-bryrCL3LQ62t3ioWkxBzrOrmmqbRp5LbHLHIfdtSKKkx_g3AeI4YYOqfKp2zyDHLsa1qsf-Z6RdlLb4fOxrLpLUiozHOOgLXmlro4vI/s1600/DSCN0499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxO0jlkpVfUEziooXtiuUCdjsKKxAMChx2_Nj-bryrCL3LQ62t3ioWkxBzrOrmmqbRp5LbHLHIfdtSKKkx_g3AeI4YYOqfKp2zyDHLsa1qsf-Z6RdlLb4fOxrLpLUiozHOOgLXmlro4vI/s200/DSCN0499.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
This week's cake was peach upside down cake. Upside down cakes rank just below jelly roll cakes on the list of Cakes That Scare Liz too Badly to Bake. There's too much flipping of hot pans and magic involved. Especially when you don't have the right pan. I was supposed to use a cast iron skillet, which is something I dearly desire, but I don't have one and after a month of surprise bills and subsisting off left over baked beans from a graduate school mixer (no, seriously, there were so many beans, they have lasted a month), I was not about to spend $15.95 on one. That's like a week's worth of groceries if I eat rice with frozen vegetables and yogurt. So I used the alternative plan outlined in the book, which was to wrap a springform pan tightly in aluminum foil. I melted the butter and brown sugar in the bottom, lined the bottom with peaches and cherries (ugh, cherries... apparently an essential part of upside down cake and another reason not to make them) and pecans, made the ridiculously thick batter and coaxed it into the pan. Then I baked it and flipped the hot pan as described.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSrv1PQHM-6sAfcnlc0RXi9FmOY-tRzfp5ljpRt8Yw8FjsA2NLKVsFlM2LVhIeLfeKftt-DOyZlxOiI6Q-Ago_XeeoFGYE5BShcciXOv93LfvatPRSjEN__cHQk6OJqmgfiIkJHP0m8iM/s1600/DSCN0500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSrv1PQHM-6sAfcnlc0RXi9FmOY-tRzfp5ljpRt8Yw8FjsA2NLKVsFlM2LVhIeLfeKftt-DOyZlxOiI6Q-Ago_XeeoFGYE5BShcciXOv93LfvatPRSjEN__cHQk6OJqmgfiIkJHP0m8iM/s200/DSCN0500.JPG" /></a></div>When you use a cast iron skillet, the walls are very low and when the pan is flipped over, the bottom of the cake will touch the cake plate. A springform pan, however, has very high walls, so when it is flipped over, the cake is left hanging precariously by it's top from the bottom of the pan. Not thinking of this, I released the side of the springform pan, and... WHAM! My cake went crashing to the plate. When my heart resumed beating, I carefully pulled off the pan bottom. While the structural integrity of one side of the cake was questionable, the rest of the cake seemed alright. Almost pretty, in fact. I took it to Tim and Maureen's, where we again devoured about 2/3 of the cake. It was actually quite good... the cake was slightly crumbly and almost velvety in texture, and the sweet brown sugar glazed peaches showcased the fantastic early peaches we're getting now. (I tried to eat as few cherries as possible... Maureen, who shares my aversion to cherries, described them as not bad, but not essential. Agreed.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwKXdZJ6GjaZZ9fF8gzb4GOv_hr4VHCguQFPzEGld-gv2eUQAtnR4l9F9PPLjgZgxbqTpfH-kLRDoOwDBCJ9cgcOU2pdxYLzU-qBXugCBvu1WjY5uEllnJ78BCulgwq0N-hl3UHD3DZRg/s1600/DSCN0503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwKXdZJ6GjaZZ9fF8gzb4GOv_hr4VHCguQFPzEGld-gv2eUQAtnR4l9F9PPLjgZgxbqTpfH-kLRDoOwDBCJ9cgcOU2pdxYLzU-qBXugCBvu1WjY5uEllnJ78BCulgwq0N-hl3UHD3DZRg/s200/DSCN0503.JPG" /></a></div>And now, a Cake, Hope, and Love special report, brought to you by Liz's Lab:
My boss's birthday is this week. We always have a little celebration, with a card and a cake. This year, when the planning commenced, I volunteered to make the cake if people would pitch in a couple dollars to help with ingredients, so we wouldn't have to worry about buying one. I have been thinking that if I really want to open a vineyard bakery one day, I can't just steal other people's recipes, so I need to get creative. I used this as opportunity. Instead of choosing a cake recipe, I chose 4, and modified. I used the dark chocolate cake from the New Orleans chocolate cake (I still dream about that one, too), the chocolate frosting from the Perfect Chocolate Cake (the very first cake made for this project), the meringue buttercream from the Yule Log (hey, I just said I wasn't making the log again... the individual parts were delicious) flavored with vanilla instead of white chocolate, and used the protocol (wow... I'm obviously a scientist) for the orange marmalade filling from the Orange Marmalade cake to make a raspberry filling. It took me 4 hours, and my kitchen looked like a war zone, but it actually came out beautifully. I'm so proud. I have clearly come a long way in my cake baking and decorating skills. Now... we just have to hope it tastes as wonderful as it looks...Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-52252842454377647352012-06-11T19:07:00.000-07:002012-06-11T19:07:56.191-07:00Strawberries and Cream... and OrangesAh, late spring and early summer... the best time of year for food. The weather is warm, the sun is brilliant, produce is bright and colorful again after the dull colors of winter, berries are in season and available for infinite uses, and seasonal dishes are light, crisp, and refreshing. The cake recipes from the past two weeks fit excellently into this time of year.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-K4SpvS1RPzSE2S_Q8bcsQxX4fyJIKQ5zkPHufpJVe7Sy2C75VzduDD3B0V4TAAnPV-g6pwXwGQzBzy3WPVAzj9kGJAinKTymnCVTVirl1ywB14ex5cmD3FFom_ZGlBt0O4XZPypzpE/s1600/DSCN0412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-K4SpvS1RPzSE2S_Q8bcsQxX4fyJIKQ5zkPHufpJVe7Sy2C75VzduDD3B0V4TAAnPV-g6pwXwGQzBzy3WPVAzj9kGJAinKTymnCVTVirl1ywB14ex5cmD3FFom_ZGlBt0O4XZPypzpE/s200/DSCN0412.JPG" /></a>Two weeks ago, the cake recipe was a Strawberries and Cream Shortcake. I was visiting Randy for Princeton's Reunion Weekend. Imagine slightly to highly intoxicated old people wandering between white tents with makeshift bars and cover bands sprawled over the perfectly manicured lawns of the architecturally stunning campus of Princeton University, and that's pretty much reunion weekend. Barbecues, bands, and beers. Among the other festivities, we were to attend two barbecues in one day, so I made this cake to take to one. (Side note: I remade the Tres Leches cake for the other, and doubled the recipe and used a 9x13 pan. Upon eating it again, I fully realized the extent of its greatest. It's in the top 10 from this project. Maybe the top 5. And it was quite the conversation starter... it made a good impression on Randy's boss and labmates, who I was meeting for the first time. Thank you, Tres Leches.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHbsGSgtMcwBJotG7czCQYmR4Qmd_yA4nlWfsY_J9FS1IL7eIzEOPPCVPBldQ1gaIrWa7FDPQYYkRfn9JMzJmNsOv20pRxOxbF4V-3l-ONQb50vZMLgeiaEMeRtys-7FWpIuHDvx5Ry0g/s1600/DSCN0415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHbsGSgtMcwBJotG7czCQYmR4Qmd_yA4nlWfsY_J9FS1IL7eIzEOPPCVPBldQ1gaIrWa7FDPQYYkRfn9JMzJmNsOv20pRxOxbF4V-3l-ONQb50vZMLgeiaEMeRtys-7FWpIuHDvx5Ry0g/s200/DSCN0415.JPG" /></a>WAAAAYYY back at the beginning of this whole adventure, I had to make a raspberry shortcake, and it was the saddest, most disappointing-looking cake ever. I couldn't split the cake in half evenly, I didn't have enough raspberries, and my frosting skills were sub-par. So I was a bit nervous about making this cake for a bunch of people I'd never met. But surprisingly... it came out beautifully. I was so proud of how pretty it was... a true sign of how far my cake-making skills have advanced during this process. While admiring the finished product, I didn't really care how it tasted, because gosh darn it, it looked impressive. It received lots of compliments at the party as well. If cakes could be vain, I know this one would have had an ego the size of Texas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5hfTSlb4nDaPtMcYqhyphenhyphenhrzJ9JKXYJi2475HuPGrst4530OKeogAgbhQgKbXdLvQX09qyHwHRnNJVR5x2TOWzxCQhLSHrVNlYhmK1KHGtpsnhbRRhoKu9Yi3mGj0BXHBQCZvE4qynnRc/s1600/DSCN0417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5hfTSlb4nDaPtMcYqhyphenhyphenhrzJ9JKXYJi2475HuPGrst4530OKeogAgbhQgKbXdLvQX09qyHwHRnNJVR5x2TOWzxCQhLSHrVNlYhmK1KHGtpsnhbRRhoKu9Yi3mGj0BXHBQCZvE4qynnRc/s200/DSCN0417.JPG" /></a>As for taste, however, I think it was kind of a let-down. When people think of strawberry shortcake, they think of those weird spongy cakes with dents in the middle that you buy and throw some sliced strawberries and canned whipped cream (or Cool Whip... *shudder*) on top of. But this cake was legitimate short cake, similar in texture to short bread, and the whipped cream was just barely sweetened, resulting in a denser, less sweet cake than expected. But considering this cake as an independent entity, I think it's actually quite good... there's a great contrast in textures between the crumbly cake, the airy whipped cream, and the juicy berries, and it's light and refreshing, perfect on a hot day after burgers and beer. It just didn't go over quite as well as I'd hoped. I think it deserves a second chance at some point, though. I personally enjoy it more than those cake sponges, and its a great use for strawberries when they're in season.<br />
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Last week's cake actually began as a fictitious cake. It was an integral part in <i>The Mitford Years Series</i>, by Jan Karon, which means little to me. Perhaps I should read them. Regardless... the author created a character, named Esther Bolick, famous for baking cakes, and dreamed this cake into existence as the baker's specialty. Apparently, many readers wrote to the author asking for the recipe, and she had to explain that it wasn't a real cake. Finally, she gave in and collaborated with the authors of <i>The Gift of Southern Cooking</i> (hint: that would make a great birthday gift...) to make the imaginary cake a reality. And so, the Orange Marmalade Cake was born.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOZfeZsv9IbUkdzUdud-FB65L7HFPz82zWqPhgFTllSPsgMWvmpreT8_Bwi8vp2Cxhc2qDBCYzId6CCuMCgZ55rgiz12mzmD3ebSuraPIXWGc6x-vszIXe8PUXathx_5jpvKtsQf5RSQ/s1600/DSCN0449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOZfeZsv9IbUkdzUdud-FB65L7HFPz82zWqPhgFTllSPsgMWvmpreT8_Bwi8vp2Cxhc2qDBCYzId6CCuMCgZ55rgiz12mzmD3ebSuraPIXWGc6x-vszIXe8PUXathx_5jpvKtsQf5RSQ/s200/DSCN0449.JPG" /></a>Dr. Robinson notes, "It required almost every bowl I own, but it was so worth it." That is pure fact. Three layers, a filling, and a frosting... my kitchen looked like a battle ground when all was said and done. But despite its many pieces, the cake is actually not too complicated, and it is, indeed, well worth it. Dr. R also comments that "this cake is so pretty and cheerful that it is hope itself." I'd have to agree with that as well. It's beautiful when assembled, and it's so fresh and citrusy and bright, you can't help but feel warm and happy after your first bite. This cake is definitely a top 5. It has claimed a permanent spot in my regular repertoire.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJhLht9TFkfL9pxJRNzNTphoYr5gVe6kq9KhVrFvoKy9V0yj9XpNowBeLjmxsnqUrhlVskWgkpIwaINgfm8WqXCyUasM_E7NvRJAbSU8_WqpDtC6OjMV1zsurwWRmHQiuR1f_akT5CHc/s1600/DSCN0452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJhLht9TFkfL9pxJRNzNTphoYr5gVe6kq9KhVrFvoKy9V0yj9XpNowBeLjmxsnqUrhlVskWgkpIwaINgfm8WqXCyUasM_E7NvRJAbSU8_WqpDtC6OjMV1zsurwWRmHQiuR1f_akT5CHc/s200/DSCN0452.JPG" /></a>I shared my first bites with Tim, Maureen, and Chris after a minor nervous breakdown at work. Assembling and frosting the cake had been therapeutic and calming, and sharing it with friends lifted my spirits. I brought the rest to work today. We've all been having a pretty rough go of it lately, and the abysmally gloomy weather has done nothing for our moods, so cake seemed almost a necessity, and this one was particularly fitting... it brought a little sunshine into the overcast day and the overcast atmosphere in our lab. It was well-received. I love big cakes like this because there's so much that I can spread the joy beyond my own lab. One of the PIs in my hall actually asked me if it was the cake from the Mitford books. I was so amazed that someone knew the legend of the cake, and so excited that she recognized it by taste. Maybe I am becoming a real-life Esther Bolick. It's a position I would gladly accept.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-66974297779276432962012-06-01T10:36:00.002-07:002012-06-01T10:37:37.860-07:00A Month of CakesYes, I still exist, and I am still baking my cakes. I’m four weeks behind. I don’t know how that happened, and it’s really just inexcusable. I don’t know what to say, other than to just get started with the many cake stories I have.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4j0nhMNgsBaH8Xwq6ClaUNDviqe6meXN8wFVBfUjvBKJx9JC3e_7p0jjOJwqAG0uWP4SKZCxmP0biwvacgKW10SPlAIlIVan9R1NP2ib7QLmJtu3l-E6neeUW8JnbLOr4uWenIeKa_0/s1600/DSCN0376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4j0nhMNgsBaH8Xwq6ClaUNDviqe6meXN8wFVBfUjvBKJx9JC3e_7p0jjOJwqAG0uWP4SKZCxmP0biwvacgKW10SPlAIlIVan9R1NP2ib7QLmJtu3l-E6neeUW8JnbLOr4uWenIeKa_0/s200/DSCN0376.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
The cake from FOUR weeks ago (ugh) sounded promising: the Brownie Pudding Cake. According to the description, as this dessert bakes, “the cake rises to the top and leaves a layer of fudgy pudding below.” I was going to be at Randy’s, after traveling back to Princeton from Tim and Maureen’s wedding in Pittsburg (which was beautiful, by the way), and we were both looking forward to warm, chocolaty goodness on a relaxing day after a busy weekend.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdIxA8qjvKYBaunYa2n-hqkE-i1E3kT5mVA4vgR0y6SeAkgHT25iiy3ceYEOSDjh7J5ItSHXvNmTnEnQHy0fpkCdM45jzWCQOCt17l8KZzMx8I87AkThlkRCXjZnMriYIJnuJII5BS8g/s1600/DSCN0379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdIxA8qjvKYBaunYa2n-hqkE-i1E3kT5mVA4vgR0y6SeAkgHT25iiy3ceYEOSDjh7J5ItSHXvNmTnEnQHy0fpkCdM45jzWCQOCt17l8KZzMx8I87AkThlkRCXjZnMriYIJnuJII5BS8g/s200/DSCN0379.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
Unfortunately, we didn’t get quite what we had hoped for. Instead of cake on top of a layer of pudding, we got a cake sitting in a pool of chocolate water. I was incredibly upset; I’ve had cakes come out not quite right, and I’ve had to take shortcuts here and there, but I have never had a cake totally fail. I read and re-read the recipe to assure myself I had done everything right. Then I ran a Hail Mary Google search on the off chance the recipe was available online and other bakers had run into the same difficulties. I was not disappointed. Thanks to the power of public comments, I read a plethora of tragic tales like my own involving this cake. Finally, I stumbled across a baker clearly much wiser than the rest of us, who revealed that the cake should be served with ice cream, and the “pudding” was more of a chocolate sauce to drizzle over the cake and ice cream combo. Curse this recipe’s misleading title. It should be called Brownie Sauce Cake, then, right?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjert4KWAgxm4rXQytWj8IqVq5uVFthZReYZM6YjTv1JAdo8rUnRkATNIdq1CS1DQhfiSyAZJyX7gtOHoCLjnr3mTHSz5Zr1HPc0TrGlmVRynGQQg52oeH8SZImDY-R_p89Z5xRy3tn_kw/s1600/DSCN0384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjert4KWAgxm4rXQytWj8IqVq5uVFthZReYZM6YjTv1JAdo8rUnRkATNIdq1CS1DQhfiSyAZJyX7gtOHoCLjnr3mTHSz5Zr1HPc0TrGlmVRynGQQg52oeH8SZImDY-R_p89Z5xRy3tn_kw/s200/DSCN0384.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
The cake wasn’t totally awful; we didn’t have ice cream, so we just drizzled the sauce over our pieces of cake. It was rich and chocolaty and moist, but not quite the stunning dessert we had hoped for. I think this recipe is banished to the shelf with the Yule Log. Funnily, this chapter was about one of the Robinson daughter’s science fair projects, and Dr. R makes a statement that “the chemistry of cake is simple but not always fail proof.” I have always said that baking is more science and cooking is more art, and that’s why I excel at baking and should probably just give up on ever trying to cook. I’ve always liked baking, though, because, unlike science, it rarely fails. This cake was a somewhat cruel reminder that science is science, whether it involves agar plates, chemicals, and microorganisms or chocolate, eggs, and butter.<br />
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The following week’s cake was far more successful, and far more delicious: Tres Leches. I often see the Tres Leches cake on restaurant dessert menus, but didn’t really have a good concept of the physical manifestation of the cake. I now know that it’s pretty much exactly what the name implies: three types of milk. The cake part of a Tres Leches cake is a simple, thin, flat cake that appears rather unimpressive by itself. The magic comes from a combination of sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk, whole milk, and a touch of light rum, which is poured over the cake until the cake is saturated. <br />
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The recipe calls for 3 cups of this mixture, with a disclaimer that you might not need the entire amount. Looking at the thin little cake in front of me, I doubted I’d even need half. But that was one thirsty cake. I just kept pouring milk over it, and it kept absorbing. I went through 2.5 cups. I have no idea where it all went, but somehow that tiny little cake soaked up an exorbitant amount of liquid. The cake was then topped with whipped cream and chilled. Clearly not a cake for the lactose intolerant.
