At the risk of my blog being deleted, should I ever want to resume it, I need to make a post. I know it's been a very long time but I had a baby three months ago (the amazing Mr. Wyatt) and my head isn't really there. Also a year ago I moved into a house with the worst kitchen in existence so I rarely bake.
I'm making a carrot cake today though so we'll see how that goes!
January 20, 2013
August 9, 2011
The Batman Cake
I had to call the police on my upstairs neighbor the night I decorated this cake. Pissed me off. Imagine trying to decorate a two tier cake for a precocious four year old to the muffled thumping of heavy-bass dance music and screeching girls. It's okay that you didn't invite me to the party, I'd rather listen to it from downstairs while I grind my teeth to nubbins.
Whatever. It was Brady's fourth birthday and he requested a Batman cake, complete with Batman, the Joker and a "Batman-bile" (pronounced "beel", not like "a bitter, alkaline, yellow or greenish liquid, secreted by the liver, that aids in absorption and digestion, especially of fats").
Super Auntie to the rescue! I sculpted a Batmobile out of modeling chocolate and baked a vanilla sponge cake with a marshmallow creme filling. No real calamities, it just looked really cool.
You may notice the pictures are taken at an "artistic" angle. This is because it was slightly tilting. Whoops.
Whatever. It was Brady's fourth birthday and he requested a Batman cake, complete with Batman, the Joker and a "Batman-bile" (pronounced "beel", not like "a bitter, alkaline, yellow or greenish liquid, secreted by the liver, that aids in absorption and digestion, especially of fats").
Super Auntie to the rescue! I sculpted a Batmobile out of modeling chocolate and baked a vanilla sponge cake with a marshmallow creme filling. No real calamities, it just looked really cool.
You may notice the pictures are taken at an "artistic" angle. This is because it was slightly tilting. Whoops.
The Baby Bump Cake That Almost Wasn't
My sister had her baby shower on the May long weekend, and I was in charge of providing the treats. I made chiffon cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, which were delicious. I also told Tynna I would make her a baby bump cake. I have never made one, and had no idea how. Trusty Google provided me with some tips and tricks. I whipped up a Hellman's chocolate cake (my new go-to recipe. Mr. Town used to make it for us all the time, with hot fudge frosting and it's amaaaaazing) and poured it into a Pyrex bowl and my trusty cake pan that I use to make boobs. How odd that this is something I now do regularly.
The cakes baked fine, but the one that was supposed to be the belly seemed kind of wonky. I stared at these lumps of cakes and for the life of me could not figure out how I was supposed to make this into a baby bump cake. Also, I was dreading having to work with fondant to decorate it. I hate fondant, it tastes like chewy garbage. (I'll spare you my fondant rant, maybe I'll tell you some other time). I called my mom and told her that I didn't think I could make the cake, that it was really stressing me out. She said not to worry about it, that there would be plenty of food and my cupcakes would be just fine.
I stressed and stressed all night. The last thing I wanted to do was upset a very pregnant woman and let her know that her dream baby bump cake was not going to happen. I had bad dreams all night. Seriously.
The next day I took the cakes out of the fridge, and it was like looking at them with brand new eyes. Ohhhhh, I get it.
It looked like this:
The cakes baked fine, but the one that was supposed to be the belly seemed kind of wonky. I stared at these lumps of cakes and for the life of me could not figure out how I was supposed to make this into a baby bump cake. Also, I was dreading having to work with fondant to decorate it. I hate fondant, it tastes like chewy garbage. (I'll spare you my fondant rant, maybe I'll tell you some other time). I called my mom and told her that I didn't think I could make the cake, that it was really stressing me out. She said not to worry about it, that there would be plenty of food and my cupcakes would be just fine.
I stressed and stressed all night. The last thing I wanted to do was upset a very pregnant woman and let her know that her dream baby bump cake was not going to happen. I had bad dreams all night. Seriously.
The next day I took the cakes out of the fridge, and it was like looking at them with brand new eyes. Ohhhhh, I get it.
It looked like this:
Key Lime Pie-tastrophe (Or The Key Lime Pie That Almost Wasn't)
I have not written in awhile, for three reasons. The main reason is I'm unbelievably lazy. Secondly, I don't have a camera and blogs are a snoozer if there are no pictures to accompany the posts. Third, I've become a little less useless in the kitchen (mostly in part to forcing myself to be more organized and plan things out ahead of time), and as such have had less calamities.
That being said, allow me to tell you the tale of the Key Lime Pie That Almost Wasn't..
Picture it, Father's Day 2011. The first time in many many years that Mr. Town was here to celebrate it with us. I thought to myself "What a great opportunity to show him what a wonderful father he has been to us and bake him a Key Lime pie" (it's his favourite).
Now that I am organized, I made sure I had all my ingredients at the ready. Also, I knew I would be pressed for time, so I prepared my graham cracker crust ahead of time, and had it covered in the fridge and ready to go. A few days before Father's Day, I started to prepare the pie. I've never made one before but I figured it would be easy, which it was. Or would have been.
The first thing that happened was Chris knocked the pie plate out of the fridge, not only destroying my pre-prepared crust (it was so crumbly and perfect and buttery too, what a terrible loss) but also smashing my good Pyrex plate to smithereens. ARGHHH!!! I tried to put it behind me and bought a pre-made crust from Wal-Mart. Ugh, gross.
The next thing that happened was after spending ages squeezing, straining and zesting about 25 teeny tiny Key Limes, I realized I had no condensed milk. Crap! I could have sworn I had a can left over from Christmas! I bought some before work the next day and left it in my car, with a plan to really quickly slap this pie together, since my carefully laid plans had gone down the pooper.
I got home from work at 9:30 (yes, that's PM), and got down to it. I went to open the can of milk, which promptly exploded. Turns out it's not a good idea to leave it in the car all day when it's hot out. I ran it over to the sink so inspect the damage. Only half the contents remained. Frrrriiiigggggg. Of course that would happen. I didn't know what to do, I needed to have this pie ready that night, I had to work the next day and was going to my sister's for dinner right after work. Chris was leaving for work shortly and I couldn`t go out to get more.
I ransacked my cupboards, praying that there was something in there that I could substitute for sweetened condensed milk. Cans and cans of evaporated milk, but no condensed. And then, in the way back, there it was. That elusive can off milk that I had sworn I had left over from Christmas.
Of course.
Had I taken the extra two seconds the night before to look, none of this would ever have happened. On the plus side at least I had a story to tell.
The pie came together nicely after that. Mr. Town said it was as good as any Key Lime pie he`s had on any cruise ship, which made me feel quite proud. After all the disasters, near misses and broken Pyrex plates, I made my first Key Lime pie.
And if I didn`t keep dropping my cameras and breaking them, I would have a picture to show you.
That being said, allow me to tell you the tale of the Key Lime Pie That Almost Wasn't..
Picture it, Father's Day 2011. The first time in many many years that Mr. Town was here to celebrate it with us. I thought to myself "What a great opportunity to show him what a wonderful father he has been to us and bake him a Key Lime pie" (it's his favourite).
Now that I am organized, I made sure I had all my ingredients at the ready. Also, I knew I would be pressed for time, so I prepared my graham cracker crust ahead of time, and had it covered in the fridge and ready to go. A few days before Father's Day, I started to prepare the pie. I've never made one before but I figured it would be easy, which it was. Or would have been.
The first thing that happened was Chris knocked the pie plate out of the fridge, not only destroying my pre-prepared crust (it was so crumbly and perfect and buttery too, what a terrible loss) but also smashing my good Pyrex plate to smithereens. ARGHHH!!! I tried to put it behind me and bought a pre-made crust from Wal-Mart. Ugh, gross.
