TWD: Devilish Shortcakes

I'm going to apologize, in advance, for the rest of this post. My life, it turns out, affects how I write, how I dream, how I bake and how I think about food. So some days, it's ridiculousness and others? Well, some days aren't quite as shiny-happy-bright. Actually, I'll occasionally hunt through my archives and laugh as I remember trying to introduce the idea of fruit + chocolate to stubborn Wisconsinites. I'll be amazed at how crazy happy I sounded, how funny, how much my words just bopped across the screen. There are not other descriptors for some of those posts - unless you think spazzy is a word, in which case - yeah, spazzy counts too. And other times, I'll just read - I can tell, from the words, when the good times were and when the bad times were.

Not a shortcake, just our bowl o' fruit. I liked it though.

Last Thursday was Thanksgiving. Supposed to be a good time, right? Full of family, friends, food, fun... Well, it was. Just not enough to pull me out of the funk I've been in for the past few weeks. Hell, the last few months. I've been noticing that tears will fall at the drop of a hat. I left a movie just a couple months ago sobbing - I couldn't stop. We had planned a frozen yogurt run afterwards, but I just got in the car. Ugly crying, all tears and snot and mucus and hiccuping. A few weeks later, it happened again, but not because of a movie. I don't even remember why, but I nearly passed out from hyperventilating while trying to stop my tears. It had been years since I'd cried like that. Words aren't coming when I try to write in this space, let alone engaging, entertaining, funny ones. Everything has been coming out stilted, dull, dry. Remember when I used to comment all over the blogosphere? I can't muster up the enthusiasm. Haven't been able to in months, and the last thing anyone needs is another comment saying "Wow, looks great!" or "OMG, yum!" I'm sorry, but gag me with a spoon. Even running and baking, my two fail-safes, have been, well, failing. For quite a while, I just figured it was stress. I mean, in the last year, I applied to graduate schools, got in, quit my job, moved from WI to NC, spent two months in Podunk, CA doing research, and started classes in graduate school. No surprise that I'd be a little depressed, a little down, right? Anyone with the love of order and schedules I possess would be. Right?


And there were things to cover it up - the challenge of new coursework, the fun of a new city, the craziness of wedding planning. But a few weeks ago, J and I sat down. Things needed to change. So they are - I'm adjusting medication, I'm recommitting to running longer distances again, and I'm looking into volunteer work ASAP. So these shortcakes? They've kind of slipped through the cracks. Do as I say, not as I did - top them with something that has some zing, some pop and a tartness that will contrast with these lightly sweet, slightly chocolatey biscuits. Have some leftover cranberry sauce? Use it. Dollop on some whipped cream, and you're good to go. In the meantime, I'll continue baking and try to keep things happy over here. Sometimes though, you just have to let it all out.


Last Week: Orange Berry Muffins
Next Week: Translucent Maple Tuiles

Cinnamon Rolls

It's Thanksgiving. You know, that time of giving thanks (isn't that a terrible way to define a term? Makes the inner grammar/spelling nazi in me shudder) and appreciating what you have. And you know what? I'm failing. I'm jealous. Of my father. I know I've talked about baking with my mom growing up, but not as much about learning to cook thanks to my dad. While my mom had me kneading bread, rolling pie crust, and mixing up banana bread, my dad was all about the savory foods. I learned knife skills (and inherited his love of using large knives all the time) and the difference between chopping, dicing and mincing. Growing up, I had specific roles in the kitchen too - for some reason, dad never knew when pasta was ready (riiiiight). It was required that I, the resident pasta lover, be the official pasta taste tester. Mashed potatoes? Again, it was like he didn't know when they were seasoned correctly - he'd whip out a spoon and ask me - more salt? pepper? butter? cream? I enjoyed it, to the hilt.