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This cake was one highly anticipated pastry. The people at work were getting antsy and actually quite demanding because there hadn’t been cake in awhile. Also, we had several performances for dance over the last two weeks, and the girls in the small group I was rehearsing with discovered my cake project and were highly intrigued. The first question, of course, was why on earth would I do a silly thing like bake a cake every week for a year? I realized that I don’t really have a good answer to that. Either I have forgotten my original greater purpose, or it has evolved over the course of the project, or both. I think that now, having to bake a cake every week forces me to take some time alone with myself, to think or to not think, whichever it is I am needing that week. It also provides a guaranteed chance to make people smile. And making someone else smile is guaranteed to make you smile. And I need some reasons to smile right now. But I will reflect on this more later. Anyway, the second question, of course, was when would they get to partake in some of these baked goods? So the cake was well-traveled, and did not disappoint. It was fantastically moist (which I guess you would expect with 3 cups of milk in it…) without being overly heavy, and was just sweet enough. There were plenty of smiles all around. This one I will most definitely be making again.<br />
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I had the honor of baking for my dance group again the next week. It was the end of several weeks of late night rehearsals and the night before a weekend that would be full of performances, so as a reward and celebration, I whipped up the Caribbean Pineapple Corn Cake. The name alone hinted that it would be one of those cakes that made me question whether it should be served to people at all, and with a list of ingredients including creamed corn, crushed pineapple, and Monterey Jack cheese, I did experience a brief moment of hesitation as to whether I should take it to dance or just secretly suffer through it on my own. The moment was fleeting, though; after all the strange cakes I’ve made, my qualms with weird ingredients are shrinking. Remember the Tomato Cake.<br />
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So I took it to rehearsal, and it was fantastic. In fact, when I took the rest to work the next day, Bree said it might be her favorite so far. It definitely dances the line between cake and bread—it makes a lovely dessert for those with less fervent sweet teeth, but could also compliment barbeque and baked beans (and macaroni and cheese and collard greens… hmm… I’m in the mood for a good southern dinner just thinking about it.) The cake was super simple and is pot luck perfect, so I can see this one becoming a permanent part of my repertoire.<br />
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Finally, last week’s cake, which was probably the scariest on of the bunch. A gluten-free Garbanzo Cake, the main ingredient was chickpeas, which seemed a bit odd. While the ingredient list was short and the recipe looked simple enough, I had no idea what I was in store for me with the first step: remove the skins from the chickpeas. First of all, chickpeas have skins?! Who knew? The directions suggested rubbing the chickpeas between one’s palms to loosen and remove the skins. I gave it a go, and sure enough, chickpeas really do have skins. But the rub-between-palm method was not so successful, and I had to individual skin nearly two cans of chickpeas, a tedious task that left my kitchen covered in chickpea carnage.<br />
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Next, I had to food process the chickpeas, which turned them into essentially flour, which was simply mixed with the other ingredients and then the cake was baked. I invited Tim and Maureen over to partake, despite the fact that I was nervous the cake would taste like hummus, but when we tried it, there was no hint of chickpeas. It was moist and tasted like cinnamon and orange deliciousness. Skinning aside, it was kind of an interesting little science experiment. I actually know a lot of people who are gluten intolerant, so it’s nice to know I now have a cake I can contribute to events that they can eat, too.<br />
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I think that this chapter is my favorite in the book (I may have read ahead…), because I can relate to it so well. It’s entitled “Science Never Sleeps,” and describes Dr. R’s experience at a conference, and the competitive nature of science, the panic that you need to work faster, that someone else is working on the same thing at the same time and maybe doing it better, quicker, more efficiently. Publish or perish, they say, and I can only imagine the devastation one must feel reading his or her research published by someone else, before his or her results ever had the chance to see the light of day. I have to admit that, as little as I enjoy what I do, I am thankful that my field is much more cooperative than competitive. The Neisseria field is a web of collaborations and friendships, and conferences are full of not only great science, but great fun. There is little “scooping” that occurs. I have heard that it was not always so, and I am glad that I am here for this more positive, cooperative era.<br />
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So concludes cakes for the month of May. Hopefully I’ll be more prompt in June.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-15224874298298197532012-04-30T15:58:00.000-07:002012-04-30T15:58:19.166-07:00Doves, Daffodils, and Divine InterventionThree posts behind, what?! I promise the cakes have been made. I just lost the entire month of April, and May isn't looking much better. So, to catch up so far...
I had to cheat a bit on the cake from THREE weeks ago... first of all, I switched it with the cake before it, and second, I was one day late getting it into its appropriate week. I was traveling, so I had to pick the cake that would be easier to make away from home and had to bake it when I had the most free time. I was actually in New Jersey visiting Randy; that week had been so bad at work that I literally ran away. I just booked a last minute plane ticket (special thanks to mom's AirTran points, my Delta miles, and a bit of cash from each of us) and took off for a week. To be fair, even my boss said I could use a few days off to recover from the trauma, and I did do some reading and prep work while I was up there, so it wasn't like I was being delinquent or anything. I just needed to get away. So I traded in lab work for a week of playing house wife, Pilates, nursing a sprained ankle, watching countless episodes of What Not to Wear, and enjoying some quality time with Randy.<br />
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The cake was an Italian Easter Dove Cake. It was really more of a bread, but as it says in the chapter, the difference between bread and cake is "not much." Technically, breads use yeast and cakes do not, but then what do you consider treats like banana bread? The line separating bread and cake is thin, if it exists at all. Anyway, this cake/bread, as you might guess from the name, is apparently an Italian tradition at Easter. I was skeptical about my ability to make it, because, while the dough is simple enough, it requires the baker to shape pieces of dough into doves. As we've seen before, I'm a baker, not an artist. But I carefully followed the directions, and while my birds seemed more <br />
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eagle than dove, I think I sufficiently conveyed the avian concept. We were well past Easter, and Randy is Jewish anyway, so eagle or dove, it was all the same. Sadly, Randy's oven cooks much differently than mine, and my two eagle-dove cake-breads (a cake with an identity crisis?) burned to a black carbon crisp on the bottom. We managed to salvage the more central parts of the less burnt dove, and had it not been burnt, it would have been quite tasty. It was light, slightly sweet, and slightly citrusy. It would indeed be an excellent Easter morning treat.<br />
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Upon returning home that weekend, I prepared the cake I switched with the Dove Cake, which was named Daffodil Cake with Orange Glaze. Daffodil being mostly due to the coloring, and if prepared properly, the glaze over the cake would probably make a sight reminiscent of a flower. This cake mandated the KitchenAid and a bunch of ingredients bakers keep in their kitchens, but single boys do not, so I imagine it would have been a far more stressful experience trying to make it in Randy's closet-sized bachelor kitchen. The instructions were INTENSELY detailed, which seemed daunting when reading the recipe, but it wasn't actually that difficult. The worst part was the eggs... a whole dozen, separated. (All these cakes made entirely of eggs has me seriously considering just raising some chickens. I'm sure my apartment complex would love for me to turn my screened-in porch into a chicken coop.) Also, this cake was yet another cake requiring a tube pan, so I had to substitute the springform again. In fact, this cake required all the items on my Need In Kitchen list: 10" tube pan, zester, sifter. I MacGyvered my way around the kitchen as usual, though, and it came out just fine. I invited Tim and Maureen over because I wanted to taste it and felt sad eating cake alone.<br />
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There are two awesome things about this cake. The first is that it's marbled. Marbling a cake is literally magic. You pour alternating layers of two different colored batters into the pan, and then just run a knife straight through it a couple times. No stirring or mixing or back-and-forth motion, just cut straight through. In my mind, there was no way it was going to come out marbled, but when we cut into it, it looked awesome! Super exciting. The second awesome thing is that Dr. Robinson made this cake for Jane Goodall when Dame Goodall came to UD to give the keynote speech at our undergraduate research symposium. Jane Goodall has been my hero since I was young. I remember doing a report on her for class in grade school. The day she spoke was thrilling... it's always a bit surreal to see your celebrity role model in real life. I even got her to sign my copy of one of her books! It gave me a bit of a chill to read this chapter about Dr. Goodall's visit, reliving what I saw through another's eyes, and getting a glimpse of what went on behind the scenes. Sadly, Dr. Goodall never got to eat this cake. The reason for having a cake in the first place was that Dr. Goodall's visit to UD was the day after her birthday, and the planner wanted a cake to celebrate and put Dr. Robinson in charge. But after making the cake, Dr. Robinson got a message from the planner to pick up a cake from a local market, and suddenly got too nervous that her homemade cake wouldn't live up to expectations, and so replaced it with a store-bought carrot cake that remained largely untouched. Apparently, on the ride back to the airport, the topic of cake came up, the dilemma was revealed, and Dr. Goodall assured Dr. Robinson she would have much rather had the homemade cake. I think this is evidence that Jane Goodall is a real, regular person who has accomplished the extraordinary and not some untouchable science celebrity who has let success and fame change her.<br />
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Finally, last week's cake. The saddest one, and the one I don't want to write about. Konrad and Ivana have accepted postdoctoral positions in the UK and are moving tomorrow. I'm having separation anxiety... they have been such fantastic friends to me, always ready with a margarita or glass of wine to celebrate or commiserate. I met them through Randy not long after moving here, and they took me in as a real friend, not just the girlfriend of their friend. They've been there for the ups and downs of science, my relationship, and life in general. I think it will be a bit quieter without them, and not the good kind of quiet, but the lonely kind. Anyway, they had a goodbye party at a local pub Saturday night. I desperately wanted to make a cake, because lately, it's not an occasion if cake isn't involved. But last week was so utterly crazy I didn't think I would have time. Bright and early Saturday morning, though, I checked the book on a whim, just in case it would be possible. The cake, a Krumb Kuchen, was the second easiest and quickest recipe in the book thus far, following only the dump cake in simplicity. It required only the most basic baking ingredients and took a total of an hour to make. A miracle, no doubt. There would be cake, after all!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72rMPQBu6JQOgg6kKs6blSaZmadP_XMYMjmtGKDg6A_ol-yVoxQFEIrRYDlx3ov-KFSUNiVJaswcfoe2ITIXGC_z8yw-TrrAUcim9wGWM2MUat_WszA2zUziKCh4wEnkoid51F6zHcg0/s1600/DSCN0329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg72rMPQBu6JQOgg6kKs6blSaZmadP_XMYMjmtGKDg6A_ol-yVoxQFEIrRYDlx3ov-KFSUNiVJaswcfoe2ITIXGC_z8yw-TrrAUcim9wGWM2MUat_WszA2zUziKCh4wEnkoid51F6zHcg0/s200/DSCN0329.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
I showed up at the party, cake in tow, and settled in for a Guinness and a few last memories. The party was well-attended, and the cake well-enjoyed. It was essentially a crumb cake, full of cinnamon and brown sugar. I had an early morning, so I couldn't stay out late, but I left the remaining cake, which was also serendipitous because Konrad and Ivana, having cleaned out their apartment, needed something for breakfast the next morning, and apparently the cake was perfect with coffee. Gotta love dual-purpose dessert. And that is all I will say about this one, because I will continue to deny they're leaving until they get on the plane tomorrow.