The next thing that happened was after spending ages squeezing, straining and zesting about 25 teeny tiny Key Limes, I realized I had no condensed milk. Crap! I could have sworn I had a can left over from Christmas! I bought some before work the next day and left it in my car, with a plan to really quickly slap this pie together, since my carefully laid plans had gone down the pooper.
I got home from work at 9:30 (yes, that's PM), and got down to it. I went to open the can of milk, which promptly exploded. Turns out it's not a good idea to leave it in the car all day when it's hot out. I ran it over to the sink so inspect the damage. Only half the contents remained. Frrrriiiigggggg. Of course that would happen. I didn't know what to do, I needed to have this pie ready that night, I had to work the next day and was going to my sister's for dinner right after work. Chris was leaving for work shortly and I couldn`t go out to get more.
I ransacked my cupboards, praying that there was something in there that I could substitute for sweetened condensed milk. Cans and cans of evaporated milk, but no condensed. And then, in the way back, there it was. That elusive can off milk that I had sworn I had left over from Christmas.
Of course.
Had I taken the extra two seconds the night before to look, none of this would ever have happened. On the plus side at least I had a story to tell.
The pie came together nicely after that. Mr. Town said it was as good as any Key Lime pie he`s had on any cruise ship, which made me feel quite proud. After all the disasters, near misses and broken Pyrex plates, I made my first Key Lime pie.
And if I didn`t keep dropping my cameras and breaking them, I would have a picture to show you.
April 18, 2011
Renter's Insurance
We've lived here for nearly a year, and we still don't have renter's insurance. I recognize how irresponsible it is, and I do know the consequences of what will happen the day I actually do burn down my kitchen and don't have insurance. A couple of things happened this week that made me realize I should get on that.
Burnin' Down the House
I have this terrible habit of turning the wrong burner on the stove. I tend to stick to the front burners and rarely use the back ones, so oftentimes I forget what I'm doing. I also have this terrible habit (I blame my mom for this one) of having to have a decorative something or other covering every surface of everything in my home. Wednesday, I was running late for work so I put my espresso on the stove and went to dry my hair. Our kitchen was still a mess from the night before because we had to bring our dog to the emergency vet (he had an ear infection, but I thought he was having a seizure, it's a whole other story. He's fine), so I had two of those decorative metal element covers and two vintage straw pot holders stacked on top of a burner. I returned from the bathroom to find my apartment FILLED with smoke. Thank God nothing was actually on fire, but had I given it five more minutes it definitely would have been.
In a panic, I ran to the patio to open the window then snatched the smoldering mess off the stove. I didn't know what to do with it, so I threw it in the bathtub and ran the water on it. Then the smoke detector started going of (at least we know it works), but I couldn't just do the "wave the towel in front of it" trick because there was no moving this smoke. I yanked it off the wall and crawled across the floor to the patio and breathed in some fresh air. I called my boss to tell her I was going to be late and tried not to suffocate.
Please keep in mind that I was in my bra and underpants the entire time. It could have been embarrassing had there actually been a fire.
I called the non-emergency fire department, woke my husband up to wait for them and went to work. I reeked like noxious smoke all day and dreaded having to go home and somehow clean up that mess. The firemen did come (with two trucks and a fire marshall, awesome.) and sucked the smoke out and I spent the evening vacuuming, laundering and scrubbing walls. It's Sunday now and finally the smoke smell has gone.
Chris made me promise that I would never ever buy those decorative element covers again. And maybe not use the stove.
Thanks For Breaking Into Our Storage Locker, Jerkfaces
On the heels of the sick dog/kitchen fire fiascoes came the discovery of our being robbed. We have a storage locker on our floor in which we put all the crap we don't want to part with but don't actually want in our home. In it was two suitcases, our wedding memorabilia, a box of my teacups and serving platters and our Rock Band set. Friday, Chris went to the storage locker to look for his golf club and discovered that the door had been removed from the locker and our Rock Band was gone. Fantastic. I know renter's insurance wouldn't cover storage locker theft, but it just reinforces the fact that I need to get on that!
On the positive side, the theft forced me to find homes for the junk that was hiding in there. Nearly three years after we got married I finally put my guestbook from our wedding together. I had the chance to read all the warm wishes from our guests and see the wonderful cards they gave us. And I finally put out all my vintage teacup, saucers and serving platters!
Burnin' Down the House
I have this terrible habit of turning the wrong burner on the stove. I tend to stick to the front burners and rarely use the back ones, so oftentimes I forget what I'm doing. I also have this terrible habit (I blame my mom for this one) of having to have a decorative something or other covering every surface of everything in my home. Wednesday, I was running late for work so I put my espresso on the stove and went to dry my hair. Our kitchen was still a mess from the night before because we had to bring our dog to the emergency vet (he had an ear infection, but I thought he was having a seizure, it's a whole other story. He's fine), so I had two of those decorative metal element covers and two vintage straw pot holders stacked on top of a burner. I returned from the bathroom to find my apartment FILLED with smoke. Thank God nothing was actually on fire, but had I given it five more minutes it definitely would have been.
In a panic, I ran to the patio to open the window then snatched the smoldering mess off the stove. I didn't know what to do with it, so I threw it in the bathtub and ran the water on it. Then the smoke detector started going of (at least we know it works), but I couldn't just do the "wave the towel in front of it" trick because there was no moving this smoke. I yanked it off the wall and crawled across the floor to the patio and breathed in some fresh air. I called my boss to tell her I was going to be late and tried not to suffocate.
Please keep in mind that I was in my bra and underpants the entire time. It could have been embarrassing had there actually been a fire.
I called the non-emergency fire department, woke my husband up to wait for them and went to work. I reeked like noxious smoke all day and dreaded having to go home and somehow clean up that mess. The firemen did come (with two trucks and a fire marshall, awesome.) and sucked the smoke out and I spent the evening vacuuming, laundering and scrubbing walls. It's Sunday now and finally the smoke smell has gone.
Chris made me promise that I would never ever buy those decorative element covers again. And maybe not use the stove.
Thanks For Breaking Into Our Storage Locker, Jerkfaces
On the heels of the sick dog/kitchen fire fiascoes came the discovery of our being robbed. We have a storage locker on our floor in which we put all the crap we don't want to part with but don't actually want in our home. In it was two suitcases, our wedding memorabilia, a box of my teacups and serving platters and our Rock Band set. Friday, Chris went to the storage locker to look for his golf club and discovered that the door had been removed from the locker and our Rock Band was gone. Fantastic. I know renter's insurance wouldn't cover storage locker theft, but it just reinforces the fact that I need to get on that!
On the positive side, the theft forced me to find homes for the junk that was hiding in there. Nearly three years after we got married I finally put my guestbook from our wedding together. I had the chance to read all the warm wishes from our guests and see the wonderful cards they gave us. And I finally put out all my vintage teacup, saucers and serving platters!
We've had a terrible week, so things can only get better from here on in. Since three very bad things happened, I'm hoping three good things will happen. Wish us luck!
March 29, 2011
Shameful Neglect
My sincerest apologies for not having written bupkis for three months. There are many excuses but the main one is that I'm terribly lazy and frequently run out of steam on things I was previously gung-ho about. Also, I broke yet another camera and I find blog posts to be pretty boring without pictures.
