Down in the Dumps

"Dump cake. A cake made by 'dumping' the ingredients directly into the baking pan, mixing them, and baking the batter." --John F. Mariani, Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink.

Or, a cake you make when "sad" doesn't begin to describe how you're feeling.

I needed cake today. No time for plans with friends or elaborate dinners. I needed something sweet in my life and I needed it NOW.

I found out that I have a stress fracture in my right hip. I've been on crutches since Friday, and I'll be on crutches for another 1 - 3 months, depending on how the fracture heals. I was scheduled to run 5 races this season; I've already registered, the money is spent and now lost. But not only do I need to stay off my leg, I can't do ANYTHING. No yoga, no biking, not even swimming. I exercise 6 or 7 days a week, and on some of those days, twice. I walk everywhere. And now all I can do is sit. Working out, and especially running, is my stress relief. Plus, I live alone--my family is 700 miles away, my boyfriend is 800, my only roommates are two cats and a turtle. So I'm in a vicious downward cycle--I'm stressed because I can't work out and I'm trying to figure out how to accomplish basic every day errands and work and chores, but I can't relieve the stress because I can't work out. The best option for quick, albeit temporary relief, is clearly cake. So today was an Emergency Cake Day.

I giggled a lot reading this chapter. The Dump Cake is an official Girl Scout sanctioned cake, intended to be made in a standard Girl Scout issue cast iron Dutch oven and cooked over a campfire. (Thankfully, Dr. R has included a home version for those of us who never made it past Daisies.) The chapter tells the story of Dr. R's last Girl Scout camp-out with her youngest daughter, and is so candidly written and full of different emotions that in three short pages, you've found yourself crying, laughing, and swimming in nostalgia. The theme of the camp-out is Survivor, and Dr. R describes the antics of the girls as their teams try to "Outwit, Outplay, and Outlast" with clear motherly affection, and the antics of a few mothers (you know the type) with tongue in cheek.

After reading the chapter I felt a little pang of sadness, but also the tiny seed of determination. This is my Survivor Challenge. I, too, have to "Outwit, Outplay, and Outlast." But instead of two days in the woods, I have 3 months in Life. How will I cook meals, clean my apartment, feed my cats, get groceries, work in a lab while on crutches? How will I cope when I am completely and utterly overwhelmed by frustration, anger, or sadness? Baby steps. The first thing I will do is make a cake.


So I crutch into Kroger, ask the manager if I can put items in my back pack while I shop, grab the unbelievably short list of ingredients for the cake, and reluctantly but gratefully accept the help of an Infectious Disease doctor who complimented my stellar crutch technique to carry my groceries to my car. (Baby step 1: accept help. Still working on Baby Step 2: Ask for it.) I hop a couple times around the kitchen to grab a pan, a spoon, and oven mitts and preheat the oven. I dump all the ingredients into the pan (ok, so the butter was more placed than dumped) and enjoy a good laugh at how ridiculous the pre-baked cake looks. After the Tomato Cake, however, I am wise, and I excitedly put the cake in the oven and distract myself for the hour while it bakes with a book. (The Help, by Kathryn Stockett. Yes, like the movie. Read it. It's better for you.) Soon my whole apartment smells like melting butter, and when the cake comes out of the oven, it is crisp and bubbling. I attempt to wait for the cake to cool enough for me to eat, but after approximately two minutes, I scoop out a small amount.

It's almost like cobbler, sweet and buttery, soft with a perfect crunch on top. So I grab a much bigger scoop, devise a method of furniture surface leap frog to get my plate to the sofa, and eat way too much cake while watching several episodes of Scrubs. The magic of Cake Day settles in; for now, my spirits have lifted and my outlook is not so bleak, I will Survive. It might sound selfish, but I'm glad I kept all the magic for myself this time. I needed to take a moment to take a deep breath and regroup, just me, myself, and cake. (The cake, however, I cannot keep all to myself, as it would be gone in two days, and since I'm not working out, eating an entire cake is probably not a good plan.)


Right now, forget the crutches. I've got cobbler.

Best Cake Ever

That's really all that needs to be said about this cake. It is pastry perfection.

Cake Day this week was Monday, in honor of Labor Day, a day off work, and the closing of a fantastic week with Randy. He helped me bake, by which I mean he spent most of the time sitting in his office chair reading instructions while I ran frantically around the kitchen. However, he did make an excellent photographer, and we played Wii while cake parts were baking and cooling and freezing, so it ended up being a lovely late afternoon together.

