July in Christmas

I 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.

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.

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.


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.


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!

There's No Cake in Fruitcake

Only fruit. And rum. Lots of rum.

I'm a little apprehensive about a fruitcake recipe ending up in this book. There's been so many fantastic and unique and delicious recipes, and then, out of nowhere, fruitcake?! Dr. Robinson assures us that there really is such a thing as a good fruitcake. But I'm a skeptic. Then again, remember the Tomato Cake...

This cake was actually the cake from two weeks ago, but I wanted to wait until the first check and rum re-soaking to see how things were looking and then write about it. (That's totally a lie, I've just been extremely busy with the holidays and other top-secret life things, and have gotten home too late and/or too exhausted to write about it.)

Making a fruitcake is an adventure and a half, and not for the faint of heart (or wallet) because the list of ingredients is a mile long and full of things you've never heard of (what the heck is a citron?!), and the directions are very specific. All of the fruits are candied, and I had no idea where to find candied fruits, much less candied fruits I'd never heard of, but decided to start at our international Farmers Market, since, usually, if it's weird, they have it. And they did not let me down this time--citron and all, I found my candied fruits. Except for candied red cherries, which you'd think would be the easiest to find. They had candied green cherries, but I figured there was a reason the recipe specifically calls for red, which I assume is that no one should put something as unnaturally colored as a candied green cherry into his or her body.

The next debacle was the pan for the cake. The recipe calls for a 10" tube pan. I had no idea what that was. A quick search revealed something like a bundt pan but not fluted... think angel food cake pan. After spending my monthly grocery budget on cake ingredients, the last thing I wanted to buy was another pan, so I continued my searching for an acceptable substitute. Not as easy as you might think. But thank Google this recipe is famous and some poor soul was as lost as I was, and I discovered two loaf pans would work if I just decreased the baking time by an hour. I actually heard my credit card sigh in relief. (Also, by switching to loaf pans, my instructions went from some convoluted nonsense about drawing circles on paper bags and folding and cutting to "line pans with heavy brown paper." Fruitcake for Dummies.)

So the raisins and currants soak in rum overnight. Then you add all your other fruits and nuts and you get a giant vat of candied trail mix that looks like this:



Then you mix up the cake batter and add it to the fruit vat and it looks... well, pretty much the same. There's barely enough batter to moisten all the fruits and nuts. I was slightly concerned about the physical possibility of "baking" the cake, but I'd come this far and I was not turning back. So, pans into oven, and 2.5 hours later, fruitcake! Somewhat cakey-er than the batter going in, but still mostly a solid 2.5 pounds of candied fruit per loaf.


The cakes now have to "cure" for several weeks wrapped in a cheesecloth soaked in rum. Every week I have to check the cakes and re-soak the cheesecloth if it's dry. Today was my first check, and the cakes look pretty much like what one might imagine--golden, fruity, rum-soaked little mummies.

13 more days to go. I'm still a skeptic. But, like I said, remember the Tomato Cake...

Cake Week?

No, I did not forget to make a cake last week. I've just been putting off writing about it because 1.) I've been so busy I can't even remember what happened last week, and 2.) there's not too much to say.


Thanksgiving was last week, and I decided to add this cake as part of our dessert trio. No one but me likes pumpkin pie, and apple is exhausting to make (peeling all those darn apples...), so we were down to the Best Pecan Pie in the Whole Universe (a secret family recipe) and French Silk pie. This week's recipe was for coconut cake, and while coconut does not seem to go at all with Thanksgiving, I figured why not throw it in? After all, I'm thankful for the tropics because it's warm and there are lots of vacation spots, so why not show a little love by incorporating coconut into our Thanksgiving feast?


My boss generously gave us Wednesday off, so I used part of my "free" time to make the cake. The cake itself is a white cake, and pretty simple as cakes go. The frosting was more interesting--almost like a marshmallow fluff consistency, which was tricky to get just right (thank goodness for the KitchenAid) and trickier to spread. The recipe only called for toasted coconut on the top and outside, but I'm a go-big-or-go-home kinda person, so I put a healthy dash in between the layers as well. I ended up with a lovely three layer tower of vanilla coconut marshmallow goodness.


It was a hit--held its own against the other Thanksgiving desserts Thursday, got rave reviews at our weekly football gathering on Sunday (Tim's new favorite? It's a close call...), and on Monday I sent a large piece (as well as some of the ridiculous amounts of leftover coconut I had) home with some friends from Emory, who also gave it two thumbs up. Kudos to this cake for spreading its cake joy for almost an entire week!

Happy (un)Birthday to Me!