Hurray for finally being caught up. My apologies for the epic post.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-80225013009534075102012-04-16T15:08:00.008-07:002012-04-16T15:56:12.873-07:00A Surprise Shower for MaureenTop secret events and reason for Cake of the Week switch revealed!<br /><br />As most of you who actually read this know, Tim and Maureen are getting married this spring. But since they're planning their wedding long-distance and their family is somewhat spread out, Maureen is missing out on some of the complete bride-to-be experience, like bridal showers. Her mom decided this was unacceptable, so she enlisted me to help out with a surprise shower. She gathered gifts from family and sent them down here to me (which was a massive ordeal in and of itself... apparently my apartment complex doesn't understand mail delivery), and I organized the girls here for the party.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEnsg_l256cfJW2LeSvd2hyphenhyphenFDnOpZ_crR_gjBGa_DcahMfdyr_-IZc8e415w5YPcF8wAOM6CeeOZxXQ1F9FbNzJReKh7UMyJs1TGM-mFCj4QyUn99F1BL7YWA43K_1IBJHQdAfvIRwWU/s1600/Snapshot+2012-04-16+18-48-42.tiff"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 148px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEnsg_l256cfJW2LeSvd2hyphenhyphenFDnOpZ_crR_gjBGa_DcahMfdyr_-IZc8e415w5YPcF8wAOM6CeeOZxXQ1F9FbNzJReKh7UMyJs1TGM-mFCj4QyUn99F1BL7YWA43K_1IBJHQdAfvIRwWU/s200/Snapshot+2012-04-16+18-48-42.tiff" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732134430127267234" /></a>Our theme was a traditional tea party, so we all dressed up, Tim provided finger foods (including the most delicious cucumber sandwiches ever... kudos to him for his extensive research on tea time), and Maureen's coworker got her out of the apartment under the guise of pedicures while we set up. She was definitely surprised when she walked in. I think that's the most gratifying part of a surprise party: the look on the guest of honor's face when he or she walks in to a room full of people yelling "Surprise!" is always some priceless combination of confusion, excitement, and a little bit of pure terror. It was awesome.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyB0ullGBHsapVqkiIcGR31vIWFOZAdE3FctXwLdxz2SrCQVPK_uL4PV_cfVUrsPoMRSh4kjQeh5DzAeIYqZ1JRl3Ud5S_EAd9YxJFZQ4uMHUDN5zZL4JEcJJZJyi9PJD4HeSAro6O5ek/s1600/Snapshot+2012-04-16+18-44-48.tiff"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 151px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyB0ullGBHsapVqkiIcGR31vIWFOZAdE3FctXwLdxz2SrCQVPK_uL4PV_cfVUrsPoMRSh4kjQeh5DzAeIYqZ1JRl3Ud5S_EAd9YxJFZQ4uMHUDN5zZL4JEcJJZJyi9PJD4HeSAro6O5ek/s200/Snapshot+2012-04-16+18-44-48.tiff" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732133578845959186" /></a>We enjoyed tea and snacks, watched while Maureen opened her gifts, and of course played an obligatory ridiculous bridal shower game (who comes up with this stuff?) involving making wedding dresses <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha789zJ8fdLi0Vygx1GwXRriE3g7RHWPw3qnWO5V2p9yEa1r2K67mevcSgWWeVQEAyeQM59ForREN2rHuwhkvNWxL6UPl0x-9vCa9CazL5APoSvml-bDH-IWIx2QzLcCgIQhzvj2yfHsM/s1600/Snapshot+2012-04-16+18-47-00.tiff"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 127px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha789zJ8fdLi0Vygx1GwXRriE3g7RHWPw3qnWO5V2p9yEa1r2K67mevcSgWWeVQEAyeQM59ForREN2rHuwhkvNWxL6UPl0x-9vCa9CazL5APoSvml-bDH-IWIx2QzLcCgIQhzvj2yfHsM/s200/Snapshot+2012-04-16+18-47-00.tiff" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732133994566614450" /></a>out of toilet paper. I was actually quite impressed with the dress quality... we should have been featured on one of those Bravo shows or something. We may have had only toilet paper, but we certainly did "make it work."<br /><br />My contribution to the shower fare was Japanese Green Tea Cake. For the Robinson family's Year of Cake, this cake was Dr. R's, birthday cake, made by her youngest daughter. The chapter is full of the sort of melancholy people like me feel around their birthdays. A deep reflection on life, and if the best parts are already gone, and if we're up to what lies ahead. I'm pretty melancholy myself right now, with the second half of a PhD project falling down around me and in what seems like an endless quarter-life crisis. (Maybe that means I will live a long time?) A good time to remember that "where there is cake, there is hope." And thankfully, for Dr. R then and me now, there is always cake. There's no time or place for melancholy during pre-wedding festivities. But there's always time for cake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKRQSroP4mAHGPPQtU63iu7wi0wcSwDEb3lAsB_1BwQtgXnArXDOqb0x8_V81RNm7LqzzJ9CG-LO2Jf3csnaVADmT9QNXIPxbPH5eExb5UZ9A8vmYVelGi67ZWvGTmKVMZTAvSd2BpJQ/s1600/DSCN0271.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKRQSroP4mAHGPPQtU63iu7wi0wcSwDEb3lAsB_1BwQtgXnArXDOqb0x8_V81RNm7LqzzJ9CG-LO2Jf3csnaVADmT9QNXIPxbPH5eExb5UZ9A8vmYVelGi67ZWvGTmKVMZTAvSd2BpJQ/s200/DSCN0271.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732134760320386626" /></a>This cake is as green as red velvet cake is red. A bit terrifying, actually... I'm not sure something that color should be ingested. Unlike red velvet cake, however, the green color is completely natural, created by the addition of matcha, or green tea powder. An elusive and expensive ingredient, I managed to find some at the Farmer's Market, and thankfully, a little goes a long way, because my tiny container nearly cost me my left hand. Although I'm not sure what I'll do with the rest of it. I have no idea what it's used <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiVg7oj-kfT5xz3eVEq0XXv8tXZiXX3-H2I6mYpCvUnLok_6VHTlktafpotPUHn0FwBiYXIfejp_bnq6x6tRH81PUcc_Br3BkTX9r9wDuhwIa_N3aXH4CF7ufrpo3dWA0t0DWiQtQ2CqI/s1600/DSCN0272.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiVg7oj-kfT5xz3eVEq0XXv8tXZiXX3-H2I6mYpCvUnLok_6VHTlktafpotPUHn0FwBiYXIfejp_bnq6x6tRH81PUcc_Br3BkTX9r9wDuhwIa_N3aXH4CF7ufrpo3dWA0t0DWiQtQ2CqI/s200/DSCN0272.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732134879310680530" /></a>for other than this cake. I guess I could just make a lot of cake, but then I'd probably need to buy some chickens, because other than green, the cake is entirely eggs and air. I had to whip 4 egg whites, beat together 6 egg yolks and 4 whole eggs, and then mix together both egg mixtures. Crazy. I suppose it's healthy, though, with all that protein. Or that's what I'll tell myself. There was so much batter (and I may not have had an appropriate pan) that I made two: one for the shower, and one tiny loaf cake for me. The cake was served with a ginger dessert sauce, which soaked right into the airy cake. It was interesting and different, and went well with our tea party theme.<br /><br />Successful cake, successful shower, surprised and happy bride-to-be... all in all, a great Cake Day.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VfPQj063s1K5L6uFHYfdmXwxq3SrsslodY2urpv19VGexrGZXNXMoaSIq6-aC-MM-c1Tc5ePeFfEFZGOx5IJY6obFheVY9j70PadZKaCbAPXgL0E-K1WCy5JEklZFFGC8-OFrq6mwhA/s1600/DSCN0294.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VfPQj063s1K5L6uFHYfdmXwxq3SrsslodY2urpv19VGexrGZXNXMoaSIq6-aC-MM-c1Tc5ePeFfEFZGOx5IJY6obFheVY9j70PadZKaCbAPXgL0E-K1WCy5JEklZFFGC8-OFrq6mwhA/s200/DSCN0294.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732135105938789986" /></a>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-89103955822386456032012-04-06T18:40:00.005-07:002012-04-06T20:20:52.657-07:00Sometimes, it pays to be redundant.So, due to some still top-secret events, I had to switch cakes for this week and last week. It will be worth it, you'll see.<br /><br />So last week, I was making out my grocery list and grabbed the Cake Book to add the cake ingredients to my list. I flipped it open, and imagine my surprise when I discovered that the cake was... pancakes. What.<br /><br />First of all, pancakes are not cake. They're flat and boring and there's no frosting or crumb topping or anything that is good about cake. Second of all, as you can probably tell, I don't particularly like pancakes. This is more the fault of condiments than the actual pancakes themselves, but, when you don't like syrup or butter, really, how boring are pancakes? And third of all... pancakes are not cake. The end.<br /><br />Clearly, Cake Day was in jeopardy. It's not Pancake Day, after all. I read through the chapter to gain some understanding about what surely must have been an oversight. Aside from learning some... interesting... things about my advisor I was not previously aware of, I learned that on that Cake Day, they were leaving for a spring break trip, and so to ensure Cake Day was fulfilled, they whipped up these pancakes. I can't decide if this shows more or less dedication than me... I would have moved Cake Day or had two the next week; they got their day in, but the authenticity is questionable.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Ug-HqoPcEENixEnU6CZG30dZtfsfHteheW-k4mn1FPuSyxbR3d7p_rYqeAy6OUHGU-58cjsKP9Q-zx1Xj97CBQnyhQZpG6aRBga_bxcYSL-rP9nL11TgLIp-hOqL6gX9ibdBvjN1ios/s1600/DSCN0264.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Ug-HqoPcEENixEnU6CZG30dZtfsfHteheW-k4mn1FPuSyxbR3d7p_rYqeAy6OUHGU-58cjsKP9Q-zx1Xj97CBQnyhQZpG6aRBga_bxcYSL-rP9nL11TgLIp-hOqL6gX9ibdBvjN1ios/s200/DSCN0264.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728479702883367554" /></a>One really cannot take pancakes anywhere, and I wasn't about to eat an entire batch myself, so I did some creative thinking and decided pancakes would be a perfect post-long run recovery food. I invited Chris for a 7 miler followed by a pancake extravaganza, complete with butter, syrup, strawberries, bananas, whipped cream, and chopped nuts (I need toppings too, ok?). As far as ease of recipe is concerned, this one really... takes the cake... ahem. I mean, pancakes are pretty simple as it is, although for me, the usual result is disaster. But even I did not fail using this recipe.<br /><br />During the boring process of waiting for pancakes to cook, Chris got this crazy idea. What if we made... a pancake cake? A cake with pancakes as the cake and toppings as the frosting? Brilliant! We had enough extras at our disposal to make it work. So I present to you the most amazing recipe ever: Pancake Cakes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJS6QKd8dZ_jOVx9i_RtWJPnoXmJdIMmKhLkcTvvVf66XDsgKJWyF_D0nXn8gWRTrOo2bXQjNtblarjRrU_fXPALZHOUU7a6kiobMplS0pb9hAh1sunuHnegvrYWsGiGyt0Y_oo51KvZk/s1600/DSCN0267.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJS6QKd8dZ_jOVx9i_RtWJPnoXmJdIMmKhLkcTvvVf66XDsgKJWyF_D0nXn8gWRTrOo2bXQjNtblarjRrU_fXPALZHOUU7a6kiobMplS0pb9hAh1sunuHnegvrYWsGiGyt0Y_oo51KvZk/s200/DSCN0267.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728483326291748930" /></a>1. Make pancakes. (Use the recipe from The Cake Chronicles, because they are legitimately the best pancakes I've ever eaten.)<br />2. Place 1 pancake on a plate.<br />3. Spread pancake with layer of whipped cream and top with banana slices.<br />4. Lay second pancake on top of first.<br />5. Spread second pancake with layer of whipped cream and top with strawberry slices.<br />6. Lay third pancake on top of second.<br />7. Cover whole stack with a layer of whipped cream "frosting."<br />8. Sprinkle chopped nuts over the top of the cake.<br />9. Serve and enjoy!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJlshpBaf864tKlKD4-IpUcwlU-ht_PsBEhp8PK6Im3v8x0N0Uc-sIuoGoJPWIIJA08dxDpooo2q_zloIh3uF_sqY_5GXM6lqEAw344kibTA83g4TOEIZV5teJ_P3fv2sb3PzwXZDbO0/s1600/DSCN0268.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJlshpBaf864tKlKD4-IpUcwlU-ht_PsBEhp8PK6Im3v8x0N0Uc-sIuoGoJPWIIJA08dxDpooo2q_zloIh3uF_sqY_5GXM6lqEAw344kibTA83g4TOEIZV5teJ_P3fv2sb3PzwXZDbO0/s200/DSCN0268.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728485598525919906" /></a>As you can tell by the pictures, it was fantastic. As you'll have to imagine, it was also delicious. To be fair, I did try a single pancake with butter and syrup as the book suggests, and it wasn't too bad... almost enough to make me a pancake convert.<br /><br />Anyway, thanks to Chris' help, Cake Day was saved, the Pancake Cake was born, and two very hungry runners got very full tummies. Now that is a happy ending.<br /><br />Some day I will tell this story as a bedtime story to my children: The Legend of Pancake Cake. There will no doubt be an epic movie based on this story as well. Hopefully I'll be played by someone awesome. Like Anna Torv. And then we can add this part about the failure to invent the Pancake Cake in time to save Cake Day in the alternate universe, and so agents from the other universe cross into our universe to try to steal our Pancake Cake, inadvertently triggering the destruction of both universes... I wonder if J.J. Abrams would be willing to work with me on this...Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-61604605921387994362012-04-06T18:01:00.005-07:002012-04-06T18:39:56.941-07:00If you give a mouse a cookie...He's going to ask to upgrade to cake.<br /><br />My coworkers have apparently become quite spoiled. Justin informed me the other week that "there hasn't been cake in awhile." A subtle hint. It was actually true... there were too many events at which to showcase my cakes, so the lab got the short end of the stick and missed out. Lucky for them, the cake from two weeks ago had no VIP appearances to make, so they got this cake all to themselves.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWlgI4vd8B4BamB9XDccSy7VN3eNQkRp-YF-5SWee1b6vlBsDEWRfxIlJFRiut0qlkP6wVKLq5AiMbc96AelnSs3DGswa2WZHFNpAzRxdhBV9Gb4D9qyhKTgRYeG4x1LAQAHpCUEXsV7o/s1600/DSCN0255.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWlgI4vd8B4BamB9XDccSy7VN3eNQkRp-YF-5SWee1b6vlBsDEWRfxIlJFRiut0qlkP6wVKLq5AiMbc96AelnSs3DGswa2WZHFNpAzRxdhBV9Gb4D9qyhKTgRYeG4x1LAQAHpCUEXsV7o/s200/DSCN0255.