But worry not, my lovelies, I will be writing more soon.
xo
But worry not, my lovelies, I will be writing more soon.
xo
December 7, 2010
Snowmageddon 2010
It's finally stopped snowing, though I dare to say it. Two days of non-stop squall, I am starting to feel like I am living in a snow globe. On the plus side, I have two days off of work. On the down side, I have to days off of work. I really like to get paid, and not being able to go to work is quite a downer.
I'm still amazed at the difference between Northern Ontario drivers and Southern Ontario drivers. It's as if the minute even a flake falls from the sky, everyone here panics and starts to drive like they've just learned how. If Snowmageddon happened in Sault Ste. Marie, where I'm from, people would just say "meh", put their Sorels on and carry on about their day. I mean, the only reason I didn't go to work today was because the muffler was falling off our car and I didn't want to lose it on the long drive out to my store. If our store was open tomorrow I would definitely brave the treacherous roadways and get my tush out there. We went to Canadian Tire first thing this morning to get our muffler fixed, we're good to go.
Since I have a whole two days off, I'm going to do some major Christmas baking. I made some shortbread cookies, chocolate and peppermint cookies and chocolate thumbprint cookies the other day but they're pretty much gone. I had an order for 4 dozen cookies last week and I brought a whole whack for the girls at work. I'm going to forage in my cupboards and see what I can make out of the little ingredients I have- after all it's Snowmageddon 2010, not exactly handy for nipping out to the grocery store for some chocolate chips and coconut!
I'll let you know what I come up with.
I'm still amazed at the difference between Northern Ontario drivers and Southern Ontario drivers. It's as if the minute even a flake falls from the sky, everyone here panics and starts to drive like they've just learned how. If Snowmageddon happened in Sault Ste. Marie, where I'm from, people would just say "meh", put their Sorels on and carry on about their day. I mean, the only reason I didn't go to work today was because the muffler was falling off our car and I didn't want to lose it on the long drive out to my store. If our store was open tomorrow I would definitely brave the treacherous roadways and get my tush out there. We went to Canadian Tire first thing this morning to get our muffler fixed, we're good to go.
Since I have a whole two days off, I'm going to do some major Christmas baking. I made some shortbread cookies, chocolate and peppermint cookies and chocolate thumbprint cookies the other day but they're pretty much gone. I had an order for 4 dozen cookies last week and I brought a whole whack for the girls at work. I'm going to forage in my cupboards and see what I can make out of the little ingredients I have- after all it's Snowmageddon 2010, not exactly handy for nipping out to the grocery store for some chocolate chips and coconut!
I'll let you know what I come up with.
The Cheescake Adventure
I love cheesecake, or so I thought until I finally made one for myself. It turns out that I like a slice of cheesecake every once in awhile. It's far too rich for daily consumption, although if you asked my sister Tynna she'd be quick to disagree.
Metro had Philadelphia cream cheese buy one get one free so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to made my first real cheesecake- none of that no-bake baloney for me!
I must confess that I found this quite a difficult dessert to make. The mixing and whatnot was easy, as was making the graham cracker crust. I consulted my bible The Joy of Cooking and thoroughly read the section on cheesecakes, paying close attention to the baking methods as I really did not want my cheesecake to crack.
I baked it on a high temperature for 10 minutes as per the instructions, and then for 30 minutes or so on low. I turned the oven off, opened the door and let it cool in the oven, again as per the instructions.
Stupid cake cracked. There was a giant fissure across the top, a veritable San Andreas Fault marring the beauty of my creation. Darn it!I left it in five minutes too long. I lied earlier, it was closer to 45 minutes. I didn't trust my instincts and assumed that I knew more than the experts of Joy of Cooking. I thought that it still looked too wet and jiggly in the middle and let it bake for longer. Turns out that there is a reason they tell you to only bake it until it's firm on the edges and wet and jiggly in the middle- it's cooling in a hot oven, it's going to finish baking then! Duh. Sometimes I am such a dummy.
I disguised the crack with some canned cherry pie filling. I would have preferred chocolate ganache or caramel sauce, but Christopher loooooves cherry pie filling and I couldn't be bothered to make it from scratch. Canned filling it is! Once the topping was on, it completely disguised my mistake and despite the petite snafu, my first cheesecake was quite delicious- light and fluffy, rich and decadent. I brought a few pieces for the girls at work and Chris and I each had two pieces. I gave a third of the cake to Tynna, because she is the real cheesecake lover in this family.
Not bad Shannon, not bad at all.
Metro had Philadelphia cream cheese buy one get one free so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to made my first real cheesecake- none of that no-bake baloney for me!
I must confess that I found this quite a difficult dessert to make. The mixing and whatnot was easy, as was making the graham cracker crust. I consulted my bible The Joy of Cooking and thoroughly read the section on cheesecakes, paying close attention to the baking methods as I really did not want my cheesecake to crack.
I baked it on a high temperature for 10 minutes as per the instructions, and then for 30 minutes or so on low. I turned the oven off, opened the door and let it cool in the oven, again as per the instructions.
Stupid cake cracked. There was a giant fissure across the top, a veritable San Andreas Fault marring the beauty of my creation. Darn it!I left it in five minutes too long. I lied earlier, it was closer to 45 minutes. I didn't trust my instincts and assumed that I knew more than the experts of Joy of Cooking. I thought that it still looked too wet and jiggly in the middle and let it bake for longer. Turns out that there is a reason they tell you to only bake it until it's firm on the edges and wet and jiggly in the middle- it's cooling in a hot oven, it's going to finish baking then! Duh. Sometimes I am such a dummy.
I disguised the crack with some canned cherry pie filling. I would have preferred chocolate ganache or caramel sauce, but Christopher loooooves cherry pie filling and I couldn't be bothered to make it from scratch. Canned filling it is! Once the topping was on, it completely disguised my mistake and despite the petite snafu, my first cheesecake was quite delicious- light and fluffy, rich and decadent. I brought a few pieces for the girls at work and Chris and I each had two pieces. I gave a third of the cake to Tynna, because she is the real cheesecake lover in this family.
Not bad Shannon, not bad at all.
November 22, 2010
Making a Boob Cake
My dearest cousin is getting a breast reduction in a few days. She's been waiting years and the day has finally come. She asked me if I could make a boobie cake as she was having a party on Saturday (to which I couldn't attend because I had to work) to say good-bye to her most cumbersome breasts. I am not the best, construction-wise, at making cakes; everything I've done to this point has been pretty basic but I was up to the task of creating my first 3-D cake.
First thing I did was Google "boob cakes" (I Google everything. I can see why it is now considered an actual verb). Some naughty ones popped up, some classy ones, some cute ones. Even one of a naked woman pushing out a baby. I had a good chuckle over that one. Armed with ideas I consulted an old friend, Staci Lawton, on how to bake the "boobs". She had recently done a risque and amazing bachelor cake and is my go-to girl when I don't know how to do something. I bought a Wilton cake pan that is used to make doll cakes, and clown heads and other such things, but makes a perfect set of knockers.
The cake itself baked okay, no major catastrophes. It wasn't as chocolately as I would have liked, I'm still searching for that perfect chocolate cake recipe, but it suited its purpose. I filled the cake with vanilla pudding, whipped up some flesh coloured frosting and stacked those breast-eses on the cake.
You'll notice the left breast is a little lopsided. Just like real ones!
My cousin came to town shortly after I finished the basic construction and frosting of my masterpiece and after a fun evening of babysitting my 3 year old nephew Brady, we returned to my apartment to decorate the cake. I decided on a strapless white bra with pink polka dots because, after all, she would soon be able to wear all those cute little inexpensive bras (and I'll inherit her expensive, structural and functional bras, but that's another story).