Despite the fact that I hate birthdays, I think everyone should have a birthday cake. No one likes getting older, but everyone likes cake, so I think everyone is entitled to their very own cake one day a year. Perhaps instead of birthdays, we should implement Cakedays. Not to be confused with Cake Days, of course.

Since I spent my actual birthday managing the Hotel Liz, attending a wedding, and belly dancing at a Hafla, I decided I'd use last week's Cake Day to make my own birthday cake. As an added bonus to my adventure, I got to test run my swanky new official baking apron and matching oven mitt that Alex too generously bestowed upon me for my birthday. Funny, I feel this project is slowly taking over my life... my gifts this year consisted of a KitchenAid mixer, a fancy KitchenAid bowl scraper attachment, and an apron and oven mitt set. It's nice to know people are on board, at least.

The recipe this week was a Jamnesty torte, which is an adaptation of a cake served on the Orient Express during its prime. Dr. Robinson made it in honor of a concert fundraiser her was daughter managing that weekend for Amnesty International, which they called Jamnesty. Her recipe adds a layer of blackberry jam between the layers of the flourless chocolate cake. I, however, was unaware of this, so my cake, sadly, was flourless and jam-less.

It was much less in many other areas, as well, I think, because it requires chocolate and almonds to be ground together in a food processor. Unfortunately, I only have Baby Food Processor, a small, free, mostly-gets-the-job-done food processor not meant for such tasks. Although I pre-crushed the almonds with a hammer and towel and cut the baking chocolate into smaller squares, Baby Food Processor was quite unhappy with me, and it took constant readjusting, several pauses to let the smoky smell subside, and much coaxing, singing, and kind words to convince Baby Food Processor that it was up for the job. The final product was a chunky mix rather than a fine powder, resulting in a cake that was less cake and more crunch. Not in an unpleasant way, just a much different texture from what I think the cake should have had. My chocolate buttercream frosting, however, was perfect. (I will add that few things in life are more satisfying than watching your KitchenAid mix up buttercream frosting.) And although I was slightly disappointed with the results, Tim said it was probably his favorite cake yet. (Also notice his Dramatic Angle photo of the cake cutting.) I'll admit, it did taste pretty excellent, jam or no jam.

Dr. Robinson also discusses in this chapter that we can often feel like we are trying to hold onto a planet that is spinning too fast, almost out of control for us. She compares it to feeling like a bacterium in a centrifuge, spinning at 10,000 times the force of gravity. I feel like one of those bacteria now, both in the short-term and the long-term scheme of things. In the short-term, I'm in the middle of almost three weeks straight of house guests, trying to keep up with laundry and cleaning. There's also the prepping for Thankgiving, the shopping and baking. And I'm putting in extra hours for dance and trying to make something, anything, happen at work, all while thinking about dissertation writing, graduating, and job applications. I feel exhausted, like I'm just trying to push through each day, one more step, until the still-undefined day when things will slow down. In the long-term, I'm now 26. Do you remember how old that seemed when you were in grade school, high school even, and writing all those completely ridiculous assignments about what you wanted to be when you "grew up," or the list of things you wanted to accomplish in your life, or where you saw yourself when you turned 30? Where are the house, the husband, the kids, the impressive career I wrote about in those assignments? Did anyone's life turn out like the one they wrote about in the 7th grade? No one dreams of being a single graduate student renting an apartment 700 miles from her family. And yet, here I am, and I don't even feel mature enough to be here. I don't feel as old as 26-year-olds seemed when I was 16. I feel like there is still so much I need to accomplish, but time is passing way too quickly. The whirlwinds of short-term and long-term meeting creates quite a dichotomy: each day feels long, but each year flies by.

Anyway, I'm glad I took some time out this weekend to bake a cake to celebrate me, and to share it with friends. For a little while, the crazy spinning slowed, and I could enjoy the here and now. I think that, in general, we don't do that often enough, we don't pause to take a breath and take it all in. We should do more dancing, more yoga, more sleeping in, more chatting with friends and family, more cake baking and cake eating. Maybe that would help life feel less like a centrifuge and more like a carousel. Wouldn't you rather ride a shiny pink pony than be stuck to the bottom of an eppendorf tube with millions of bacteria?

The Politics of Cake

Oh goodness, I'm over a week behind with writing this. November is just out of control.

Last week's cake was an Election Day Cake. Conveniently, both Cake Day and Election Day fell last Tuesday.

Dr. Robinson made this cake specifically for Election Day, but for me, these events was purely coincidental. My dark, dirty secret is... I've never voted. I'm not even registered. Before you go off on your self-righteous tirade about how I'm irresponsible and dishonoring democracy and disrespecting those who fought for that right, etc etc etc, let me explain.