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728464522634096802" /></a>The cake was Toffee Nutmeg Cake. Interestingly, toffee was not a component of the cake at all. It was almost entirely flour (3 cups) and brown sugar (1 pound. No seriously) serially diluted into 3 separate mixes, which in the end condensed down to 2 separate mixes: the cake, and the top. I was unconvinced that two dry, powdery mixes would make a cake, but... you know how the saying goes... remember the Tomato Cake. So I didn't ask questions, layered the mixes in the pan as instructed, and put it in the oven to bake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2CqkSxLlC3IYzJ8ZlBbCYdEhXIntX-6YW3P3ueKXfof_u-6Pz0F82v6vr6GbQ_TBHuP2J5XmTtAU7fCJkNUacUU1HQPgXNggJt7U-D-qUjvNyU6ELBWQTB7S6KUuSqLMs9wIWH9m5-A/s1600/DSCN0258.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2CqkSxLlC3IYzJ8ZlBbCYdEhXIntX-6YW3P3ueKXfof_u-6Pz0F82v6vr6GbQ_TBHuP2J5XmTtAU7fCJkNUacUU1HQPgXNggJt7U-D-qUjvNyU6ELBWQTB7S6KUuSqLMs9wIWH9m5-A/s200/DSCN0258.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728465527272942946" /></a>I should note that I was supposed to use a 9" tube pan with a removable bottom. But I'm not privy to such luxuries, and cash is tight, so I improvised and used my springform pan. Besides, we bought that pan for this project, so I'm going to get good use out of it. The cake came out fine, probably just slightly less pretty. But I was fairly certain it wouldn't survive long enough in the office for anyone to notice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHXP_Yv5L0CDd2LT92gBv6up97g2aL2QhfIx_3uvldXS2KvDORt_9_yUPnKbtUbo1nio1WMPCVTsjBvC-0g3jQYt2pq9NjdRzQGEFsatsVbJ0k6MmuHaiXmqqRYa0cUgW-xvRKo6iJMQ/s1600/DSCN0259.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHXP_Yv5L0CDd2LT92gBv6up97g2aL2QhfIx_3uvldXS2KvDORt_9_yUPnKbtUbo1nio1WMPCVTsjBvC-0g3jQYt2pq9NjdRzQGEFsatsVbJ0k6MmuHaiXmqqRYa0cUgW-xvRKo6iJMQ/s200/DSCN0259.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728466913875575634" /></a>It was indeed well received, and went quickly. It was delicious... the cake was soft and spicy, and the topping was a crispy toffee-like layer full of pecans and brown sugar with a crunch that contrasted nicely with the texture of the cake itself. By the time I went home, it was entirely gone. I thought perhaps I'd satisfied the lab cake craving for awhile, but one of the postdocs checked every day for the rest of the week on the "off-chance there might be cake." Sadly, they're in a cake dry spell again. I'm sure I'll hear about it soon enough.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-3430222909231510792012-03-27T13:16:00.005-07:002012-03-27T13:24:31.271-07:00Happy (Extremely Belated) St. Patrick's Day!Here I am, 2 weeks late with another entry. I'm so bad at this. Although I'm 90% certain no one reads this anymore anyway, so I suppose it doesn't much matter.<br /><br />Grumpiness aside...<br /><br />Randy was in town last weekend, and it was St. Patrick's Day, so there were many festivities. Tim was corning a beef, and I was craving my mom's special cabbage recipe, a St. Patrick's Day staple in our house for years, so as part of our celebration, we decided to have an authentic Irish dinner. (Well, as authentic as we Americans can get, I suppose.) Tim prepared the corned beef and potatoes, Chris brought Irish variety beer, and we brought the cabbage, Irish soda bread (a baking adventure itself), and, of course, cake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3v02hRTl9fe7FephPiRJrqWpI7VozlToP9L4RadhKBEJkR0BjdLke3K6ke3ebwGiAr2zEtB9a20y99n5E-K1K8w7j_-Ih-ubjPEUJaAX3k7j9Aotp3su1slaCE14K0h7khResA5tKbWA/s1600/DSCN0217.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3v02hRTl9fe7FephPiRJrqWpI7VozlToP9L4RadhKBEJkR0BjdLke3K6ke3ebwGiAr2zEtB9a20y99n5E-K1K8w7j_-Ih-ubjPEUJaAX3k7j9Aotp3su1slaCE14K0h7khResA5tKbWA/s200/DSCN0217.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724674566629631586" /></a>The cake was Sacher Torte, which is apparently the most famous chocolate cake in the world. Of course, I've never heard of it, so how famous can it really be? Then again, I don't - wait, didn't - like chocolate cake, so I'm probably not the chocolate cake expert, hence my ignorance. Anyway, the cake is two thin layers of dense bittersweet chocolate cake<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XgMhA9LMOioLgVq7O5JyJOpYMxOQm_9Ffnd8Rq-01QMq2N2H8hCFnoQLKpMPHolM1l9d77je0hFdXtA89uC2s_o0n1DfxGFvt4g8tS0hfJZ6GTS_1iz9yhgoouIaRgqi8pxS7q-yLyc/s1600/Snapshot+2012-03-27+16-22-43.tiff"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 146px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XgMhA9LMOioLgVq7O5JyJOpYMxOQm_9Ffnd8Rq-01QMq2N2H8hCFnoQLKpMPHolM1l9d77je0hFdXtA89uC2s_o0n1DfxGFvt4g8tS0hfJZ6GTS_1iz9yhgoouIaRgqi8pxS7q-yLyc/s200/Snapshot+2012-03-27+16-22-43.tiff" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724675089962729378" /></a> filled with apricot jam and covered in a dark chocolate glaze. The most traumatic part of the cake was trying to half the single thin chocolate cake (well, that and opening the rum to go in the apricot filling... I can't smell rum now without flashbacks to fruitcake...), but it was overall a cake that looked more impressive than the work that went into it. Randy was a fantastic photographer, conducting a rather intense photo shoot of the cake making process. Sadly, there's just not enough room for all the pictures.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-TEjAFOEH5Iz5MSGhSageYuy5OKMcHHxtU77rGu8CUd0DOu08yrAtis76pGcGURDcFj8vgCWiom96NrDMxeRSnLRCMwXTOZwl2X5Y1EhnVEKaEIYy0YBOqq106Nj85Medt6AJZuR69A4/s1600/DSCN0233.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-TEjAFOEH5Iz5MSGhSageYuy5OKMcHHxtU77rGu8CUd0DOu08yrAtis76pGcGURDcFj8vgCWiom96NrDMxeRSnLRCMwXTOZwl2X5Y1EhnVEKaEIYy0YBOqq106Nj85Medt6AJZuR69A4/s200/DSCN0233.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724674281326119938" /></a>Dinner was delicious... we really outdid ourselves in a fine showcase of our culinary talents. The book clearly states that whipped cream is an important part of Sacher Torte, so after plenty of Irish fare, we dolloped generous helpings of homemade whipped cream on top of our slices of cake, and enjoyed the excellent finale to our meal. Most of us had second helpings, leaving little room for the enjoyment of Irish beverages later in the night, but it was a worthy trade.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc9HmmALSI3XWFhCC3Yl6244lpL2Isy2xfKVhIBxG5riHB0daPrwm-D0fvIE0DJYz6cdSvyXEvxZa1TbTPs24N5IBRJOeF56tlM2I3nMjeBd9ZjSJg5CrAQy7M_wthWSUimzLLJ07t4oc/s1600/DSCN0235.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc9HmmALSI3XWFhCC3Yl6244lpL2Isy2xfKVhIBxG5riHB0daPrwm-D0fvIE0DJYz6cdSvyXEvxZa1TbTPs24N5IBRJOeF56tlM2I3nMjeBd9ZjSJg5CrAQy7M_wthWSUimzLLJ07t4oc/s200/DSCN0235.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724673810186938466" /></a>I'm honestly not usually a huge St. Patrick's Day fan. Too many people pretending to like Irish punk bands and getting sloppy drunk early in the morning for my taste. But this year may have changed my attitude a bit. Good friends, good food, good beer, time with my sweetie, and fabulous chocolate cake... sounds like a great holiday to me!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-86174198429649631132012-03-21T10:40:00.004-07:002012-03-21T12:00:36.248-07:00Cake vs PieAn age-old battle. Which is better? I remember having unnecessarily lengthy discussions with a dear friend from college about how we wished we could have pie at our weddings instead of cake. I was never particularly fond of cake, actually; frosting was the only draw for me, and I was very particular about the type of frosting worth the pursuit of cake. Pie was far more appealing, because there was less "bread" and more goodness: apples, pumpkin, pecans, the chocolate cream of French Silk pie. I was determined that if I ever got married, I would find a way to replace the expected giant, tiered, white (boring) cake with pie. Preferably my grandmother's pecan. This cake adventure and my (re)discovery of cupcakes, however, has since changed my tune. I would be willing to accept a cake... but only if it was the red velvet or the New Orleans chocolate or THE white cake from this book. My intense love for cupcakes would also make tiers of cupcakes an option. Although I haven't completely given up on pie. Mini pies perhaps? If tiers of mini cakes in the form of cupcakes work, surely tiers of mini pies would be just as good.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIY7scPy1YO0qoh8jH6PyvLIoJuG-b6UUrlt0fe8tQgRXZqPevW96l7RFpLLUIz2c-eAHBzpEsmgGBgl2p16f1P5bULhs0kPZRBugWTchFaTNIdlaVLnyGljwWhOH_wn2H2L_obzR0dzA/s1600/DSCN0208.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIY7scPy1YO0qoh8jH6PyvLIoJuG-b6UUrlt0fe8tQgRXZqPevW96l7RFpLLUIz2c-eAHBzpEsmgGBgl2p16f1P5bULhs0kPZRBugWTchFaTNIdlaVLnyGljwWhOH_wn2H2L_obzR0dzA/s200/DSCN0208.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722413543095225858" /></a>The cake from two weeks ago (I'm so behind, again) might just provide a truce in the cake vs pie battle. A recipe from one of Dr. Robinson's good friends, Val's Boston Apple Cake is essentially an apple pie in cake's clothing. It's delightfully simple, one of those throw everything in a bowl, mix, pour in pan/pie plate, and bake kind of cakes. There's just enough dough to be considered a cake, but it's full all the way through with apple slices, nuts, and raisins, providing enough filling to appease the pie lovers. Tastes like apple pie, with a texture more like cake or a quick bread. And, most importantly, delicious.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwb9NqBbInEtB02t3r9H9JK0Dg5wcKBSvrSkI5AgU40kqMI0sEtXuiQj0ahBchJVHSPzVom4v3VuaZVjtI7RAX64lf0YuBRrZUaAPXKaXKVTzJ8_gbu2s9aWevW-hlAMUhVfam52sRdg0/s1600/DSCN0215.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwb9NqBbInEtB02t3r9H9JK0Dg5wcKBSvrSkI5AgU40kqMI0sEtXuiQj0ahBchJVHSPzVom4v3VuaZVjtI7RAX64lf0YuBRrZUaAPXKaXKVTzJ8_gbu2s9aWevW-hlAMUhVfam52sRdg0/s200/DSCN0215.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722413754342355234" /></a>The chapter containing this recipe is all about friendship, family, and spending time with people we truly want to spend time with. In that spirit, I took the cake over to Tim and Maureen's, and Chris joined us for an evening of chatting, Bones watching, and cake eating. We ate almost the entire thing... there were two small pieces (or one large, I suppose) left by the time I went home.<br /><br />Perhaps the wedding pastry plan should be Boston Apple Cake cupcakes. Sounds like the best way to please cake eaters, pie eaters, and cupcake lovers alike!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-515758828044728582012-03-11T13:49:00.006-07:002012-03-11T14:56:15.125-07:00Happy Birthday, Chris!I love when there are actual occasions for cake. I get to show off my cake baking skills, and it's like an instant gift! Plus it's way more impressive and appreciated than a store bought cake.<br /><br />The title of the chapter containing last week's cake recipe is "Science Is Not a Cake Walk." Truer words have never been spoken. We've been subject to some bad science karma in the lab lately, and right now, when all I want in the world is to graduate and move on with my life, failed experiments and unnecessary delays seem even more frustrating.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIM9wtOCpgMu5V-TE1mJoc4CP9TSMvpNKhL_evrvcJLYZsTv8t4lJ_72SOLogqPPWvd4xhAmYPFEonDEai_mscjQUk76DUt_3pi40rWZ8OUfABW-0oGgs8RMOwpvHT58N_KKa_cv9LGBs/s1600/DSCN0192.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIM9wtOCpgMu5V-TE1mJoc4CP9TSMvpNKhL_evrvcJLYZsTv8t4lJ_72SOLogqPPWvd4xhAmYPFEonDEai_mscjQUk76DUt_3pi40rWZ8OUfABW-0oGgs8RMOwpvHT58N_KKa_cv9LGBs/s200/DSCN0192.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718758739526639186" /></a>Thankfully, we can find reasons to celebrate. Chris' birthday was last week, and in observance, we went out for Mexican and margaritas. This week's cake was not a tower of magnificence, but was easy to transport and easy to eat, and it was impressive all done up with candles.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Ke5EDH2zqGAUaIUiftQCtyFCw15zUlU4EcuHocUANk9XH7TcCkksoNWmG7fwW6iuhc7l8MbPnOVvryvIFOtR0uJK9tLwBGk6bu1Kou2EjPDVRsSN4gOvEPYELnwzwh91g2ZE3FX8RDY/s1600/DSCN0189.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Ke5EDH2zqGAUaIUiftQCtyFCw15zUlU4EcuHocUANk9XH7TcCkksoNWmG7fwW6iuhc7l8MbPnOVvryvIFOtR0uJK9tLwBGk6bu1Kou2EjPDVRsSN4gOvEPYELnwzwh91g2ZE3FX8RDY/s200/DSCN0189.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718754601011340242" /></a>The recipe was Chocolate-Pecan cake, inspired by New Orleans pralines, confections full of pecans, chocolate and caramel. It was supposed to be simple, the "cake walk" that the past week's science had not been. The cake itself actually was; it was essentially a glorified cookie, and making the batter was as easy as whipping up a batch of slightly fancy chocolate chip cookies. The caramel sauce, however, proved to be a challenge. I'd never made caramel before, and apparently there are all sorts of rules, the most important being: once the sugar is dissolved, DO NOT TOUCH IT!!! So while I stirred and waited for my sugar to turn "a medium-amber color," my sugar water slowly boiled away, and I ended up with... sugar. Who would have guessed that when <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgE0Xb210-A7DEAhykGGPPhJf1g1PO2SntJkQFrtN-0LtRRXC79ph1skjdctDCHO68FspRES1I_6Dyzs5xAvoXAEmlVAusl9ZOf7dhfvstWno1lTqluowviiDffOHvBodBxCYgxzT7t0/s1600/DSCN0190.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgE0Xb210-A7DEAhykGGPPhJf1g1PO2SntJkQFrtN-0LtRRXC79ph1skjdctDCHO68FspRES1I_6Dyzs5xAvoXAEmlVAusl9ZOf7dhfvstWno1lTqluowviiDffOHvBodBxCYgxzT7t0/s200/DSCN0190.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718751701052404610" /></a>you dissolve sugar in water and then boil off all the water you end up right back where you started? I was, of course, out of sugar after that, so I had to run to the store to buy more sugar, and after extensive research on caramel-making, my second attempt yielded a much better result. Slightly darker than it should have been, resulting in a nuttier flavor instead of just sweet, but it worked on the cookie cake, and everyone enjoyed it, no complaints. And now I'm an expert caramel maker. Or something like that.<br /><br />Mexican, margaritas, company, and cake made for a fun birthday celebration and a welcome way to forget a long week.