As I was decorating, we were also making our way through a litre bottle of wine and my cousin was cleaning her dog-bitten finger. We broke out into song:
Making a boob cake, making a boooob cake, making a boob cake, making a boooob....
Cake.
Making a boob cake, making a boooob cake, cleaning a dog bite, drinking some wiiiine.
You probably had to be there.
The cake was a success, I didn't screw anything up and it made it all the way to the party in Windsor and was enjoyed by all.
I woke up with the worst wine headache of all time. My cousin and I pondered why, at the ages of 28 and 29, we have not learned to alternate water between drinks and pop a Tylenol before going to sleep (who am I kidding? Before passing out cold.)? I guess we'll never learn.
First thing I did was Google "boob cakes" (I Google everything. I can see why it is now considered an actual verb). Some naughty ones popped up, some classy ones, some cute ones. Even one of a naked woman pushing out a baby. I had a good chuckle over that one. Armed with ideas I consulted an old friend, Staci Lawton, on how to bake the "boobs". She had recently done a risque and amazing bachelor cake and is my go-to girl when I don't know how to do something. I bought a Wilton cake pan that is used to make doll cakes, and clown heads and other such things, but makes a perfect set of knockers.
The cake itself baked okay, no major catastrophes. It wasn't as chocolately as I would have liked, I'm still searching for that perfect chocolate cake recipe, but it suited its purpose. I filled the cake with vanilla pudding, whipped up some flesh coloured frosting and stacked those breast-eses on the cake.
My cousin came to town shortly after I finished the basic construction and frosting of my masterpiece and after a fun evening of babysitting my 3 year old nephew Brady, we returned to my apartment to decorate the cake. I decided on a strapless white bra with pink polka dots because, after all, she would soon be able to wear all those cute little inexpensive bras (and I'll inherit her expensive, structural and functional bras, but that's another story).
As I was decorating, we were also making our way through a litre bottle of wine and my cousin was cleaning her dog-bitten finger. We broke out into song:
The Making a Boob Cake Song
Sung to the tune of "Kill the Wabbit" as sung by Elmer Fudd to the tune of Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries"Making a boob cake, making a boooob cake, making a boob cake, making a boooob....
Cake.
Making a boob cake, making a boooob cake, cleaning a dog bite, drinking some wiiiine.
You probably had to be there.
The cake was a success, I didn't screw anything up and it made it all the way to the party in Windsor and was enjoyed by all.
I woke up with the worst wine headache of all time. My cousin and I pondered why, at the ages of 28 and 29, we have not learned to alternate water between drinks and pop a Tylenol before going to sleep (who am I kidding? Before passing out cold.)? I guess we'll never learn.
November 13, 2010
A Little Shamless Self-Promotion
It appears that people are reading my blog (yay!), however, I have no "followers" or "friends" or whatever you'd call it. It makes me feel lonely. I'm pretty technologically stupid, so I don't know how to get "friends" or "followers" or whatever you'd call it, so I am requesting the following things:
1. Advice on how to promote my blog and gather loyal followers (that sounds so creepy!)
2. Followers!
So if you're reading this, please be my friend!
1. Advice on how to promote my blog and gather loyal followers (that sounds so creepy!)
2. Followers!
So if you're reading this, please be my friend!
November 11, 2010
Why You Should Always Ask for a Deposit
* This post was written at the end of August, and I forgot about it, so it never actually got posted until now. Whoopsie.
I have been trying to get this baking business off the ground for quite some time now, however halfheartedly. I printed up some "business cards" from Dollarama but couldn't figure out how to set the margins properly so they are all misaligned. I placed an add on Kijiji in June and never really followed up on it. Set up a Facebook group, but didn't spend too much time promoting it. You know, try to make things happen in the way that I do. So imagine my surprise when the Kijiji add actually worked.
This woman named Shelly called me on Wednesday and asked me if I could bake 3 dozen cupcakes and 5 dozen sugar cookies for Saturday. She apologized for it being last minute, but her original baker canceled on her. Of course I agreed to do it. My first big job!
I spent hours getting this all ready. Sugar cookies take a long time, what with all the rolling out and decorating with royal icing. Not to mention that it's August and neither Tynna nor I have air conditioning. I went over to Tynna's Thursday after work, and she helped me bake the cookies. Brady helped too. After three hours of sweaty baking, the cookies were done. I went home, baked the cupcakes and felt ahead of the game. Friday night, I spent another three hours decorating the cookies. I felt a little panicked, but they all turned out.
I had to work on Saturday, but Chris was ready for Shelly to come pick the baking up. Poor guy had to wait all day for her to arrive, even though she was supposed to be there around 3 or 4. About five o'clock, I called home. She hadn't come to get them yet. I called her, and she said her daughter was on the way. I get home at six. She hadn't come to get them yet. I called her, no answer.
Many messages were left, many minutes spent reserve-directorying her number, trying to get her address. She's unlisted. She had not paid me yet! For a few days I tried to get ahold of her, but she didn't call back or pick up the phone. I was heartbroken. I felt so taken advantage of. Shame on her. I kept thinking. How could someone do something so cruel? I'm a home-based business. I'm not a grocery store, I can't put all this baking on the reduced rack, I was stuck with it. I brought the cupcakes to a party that night, and they were gobbled up. I brought the cookies to work and the girls ate them. At least they didn't go to waste.
The moral of the story is this: While most people are generally good, there are still a lot of arseholes out there who will do things like this to people. As much as I'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt, chances are she's just a jerk who decided to buy her cupcakes from the grocery store at a cheaper price. Fine and dandy, but it would have been nice if she had called me cancel so I didn't waste three days of my time.
I now know that I always have to ask for a deposit before I even crack an egg. I wish I didn't have to, it would be nice to trust people and believe that they'll pay up, but I learned the hard way that wont always happen.
All well, live and learn.
I have been trying to get this baking business off the ground for quite some time now, however halfheartedly. I printed up some "business cards" from Dollarama but couldn't figure out how to set the margins properly so they are all misaligned. I placed an add on Kijiji in June and never really followed up on it. Set up a Facebook group, but didn't spend too much time promoting it. You know, try to make things happen in the way that I do. So imagine my surprise when the Kijiji add actually worked.
This woman named Shelly called me on Wednesday and asked me if I could bake 3 dozen cupcakes and 5 dozen sugar cookies for Saturday. She apologized for it being last minute, but her original baker canceled on her. Of course I agreed to do it. My first big job!
I spent hours getting this all ready. Sugar cookies take a long time, what with all the rolling out and decorating with royal icing. Not to mention that it's August and neither Tynna nor I have air conditioning. I went over to Tynna's Thursday after work, and she helped me bake the cookies. Brady helped too. After three hours of sweaty baking, the cookies were done. I went home, baked the cupcakes and felt ahead of the game. Friday night, I spent another three hours decorating the cookies. I felt a little panicked, but they all turned out.
I had to work on Saturday, but Chris was ready for Shelly to come pick the baking up. Poor guy had to wait all day for her to arrive, even though she was supposed to be there around 3 or 4. About five o'clock, I called home. She hadn't come to get them yet. I called her, and she said her daughter was on the way. I get home at six. She hadn't come to get them yet. I called her, no answer.
Many messages were left, many minutes spent reserve-directorying her number, trying to get her address. She's unlisted. She had not paid me yet! For a few days I tried to get ahold of her, but she didn't call back or pick up the phone. I was heartbroken. I felt so taken advantage of. Shame on her. I kept thinking. How could someone do something so cruel? I'm a home-based business. I'm not a grocery store, I can't put all this baking on the reduced rack, I was stuck with it. I brought the cupcakes to a party that night, and they were gobbled up. I brought the cookies to work and the girls ate them. At least they didn't go to waste.