This week's recipe was New Orleans Chocolate Cake, chosen by Dr. Robinson at the time as a way to celebrate the city of New Orleans and honor the growing number of victims from Hurricane Katrina, which was pounding the city of New Orleans and the surrounding area at this time during her Year of Cake. Purposely or not, this declaration now forever associates this cake with the memory of that event. Once one has read the chapter, one can never make this cake without remembering for a brief moment the devastation and those who were lost in the horrible storm.


My feelings going into making this cake, however, could not be more opposite. There is no great tragedy in my life right now, and aside from the sadness slowly sneaking in as my impending departure drew nearer, this week had been full of joy and I was ready to celebrate. And this was the perfect cake. It was complicated, and I had to cheat a little--the recipe includes instructions to make a homemade chocolate pudding filling, but I used a box of Jello pudding mix. I didn't have the space, equipment (2 double boilers?!), or time necessary to take on making both a pudding and a cake, and I wanted to keep things simple and easy, so we could enjoy the baking process and being together without getting frustrated over first-time pudding-making.


If my infidelity to the recipe had any negative impact, it was impossible to tell. This was honestly the best cake I have ever eaten. The chocolate cake itself is moist and rich, likely from the addition of sour cream. A simple, light whipped cream frosting makes the perfect topping, adding just a bit of texture and flavor contrast without overwhelming or taking away from the cake itself. And the pudding filling adds a pleasant little surprise right in the center. We added sprinkles again for a splash of color, and helped ourselves to giant pieces, which we ate sitting in bed watching Star Wars (the original ones, not the lame new ones). I'm fairly certain I can't think of a better way to spend an evening than devouring a huge piece of indescribably delicious chocolate cake while lounging in pajamas in front of the TV in a sea of pillows and blankets. I'm so glad I ended up making this cake while I was up in Princeton, not only because I know that Randy really liked it as well, but because the whole experience definitely wouldn't have been as fun, or as meaningful, without him. Maybe the cake wouldn't even have tasted as good (although honestly, it's so amazing, I kind of doubt it :-p). I will definitely be making this cake again. It's worth the effort. Maybe next time I'll get brave and try making my own pudding.


I successfully completed two traveling Cake Days. It will be nice to be back in my own kitchen for the next one, but I'm going to miss my Cake Mate bunches. (P.S. We don't usually dress alike, I swear. In particular, we don't usually dress like twin bums. Pajamas, remember?)



9/17/11 Best Cake Ever reprise: My friend had her birthday this week, so I told her I'd make her a cake and gave her a choice of any that I've made so far. After hearing me rave about this one, it was an easy choice. So I made it again and took it to our Mexican Margarita party. We caused quite a ruckus in the restaurant with our singing and cake with 40 candles (she's not actually anywhere near 40; in fact she's not even 30 yet). It was a huge hit, and we left the rest for our waiters, as a thank-you for putting up with our group and the free round of birthday tequila shots! Seriously... this is the best cake ever.

Celebrating the simple things

This week's Cake Day was extra-special. My boyfriend, Randy, moved to New Jersey in April for a post doctoral position at Princeton. We haven't seen each other in almost 5 months. But thanks to Delta SkyMiles, I finally made it up here to see his new apartment, his new campus, his new life.

He is in need of some home-baked goods, and since this project is becoming an important part of my life, I wanted him to be included, so it only made sense to celebrate Cake Day with Randy. This week's recipe is for The White Cake, a cake made by Dr. Robinson's mother-in-law for nearly all important celebrations. The recipe is simple, and even states you can mix the cake batter by hand (my kind of cooking!). I baked the cakes while Randy was at work, which was an adventure in what he calls his "RV kitchen" (it's tiny), with even fewer tools at my disposal than usual (I brought my own cake pans and cooling rack). If I can get a cake out of here, I can get a cake out of anywhere. We frosted together after lunch (well, ok, I frosted and Randy took pictures... and added his own flair with some sprinkles), but patiently waited to savor our beautiful creation until after a run, dinner, and the last Harry Potter movie (we may have been the last people in the world who hadn't seen it). The first bite was an exciting moment, and well worth the wait. The cake itself is moist and almost satiny, and the frosting will satisfy even the most ravenous sweet tooth. It's simple, classic, and pure deliciousness.