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnt1pGcf7RVCKHE3BhmjsDtwNR5B0lhdBlLYzbi_zUffgGFdnhlJD2gbD_2lgvzdcSTugRAS4BbBDMyV4lVVq9C0b0Bld08FiJgjBHZioxsZAnPoG8Box4_jhqF6gbO4ch2B_9xGsb5fg/s1600/DSCN0196.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnt1pGcf7RVCKHE3BhmjsDtwNR5B0lhdBlLYzbi_zUffgGFdnhlJD2gbD_2lgvzdcSTugRAS4BbBDMyV4lVVq9C0b0Bld08FiJgjBHZioxsZAnPoG8Box4_jhqF6gbO4ch2B_9xGsb5fg/s200/DSCN0196.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718760363130279234" /></a>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-78027798794016660462012-03-04T18:04:00.009-08:002012-03-04T19:23:38.501-08:00I hope there's cake in Heaven<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluXW3OIe_reZfGjRVuCEy-ksy1kyceL9EHGIfIVlLOntyOG7qR5gfNzWVI90kjqaXeqW46LKa7D8-Zrj1PlE0GiW2Vggdw4mQoTKWm9Pr75-uhf2CrWaYV2VlOoXW-I3ghJNE_j83fEg/s1600/DSCN0178.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluXW3OIe_reZfGjRVuCEy-ksy1kyceL9EHGIfIVlLOntyOG7qR5gfNzWVI90kjqaXeqW46LKa7D8-Zrj1PlE0GiW2Vggdw4mQoTKWm9Pr75-uhf2CrWaYV2VlOoXW-I3ghJNE_j83fEg/s200/DSCN0178.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716237139155716562" /></a>Last week's cake was angel food cake. I was obviously panicked. Angel food cake? Do you know how hard that is? Do you know how many eggs that is? It's 14. 14 EGGS! 14 eggs whites dumped into a bowl and brought to room temperature and beat into magic. I enlisted Maureen's help to prevent any nervous breakdowns.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtcSXzNsyYmZ_7YhLgf0Bzw8WrHUJCesolYh9D0fSgaU3UJuiiSA5wOdXtxJQe82ff3OXFSMKkX7bIfpE4V4VsS11GOZ6s6ycWjJD7UNqbZ5cAf6hfHtR_0j8OhTUhKx9kEOALho6ff2A/s1600/DSCN0181.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtcSXzNsyYmZ_7YhLgf0Bzw8WrHUJCesolYh9D0fSgaU3UJuiiSA5wOdXtxJQe82ff3OXFSMKkX7bIfpE4V4VsS11GOZ6s6ycWjJD7UNqbZ5cAf6hfHtR_0j8OhTUhKx9kEOALho6ff2A/s200/DSCN0181.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716238075503324114" /></a>It turns out that an angel food cake is actually entirely egg whites. A little sugar, a little flour, but seriously... mostly egg whites. I guess that means it's healthy? Lots of protein, low calorie, low fat... it's like a dieting cake lover's dream. Anyway... beating all those egg whites made a giant, fluffy "dough" which was really more like foam with a life of its own. Even my biggest mixing bowl was barely big enough to contain it. The pan also had some issues... I didn't have a tube pan, but a bundt pan is pretty <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqG8QV78nHL-TLu0kqM4b-xEVGmhqR9zsI4OaZmktUPGN1Sex5AEm5VrO7jAHCVcA6SUg65TPCqcSmMubeBscYc1-dU1VlVjH6KnFsjdOeZhb7TpUyMkAH20oZRxMGNnlL9i0Fjy37xc/s1600/DSCN0182.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqG8QV78nHL-TLu0kqM4b-xEVGmhqR9zsI4OaZmktUPGN1Sex5AEm5VrO7jAHCVcA6SUg65TPCqcSmMubeBscYc1-dU1VlVjH6KnFsjdOeZhb7TpUyMkAH20oZRxMGNnlL9i0Fjy37xc/s200/DSCN0182.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716239424979404002" /></a>similar, and I bought that bundt pan for that darn Tunnel of Fudge cake, so I was determined to put it to good use, and decided it would be close enough. Like the bowl, it barely held the batter, but we made it work. It was slightly terrifying to watch the cake slowly rise in the oven, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zqQ9tG3QeGQDtw7Lgw12tObw9JG7PxRUF1rNuy3-2cvZmjIrd82bHulq377hf9sy5qFWQxjKLGWCLPD-vauejEY7qorbgWlO74xJhemupBm8jrogrVejTqnMyeOyaLKXZ5nLPq5QFL4/s1600/Snapshot+2012-03-04+21-52-58.tiff"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 149px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zqQ9tG3QeGQDtw7Lgw12tObw9JG7PxRUF1rNuy3-2cvZmjIrd82bHulq377hf9sy5qFWQxjKLGWCLPD-vauejEY7qorbgWlO74xJhemupBm8jrogrVejTqnMyeOyaLKXZ5nLPq5QFL4/s200/Snapshot+2012-03-04+21-52-58.tiff" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716240795535576738" /></a>threatening to spill over the sides and overtake the entire inside of the oven like The Blob or something, but the cake came out intact and the oven unscathed. Balancing the cake on a bottle to cool was a whole other adventure... and equally nerve wracking because at any minute Frye could jump on the counter, knock it over, and devour half of it. I had a fitful night of sleep, imagining noises signifying the destruction of our hard work, but thankfully the cake made it through the night.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAgc8DeH2NUFC63KtJ4QpPwZ0RTfHZ2dXjR8xkXRHYXPavrMY2PSWZ1Iknb7J57foh85BYQ8MmhTRvYKqQjr_lj-35xpzaGvgOw18Wn4KM2RcxrktKZBLECDt1BX6_oxT3Z7uT08BLJ0/s1600/DSCN0185.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAgc8DeH2NUFC63KtJ4QpPwZ0RTfHZ2dXjR8xkXRHYXPavrMY2PSWZ1Iknb7J57foh85BYQ8MmhTRvYKqQjr_lj-35xpzaGvgOw18Wn4KM2RcxrktKZBLECDt1BX6_oxT3Z7uT08BLJ0/s200/DSCN0185.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716243543769068162" /></a>It did not, however, make it out of the pan. The directions said to use an ungreased pan, and my bundt pan is super nonstick and super new, so I thought it wouldn't be a problem. But, as you can tell from the picture, it was. It would not come out of that pan. After much wriggling and prying with spoons, forks, knives, etc., I finally got the cake out, but it wasn't pretty. Usually, that's ok, because frosting hides all kinds of sins, but this cake was not meant to be frosted. Certainly it could be; Dr. Robinson mentions making a fudge frosting for hers since her guests at the time were chocolate lovers, and my grandma uses a cream cheese frosting on hers, but this cake was art, and I wanted it's true flavor and texture to be unobstructed. Sadly, this meant I had to present an ugly cake at lab meeting.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpr-iozzgrvTUB97mqm7ZJ4gVqCmC2oc4bwB993FpJ06Iel13HFwyKjWUSuzMkDalBaqkxSP96xe8dq6OL9VNBy025TRFLbUfKj1jRlebPssDKQlEb-Z0vzmLjYWfHFAOEfQDCi_xGyE/s1600/DSCN0188.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpr-iozzgrvTUB97mqm7ZJ4gVqCmC2oc4bwB993FpJ06Iel13HFwyKjWUSuzMkDalBaqkxSP96xe8dq6OL9VNBy025TRFLbUfKj1jRlebPssDKQlEb-Z0vzmLjYWfHFAOEfQDCi_xGyE/s200/DSCN0188.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716246828125819442" /></a>It actually didn't matter, though, because that cake was gone faster than anything I've ever brought in. I didn't even get a picture of the cut cake, and I was lucky to snag a couple pieces for Tim and Maureen as a thank you for their help with it. It got outstanding reviews, and for good reason. It was so soft and fluffy and light and just perfectly sweet enough... I want a bed made out of that cake. This was one troublesome cake that was worth it. If only I can figure out how to make it pretty next time...<br /><br />I didn't read the chapter containing this recipe before I made the cake, but reading it now brings a little tear to my eye. Dr. Robinson made this cake the week of the anniversary of her mother's death, in honor of the horrendous angel food cake her mother once made for a student council luncheon. That cake was also ugly, and resulted in a mortifying cake debacle for the 3rd grade Dr. R. My cake is thus a fitting tribute: same cake, same disaster. I hope that angels really get to eat angel food cake, and that in heaven, all angel food cakes come out perfectly--golden, even, soft, pillowy, sweet and delicious. I hope Dr. R's mom is enjoying a perfect piece of angel food cake right now, smiling over the cake debacle and her daughter's efforts to honor her memory. And I definitely hope she saves a piece or two of that cake for us when we get there.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-72739987717264284632012-02-26T19:07:00.008-08:002012-02-27T20:47:04.122-08:00February is for Cake EatersAh, February... the month full of completely worthless holidays. (Except MLK Day... that one's kind of important. But you know, the other ones.) But any holiday provides an excuse for cake, and cake makes any holiday seem legit, so it's a win-win situation.<br /><br />I do have a confession to make. (No, it's not that I'm terrible at keeping up with this blog. That's obvious.) Two weeks ago... I skipped making a cake. It was impossible. Dance and work keep me too busy during the week, and I ran the Tough Mudder that Saturday (don't do it, ever, seriously), which meant Friday I had to prepare and go to bed early, and all day Saturday was spent in Middle-of-Nowhere, GA, climbing walls, crawling through mud, running through woods, jumping into train cars of ice water, and otherwise torturing myself along with a couple thousand of my closest friends. So last week I made two cakes to compensate. Which brings me to my second confession: I switched the order. It just made sense, as you'll see... I needed to at least give one holiday its respective cake. Honestly, I don't feel too guilty about it. I'm only one person. Dr. Robinson did have her whole family a lot of the time. The important thing is that they all get made. And they will.<br /><br />So... on to the cakes...<br /><br />February 14th was, obviously, Valentine's Day/Singles Awareness Day/Tuesday... all perfectly good reasons to celebrate and all perfectly good reasons for cake. The Valentine's Day cake in this book is a Red Velvet Cake. The only thing in the world that makes me happier than cupcakes is red velvet cake. I've taken to many aspects of Southern cuisine, including fried green tomatoes, collard greens, grits... but the pinnacle of southern fare is definitely red velvet cake. So you can imagine my ecstasy upon opening the book and seeing this recipe before me. An avid Valentine's Day hater, I was for once excited for the ridiculous holiday.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcNit-1qR4elzTaLNW9XrZK-dbLWEzbtN9Me7u03GI3FWox1_1hVl3zUJdjNB6C9QgMGEKXncikvqGHJKUwTSJBhGIEie5S_Vn_NR7PjCwydyKSkAcDNxUHeq-SmaVJYVt_Q57eD6DMlw/s1600/DSCN0164.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcNit-1qR4elzTaLNW9XrZK-dbLWEzbtN9Me7u03GI3FWox1_1hVl3zUJdjNB6C9QgMGEKXncikvqGHJKUwTSJBhGIEie5S_Vn_NR7PjCwydyKSkAcDNxUHeq-SmaVJYVt_Q57eD6DMlw/s200/DSCN0164.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713660019612062050" /></a>Sadly, I wish I could go back and undo knowing how red velvet cake is made. First of all, red velvet cake is chocolate cake; the red comes from red food coloring... 2 ounces of it. 2 ounces! Do you know how hard it is to even find 2 ounces of red food coloring? (Look on the top shelf between the spices and the jello all the way in the back.) It also requires you to sour buttermilk. And you will inevitably turn your kitchen a pretty shade of pink.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMixXnD7IRJMzeMpy7sgYa0o31iXiCtsYxhM5Fi5mW8FvDcoc1CO7zwNUncY1tAIbyWq7nT6IuVW9rQ_XysNEzHra2P3DPeS4UdIx3bEXpH1jTLfHibTkBWL12FWJ_n0njDYe7epbH82g/s1600/DSCN0169.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMixXnD7IRJMzeMpy7sgYa0o31iXiCtsYxhM5Fi5mW8FvDcoc1CO7zwNUncY1tAIbyWq7nT6IuVW9rQ_XysNEzHra2P3DPeS4UdIx3bEXpH1jTLfHibTkBWL12FWJ_n0njDYe7epbH82g/s200/DSCN0169.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713661148625937906" /></a>Sketchy neon batter and baker's frustrations aside, the cake actually came out beautifully. I had no complaints. Neither did my coworkers. It was dense and moist and perfect. The suggested icing was a whipped cream type icing, and the light, fluffy texture and creamy taste complimented the cake quite well. I'm a fan of cream cheese icing on red velvet, though, so next time I'll be trying a cream cheese frosting. It even recommends it as an alternative in the book. One of my coworkers was so pleased that she wrote me an e-mail and copied the rest of the lab congratulating me on my fine work and thanking me for thinking of them and bringing them this fabulous cake. A pleasant Valentine's Day indeed. And, I assure you, a new Valentine's Day tradition has begun.<br /><br />The second cake I made last weekend, although its intended purpose was Groundhog Day (a holiday even more ridiculous and appalling than Valentine's Day). W<span style="font-style:italic;">ho would make a Groundhog Day cake?</span> you ask. Well, this cake is based on a cake made by Sanders Chocolate, a candy store in downtown Detroit, where Dr. Robinson is from. This particular cake was her mother's favorite, and I can see why: a devil's food cake topped with ridges of buttercream covered in chocolate fudge. Decadent does not begin to describe it. It's particularly fitting for Groundhog day because the buttercream ridges resemble groundhog furrows.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwhUz0AHVMOw8nOS_VeZrCmYDyj-DeUvPB9W3CrNTjrcmP7JO-jkkTLsiZaib7UgwZo-QCiE5xRllIElnyQsGpc1uzsTu-HEeRTd8uhDkXbSH7TSKbA_HXH22jXODv2VLu07hRR0gtCo/s1600/DSCN0173.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwhUz0AHVMOw8nOS_VeZrCmYDyj-DeUvPB9W3CrNTjrcmP7JO-jkkTLsiZaib7UgwZo-QCiE5xRllIElnyQsGpc1uzsTu-HEeRTd8uhDkXbSH7TSKbA_HXH22jXODv2VLu07hRR0gtCo/s200/DSCN0173.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713662572144232754" /></a>The cake itself was innocent enough--a basic, moist chocolate cake. But then there was the buttercream: 4 sticks of butter and 3 cups of confectioners sugar. Terrifying. Nothing should ever use 4 sticks of butter. Ever. And then of course, there was the fudge... clearly this cake is not for the faint of heart... or stomach... or teeth (I was fairly certain just biting into this cake would result in instant cavities). It was quite an exciting, all-day process: make cake, freeze cake and make buttercream, top cake with <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAbHZ4xP_MVI2HCJkQ0TDqidh4NnTUFNGt9dsINS9XMs9d8K30WAMFE9aWSGGSYInOkRnO_RqlvTKton_B2fvytXuB4gzZgM-5m9WZCKJVON2ctY8GEqUMccennNZ-M_HHQWG4_aLcLA/s1600/DSCN0175.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAbHZ4xP_MVI2HCJkQ0TDqidh4NnTUFNGt9dsINS9XMs9d8K30WAMFE9aWSGGSYInOkRnO_RqlvTKton_B2fvytXuB4gzZgM-5m9WZCKJVON2ctY8GEqUMccennNZ-M_HHQWG4_aLcLA/s200/DSCN0175.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713663427832634898" /></a>buttercream, freeze cake-and-buttercream and make fudge, top cake-and-buttercream with fudge, freeze cake-buttercream-fudge extravaganza. I don't think mine came out very pretty... it definitely doesn't look like the one on the Sanders website. But with that much chocolate, sugar, and butter... there's no way it couldn't be delicious.