The moral of the story is this: While most people are generally good, there are still a lot of arseholes out there who will do things like this to people. As much as I'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt, chances are she's just a jerk who decided to buy her cupcakes from the grocery store at a cheaper price. Fine and dandy, but it would have been nice if she had called me cancel so I didn't waste three days of my time.
I now know that I always have to ask for a deposit before I even crack an egg. I wish I didn't have to, it would be nice to trust people and believe that they'll pay up, but I learned the hard way that wont always happen.
All well, live and learn.
Apparently, I am an Italian Nonna
Bakin' Bread
Yesterday I got to leave work a few hours early and decided to take advantage of a spare afternoon. I've been wanting to try to make bread with my new Kitchenaid mixer (which, by the way, I have named Betty), because why have a heavy-duty piece of kitchen machinery and not try to knead bread with it?
I knew that bread needs to rise, I knew that yeast is what makes it rise. Two things I did not know were: Bread needs about THREE HOURS to rise and yeast smells terrible. Also, when planning to make loaves of bread, it is best to have the adequate number of bread tins that the recipe calls for. I only have one, so the other loaf had to go in a square pan. I was worried that this would completely ruin the three hours I spent waiting for the bread to rise, but thankfully it didn't. The second loaf just looks kind of rustic.
Now, using a mixer takes a lot of the work out of making bread since the machine does the kneading for you. I've never really used a bread machine before, but I am going to assume that even while making the dough with a mixer, it is still more work than doing it in a bread machine. It is also a very messy job, and took me ages to clean up all the bits of dough that were clinging to practically every surface the bread touched.
A very important lesson that I learned while making bread is this: DO NOT TOUCH THE BREAD AFTER ITS SECOND RISE. Hey, I can't help it. I was curious. It had risen so much, I had to see what it felt like.
The bread promptly deflated. It's okay, it was the wonky one in the square pan and it still turned out. The one in the bread tin worked out well, too. They were delicious and my whole apartment smelled like a bakery.
Makin' Supper
As if making homemade bread wasn't ambitious enough, I also decided that last night was the night I was going to make risotto. There's not much story to this, it's just risotto and anyone can make it if they take the time to do it. I just felt like I should have been wearing a headscarf and apron and had some small children underfoot calling me Nonna.
Yesterday I got to leave work a few hours early and decided to take advantage of a spare afternoon. I've been wanting to try to make bread with my new Kitchenaid mixer (which, by the way, I have named Betty), because why have a heavy-duty piece of kitchen machinery and not try to knead bread with it?
I knew that bread needs to rise, I knew that yeast is what makes it rise. Two things I did not know were: Bread needs about THREE HOURS to rise and yeast smells terrible. Also, when planning to make loaves of bread, it is best to have the adequate number of bread tins that the recipe calls for. I only have one, so the other loaf had to go in a square pan. I was worried that this would completely ruin the three hours I spent waiting for the bread to rise, but thankfully it didn't. The second loaf just looks kind of rustic.
Now, using a mixer takes a lot of the work out of making bread since the machine does the kneading for you. I've never really used a bread machine before, but I am going to assume that even while making the dough with a mixer, it is still more work than doing it in a bread machine. It is also a very messy job, and took me ages to clean up all the bits of dough that were clinging to practically every surface the bread touched.
A very important lesson that I learned while making bread is this: DO NOT TOUCH THE BREAD AFTER ITS SECOND RISE. Hey, I can't help it. I was curious. It had risen so much, I had to see what it felt like.
The bread promptly deflated. It's okay, it was the wonky one in the square pan and it still turned out. The one in the bread tin worked out well, too. They were delicious and my whole apartment smelled like a bakery.
Makin' Supper
As if making homemade bread wasn't ambitious enough, I also decided that last night was the night I was going to make risotto. There's not much story to this, it's just risotto and anyone can make it if they take the time to do it. I just felt like I should have been wearing a headscarf and apron and had some small children underfoot calling me Nonna.
October 15, 2010
Tynna's Wedding Cake
I shall just let the pictures speak for themselves. This process was so smooth, so well planned and so well executed that there's little to actually write about.
Except when I told Chris to take great care when he went in the freezer, and he stuck freezer mugs on top of the cakes and squished one. Oh, and when I didn't realize that a chocolate cake needs a gigantic layer of frosting before you put fondant overtop or you can see the brown through the white fondant. Or when I tried to re-use the fondant I took off the chocolate cake, and ripped it and tried to patch it up with squares of fondant and ended up having to do two layers of fondant to cover my messes because I ran out of buttercream. Or when I didn't realize that fondant becomes rock hard in the fridge until it warms up, and as a result had to change my design plan because I couldn't do the quilting effect.
But other than that, piece of cake. Pardon the pun.
P.S. I also made the flowers by hand with gumpaste. I'm quite proud of them.
Except when I told Chris to take great care when he went in the freezer, and he stuck freezer mugs on top of the cakes and squished one. Oh, and when I didn't realize that a chocolate cake needs a gigantic layer of frosting before you put fondant overtop or you can see the brown through the white fondant. Or when I tried to re-use the fondant I took off the chocolate cake, and ripped it and tried to patch it up with squares of fondant and ended up having to do two layers of fondant to cover my messes because I ran out of buttercream. Or when I didn't realize that fondant becomes rock hard in the fridge until it warms up, and as a result had to change my design plan because I couldn't do the quilting effect.
But other than that, piece of cake. Pardon the pun.
P.S. I also made the flowers by hand with gumpaste. I'm quite proud of them.
My (Kitchenaid!) Biggest (Kitchenaid!) Fantasy (Kitchenaid!) Part Two
The day I have been dreaming of has finally arrived. Thanks to the most wonderful Cheryl and Paul Miller, I am now the proud owner of a Kitchenaid stand mixer, with all the fixin's. And it's red! I can honestly say that this has changed my life in the following ways:
1. The red colour makes me feel fancy.
2. The paddle attachment makes mixing so much smoother than beaters.
3. The whisk attachment beats those egg whites into submission.
4. It has a 12 cup capacity bowl and a super high speed motor, so if I feel like whipping up a batch of cupcakes or 20, they're pretty much ready before I even get to the kitchen.
5. The red makes me feel fancy.
1. The red colour makes me feel fancy.
2. The paddle attachment makes mixing so much smoother than beaters.
3. The whisk attachment beats those egg whites into submission.
4. It has a 12 cup capacity bowl and a super high speed motor, so if I feel like whipping up a batch of cupcakes or 20, they're pretty much ready before I even get to the kitchen.
5. The red makes me feel fancy.
July 11, 2010
The Feta Cheese Quest
I have never tried Feta. I'm afraid of it. Brine makes me uncomfortable. However, I do enjoy that is still firm even though it is swimming in, ugh, brine, and when you take it out, it crumbles. It's a fun cheese. I prefer bocconcini, I think it is the cutest of all the cheeses.
Tynna has been searching for the perfect Feta since I moved to London eight months ago. As I mentioned, I know nothing about Feta, but she asked me which kind she should try and I suggested Silani, since it is such a huge, widely stocked brand. Of course, I was wrong. It sat in her fridge for a really long time, unopened, but since it had an expiry date of March 2011, I assumed it would be safe to eat. So I chopped up some tomato, onion, cucumber and pepper for her Greek salad and opened up the Silani Feta cheese container. Ewwwwww! Mush City. It must have been pre-crumbled and since it was swimming in, ugh, brine, it was more like cottage cheese than Feta.