No one has ever told me I should vote just to vote, just to make use of this precious right so many people worldwide don't have. The encouragement to vote always comes with a caveat: vote for the RIGHT person. Which is never who you think is right, but always the candidate the person who is encouraging you to vote is supporting. I've seen political debates turn into heated arguments between corworkers, friends, siblings, and couples. There is a reason for that saying about "The two things you should never talk about in polite company are religion and politics." Nothing makes me quite as uncomfortable as when someone starts talking trash about a politician or a policy, from the War in Iraq to "Obamacare." It inevitably leads to a tense discussion, and I usually just leave the room. If asked my opinion on an issue, I rarely respond more than "yeah" or use the excuse "I haven't really been keeping up with it." Relationships are so hard to manage as it is. Why add further strain? Hearing how passionately friends and coworkers support certain candidates and policies and disdain others, I know I could never be able to admit voting in opposition to what they believe. I don't want that. I just want there to be peace.

In addition, I hate when people vote for something based purely on party lines. I think, if you're going to vote, you should be well-educated on the candidates or issues and vote based on what you truly believe, not based on the supporting party. No Republican agrees with everything the Republican party supports, and same for the Democrats. If I go to vote, I want to make sure I have done my research, I know the facts, I know both sides of the story. And right now, I just don't have time. I know I'll get reprimanded for that statement, but at this point in my life, I just don't have the time and energy. I hope one day I will, that one day I'll care a little more. But for now, I'm going to let the battle rage on without me.

Now, you may commence your tirade. But just know that, unless you can look me in the eye and tell me that you truly, honestly don't care who or what I vote for, that you'll never even ask because it doesn't matter as long as I'm voting and voting for what I believe, I'm not listening.

As for the Election Day Cake, it has quite a history. A colonial era cake, it was made in large loaves in homes in New England to feed friends and family who had to travel long distances to visit the voting booth and would stay with loved ones for the event. Apparently, Election Day in the early days of our nation was a time for celebrating and feasting. I like this image of Election Day much better than the tense and impersonal atmosphere of our current voting set up.


The cake is thick, moist, and bready, filled with spices and raisins, and topped with a buttery sugar crackle. The recipe makes two loaves, so I took one to work, and kept one around for breakfast for the many visitors I had last weekend, in town for a wedding, which I think is a much more appropriate occasion for celebration than Election Day in the modern era. It was well-received, and I think, despite the lack of voting, it fulfilled its purpose: to celebrate being with friends a loved ones. In a time when politics can pull people apart, a sweet cake can help remind us of the importance of coming together.

A Reflection on Science, and Happy Birthday, Tim!

The great thing about making a cake every week is that you have an instant birthday gift for all your friends. Who doesn't want a delicious homemade cake for their birthday? (Particularly one with a tea light instead of normal birthday candles?)

The recipe this week is Twilight Velvet Crumb Cake, which is actually a recipe off the Bisquick box. It was the first cake Dr. Robinson made by herself, at only 11 years old, and the cake her daughter baked to celebrate the day Dr. Robinson became a full professor. For those not involved in the academic realm of science, this is the culmination of all your work... college, graduate school, post-doc, assistant professor, associate professor, and finally, full professor. So being promoted to full professor is a huge accomplishment. Dr. R. notes that, while nearly 50% of all PhDs in the biological sciences have been awarded to women since the mid-1990s, only 8% of full professors are women. Based on my time in graduate school and some recent experiences, I hypothesize that this sad statistic is the result of an environment which does not allow most women to flourish. Academia in the sciences can feel like the "good ol' boys club;" it helps those who are already ahead and presents increasing obstacles to those who are behind, and a large percentage of the time, it is truly not what you know but who you know. The intense competitive nature can be oppressive for those whose personalities tend toward nurturing. The need to be available and have access to e-mail at all hours of every day can be a deterrent for those women who want to be mothers. And the demand to constantly be "tougher," depending on whose definition of "tough" you go by, can turn the warmest person cold, or the most independent person utterly complacent.

But I don't remember Dr. Robinson being any of these things. She was a scientist, but also a mother and a friend, she cared about her students, she made time to bake a cake every single week. And she was still successful, still reached the ultimate goal. I don't know how, but she overcame all of the obstacles and came out not only an academic scientist but also a whole person. I usually don't feel like there is room for both of these things in this life. I want out of the world of academia because I feel trapped, I feel like this lifestyle doesn't allow one to be whole, well-rounded, and happy and still be considered successful. Whatever her secret is, I want it. However, I think it's one of those things that has to be learned, not told, not given.