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSWgzkaoMMQf4uNF7spU9vL0vCr58hBCNdnAA19YTcWR6ZXq-r9EGHuFMsZzrEOp8F-UyhybnmmoE0xGOrS510LRTJuEgh8VoOmRPVT2sZ_ccFe06hXNLASfVkryx7bcsuGKF_-6u9Io/s1600/DSCN0176.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSWgzkaoMMQf4uNF7spU9vL0vCr58hBCNdnAA19YTcWR6ZXq-r9EGHuFMsZzrEOp8F-UyhybnmmoE0xGOrS510LRTJuEgh8VoOmRPVT2sZ_ccFe06hXNLASfVkryx7bcsuGKF_-6u9Io/s200/DSCN0176.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713665079553124834" /></a>A bunch of friends came over that night for the sole purpose of eating cake and drinking wine. Groundhog Day was long past, there was no special occasion... just having a cake that needed to be eaten was an occasion enough to gather us together. The cake was rich, decadent, sweet, chocolaty... exactly what you would expect. It was well-received and made for a nice little get-together.<br /><br />I was ready for a cake-break after two cakes in one week. This week's cake is cooling right now, though, and going in to work for its debut at lab meeting. I'll try not to be quite so late with its post.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-16781991184565341292012-02-14T18:54:00.005-08:002012-02-14T19:24:58.123-08:00Superbowl Cake DayWho brings cake to a Superbowl party? Me, of course. Someone has to think outside the box... I mean, really, there's only so much chili and chips and dip one can consume.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXAN7lw2CZY_guOKQqU-DitfWhf-5uI7qzujQB4y1AC2HzXe8weYSd0Dtcf335740Q9HJh1P3ciz4MgAyHFrESCSikCmVtbHnqKWkxxxO8KmoerOD-dFcYrZS_yes49HSQoAeD8y0OPs/s1600/DSCN0154.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXAN7lw2CZY_guOKQqU-DitfWhf-5uI7qzujQB4y1AC2HzXe8weYSd0Dtcf335740Q9HJh1P3ciz4MgAyHFrESCSikCmVtbHnqKWkxxxO8KmoerOD-dFcYrZS_yes49HSQoAeD8y0OPs/s200/DSCN0154.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709196693573319970" /></a>Last week's cake was actually completely inappropriate for the Superbowl. The "Princess Daisy Cake" is described as good for weddings and christenings because it is "light and elegant." Not qualities embodied by football, the competitive spirit of the Superbowl, or the glitz of an over-the-top Madonna & Co halftime show. But I had to make a cake, and I had to contribute to a Superbowl party, so it was just going to have to work.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqYuKw2ZuNNBs3i9B_EpG54ukODHK6NIy78iMC7DMb2BYSp8Ccn-RVVpG6FW0WWm8s9QmEGlhQ5G7LwzPg7Nl6UAbJCnc_42ExnYa0cvFzLQbD5k7Vol3OHfTC2qIewP7bYpm3Do139s/s1600/DSCN0153.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqYuKw2ZuNNBs3i9B_EpG54ukODHK6NIy78iMC7DMb2BYSp8Ccn-RVVpG6FW0WWm8s9QmEGlhQ5G7LwzPg7Nl6UAbJCnc_42ExnYa0cvFzLQbD5k7Vol3OHfTC2qIewP7bYpm3Do139s/s200/DSCN0153.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709195426592836178" /></a>The cake, a white cake with lemon filling and an Italian meringue icing, is indeed light and citrusy (and perhaps elegant if made by someone with a more skilled hand than me). The cake and filling were straightforward, but the icing dealt me fits, since I don't have nice things like a candy thermometer, leaving me to guess what 242 F looked like (this is apparently the "thread stage" when making a syrup, so when you drop it into cold water, it will make threads, rather than a compact ball). I don't think the texture was quite right, but it tasted fine and didn't detract from the prettiness of the cake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQrzcYd-j5uuioTfgXiBroA9q_8B6bdLqfVMIGeHSzIqUWNJrCX7gKuVcxd_T-taFwLDq2niY-ldJb72g__2qbQEOmiyo_LD-1tHkKuETTlcP1wM-DFn84JDOAdtE5RnaXpwOZZFEe6U4/s1600/DSCN0159.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQrzcYd-j5uuioTfgXiBroA9q_8B6bdLqfVMIGeHSzIqUWNJrCX7gKuVcxd_T-taFwLDq2niY-ldJb72g__2qbQEOmiyo_LD-1tHkKuETTlcP1wM-DFn84JDOAdtE5RnaXpwOZZFEe6U4/s200/DSCN0159.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709197811163021314" /></a>This out-of-its-element cake actually complemented our Superbowl feast quite well. We are quite the talented bunch in the kitchen: buffalo chicken dip, guacamole, spinach artichoke dip, bean dip, fried green tomatoes, pizza, numerous types of chips, and a buffet of adult beverages. The light, airy cake offered a break from the heavy, greasy Superbowl fare, and was enjoyed by all. Further proof, in my mind, that cake makes everything, even football, Madonna, and Superbowl commercials, better.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-65727510978775340672012-02-03T17:09:00.000-08:002012-02-03T18:33:38.567-08:00Happy Birthday Kellie and Martin!I love birthdays. They always provide a great reason to make a cake. And they ensure the cake is eaten right away by a multitude of hungry, appreciative people, instead of being consumed entirely by me.<br /><br />Last week's cake was an oatmeal cake, something I'd never considered might exist before. I love oatmeal... I eat ridiculous quantities of it year round, even in the sweltering heat of summer. Breakfast, lunch, dinner... it can be adapted to all meal times and all seasons. Every bowl can be a new experience depending on the fruits (fresh or dried), nuts, and spices you add. Thankfully, it's full of health benefits... good for your heart, full of fiber, etc.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYniMw8Lmm3p-9HBJkIUuddY_UKReMjeB6bQzztwTmsCJ_qJzxsaA4cdf5V9zUWZRRLp0MkrDUfa5mjf07c4kqUnPpxp4qYFMnuerWKi5peHqHeFeLNZpvmT9j0C57vysTxw2G21w35k/s1600/DSCN0149.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYniMw8Lmm3p-9HBJkIUuddY_UKReMjeB6bQzztwTmsCJ_qJzxsaA4cdf5V9zUWZRRLp0MkrDUfa5mjf07c4kqUnPpxp4qYFMnuerWKi5peHqHeFeLNZpvmT9j0C57vysTxw2G21w35k/s200/DSCN0149.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705086264938315762" /></a>I can't say that an oatmeal cake is particularly healthy; however, it is delicious. Words cannot do it justice. It was so soft and moist, and the topping... a mix of pecans, coconut, brown sugar, and butter toasted under the broiler that can only be described as heavenly. I can imagine how perfectly it would pair with a hot cup of coffee for breakfast, or how amazing it would taste served warm with a big scoop of cold vanilla ice cream. I think "comfort food" is another good descriptor. Happily it's an easy cake to make, requiring few ingredients and few dishes, so you can bet this one will be made again. A lot.<br /><br />I took it to a joint birthday celebration for two of my friends from school. It was showered with compliments while being quickly devoured. Bringing a cake to a party is a huge ego booster. I don't know if people just don't bake cakes anymore or what, but everyone is always hugely impressed, even over a modest cake like this one (I mean, it's not like it was a Yule Log or anything). Anyway, I was lucky to get a piece, and I confess to scraping the crumbs out of the pan before putting it in the dishwasher. This cake was definitely a winner. I'm gladly accepting reasons to make another!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-50528236581750924992012-01-29T18:08:00.000-08:002012-01-29T18:29:55.316-08:00Choclate makes everything betterEven the winter blues. Well, a little better, at least.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguEZB8WyGg7iDMSkUw5mxO8FtlWValKop-bKMcI0KGU9-dkC3KGWIFzdNo5N6Os7LtGNHIimhHpRsp6AWIhnAW2c89tYLPrpM-_adcSVPqO2e7XEUkVFsbPMilkdiJZgWDFP7h_P6P3cM/s1600/DSCN0135.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguEZB8WyGg7iDMSkUw5mxO8FtlWValKop-bKMcI0KGU9-dkC3KGWIFzdNo5N6Os7LtGNHIimhHpRsp6AWIhnAW2c89tYLPrpM-_adcSVPqO2e7XEUkVFsbPMilkdiJZgWDFP7h_P6P3cM/s200/DSCN0135.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703244975812462386" /></a>Dr. Robinson was also fighting the winter blahs when she made this cake. It's a glum time of year--back to the daily grind after the holidays, no vacation in sight, the weather is chilly and rainy. Dr. R says there was snow in Ohio. I wouldn't mind a little snow right now. It has a quiet, calming effect, bringing a noticeable hush to the usually bustling city. Of course, part of that is because the entire Atlanta area shuts down at the first flake, but, that aside, if you know snow, you know what I mean. I could use a little of that peace right now.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6khyphenhyphenFEjlhQYkRwQQ16egVl-xcmPX0C6E7OSXmbfyZTXLcl2T3ZVDTctpWnAceqh6nAQHaECcY89H2ssLU8yEspsBvAK_PdsS-SwopcYpve__4B97PNbT7-FPkLwJsoiOvrjGbyvzJvjk/s1600/DSCN0139.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6khyphenhyphenFEjlhQYkRwQQ16egVl-xcmPX0C6E7OSXmbfyZTXLcl2T3ZVDTctpWnAceqh6nAQHaECcY89H2ssLU8yEspsBvAK_PdsS-SwopcYpve__4B97PNbT7-FPkLwJsoiOvrjGbyvzJvjk/s200/DSCN0139.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703246163368398098" /></a>I made last week's cake - Mink Coat Chocolate Cake - and I just... kept it. I ate it piece by piece myself, except for a couple pieces I gave to Tim and Maureen for helping me out when I had a flat tire (my third since October... don't drive your tires past 40,000 miles). I believe the name derives from the icing, a heavy, thick caramel icing made from butter and brown sugar that seals the entire top of the cake in sugary perfection, the way a heavy mink coat wraps a person in soft warmth against an icy winter evening. The cake itself was particularly delicious for a chocolate cake as well. I can say that I truly enjoyed every piece. Sometimes you have days where the highlight is sitting at home in your pajamas wrapped in a blanket watching bad TV and eating chocolate cake. I had 6 of those days. In a row. This week will hopefully be better. Although the distinct lack of chocolate cake might be the first sign of trouble.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-271611959475130822012-01-20T14:58:00.000-08:002012-01-20T15:24:13.332-08:00Goodbye, AlexLast week was a fellow graduate student's final week. I thought it was an appropriate occasion for the cake, to add to the sweet part of the bittersweet occasion.<br /><br />The cake was a Galette des Rois, or King's Epiphany Cake, the true purpose of which is to celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany. In actual tradition, a figurine of the baby Jesus or a bean should be hidden inside and the cake is topped with a crown; whoever gets the piece of cake with the hidden treasure is King for the day and gets to wear the crown. I had none of these things, and I didn't think it was necessary for our purposes, so my cake was Jesus-less and crown-less.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilifqotjSWCA0IoOqVTs941PTCy0mF779M2BCPzB0Px72-nqQlkdPawIiyhnmnKo3mHR8AG1Az0MYQFv8pAo8zFAnkEkVHUD02nkHrSI93pHOtTR9595f1qcthZbBvMQmSBUoKo9Kkcpg/s1600/DSCN0127.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilifqotjSWCA0IoOqVTs941PTCy0mF779M2BCPzB0Px72-nqQlkdPawIiyhnmnKo3mHR8AG1Az0MYQFv8pAo8zFAnkEkVHUD02nkHrSI93pHOtTR9595f1qcthZbBvMQmSBUoKo9Kkcpg/s200/DSCN0127.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699856802019694562" /></a>The cake is a puff pastry filled with an almond/egg/rum filling. The most exciting part of the recipe is that it actually calls for frozen puff pastry. Because there was no way I was making puff pastry from scratch. That's just one step too far. Sadly, I couldn't find the type of puff pastry suggested, or even a box of the appropriate size, so I had to use some creativity and kitchen skills to make the pastry fit (see picture). It was otherwise relatively simple, and came out a delicious, flaky, golden brown puff of sweetness.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL-yUpP7fKne1hzUWHEHB0mLenhews7Uqgw9jg0XuUK1g2NUde9jNFiBmApZD7T5oi5Da0yG-eh8faxrTz8-DgcEXof9dEN8Zh-PkgtzTLVDSo9Os-UxG2PJTTzlfxAVNYp71vvLPkKO0/s1600/DSCN0133.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL-yUpP7fKne1hzUWHEHB0mLenhews7Uqgw9jg0XuUK1g2NUde9jNFiBmApZD7T5oi5Da0yG-eh8faxrTz8-DgcEXof9dEN8Zh-PkgtzTLVDSo9Os-UxG2PJTTzlfxAVNYp71vvLPkKO0/s200/DSCN0133.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699857973125886546" /></a>The whole lab and then some actually gathered in the office for cake. I kind of wished there had been Jesus in my cake, because I was concerned I would need a miracle to make sure everyone got a piece (like the loaves and fishes?). Thankfully we ended up with just enough. It was the perfect cake for Alex--not too sweet, not too heavy (she's not a big dessert person). One of the post docs in my lab was actually even more excited--she lived in France, and apparently this is one of her favorite cakes; she waits all year for it to be "in season." I asked her if it was any good compared to the more authentic ones I supposed she got in France or from her French friends and family members. She assured me it was, and made sure to scrape the last of the crumbs from the pan. A big compliment, in my opinion.<br /><br />We all spent some non-science togetherness time, made small talk, ate cake, discussed Alex's plans for her time off and her future job. I tried to convince her to stay by pointing out that she would no longer have easy access to an endless supply of baked goods in her new lab. No such luck, though. I will definitely miss her at work. But thankfully she lives close so we can still hang out. And it's proof there's light at the end of the tunnel--she defended and graduated and is moving on to a great job. So it's possible. I'm just hoping it's sooner for me, rather than later.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-32267139004395600312012-01-08T18:27:00.000-08:002012-01-08T19:00:27.396-08:00Fruit Cake: RepriseI was going to attach this to the actual fruitcake post, but I decided it was too amazing and deserved it's own special newsflash post. Kind of like the KitchenAid. But not quite that special.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-yz04vQwy8sK5Oo1GIjqQihXrVQLXsy4QaKu8EY5aNqnzdAcK9vsJvkuyBlyEGFWbQBFvi39IqXpNGcQcHhXi-g1Z7_mYukIeL97BSqVrWhygVMC6wnqHmlA0KaSKDly5JEjA-7Fbkw/s1600/IMG_2121.