And thus began the quest.
The Search For the Perfect Feta
I was determined to find the Perfect Feta. I knew it had to exist because we used it at Tazzi's Cafe for our Greek salads. I could not remember what brand we used (though now I remember it was Saputo) so I went the European grocery store down the street thinking they could help me. Micaela and I walked over in the 35 degree heat and since there was only one brand of Feta there, in a gigantic yellow tub for $9.99, I asked the scary female grocery clerk what she suggested. She gave me a quick onceover, determined that I was not a swarthy Greek and said in a thick accent:
"Feta, ah I dun't know." We decided to look around anyways, since imported groceries are my favourite kind. We both almost lost our stomachs, however, when we got to the butcher aisle and saw chicken feet.
We moved on to Metro, figuring that we could definitely find the Perfect Feta there. We were spoiled for choice. There were so many varieties. Cow's milk, sheep's milk, goat's milk. Brick, crumbled, cubed. So many varieties, which to choose? I started to feel overwhelmed and considered taking a grocery store poll a la Anna and Kristina's Grocery Bag, but decided to give the deli a shot instead. I wasn't dressed or made-up enough for a poll.
Thankfully, the deli offered three varieties of Feta: classic Greek, light, and Canadian. I asked the large and intimidating counter lady for one block of each kind. While she was packing it up, I felt a little silly for getting such small quantities of cheese and started to explain why I was making such a weird request. I realized that she wasn't listening to me and my voice trailed off. "She doesn't care..." I said part to myself, part to Micaela, and part to the snotty cow behind the counter. She ignored me, of course, but Micaela got a laugh out of it.
The Outcome: Tynna tried each cheese, and the Canadian version won. Quest complete!
Tynna has been searching for the perfect Feta since I moved to London eight months ago. As I mentioned, I know nothing about Feta, but she asked me which kind she should try and I suggested Silani, since it is such a huge, widely stocked brand. Of course, I was wrong. It sat in her fridge for a really long time, unopened, but since it had an expiry date of March 2011, I assumed it would be safe to eat. So I chopped up some tomato, onion, cucumber and pepper for her Greek salad and opened up the Silani Feta cheese container. Ewwwwww! Mush City. It must have been pre-crumbled and since it was swimming in, ugh, brine, it was more like cottage cheese than Feta.
And thus began the quest.
The Search For the Perfect Feta
I was determined to find the Perfect Feta. I knew it had to exist because we used it at Tazzi's Cafe for our Greek salads. I could not remember what brand we used (though now I remember it was Saputo) so I went the European grocery store down the street thinking they could help me. Micaela and I walked over in the 35 degree heat and since there was only one brand of Feta there, in a gigantic yellow tub for $9.99, I asked the scary female grocery clerk what she suggested. She gave me a quick onceover, determined that I was not a swarthy Greek and said in a thick accent:
"Feta, ah I dun't know." We decided to look around anyways, since imported groceries are my favourite kind. We both almost lost our stomachs, however, when we got to the butcher aisle and saw chicken feet.
We moved on to Metro, figuring that we could definitely find the Perfect Feta there. We were spoiled for choice. There were so many varieties. Cow's milk, sheep's milk, goat's milk. Brick, crumbled, cubed. So many varieties, which to choose? I started to feel overwhelmed and considered taking a grocery store poll a la Anna and Kristina's Grocery Bag, but decided to give the deli a shot instead. I wasn't dressed or made-up enough for a poll.
Thankfully, the deli offered three varieties of Feta: classic Greek, light, and Canadian. I asked the large and intimidating counter lady for one block of each kind. While she was packing it up, I felt a little silly for getting such small quantities of cheese and started to explain why I was making such a weird request. I realized that she wasn't listening to me and my voice trailed off. "She doesn't care..." I said part to myself, part to Micaela, and part to the snotty cow behind the counter. She ignored me, of course, but Micaela got a laugh out of it.
The Outcome: Tynna tried each cheese, and the Canadian version won. Quest complete!
July 7, 2010
My (Kitchenaid!) Biggest (Kitchenaid!) Fantasy (Kitchenaid!)
My hand mixer broke the other day, and I am devastated. It only cost $11 at Zellers and I bought it almost 3 years ago, but still. I have the most ill-equipped kitchen in the universe, and the broken hand mixer only makes it worse. In retrospect it probably could have been avoided, but I am The Accidental Martha so of course I would do something stupid to break my mixer. Allow me to explain:
How I Broke My $11 Hand Mixer
Oliver's birthday party is on Saturday and I am making him a Toy Story cake. I made a color-flow design of Buzz and Woody to put on the cake and it turned out awesome (on my third attempt. The first time I used too small of a tip, the second time I didn't flatten my parchment paper enough and Buzz's leg fell off). When I went to mix the Color Flow (Wilton, damn you and your expensive but convenient cake decorating products. Thank goodness for Michael's 40% off coupons), I used my hand mixer not anticipating that the mixture was going to be really, really thick. It was so thick that while I was mixing it, I heard a whirring sound accompanied by the smell of burning plastic. Being me, I ignored it . Moments later, with a loud grinding noise, it died.
RIP you cheap piece of crap.
I know now that I should have used my stand mixer. Now, I say "stand mixer", but take that with a grain of salt. It is a very old, hand-me-down Sunbeam that used to belong to my mom. It vibrates a lot, so as it is mixing things, it begins creeping along to the edge of the table. It needs a vise to hold it down, which I don't have, so I have to hold it with one hand. Essentially, it is a very large and cumbersome hand mixer.
On to my fantasy:
Dear Kitchenaid, I Love You and I Hope You're Reading This
My biggest fantasy is that this blog will become really popular and Kitchenaid will hear about it and send me a lot of free stuff. All I want in the world (almost more than I want babies) is a Kitchenaid stand mixer. I have dreams about it. When I'm using the ol' Sunbeam, sometimes I fantasize about it being a Kitchenaid. A newer, sleeker, fancier stand mixer that does things my stand mixer wont do. Ahhh... Kitchenaid, why must you be so expensive?
How I Broke My $11 Hand Mixer
Oliver's birthday party is on Saturday and I am making him a Toy Story cake. I made a color-flow design of Buzz and Woody to put on the cake and it turned out awesome (on my third attempt. The first time I used too small of a tip, the second time I didn't flatten my parchment paper enough and Buzz's leg fell off). When I went to mix the Color Flow (Wilton, damn you and your expensive but convenient cake decorating products. Thank goodness for Michael's 40% off coupons), I used my hand mixer not anticipating that the mixture was going to be really, really thick. It was so thick that while I was mixing it, I heard a whirring sound accompanied by the smell of burning plastic. Being me, I ignored it . Moments later, with a loud grinding noise, it died.
RIP you cheap piece of crap.
I know now that I should have used my stand mixer. Now, I say "stand mixer", but take that with a grain of salt. It is a very old, hand-me-down Sunbeam that used to belong to my mom. It vibrates a lot, so as it is mixing things, it begins creeping along to the edge of the table. It needs a vise to hold it down, which I don't have, so I have to hold it with one hand. Essentially, it is a very large and cumbersome hand mixer.
On to my fantasy:
Dear Kitchenaid, I Love You and I Hope You're Reading This
My biggest fantasy is that this blog will become really popular and Kitchenaid will hear about it and send me a lot of free stuff. All I want in the world (almost more than I want babies) is a Kitchenaid stand mixer. I have dreams about it. When I'm using the ol' Sunbeam, sometimes I fantasize about it being a Kitchenaid. A newer, sleeker, fancier stand mixer that does things my stand mixer wont do. Ahhh... Kitchenaid, why must you be so expensive?