Reading this cake's chapter, I find the timing of this Cake Day was particularly fitting. The Robinson family made this cake the week of Hurricane Katrina, and although not nearly as devastating as Katrina, Hurricane Irene blew through the East Coast earlier this week, and many areas, including the Princeton area, are still recovering from the flooding. Their Cake Day doubled as a celebration of Dr. R's in-laws' 63rd wedding anniversary. While nowhere near as impressive as a 63rd wedding anniversary, we are celebrating the slightly belated 3-year anniversary of our own relationship. But for us, it's the pure simplicity of this cake that I find most fitting. We have no big plans, no fancy outings planned for my time here. We are just enjoying our time together, playing it by ear, being us. Good local food, the beach, movies, running, and whatever else we're inspired to do that lets us enjoy each others company in a way Skype, AIM, and cell phones can't. And pretending we're movie critics and groaning about our sore calves late at night over slices of sweet cake is a perfect way to celebrate us.

Trust

This week's Cake Day was kind of a big deal. I have much to celebrate: my first paper was accepted! And Thursday marked the end of what has been a very stressful few months at work that included an international conference, a committee meeting, and 4 publications. Thursday night, in fact, I slept through the night (9 hours!) and did not dream about science for the first time since May. It was glorious. So my running buddy and a couple other friends came over for Mexican and Cake Night!

This week's recipe was for Fresh Tomato Cake. I should preface this with the fact that I was nervous about this recipe all week. The Robinson family apparently loves tomatoes, and actually I do too. Not the cardboard ones you often get from the grocery store, but the home grown or fresh from the Farmer's Market tomatoes that are red and juicy and beautiful, and as I recently learned, in peak season in August. Just sliced right up with a little salt, cut into big chucks in a salad, or chopped into fresh, chunky, spicy, homemade salsa. But tomato cake? I'd never heard of such a thing, and it definitely raised some eyebrows. All week, the conversations with the numerous people who are quickly finding out about my cake project went something like this:

"So what cake are you making this week?"
"Fresh Tomato Cake."
"TOMATO CAKE?!?!?"
"I know, I know. I'm nervous about it. But I trust Dr. Robinson."

My trust wavered a little, however, as Maureen and I prepared the cake while the boys made salsa and guacamole. I regarded the mixed batter, the baked cakes, and all I kept saying was, "I don't know about this cake, guys."

The frosting eased my nerves a little. It was the most delicious cream cheese frosting ever! So at the very least, we could gather around the table with a bowl of frosting and spoons and just go for it. But with Maureen's encouragement, we frosted, layered, and frosted some more. The result was quite pretty, actually.

The moment of taste truth was quite dramatic. We all sat around with our plates and forks glancing nervously at each other. Finally, someone said, "Ok, ready?" and we all took a bite. Silence. And then a somewhat collective sigh of relief. It was actually really good! Different than any other cake I've had before; somewhat like carrot cake but with a fresher taste attributed to the tomatoes. I never should have doubted. Tim and Maureen took a big piece home, and the rest will go into work tomorrow... if I don't eat it all today, that is.

It was a perfect celebration: tacos, salsa, guacamole, margaritas, and tomato cake, which actually complemented all the tomatoes used in our Mexican feast quite well. Needless to say, we were all incredibly full. But it was definitely worth it. And worth the extra work out I'll do today to burn off all those calories...

Easy as... cheesecake?

Why did I not know before this that cheesecake was so easy to make?!

Oh yeah, because then I'd be 400 pounds.

Guess I'll have to run marathons forever now...

This week's recipe is North Coast Cheesecake, a family recipe for Dr. R, and a cake she calls comfort food. Her husband baked this cake to ease the sadness the week their oldest daughter left to go back to school.

I don't know why I decided I needed to bake yesterday, but I had time, and what better way to fill it than with something as productive and delicious as the making of a cake? The recipe is incredibly easy, and crushing up graham crackers for the crust is excellent stress relief. In addition to the actual cheesecake layer, there is a sweetened sour cream topping, which adds a unique and incredibly tasty twist to an otherwise simple, classic cheesecake. Extra bonuses: you can make it in a 9x13 pan (no fancy sprinforms in this girl's apartment...), and you can use reduced fat cream cheese and sour cream and it still tastes incredible (although probably not as good as if you use the full fat stuff, right?).