My sister had her parts too, so dinner time was always a collaborative effort. As we grew older, our roles changed from chopping and taste testing to developing menus, playing with flavors, and trying out new dishes on each other. Thanksgiving and Christmas were our premier playgrounds - we never made the same thing twice (except for mashed potatoes - I require them). One year there was a jalapeno cornbread stuffing, the next we had squash quesadillas as appetizers, and the next incorporated tiny tomato-goat cheese tartlets with a cornmeal tart crust. Some years it was turkey, others lamb, and last year we attempted prime rib (success!). So it made complete sense that when I talked to my dad the day before Thanksgiving, he confessed that having family friends helping him prep dinner made him feel like he was cheating on my sister and me.


This year, we'll be far-flung, this family of mine. My parents have five others coming over for dinner, which involves leg of lamb with rosemary, zucchini carpaccio, a spiced-up corn casserole, and lots of pie. I have two friends from my research group coming over, neither of whom have experienced Thanksgiving, so we're going traditional - roast chicken (since there are only four of us), mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffing, green beans, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. My sister? Well, we've been playing phone tag lately, so I can only speculate - she tends to be the most adventurous person in our family when it comes to combining flavors, so it's bound to be interesting and tasty. She's my go-to when I have a set of random ingredients that I need to do something with - she can always come up with something unique that turns out surprisingly well.

For all of the cooking expertise of my dad and my sister though, the world of baked goods, yeasted and otherwise, belongs to my mom and I. We're the pie makers, the bread kneaders. I have to bite my tongue whenever my dad makes a tart - he's suspicious of tart and pie crusts and will chill his marble board and rolling pin before using them. Then it's as if he thinks the crust will jump off the board and bite him - he carefully rolls it out, carefully places it in the pan, and gingerly fills it before tip-toeing it off to the oven. As for bread dough, I don't think I've ever seen him handle it, but I can just imagine. Which is why it's sort of sad we won't all be together this Thanksgiving - I would love to whip up some cinnamon rolls for all of them. In lieu of that, I'll be spending the day in the kitchen, as a (very active) thank you to my parents, who taught me to cook, to bake, and to appreciate good food with good friends. What more can you ask for?


Cinnamon Rolls
adapted from The Pioneer Woman Cooks

1 cup milk
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp instant or quick-rise yeast
2 cups flour, plus an additional 1/4 cup
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1/2 cup brown sugar
generous amounts of cinnamon
1/2 lb powdered sugar
2-3 Tbsp milk
1-2 Tbsp butter, melted and cooled

Combine the milk, butter, and sugar in a pan and heat on the stove, just to boiling (this is called scalding and denatures the proteins in the milk, I believe to help with rising). Take off the heat, and when it is cooled to lukewarm (if it feels comfortably warm on your wrist, you're there), add the yeast. Mix in the two cups of flour and let it rise, covered, for at least an hour. After an hour, add the extra 1/4 cup of flour, the baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Mix together well, then cover and place in the refrigerator for at least 8 hours - I let mine go for a couple of days (life got in the way!) and the world didn't end.

When ready to prepare the rolls, take the dough out. Roll it into a rectangle on a generously floured countertop - I rolled it to a bit less than 1/4" thick. Spread the brown sugar on, followed by the cinnamon. I didn't measure the cinnamon, I just went for a good heavy sprinkling all over because I love cinnamon. Roll up the dough, keeping it relatively tight as you go, and pinch the end to seal it to the rest of the roll. Cut the rolls approximately 3/4" to one inch thick and place in a pan, leaving enough room for them to rise out as well as up. Let them rise for 45 minutes to an hour, preheating the oven to 375*F in the meantime. Bake the rolls for 15 to 18 minutes, or until golden brown.

While they're still hot, stir together the glaze of powdered sugar, milk, and butter. Adjust sugar or milk quantities until you have a pourable glaze. Pour over the rolls while they're still warm, and eat immediately.