July 4, 2010
How I Made Macarons My Bitch
I do not know why the internet is full of blogs and websites dedicated to the art of baking macarons.cookies for goodness sake. Yes, they are fancy little French cookies. Yes, they take some time and skill to master. But they are not the be-all and end-all of the baking world. They are just cookies, not something to be afraid of.
I decided to give these pretentious drops of French heaven a shot. I fully and thoroughly researched the technique of baking them and bought the proper ingredients. I even left the egg whites out for 24 hours, just like they said (ewwwww). I meringue-d my egg whites, I folded them in delicately, I actually followed the directions. I drew one-inch circles on parchment and piped the dough (mixture? batter?) correctly. They looked just like the pictures (mostly, I'm new at piping meringue. It is not the same as frosting).
I put them in the oven. This is where things started to go wrong. I watched them very closely, just like I was told. I was delighted when I watched the little "feet" begin to form. Then I figured that since they were doing okay, I could step away from the oven for a minute or two.
A word of advice: never walk away from the oven when you are baking macarons!!
There is about a 5 second window between perfectly cooked and burnt to a crisp.
Luckily, I learned my lesson the first time around. I made another batch, and they turned out perfectly. I would just like to say that le macaron is not as hard as they would have you believe.
I decided to give these pretentious drops of French heaven a shot. I fully and thoroughly researched the technique of baking them and bought the proper ingredients. I even left the egg whites out for 24 hours, just like they said (ewwwww). I meringue-d my egg whites, I folded them in delicately, I actually followed the directions. I drew one-inch circles on parchment and piped the dough (mixture? batter?) correctly. They looked just like the pictures (mostly, I'm new at piping meringue. It is not the same as frosting).
I put them in the oven. This is where things started to go wrong. I watched them very closely, just like I was told. I was delighted when I watched the little "feet" begin to form. Then I figured that since they were doing okay, I could step away from the oven for a minute or two.
A word of advice: never walk away from the oven when you are baking macarons!!
There is about a 5 second window between perfectly cooked and burnt to a crisp.
Luckily, I learned my lesson the first time around. I made another batch, and they turned out perfectly. I would just like to say that le macaron is not as hard as they would have you believe.
Why You Shouldn't Let Me Use a Quilting Rotary Blade
I got married nearly two years ago, and it was a complete DIY wedding. It was beautiful, and fun and really inexpensive because we did everything ourselves. I scored my Alfred Sung dress for $300 because it was a discontinued style. I had the reception at a restaurant instead of a hall, so I saved thousands. I actually made money off the ceremony because the minister was going senile and kept missing appointments and showed up 45 minutes late for the rehearsal and gave us $60 in total for the inconvenience. My mom is a floral designer, so she did my flowers as a gift to me. It was an amazing wedding done for way under $10 000.
Part of DIY weddings is doing it yourself. My mom came up with the awesome idea of making a "cake" out of three hatboxes and using it to hold cards. We bought this beautiful taupe/gold fabric on clearance from Wal-Mart, and some brown satin ribbon and used some leftover silk flowers from my bouquet. The idea was to cut the bottoms out of the top two tiers, cut a slit in the top, glue the tiers together, cover it in fabric and use the ribbon to hide the join. How could you possibly screw that up? Well, bear in mind that it's me.
Everything was going according to plan (I had actually made a plan this time). The bottoms were cut out and I was ready to cut the fabric to size. I thought that if I used a rotary blade for quilting that it would be quicker and look a lot better than cutting the fabric by hand. What I failed to factor in was how sharp rotary blades are. I did alright with the first couple of panels, and then the old carelessness kicked in. Whoop, rotary blade right across the thumb. And not just the thumb, but the thumbnail. Imagine, if you will, the amount of pressure one must apply in order to cut a fingernail open. It hurt like the dickens and bled like crazy. Thankfully I am no stranger to craft-induced injury, so I wrapped some toilet paper around it and went on with my crafting. I finished the card cake and it looked beautiful, but my finger didn't heal in time for the wedding. Thank goodness for nail polish. (It was also too cold outside for the spray glue that I used to adhere the fabric to the boxes. So I did it inside. Without opening the window. And I got glue all over the floor because I didn't lay any paper down, but whatever.)
I bet Martha would know to keep her fingers out of the way when using a rotary blade.
Part of DIY weddings is doing it yourself. My mom came up with the awesome idea of making a "cake" out of three hatboxes and using it to hold cards. We bought this beautiful taupe/gold fabric on clearance from Wal-Mart, and some brown satin ribbon and used some leftover silk flowers from my bouquet. The idea was to cut the bottoms out of the top two tiers, cut a slit in the top, glue the tiers together, cover it in fabric and use the ribbon to hide the join. How could you possibly screw that up? Well, bear in mind that it's me.
Everything was going according to plan (I had actually made a plan this time). The bottoms were cut out and I was ready to cut the fabric to size. I thought that if I used a rotary blade for quilting that it would be quicker and look a lot better than cutting the fabric by hand. What I failed to factor in was how sharp rotary blades are. I did alright with the first couple of panels, and then the old carelessness kicked in. Whoop, rotary blade right across the thumb. And not just the thumb, but the thumbnail. Imagine, if you will, the amount of pressure one must apply in order to cut a fingernail open. It hurt like the dickens and bled like crazy. Thankfully I am no stranger to craft-induced injury, so I wrapped some toilet paper around it and went on with my crafting. I finished the card cake and it looked beautiful, but my finger didn't heal in time for the wedding. Thank goodness for nail polish. (It was also too cold outside for the spray glue that I used to adhere the fabric to the boxes. So I did it inside. Without opening the window. And I got glue all over the floor because I didn't lay any paper down, but whatever.)
I bet Martha would know to keep her fingers out of the way when using a rotary blade.
July 3, 2010
The Science of Baking
Until very recently, I could not bake to save my life. Cakes always turned out too dense, meringue never meringue-ed, cookies burned. I would leave a trail of devastation in my wake. Mom and Mr. Town told me that I could do it, that cooking was nothing to be scared of, but I didn't believe them. One day I decided to just go for it, and slowly started learning the tricks of the trade. I love the internet for this reason. Anything you want to know is readily available. I learned how to decorate cakes and make Wilton roses from YouTube. I mastered macarons from other peoples' blogs (more on that another day). Not that I didn't make many, many, many mistakes along the way, but eventually things began to click.
I love that the basic ingredients for almost anything you make are eggs, sugar and butter. Depending on the ratio of ingredients and the techniques you use to mix them together, all kinds of amazing things happen. The day I made lemon tarts, I was astounded by the fact that cooking egg whites, sugar and lemon juice together starts out liquid and turns into a solid. Well, solid-ish. I don't understand why things work they way they do, but I love trying things out and discovering what will happen.
I made my own Dulce De Leche as a filling for my macarons from a recipe I found in a magazine a billion years ago. If you put a can of sweetened condensed milk in a pot of simmering water for a few hours, it turns into the most delicious caramel. How? Why does whipping cream turn into whipped cream if you mix it with a little sugar and beat it for awhile? How do egg whites go from liquid, to foam, to thick enough to not fall out of the bowl if you turn it over your head? Baking is this most amazing thing that's happened to me. (Hobby-wise, no offense to my hubby)
I love that the basic ingredients for almost anything you make are eggs, sugar and butter. Depending on the ratio of ingredients and the techniques you use to mix them together, all kinds of amazing things happen. The day I made lemon tarts, I was astounded by the fact that cooking egg whites, sugar and lemon juice together starts out liquid and turns into a solid. Well, solid-ish. I don't understand why things work they way they do, but I love trying things out and discovering what will happen.