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-yz04vQwy8sK5Oo1GIjqQihXrVQLXsy4QaKu8EY5aNqnzdAcK9vsJvkuyBlyEGFWbQBFvi39IqXpNGcQcHhXi-g1Z7_mYukIeL97BSqVrWhygVMC6wnqHmlA0KaSKDly5JEjA-7Fbkw/s200/IMG_2121.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695458136310764578" /></a>Anyway, I took a loaf of the fruitcake back to Cleveland with me. Apparently my grandma actually likes fruitcake, so mom thought she'd be excited. Clearly she was, because she stole a piece before I had even frosted it. We decided to have it during our tree decorating event, so I unwrapped the cake from it's rum-soaked foil and cheese cloth, plopped it on a festive glass plate, topped it with almond paste and a powdered sugar glaze as directed, and set it on the table... where it was for the most part avoided. After finishing the tree, my sister, who had seemed quite intrigued by the prospect of actually seeing and tasting a fruitcake, which we had only heard about in the Christmas lore of comedians (Emily: Is that a treasure map?), finally asked if she should try some, so we all took a small piece. I warily took my first bite. It <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYCwaJpa427a8sPGG-NfWFRUrGhne6VzHks1bP1lWMb0ut3EkwmowivJWRGZcTBi2qp20Z-tAg75AEyoR8jrLT9j5H7-wNZi0ltWvj8Z9csPHNMehPq2YxJ5az8Sov-0VYP_rlrVJrzc/s1600/IMG_2122.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYCwaJpa427a8sPGG-NfWFRUrGhne6VzHks1bP1lWMb0ut3EkwmowivJWRGZcTBi2qp20Z-tAg75AEyoR8jrLT9j5H7-wNZi0ltWvj8Z9csPHNMehPq2YxJ5az8Sov-0VYP_rlrVJrzc/s200/IMG_2122.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695459428518626098" /></a>was... GREAT! It wasn't hard as brick or gummy or anything like what you usually think fruitcake will be like. The rum was intense, but not in a bad way, and I think the frosting really brought it all together. I actually enjoyed eating it. So did my grandma, and my sister. Unclear about mom... she seemed unimpressed by the whole ordeal, although she did admit that it was better than she'd thought it would be.<br /><br />We ended up taking the rest of the loaf over to our family friends' house for dinner. Turns out, they also love fruitcake, and they had great things to say about this one. They even asked for the recipe. I felt like a proud mama--my ugly duckling had turned out to be a beautiful swan. Remember the tomato cake. ;-)<br /><br />I took the other loaf to Tim and Maureen's holiday party along with the chocolate cake. The results were similar: many surprised positive comments. A few people took some home, and Tim asked to keep a big piece, which he said was quickly eaten. Even Randy admitted it wasn't bad.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxFJtVu3yewMA13KD7TBPj_roIGt6GQ9qNxOPhE-aLxY4ntwv7sAAxiLlAd9oAcW1rOoIFX43Gu4ksHtyzVwI0tenVh21UCG8NtoZDX2Sj-l418RrmUE_H-8E1ZidS0RE3RgaUwphIgc/s1600/IMG_2129.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxFJtVu3yewMA13KD7TBPj_roIGt6GQ9qNxOPhE-aLxY4ntwv7sAAxiLlAd9oAcW1rOoIFX43Gu4ksHtyzVwI0tenVh21UCG8NtoZDX2Sj-l418RrmUE_H-8E1ZidS0RE3RgaUwphIgc/s200/IMG_2129.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695460591080870866" /></a>All in all, my holiday cake baking was successful (minus that cursed Yule log...). A couple I'd make again: the gingerbread and the New Year's cake for sure, and the chocolate cake was easy so I'd make it if asked, or if I was going somewhere that required an impressive conversation starter. I don't know if I'd ever make another fruitcake. It's an expensive endeavor, but it might be worth it, especially if I know there will be people who like fruitcake, because those are the people who truly appreciated this cake most, I think. As for the Yule log... I don't care how many people tell me how many times that it was their favorite. Never again.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-6719408789120199952012-01-08T18:03:00.000-08:002012-01-08T18:26:17.860-08:00Happy New Year!It’s amazing how so many different cultures have chosen to associate specific cakes with so many different holidays. What is it about cake that says “celebration”? Why is it so easy for us to assign significance to certain cakes, but not certain granola bars or types of chicken? I was worried that baking a cake every week would take away the “special-ness” of cake, but so far, I have not found that to be true. For me, or for any of the many people I have been fortunate enough to share these cakes with.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhio0OkmjZw_2vC7s871qCsichR8Kg8zdfUCNPW2YT-tlMTzz53HqVJ_sY5x6Oz3gHvBJ2y-HboqddSEeryUu0IflQ948R8NxE6nOJYM1MA1xLEmGThsdj8eCAmdVH4-NRywr42k_XpqqU/s1600/DSCN0120.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhio0OkmjZw_2vC7s871qCsichR8Kg8zdfUCNPW2YT-tlMTzz53HqVJ_sY5x6Oz3gHvBJ2y-HboqddSEeryUu0IflQ948R8NxE6nOJYM1MA1xLEmGThsdj8eCAmdVH4-NRywr42k_XpqqU/s200/DSCN0120.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695449155639886146" /></a>Many cultures apparently have a certain cake they bake in celebration of their New Year. The New Year’s cake in this book is Vassilopitta, or St. Basil’s Day Cake, a citrus and almond cake with many variations from the Greek culture, baked to celebrate both the New Year and the life of St. Basil, one of the founders of the Greek Orthodox Church, who is said to have died on New Year’s Day. Traditionally, a gold or silver coin is baked into the cake, and whoever finds the coin in his or her piece will be lucky throughout the year.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrMYoc8RpFj01iY_XX_U9guPPF2CUCuWa7s9A4thYTeXZebwL2MJyn5mPQedvfOHhSiKoVQD_y6q5uTAF1Dn4Gwv2NZl4wh42TRQpm2pxCngLTEYruxGYo2YWpY3Qu9Qzmf8vRMLGPzRg/s1600/DSCN0121.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrMYoc8RpFj01iY_XX_U9guPPF2CUCuWa7s9A4thYTeXZebwL2MJyn5mPQedvfOHhSiKoVQD_y6q5uTAF1Dn4Gwv2NZl4wh42TRQpm2pxCngLTEYruxGYo2YWpY3Qu9Qzmf8vRMLGPzRg/s200/DSCN0121.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695450879380111090" /></a>I baked this cake for New Year’s Day brunch (and by brunch, I mean whatever you call the meal you eat at 3:00 p.m. cuz you woke up at 2:00…). The recipe made a giant amount of batter, so I actually ended up with two cakes. We ate our pieces while the cake was still warm, as the recipe suggests, and it was excellent with our (attempted) omelet, turkey bacon, and orange slices. I saved a few pieces of the first cake for myself and took the rest to Tim and Maureen, and the second cake went to work, where it got rave reviews.<br /><br />Dr. Robinson says she believes how some spends New Year’s Day is a predictor of the year to come. “If you spend the day squandering money, then the year will be one in which money will flow away from you. If you spend the day passively watching football, you will spend the year observing the action instead of taking part in the game.” I don’t know what that means for me. Randy and I slept in late after our night of partying like rockstars, made brunch together, spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies and playing Wii Fit, and then made dinner together. Nothing dramatic or exciting or novel, but quiet and satisfying and filled with a simple sort of happiness. I know it won’t be a quiet year—there’s so much to do if I want to graduate and move by the end of 2012. And Randy and I won’t physically spend the year together, since we’re living 800 miles apart. I will, however, be doing a lot of cooking, what with all these cakes to be made… As for the deeper meaning, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what happens.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-82989665971384173962012-01-08T17:18:00.000-08:002012-01-08T17:58:50.524-08:00Christmas MagicI love the story behind this cake:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdxr6x2nEP-6MbkcwZUgVvesHmyzmmttDsXZFLFMHHeje_LNsOHytzi2WmgsGr5EROObcyvre-4iUyHQUXnJHneBVYLeIucQP3cUMgULoC0nKM6U7w2VhmPfT0JjN81HW7LN9Ui3TXSyc/s1600/DSCN0034.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdxr6x2nEP-6MbkcwZUgVvesHmyzmmttDsXZFLFMHHeje_LNsOHytzi2WmgsGr5EROObcyvre-4iUyHQUXnJHneBVYLeIucQP3cUMgULoC0nKM6U7w2VhmPfT0JjN81HW7LN9Ui3TXSyc/s200/DSCN0034.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695438070896500178" /></a>In 1914, in Flanders, France, the Germans were battling the British and French, but Christmas was rapidly approaching. The Germans began putting up signs with messages like “You no fight, we no fight.” More and more signs appeared, and then they threw a chocolate cake into the British and French trenches, wrapped in a note asking for a one-hour cease-fire on Christmas to celebrate. Apparently, that evening both sides met in the middle of the battlefield to play soccer, sing Christmas carols, and exchange gifts like cognac, postcards, newspapers, and the chocolate cake. Eventually, the generals decided this was unacceptable and sent everyone back to resume the fight. An interesting comment on war, and a testament to the magic of Christmas.<br /><br />Dr. Robinson searched for the recipe of the chocolate cake that had been chucked into the British and French trenches, but could find no reference. One of her daughters suggested it must have been a loaf cake, since such a cake would be the right shape for throwing and dense enough to survive the toss. So they selected a recipe for what is essentially a chocolate pound cake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7UaLXcxRDT495hTU8t-Hdgqc8HiveemrW0hV0wP-yiFpnQZpcmO2DM8N7-g_WMP3uuHjhq80RsRSml4jYsyvHdwlgWHCCziPaZTjxiGSthVCcHGGfxv4ocZPrQIgx0h9aIGleHDOkaw/s1600/DSCN0025.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7UaLXcxRDT495hTU8t-Hdgqc8HiveemrW0hV0wP-yiFpnQZpcmO2DM8N7-g_WMP3uuHjhq80RsRSml4jYsyvHdwlgWHCCziPaZTjxiGSthVCcHGGfxv4ocZPrQIgx0h9aIGleHDOkaw/s200/DSCN0025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695439962777087698" /></a>Randy was in town to celebrate New Year’s, so we made this cake together to take to Tim and Maureen’s holiday party. It was somewhat messy, despite the relative simplicity of the recipe, but we had fun, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI6WVRBgKk-Dt1Xrrn4blBC6G2y9tumSmM1jwzzNSBcpS68KjLOjuIFhGrDC2rOCfcgigPx1FrYddoI8hU6-22fz-1UreEJu7dNuaIG-z_AfhXgQ0s6QbRTXHiVTFAWqHnSSnk9bWZchE/s1600/Snapshot+2012-01-08+20-39-19.tiff"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI6WVRBgKk-Dt1Xrrn4blBC6G2y9tumSmM1jwzzNSBcpS68KjLOjuIFhGrDC2rOCfcgigPx1FrYddoI8hU6-22fz-1UreEJu7dNuaIG-z_AfhXgQ0s6QbRTXHiVTFAWqHnSSnk9bWZchE/s200/Snapshot+2012-01-08+20-39-19.tiff" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695441119288337394" /></a>and Randy made an eager assistant. The end result was a bit dry for my taste, but that is my common complaint with chocolate cakes in general (and why I’m so surprised every time I try a chocolate cake from here and end up loving it), but it went over well at the party and leftovers were distributed amongst guests and hosts.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJ1Nfko_xWqJzmCxlehaCR6iy4OoxtKfZIS9SpXF60ZF_k_ecDPw6xI5hbj03o00cT3pF56EJ0CrOzUs6NYbTnEhfA-vUn5ZN2r6aHa_Jj3uzFTjcjX23tqWKNg-701bua6GKF7sXq0s/s1600/DSCN0047.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJ1Nfko_xWqJzmCxlehaCR6iy4OoxtKfZIS9SpXF60ZF_k_ecDPw6xI5hbj03o00cT3pF56EJ0CrOzUs6NYbTnEhfA-vUn5ZN2r6aHa_Jj3uzFTjcjX23tqWKNg-701bua6GKF7sXq0s/s200/DSCN0047.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695445020838589314" /></a>I must say that I am glad that, at the end of our party, we got to go home and curl up in bed, instead of returning to dirty, cold trenches to resume battle. But I am a bit sad we didn't have an experience as miraculous or story-worthy. Maybe we should have played catch with the cake, just for good measure. At least we'd know if the cake was truly tossable. Next year.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-51240377963347606372011-12-27T14:06:00.000-08:002011-12-27T14:24:36.614-08:00Merry Christmas!Back in Ohio at my mom's for the holidays. Baking away from my own kitchen is always interesting, but baking at my mom's was definitely easier than baking at Randy's. I credit age and gender for her well-prepared kitchen. All I had to supply was the ginger.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYG-ng8CtfqTtbrzCtweymqjtX_NUGVdaVbpiZ-hxI7dBc43uRGgCo9nU8DIHeJ5PfoyJL4WPAf3qzC2rhcLUHY38a19bw1WxNM6ztBB3g6WE7Kffxn1201MHCxnG8FmRqmoOHn4UCrHs/s1600/IMG_2142.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYG-ng8CtfqTtbrzCtweymqjtX_NUGVdaVbpiZ-hxI7dBc43uRGgCo9nU8DIHeJ5PfoyJL4WPAf3qzC2rhcLUHY38a19bw1WxNM6ztBB3g6WE7Kffxn1201MHCxnG8FmRqmoOHn4UCrHs/s200/IMG_2142.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690936841475383714" /></a>This week's cake was a gingerbread cake. As most people know, the gingerbread used to make gingerbread houses is actually not delicious at all, because it has to be tough to provide structural stability. So Dr. Robinson found a recipe for this cake, which is as soft and spicy as you imagine gingerbread should be. It's full of interesting ingredients: ground and crystallized ginger, molasses, black pepper, dark brown sugar. It was easy to make (a welcome break after the last cake debacle)--the toughest part was chopping the crystallized ginger. It smelled delicious while baking, and came out moist and spicy and excellent--particularly when served with Great Lakes Christmas Ale Ginger Snap ice cream. Yum!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7COb5cLOzmHbmKqzenYj3D8b7pwu10u2-VyvCZwcdcKmk03-GCWh77F5PBcGuA39-5bzpGoRk6clRhPTqFvmYOj2DYLpECYK18AHe0SKuFeTw1mO6S2F5wOb-W3pK0aH_aowEW7FOp94/s1600/IMG_2143.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7COb5cLOzmHbmKqzenYj3D8b7pwu10u2-VyvCZwcdcKmk03-GCWh77F5PBcGuA39-5bzpGoRk6clRhPTqFvmYOj2DYLpECYK18AHe0SKuFeTw1mO6S2F5wOb-W3pK0aH_aowEW7FOp94/s200/IMG_2143.