TWD: Orange Berry Muffins

I'm coming up on three years in TWD - can you believe it? Even crazier that there are recipes I haven't gone back and made, especially since I only missed the first four and a couple others that weren't quite to my taste. So it just made sense to go back and make an easy one - orange berry muffins. You know what the best part was? I got to read through everyone else's posts about them and adjust mine accordingly - win! What that meant was that I tripled the orange zest to up the orange flavor, swapped some oil in for moistness, and I halved the recipe - every rave review seemed to be going straight for my thighs. With Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up, that is definitely not what I need.


Almost more importantly, these were quick and easy. You see, Thanksgiving is coming up, and I'm having a couple friends from grad school come over. And, well, I've never made Thanksgiving dinner for more than just J and me. Even more pressure? One is from Indonesia and the other is from Taiwan - anyone want to give me a primer on that whole Indian / Pilgrim thing? You know, minus that both of them evidently wear funny things on their heads. Oh, and a traced out hand makes for an awesome turkey. Think they'd appreciate that as a pre-dinner activity? Yeah, probably not...


In the meantime, I'm going to go call my sister and gloat. You see, I went to New York City this past weekend to meet up with Y (and we even dragged Mark out for brunch on Sunday! After pulling 24 hours in the hospital - what a trooper!) and traipse about the city. I feel like I've done my duty - we went to Zabar's and H&H Bagels, had an amazing dinner at Momofuku Ssam Bar (must find out how to make that spicy sausage dish - best thing I had all weekend!), a decadent dessert at Momofuku Milk Bar, a drive-by through the Holiday Market which led to a liege wafel from Wafels & Dinges, and an amazing time all-around. Let's just say that Sydney and North Carolina need to be a leetle bit closer than they currently are...

Last Week: Cranberry Lime Galette
Next Week: Devilish Shortcakes

TWD: Cranberry Lime Galette

Sometimes I miss the midwest. I miss Wisconsin and Indiana and Michigan (Illinois, notsomuch - sorry Chicago traffic). Don't get me wrong, I love North Carolina. But there's been more of an adjustment period to moving out of the midwest to the southeast than I was expecting. First was the ohmygod it's so hot here! This was followed a couple of months later with what the hell, it's still hot here! Once I got over the fact that it was, in fact, really effing hot (to be fair, it was abnormally hot here this summer, but still!), I started anticipating when it would cool down. Fall! My favorite season! It would be full of apple pies and cranberries and cider and colorful leaves and crisp mornings! And then *thud*. Reality hit.


It's too hot to grow apples in central North Carolina. Too. Hot. If I wanted apples, I needed to go three hours away - to the mountains west of here - in order to get good apples. This is a problem. I alwaysalwaysalways make apple sauce and apple pies like a madwoman during the fall. Pork is inevitably paired with sauteed apples or an apple compote. Cider doughnuts are probably the food of the gods. But here? Apples are 'spensive, people! Granny smiths should never cost $2.00/lb. Ever. I went home to Indiana and they were $0.80/lb. I briefly contemplated stuffing a second carry-on with a half bushel of apples but was quickly dissuaded by J (aka the fiance and previously the bf - he wanted to be termed Q, but I nixed it). Instead, I just ate 3-4 apples each day I was there. Storing it up, as it were.


But I never suspected a thing when I came upon this week's pick. Cranberry lime galette! Yay! I adore cranberries! They're tart and pop so excitingly when you cook them! (what can I say, my excitement threshold is evidently quite low) It never occurred to me that finding them would be a problem. But seriously - I was able to find teeny 10 oz bags of organic cranberries in the regular grocery store. That's it. Where the hell is Ocean Spray when you need 'em?!? Living in Wisconsin (one of the largest producers of cranberries), I never had to think about it. They were stocked in the freezer section year-round, and fresh ones were in the produce section from October through January. Here? Barely more than a week away from Thanksgiving, and they have a few paltry bags of overpriced cranberries in the freezer section and none in the fresh produce section. I might cry. I did pitch a bit of a mental tantrum as I zipped back and forth through three different grocery stores looking for my Ocean Spray bags.


But in the end, I bit. I declared defeat and bought the horrendously overpriced teeny bag of frozen cranberries. Because fall is not fall without cranberries.