I made my own Dulce De Leche as a filling for my macarons from a recipe I found in a magazine a billion years ago. If you put a can of sweetened condensed milk in a pot of simmering water for a few hours, it turns into the most delicious caramel. How? Why does whipping cream turn into whipped cream if you mix it with a little sugar and beat it for awhile? How do egg whites go from liquid, to foam, to thick enough to not fall out of the bowl if you turn it over your head? Baking is this most amazing thing that's happened to me. (Hobby-wise, no offense to my hubby)
One Excellent Thing, One Bonehead Thing
As much as I would love to blame my lack of grace under pressure on outside factors, the reality is that every bonehead thing I do is a direct result of my carelessness. I was beginning to think that I had finally gotten things under control, that I could work my way around a kitchen without causing any fatalities. Ha, yeah right.
Last week I was incredibly productive, managing to make lemon tarts and a quiche in one afternoon, with no trouble. I have never made lemon tarts before, since I don't really care for lemon, but figured that I need to add more treats to my repertoire. The lemon curd turned out perfectly, on my very first try. I only got one tiny eggshell in the mixture, which I managed to spoon out. My pastry was a little puffy, since I did not realize that you really have to puncture the bottoms when you bake them without any filling. Aside from that, they were excellent. And the quiche, well, it was heavenly.
Anyways, since that turned out well, I thought that my days of bumbling about and ruining things were over. My stepbrother's son's birthday is coming up, and I am making his birthday cake. I want to use marshmallow fluff for the filling, so the other day I decided to make some homemade fluff and fill some chocolate cupcakes with it. And I had a craving for chocolate cream cheese frosting, so I made some of that too.
The Excellent Thing:
I found a recipe online for homemade marshmallow fluff and I had no idea how simple it was! Egg whites, sugar, vanilla and a little water. Beat over a bain Marie until fluffy and voila! Easy peasy. The chocolate cream cheese frosting was flawless as well. Cream cheese, butter, icing sugar, vanilla and chocolate. I didn't have any chocolate squares left, so I used Hersey's cocoa powder instead. It didn't give it the same richness that the baking chocolate would have given it, but it was still delicious. (I didn't feel like making the cupcakes from scratch, so I just used a mix. When I bake the cake, I'll make it the real thing.)
The cupcakes baked perfectly, the frosting was sweet and rich and the marshmallow fluff was gooey and delicious. My sister, Tynna, helped me scoop out the centers of the cupcakes, and inject the marshmallow fluff inside. I also taught her how to frost them. We called them "our" cupcakes. They were gorgeous and tasty and not one thing went wrong. Yay for me!
The Bonehead Thing:
Cleaning my kitchen is always a chore. I have eczema on my hands and no dishwasher, so washing the dishes is a literal pain. I tend to put it off as long as possible, but then things pile up and it's even more of a nightmare. Ugh. Long story short, I did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, but while I was doing so I put the George Foreman in the oven to get it out of my way. The rule in our house is whoever uses the Foreman cleans the Foreman, and my husband made hamburgers on it. I finished my cleaning and completely forgot the Foreman.
I preheated my oven to bake the cupcakes and forgot that it was still inside. About 20 minutes later, just as I was about to put the tins in the oven, I remembered what was already inside. In a panic, I grabbed my oven mitts and yanked the Foreman out of the oven. If only I would have remembered that the grease tray was resting on top, and full of hamburger grease. It tipped over onto the burner and the whole oven burst into flames.
I wish I could explain in a way that you could really understand exactly how much fire came out of the oven. A wall of flame shot up and out, with me standing directly in front of it. It was an inferno. It was the mouth of Hell. It was the grease fire to end all grease fires. And if that wasn't stupid enough, instead of closing the door to contain the fire, I stood there and started screaming. Not just a little startled scream, but full-out, movie quality screams. Many of them. My husband was standing right beside me, and all he did was jump out of the way.
Eventually, the fire burned itself out. Thank goodness, because I was just about to throw water on it. Yup. Even though I know that you NEVER EVER throw water on a grease fire, in my panic I nearly did.
I bet Martha never set her kitchen on fire. And if she did, I'm sure she had a fire extinguisher on hand.
Last week I was incredibly productive, managing to make lemon tarts and a quiche in one afternoon, with no trouble. I have never made lemon tarts before, since I don't really care for lemon, but figured that I need to add more treats to my repertoire. The lemon curd turned out perfectly, on my very first try. I only got one tiny eggshell in the mixture, which I managed to spoon out. My pastry was a little puffy, since I did not realize that you really have to puncture the bottoms when you bake them without any filling. Aside from that, they were excellent. And the quiche, well, it was heavenly.
Anyways, since that turned out well, I thought that my days of bumbling about and ruining things were over. My stepbrother's son's birthday is coming up, and I am making his birthday cake. I want to use marshmallow fluff for the filling, so the other day I decided to make some homemade fluff and fill some chocolate cupcakes with it. And I had a craving for chocolate cream cheese frosting, so I made some of that too.
The Excellent Thing:
I found a recipe online for homemade marshmallow fluff and I had no idea how simple it was! Egg whites, sugar, vanilla and a little water. Beat over a bain Marie until fluffy and voila! Easy peasy. The chocolate cream cheese frosting was flawless as well. Cream cheese, butter, icing sugar, vanilla and chocolate. I didn't have any chocolate squares left, so I used Hersey's cocoa powder instead. It didn't give it the same richness that the baking chocolate would have given it, but it was still delicious. (I didn't feel like making the cupcakes from scratch, so I just used a mix. When I bake the cake, I'll make it the real thing.)
The cupcakes baked perfectly, the frosting was sweet and rich and the marshmallow fluff was gooey and delicious. My sister, Tynna, helped me scoop out the centers of the cupcakes, and inject the marshmallow fluff inside. I also taught her how to frost them. We called them "our" cupcakes. They were gorgeous and tasty and not one thing went wrong. Yay for me!
The Bonehead Thing:
Cleaning my kitchen is always a chore. I have eczema on my hands and no dishwasher, so washing the dishes is a literal pain. I tend to put it off as long as possible, but then things pile up and it's even more of a nightmare. Ugh. Long story short, I did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, but while I was doing so I put the George Foreman in the oven to get it out of my way. The rule in our house is whoever uses the Foreman cleans the Foreman, and my husband made hamburgers on it. I finished my cleaning and completely forgot the Foreman.
I preheated my oven to bake the cupcakes and forgot that it was still inside. About 20 minutes later, just as I was about to put the tins in the oven, I remembered what was already inside. In a panic, I grabbed my oven mitts and yanked the Foreman out of the oven. If only I would have remembered that the grease tray was resting on top, and full of hamburger grease. It tipped over onto the burner and the whole oven burst into flames.
I wish I could explain in a way that you could really understand exactly how much fire came out of the oven. A wall of flame shot up and out, with me standing directly in front of it. It was an inferno. It was the mouth of Hell. It was the grease fire to end all grease fires. And if that wasn't stupid enough, instead of closing the door to contain the fire, I stood there and started screaming. Not just a little startled scream, but full-out, movie quality screams. Many of them. My husband was standing right beside me, and all he did was jump out of the way.
Eventually, the fire burned itself out. Thank goodness, because I was just about to throw water on it. Yup. Even though I know that you NEVER EVER throw water on a grease fire, in my panic I nearly did.
I bet Martha never set her kitchen on fire. And if she did, I'm sure she had a fire extinguisher on hand.
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