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690937093643766706" /></a>In this chapter, Dr. Robinson talks about the end of two family traditions: the family vacation to a cottage in Michigan, because the cottage owners decided to stop renting it out, and the last gingerbread house building party, because her daughters were less enthusiastic and outgrowing the tradition. This year, I too am feeling the end of family traditions. I used to love Christmas time, and our own unique family routine: dinner and family presents Christmas Eve, then Santa's gifts Christmas morning followed by an afternoon of movies. Church Christmas morning when I was younger, then Midnight Mass when we were old enough to stay up. Way too many types of Christmas cookies. But things change: new travel requirements, financial concerns, houses, churches, relationships--I feel like I am struggling to hold onto the traditions that we used to have, desperate to not let them slip away. But sometimes change has to happen. Who knows if I will even come back to Cleveland next year? When you have to make room in your life for someone else, there must be compromise, which automatically leads to change. I know that I need to let go and allow new traditions to form. It's just hard--it solidifies the transition into real adulthood.<br /><br />When my mom tasted the gingerbread cake, she immediately said, "You can make this every year!" So maybe we've already started a new tradition. If so, it's certainly a delicious one.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-2582857391763377292011-12-27T12:35:00.000-08:002011-12-27T13:37:49.782-08:00Buche de HonteThis was the cake that almost ended the project. I was 95% certain I could not pull it off. And, so, I have to confess, I cheated a little... there were a few minor modifications, just so I could get through it.<br /><br />I don't know if you've ever tried to make a Buche de Noel, but my recommendation is: don't. It's the most time-consuming, difficult cake ever. I devoted 6 hours of my life to this cake, and that's without the stupid meringue mushrooms (details to come). Many tears were shed, expletives shouted, and items covered in chocolate (the cake book was nearly a casualty, but I managed to dry it out, so aside from a section full of spotty butter stains, it lives on).<br /><br />My adventure began with a week-long search for a jelly roll pan. I scoured grocery stores, Targets, and facebook friends for something labeled "jelly roll pan" until finally Tim told me he had one. When I went to pick it up, he handed me a cookie sheet. Apparently, a jelly roll pan is just a cookie sheet with sides. Tragically, his was too small, but conveniently, my mother had just bought me a super fancy giant cookie sheet the last time she visited. Success #1: did not have to buy new pan.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvYR26EEkoVCf3xds6IoZjbb4hqBxS92xe3uEeGrRP4Iv7Or3pCIPaQheaZ2JF75ASWef7uafFVFbSrH-SYUZC9r_jhFWy0De5-sRPhFMNDvLmOj2oN7_Gu6UROqhyphenhyphen8op9dt3yfqMGVc/s1600/IMG_2114.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvYR26EEkoVCf3xds6IoZjbb4hqBxS92xe3uEeGrRP4Iv7Or3pCIPaQheaZ2JF75ASWef7uafFVFbSrH-SYUZC9r_jhFWy0De5-sRPhFMNDvLmOj2oN7_Gu6UROqhyphenhyphen8op9dt3yfqMGVc/s200/IMG_2114.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690921988151262626" /></a>The cake part of a Yule Log is deceptively simple: mix dry stuff, mix wet stuff, beat egg whites, combine everything, pour into pan lined with parchment paper, bake. It's a good way to start off because the ease of making the cake, which you would guess would be the primary component of, well, a cake, gives you hope that maybe, just maybe, you can accomplish this nonsense. But immediately upon taking the cake out of the oven, the fun begins. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VSsW-5bY3tzlFCzU-L0R8xi5QOCAIBzGrMMlTs-zcJCz9SwlV7mMaZUc8h2NQfQDGmn0XP20X3ofi6MGLv9d2FUthNq4K2pdnU2sSv-MjqFW4bonQ0UylVvCS9pUDG95RITimUXcYY4/s1600/IMG_2115.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VSsW-5bY3tzlFCzU-L0R8xi5QOCAIBzGrMMlTs-zcJCz9SwlV7mMaZUc8h2NQfQDGmn0XP20X3ofi6MGLv9d2FUthNq4K2pdnU2sSv-MjqFW4bonQ0UylVvCS9pUDG95RITimUXcYY4/s200/IMG_2115.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690922277088562434" /></a>The hot cake needs to be covered with plastic wrap, and then a damp kitchen towel, and then inverted onto a cooling rack... which is quite an adventure with a lava-hot pan. Then everything--cake, parchment paper, plastic wrap, and towel, all need to be rolled up together and allowed to cool. I decided during this process that cake is really not meant to be rolled. The surface of my cake was covered with tons of little fault lines, like some sort of earthquake had gone through. But it never tore completely. Success #2, I guess.<br /><br />While the cake was cooling, I started on the espresso cream filling. I don't own an espresso maker, so espresso was out of the question. I worried that coffee might not be strong enough, though. Fortunately, I had seen a previous coworker and his wife the night before, and they had given me Turkish coffee to use with the Turkish coffee set they had previously given me for my birthday. I figured Turkish coffee was pretty darn strong, so it should suffice in the absence of espresso. If you want to substitute Turkish coffee, however, make sure it's not the first time you've ever made Turkish coffee. Three attempts later, I ended up with something that was not quite authentic-looking or tasting Turkish coffee but would just have to do, because I was tired of trying to make it work. Finished the filling... but really more failure than success. Moved onto the frosting--a Swiss Meringue Buttercream frosting... which is exactly what it sounds like: some crazy combination of meringue and buttercream. But it was actually the easiest part of the cake to make. Success #3.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLrjY54C1gybWcy2DnCO0sAb22BwTB1Qn03mVzws_ZkNB5d1LO64xrnKJ__GpZeCTEGEhnm5l_ekW44T1qBeVWond3pl_7hEM8uy2y2Xnl-z_idFfFTdJoO9jWoC2qeYRekjvbgDcu_9Q/s1600/IMG_2116.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLrjY54C1gybWcy2DnCO0sAb22BwTB1Qn03mVzws_ZkNB5d1LO64xrnKJ__GpZeCTEGEhnm5l_ekW44T1qBeVWond3pl_7hEM8uy2y2Xnl-z_idFfFTdJoO9jWoC2qeYRekjvbgDcu_9Q/s200/IMG_2116.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690922694878718178" /></a>Then cake assembly. It was during this process I decided I would never again make a Yule Log. It sounded easy enough: unroll cake, spread filling on cake, re-roll cake. The problem is, all that filling spread on the cake doesn't exactly want to fit inside when the cake is rolled up. And it has to go somewhere. Which was all over my arms, my shirt, the towel the cake had been rolled in, the counter, and the floor. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L-fwnt-ZYOLfVTMjO2dnt74_UTtfx3hz-dwt2SRkLG7PHE56ieb_7B-nnyKcz0IecJxm23QUJjPGk2p4Ao5My3tudwGf0nyiGO0I05gOeUHRBRDQHzadw_Da8e3ia76jAGVaJXnMX54/s1600/IMG_2117.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L-fwnt-ZYOLfVTMjO2dnt74_UTtfx3hz-dwt2SRkLG7PHE56ieb_7B-nnyKcz0IecJxm23QUJjPGk2p4Ao5My3tudwGf0nyiGO0I05gOeUHRBRDQHzadw_Da8e3ia76jAGVaJXnMX54/s200/IMG_2117.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690923020306142722" /></a>I was quite literally up to my elbows in espresso cream filling. Commence tears. I sort of wanted to just quit and throw the whole cracking, espresso cream-bleeding cake out. But I had spent way to much time at this point, so I just sort of made a tube out of the cake and threw it in the fridge to chill appropriately. Liz: 3. Cake: 2.<br /><br />Thankfully, frosting covers all sins. Once I spread a thick layer of fantastic meringue buttercream frosting over the cake, I shaped and smoothed it and ended up with something that actually did resemble a white log. I just had to hope people would be too focused on the tasty deliciousness of the cake to examine the inside too closely. Success #4.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwPEOEelSV5c0qWsrfUUdH5jJmkYo_wUw5ygM_JDPemzIa7cDkwhdMPBifVYKhJ9sWkgWnAkdFJu5m7bLgEV6z233oWZNFuPhksg1bO07iG0F27MgtpxyrggZBTKLzIAsLM3FnfWJVxG8/s1600/IMG_2118.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwPEOEelSV5c0qWsrfUUdH5jJmkYo_wUw5ygM_JDPemzIa7cDkwhdMPBifVYKhJ9sWkgWnAkdFJu5m7bLgEV6z233oWZNFuPhksg1bO07iG0F27MgtpxyrggZBTKLzIAsLM3FnfWJVxG8/s200/IMG_2118.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690923528109410642" /></a>Now for the major cheating: decorating. Apparently, according to recipes by Martha Stewart and Julia Child, you are supposed to make baked meringue mushroom shapes to decorate the "log" and attach them with melted chocolate. This requires pastry bags, two different sizes of tips, patience and artistic talent. None of which I have. I angsted over how I would accomplish these mushrooms all week. Finally, I just said forget it. I dusted the log with cocoa powder to make it brown and used green sugar crystals to make patches of "moss." It really did look like a log. Just a less fancy log. Whatever. Logs shouldn't be fancy anyway. They're logs. At least it was FINALLY done.<br /><br />I took it to a holiday party Bree and her husband were hosting that evening. Despite its lack of beauty and correctness, it was a huge hit. Everyone loved it. It was gratifying to know that all that work had paid off, but not gratifying enough for me to ever go through this process again, so I told everyone to enjoy it now because it'd be the only one I'd ever make.<br /><br />A girl from my program loved the cake and took the leftovers home. I wasn't there to see it, but apparently she forgot that she had placed it on the seat of the car and sat on it. She texted me about it, and at that point I just laughed hysterically. A fitting end for that cake, I think. She did say after she had finished the rest that even completely flat, it was still delicious.<br /><br />I am ready for some easy cakes now. This one was just rough. Hopefully the Christmas cakes will be a bit more relaxing. It's hard to be filled with holiday spirit when you're covered in espresso cream filling and swearing at a cake.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-503005064944147811.post-51317026454974204212011-12-12T19:30:00.000-08:002011-12-12T20:01:05.981-08:00July in ChristmasI was not feeling particularly festive, despite the rapidly approaching holidays. I tried cranking up Trans Siberian Orchestra, spattering garland and stockings and candles around my apartment, and dragging out the tree, and... ugh. Nothing. There just doesn't seem to be much Christmas spirit going around. Or even Hanukkah spirit, for that matter.<br /><br />I refused to decorate the tree myself. In my family, it's always been kind of a big deal. Everyone had to be home to participate. The ornaments were unpacked and laid out, and everyone had their assigned group to hang. Cookies and spiced cider (with or without rum) were served, carols were played... it was truly a holiday event. Obviously living hundreds of miles away from my family, my own little tree doesn't get such special treatment, but the past couple years I've had a helper. Thinking about decorating my tree solo reminded me of how much I miss Randy, how hard long distance relationships are, and how much I wish things were just back to normal, our "normal," our routine. Faced with lack of family and lack of lover, tree decorating seemed like a chore, and I had no desire to do it.<br /><br />Thankfully, I have some pretty great friends, who are basically the closest thing to family I can get around here. They were easily recruited for a tree decorating event by the promise of Great Lakes Christmas Ale (imported from Cleveland by my mother, and essentially liquid gold) and the weekly cake. I hoped a little company, good food, and good beer could spark some holiday spirit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBw47h-IAaL6wykvtzLvxSnk5a5YUXEERReCWxgvI3aSp1zhly6jW12NoJ-XYwYcTMySoSy_BxpXww-1CkiktL_JyUJinY8URGC70GwcYc-Ho-Ryp6zKlms6MEkuuLlLAHa17nEyB8qGc/s1600/IMG_2108.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBw47h-IAaL6wykvtzLvxSnk5a5YUXEERReCWxgvI3aSp1zhly6jW12NoJ-XYwYcTMySoSy_BxpXww-1CkiktL_JyUJinY8URGC70GwcYc-Ho-Ryp6zKlms6MEkuuLlLAHa17nEyB8qGc/s200/IMG_2108.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685455752728048386" /></a><br />The cake was a lemon polenta pound cake. The recipe is fairly simple, except for zesting the lemons. I'd like to know who the first person was that decided to use "zest" in anything. I'd like to find him or her and give him or her a swift kick. I also discovered that baking soda boxes should probably come with no-slip grips, since somehow my box flew from my hand and went crashing to the floor, creating a beautiful blanket of snow all over my kitchen, complete with little footprints. Quite festive. In a quite irritating way. Clearly baking the cake did little for my holiday spirit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V3BsZRCWBNZ0Ne6bsMbCu6fv3aI6_d41wWrbb2spRePFq6oWh7faoCL0eXqW8a_eLSh49n3AMuIDjefLf9WmHtwzyMGx5HUgHtwLnXDqz-u5W6EEBLGK3t9jlH6tnhfpwjp4xxwj4Os/s1600/IMG_2109.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V3BsZRCWBNZ0Ne6bsMbCu6fv3aI6_d41wWrbb2spRePFq6oWh7faoCL0eXqW8a_eLSh49n3AMuIDjefLf9WmHtwzyMGx5HUgHtwLnXDqz-u5W6EEBLGK3t9jlH6tnhfpwjp4xxwj4Os/s200/IMG_2109.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685456713559703746" /></a><br />But once Chris, Tim and Maureen arrived, Christmas music was playing, Santa hats were donned, and Christmas Ale and cake were served, my spirits did pick up a bit. The cake was perfect--crispy brown crust on the outside and a crumbly yet moist nearly neon yellow inside, with a bright, fresh, lemony flavor. It was a like a burst of sunshine in the cold December weather, and provided just enough extra warmth to kick the festivities into high gear. So the tree was decorated, Christmas Ale consumed, and lemon polenta pound cake enjoyed by all. I'm feeling more Rudolph than Grinch now, so bring on the holidays!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgfuZN7qNFZ_aL_7E3AHRDTl6GhpY6_TjI-184Zg83ld_JMrw3XEYuMvHas1yBPm5F6VXj4IfJylbYjUN_8JxDbCNZFZiGeukbpUkOaMLGFyJflag7qcfUeoyjENQOz0ERLQLXpCRUhk/s1600/IMG_2112.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgfuZN7qNFZ_aL_7E3AHRDTl6GhpY6_TjI-184Zg83ld_JMrw3XEYuMvHas1yBPm5F6VXj4IfJylbYjUN_8JxDbCNZFZiGeukbpUkOaMLGFyJflag7qcfUeoyjENQOz0ERLQLXpCRUhk/s200/IMG_2112.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685457634214396658" /></a>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013068719612134968noreply@blogger.com1