The timing of this call to cake-baking was actually appropriate, as my sister started graduate school today. She's all moved off and away from home in her own apartment like a real adult. I don't live close to the rest of my family, so it's not her leaving that makes me a little sad. It's more that it's the end of an era. We're both adults now, trying to figure out how exactly to make it on our own in the real world. From my own experience thus far with graduate school and life in general, I know that in both areas there will be some struggling, and some failure. But that's part of the learning process, and ultimately makes us stronger. I'm also confident that she will be successful; she'd never let herself be anything but. She called me this weekend full of questions before her orientation; having just gone through this process a few years ago, I know exactly the overwhelming mix of emotions she's feeling, and am happy to offer suggestions and advice based on my own limited experiences. If she lived closer, I would have also offered her some of this cake.

As it was, I took half this cheesecake and the leftover lemon poppy seed cake from Friday to lab meeting today. Science seems extra interesting when discussed over cake. And it's such a gratifying feeling to see your boss smile and have your coworker come in and say "Oh good, there's still cake!" It's an instant little confidence boost and a dose of the kind of happiness that can only be achieved through service to others. Knowing that I've brightened their day a little brightens my day. Add that to the simple fact that I'm eating cheesecake... how could it possibly get better?

When life hands you lemons...

Make lemon poppyseed cake!

A friend and coworker joined me for this week's Cake Day. We decided to add our own little twist and make it Cake and Wine Day, both of which were needed after this week. We enjoyed a good giggle over the fact that the author comments in this chapter on how frustrating laboratory research can be. I think we were both feeling that this week. As Dr. Robinson states, "Apparently I need a new club to wrest inspiration from the titanium jaws of unyielding frustration." Yes, yes indeed.

But we don't have clubs. We have spoons and bowls and honey and eggs and red wine and... lemons. Everything we need for cake and girl talk over a glass of wine. As far as cakes go, this was the perfect cake to put an end to this week: delightfully simple, and simply delicious. (No KitchenAid required)

If I were to make a cake for my mom, this would be the one. She's not a sweets person, preferring salty over sugary. This cake uses honey instead of sugar and calls for wheat flower (conveniently my current obsession), which adds a nuttier, earthier flavor than the all-purpose variety. Additionally (a word only scientists use in regular conversation...), the powdered sugar glaze contains lemon juice and zest, which cuts the pure sugar sweetness with a pleasantly surprising tart zip. The result is a technically simple but flavorfully complex cake, sweet enough to make you smile, but not so sweet you can feel the cavities forming.

The left overs will be shared at lab meeting on Monday, to remind us of the good an occasional lemon can do for us.

Raspberry Cake for the Scientist's Soul

Today needed to be Cake Day. The atmosphere in the office yesterday afternoon was bleak--everyone was frustrated with their projects, worn out by the heat, and suffering from the general mid-week blues. And after receiving last week's left overs, everyone was hungry for cake anyway... I'd been asked multiple times when the next Cake Day would be. It's impressive how quickly people jump in to support a project when the outcome will be a sweet treat in which they can partake.

So last night I attempted the Raspberries and Cream Cloud Cake.

Which turned out to be an event that reminded me why I don't usually bake cakes: when it comes to baking, I lack certain "things." Mainly, an electric mixer. No one in my family has ever used one. We're stubborn, I suppose, so the only way to bake is the old fashioned way: a spoon and elbow grease. It seems that nowadays, however, most recipes assume you have a giant, shiny (expensive) KitchenAid. The graduate student salary doesn't allow one to purchase such niceties for oneself, and since I haven't had the fortune of a wedding registry yet, I usually make do by MacGyvering a combination of ordinary kitchen tools, an electric hand mixer, and sheer manpower and get through just fine. Apparently, though, not for this cake. While the instructions were exquisitely detailed and clear, and I followed them exactly minus the mixer part, my cake didn't turn out quite like I'd hoped.

I also apparently lack math skills, as I had only 3/4 the raspberries I needed. If only we used the metric system... so much easier than this pints/quarts/ounces nonsense.

All was not lost, however, as what the cake lacked in beauty, it generally made up for in taste. Naturally I sampled some before taking it in this morning, to avoid subjecting my coworkers to further disappointment. But Cake Day the Second was a success, bringing to the office a little cheer and several extra visitors. Good news travels fast. And the sweet fruit and light frosting were perfect in the sweltering weather we're experiencing.

My cat was also quite interested in the cake. I wonder if there are kitty cake recipes...

Next time I attempt this cake, I'll be armed and ready with the correct calculations and, hopefully, a KitchenAid.