But we were thinking of happier things this Cake Day. It was Tim's birthday, and the inaugural run of the KitchenAid! Probably overkill for this simple cake, but totally worth the excitement (check out the mad mixing action in the photo). The name is appropriate, because the cake itself is velvety in texture. The topping is the best part though: coconut, pecans, brown sugar, and butter make a golden, crunchy, sweet crust atop the soft, crumbly cake. It would be excellent with coffee for breakfast, but also went perfectly with our pizza and football dinner celebration. An all-occasion cake, I guess... and Maureen said it might be her favorite one yet! I guess that means I'll have to make it again some time. Who would have thought a simple recipe off a box of Bisquick could be so good?

Newsflash!

We interrupt your irregularly scheduled cake blogging with this important news bulletin:



(Cue that shiny sounding "aaaahhhhhh" music they always play on TV when they show something glorious.)

That's right. That day when people are supposed to be nice to me and give me stuff is coming up, and my mom, after reading my entire blog in one sitting (as atonement for not keeping up in the first place.. just kidding!) and listening to me lament about my lack of nice things when it comes to baking, somehow managed to obtain one of these beautiful items, thereby accomplishing both being nice to me and giving me stuff 12 times over.


I got the notice about the package last night, but my apartment office was closed. Morning could not come fast enough. I went to pick it up first thing, and when the guy brought out the box my eyes got really big and a huge smile must have spread over my face, because he commented, "You seem excited." Um... YES! Can you not read the giant "KitchenAid" written on the box? How could it get more exciting? I quickly forgave his lack of understanding, however, when he very generously offered to carry it out to my car. It made for a very long day, knowing that wonderful, gorgeous stand mixer was sitting unopened in my trunk.


When I finally got home, my neighbor noticed me struggling to get the package out of the car along with my backpack, my gym back, a grocery bag with a few items I needed, and my lunch box. He also very generously offered to carry the mixer for me. While I was beginning to feel a little irritated because everyone was getting to touch this mixer except me, I agreed to let him help me up the stairs to my apartment, where I grabbed the scissors and tore open the box to find... another box. At least this one was fancier. But getting the box out of the box was no small feat. And removing the mixer from the second box and all its packaging was yet another adventure. Now I know why only married people get these things... it takes two people to unpack one!

Once the mixer was out of the box and sitting in my entry way, I realized I hadn't made a spot in the kitchen for it. (If you think for one second that thing is going in a cabinet, you are WRONG! It's sitting out so I can stare at it in all its fabulous bright green splendor ALL THE TIME. And then everyone else will see it and have to admire its loveliness too.) So, the blender got demoted to a shelf, and the knife block was moved to a new (albeit probably less convenient) counter spot. Then I thought... WWMD... What Would Mom Do? Sigh. Obviously, I needed to wash everything before putting it together (be proud, mom, be proud). One somewhat hasty sink full of dishes later, it was finally assembly time! Taking no chances, I turned to the manual. But I have to say, I'm pretty sure lesser primates and younger children could figure it out... it's fairly self explanatory. The hardest part is figuring out when you would use all the different... mixy things... (I wondered for a moment if that hook thing was to replace my hand when I actually succeeded in cutting it off while using the chef's knife, and was a little disappointed they didn't include a wooden leg too. Apparently, however, it's for bread doughs. Why bread doughs require a deadly weapon to mix I have yet to figure out.) But thankfully, the manual has that information, as well as recipes. And of course a whole list of attachments I can now start to accumulate! (And by now I mean when I have a house with counter and cabinet space.)

Anyway, short story long, I am now the owner of a fantastic Green Apple KitchenAid stand mixer, and it is displayed prominently on my kitchen counter for all to admire (mostly me). I am patiently waiting until Cake Day (Saturday/Sunday) to use it for the first time... I feel the most appropriate first use of my new mixer is a cake for this project, since that's why I got it in the first place. When I was cleaning up the packaging and gathering all the paperwork, a card fell out of the packing slip. It was a birthday message from my mom: "We all need a little help on our journeys. Here's a little help with Cake, Hope, & Love." I don't know why, but it brought tears to my eyes. Maybe it's because it feels like I need help... lots of help... in all of my journeys right now, and as silly as it sounds, the mixer is something tangible, help I can see and touch and physically use. Maybe it's because this whole crazy cake idea is something I'm doing just for me--it won't make me rich or famous, it won't help me land a great job, it won't help me get my PhD (well... that's somewhat debatable), but my mom still reached out to support this personal, somewhat irrational endeavor, reminding me that no matter what, she's got my back. Regardless, this bright green KitchenAid might make it worth having a birthday this year. And I cannot wait until Cake Day!