Last Week: Cranberry Shortbread Cake (need to make this again!)
Next Week: Rewind - to the fourth recipe TWD ever made, the week before I joined!

TWD: Cranberry Shortbread Cake

Send help. Seriously. Two days ago, I was unplugged, disconnected. I had no clue what was going on at school, in the world, whatever. Then Monday morning, I was rudely dropped into this world. It's full of homework and classes and meetings and tests and labs and research... Make it stooooopppppp!


I was going to have lots of words. Lots of words for this cake, but I'm also drowning in thank you notes instead (not a bad thing!). Actually, scratch the help I requested earlier - somebody just send me a piece of this cake (a large piece). I don't say this lightly - I've been a member of TWD for nearly three years, and this is the best thing I've made in those three years. Hands down. Day-of, the cake part is shortbready, lightly cakey, and slightly sweet and crisp on the edges. The next day, it morphs into this gooey cakey, doughy thing of awesomeness. Both are awesome. Both are very good reasons to stop listening to my rambling, bake the damned cake, and send it to me. Please. The homework, it keeps calling. It's rather distressing.


Last Week: Peanuttiest Blondies
Next Week: Cranberry Lime Galette

TWD: Peanuttiest Blondies

For the last few weeks, I'll walk into my office, a class, or a meeting to a slew of questions. How much longer? Are you excited? Stressed? Managing to get everything done? When do you leave for Indiana? And let me tell you, it was entertaining. It was fun, getting reminded that everyone is excited for me and the fiance. As I passed these blondies out to my fellow fellows (hee!), mixed with general acclaim there were comments of how they couldn't believe I had the time in all the pre-wedding mania to bake. To me, that's crazy. These past 13 months have been only slightly filled with wedding planning, and it has never approached manic levels (thank god). But baking? Baking is always at manic levels.


But even crazy amounts of baking are good for me. My mom and I have been cranking out wedding cakes while the fiance puts together the cake stands, the name cards, the centerpieces. (Yes, I win. It feels like the fiance has done more for this wedding than I have sometimes, and that's just frigging awesome.) While he sat and glued origami to bamboo skewers, met with our DJ, and did other wedding-related things, I got to mix and stir and bake and generally just relax. This week will be full of that, and I'm glad.

That's not to say we're all sunshine and rainbows over here. It took 11 hours to get home, and involved flying Midwest instead of Continental, through Milwaukee instead of Cleveland, and with a final destination of Grand Rapids, MI instead of South Bend, IN. Thank god for my dad, who drove the two hours on Friday night to the Grand Rapids airport to pick us up. The fiance's shoulders were sore from carting a carry-on full of all of our gifts to family and friends, our ceremony shoes, and our wedding bands. We didn't want to lack any of the must-haves in case our checked luggage didn't make it. My arms were sore from carrying my wedding dress through multiple airports and between terminals as we frantically worked to get home that night. The run I had planned with the guys that next morning was a wash - after 3 hours of sleep, the last thing I wanted to do was run.


But really, it was okay. The flight attendants on our first flight were such dears - they cleared a seat so that I could drape my wedding dress to minimize wrinkles, gave us complimentary cocktails, and because it was Midwest, we even got a just-baked chocolate chip cookie. We made it home, and in time to make it to our last meeting with the priest before our rehearsal on Friday. We correctly answered his "God bonus question," and picked up our marriage license on Monday. My mom and I have cranked out 6 of the 16 cakes, and plan on making another 6 tomorrow. Family and friends will start coming in today.


And in four days, it'll be over. The stressful, less important part that is. Because in four days, the big part begins - the actual marriage, not just the wedding. And I've got a hunch that it's going to be pretty darned kick ass.

Last Week: All-American, All-Delicious Apple Pie
Next Week: Not Just for Thanksgiving Cranberry Shortbread Cake (this dethroned my past favorite from TWD - it's seriously that good) ((Make it. Now. I'm planning on making it again when I get home.))