houseguest prep

Like I said yesterday, a friend of mine from my second semester in Venice (when I was an RA) is staying with me this week, and I couldn't be more excited! That semester, I had to stay in the house while the kids were in class, which resulted in a plethora of baked goods for them (I couldn't ever sit still, not even in an awesome house in Italy). So, I figured baking something that could be snacked on while I'm stuck at work would be a good hostess-y thing to do and bring back good memories from Italy for both of us.  

The eggs had to come to room temperature and the butter had to be both melted and cooled, so, I lined up the bowls of ingredients, then cleaned my apartment a bit while the various temperature adjustments happened. Secret I recently learned: if you put cold eggs in a bowl of lukewarm water, that whole room temp thing happens a lot faster, which is awesome if you're in a hurry.

As usual, I got super distracted while baking/cleaning, so the only snapshot I have is the one above. BUT, this time the end product in my kitchen looked exactly like the photo from the glossy blog. A Tuesday afternoon miracle, really. 

photo from the recipe (but it looks like mine does!)

You bake the cake (or cakes, if you don't cut the recipe in half like I did), then you poke a bunch of holes in it and pour lemon/sugar syrup all over it. This requires patience and a bit of focus, which was a challenge given my easily distracted state yesterday. Anyways, I tried a tiny slice pre-syrup, and a tiny slice post-syrup, and both are good, just in very different ways. The pre-syrup sample is more like a pound cake with a hint of lemon. The post-syrup bites, no surprise here I'm sure, were all "hello LEMON." I did all of this about ten seconds after the cake came out of the oven, so I'm curious to try another post-syrup piece to see if the lemon and sugar concoction made it further down in to the cake itself. When I tried it you really tasted it at the top, and not so much at the bottom.  

It's not a particularly healthy recipe, but I think if you're going to welcome a long lost Venice friend in to your apartment, and you're going to be at work when they open your front door for the first time, you owe them something kind of ridiculously sinful.

brunch in brief

Look, today is just one of those days where I'm not going to make it out of my rain boots and in to real, appropriate work shoes. I woke up on the petulant side of the bed, and, it's cold as the arctic in my office. So, the boots stay.

This grumbly, grumpy, rainy Monday mood means, lucky for you, I'm not really feeling very verbose when it comes to recapping the Mother's Day brunch Neha and I had yesterday (sans Mothers). We decided that since sadly we couldn't be with our families, we'd still celebrate. With bellinis and obscenely unhealthy food. Why not?

Having just declared my need to acquire non-buttery hobbies, I felt a fleeting moment of guilt as I drenched sugary dough in copious melted butter, then coated it with more sugar, then rolled it all up, cut it into tiny slices, and pressed them in to muffin tins filled with, cover your ears kids, more sugar and butter. But then Neha arrived and shoved a bubbly bellini into my hand and my guilt dissolved as I attended to the bacon sizzling, the potatoes browning, and the eggs scrambling on the stove.

It was all delicious. Even if we gained five pounds in one sitting. If you, too, have a butter problem, head on over to the "LKTC-tested recipes" page, where you'll find the sticky pecan mini-bun recipe, amongst dozens of others that call for at least a stick of butter. Then, we can all go shopping together for new pants.   


The Non-Mother's Day brunch spread

Pioneer Woman's Sticky Pecan Mini Buns

No, I do not wonder why my pants don't fit anymore...



womp womp

lesson learned: hold the bag by the base (also, yes, that is the same bottle of V8 fusion juice that's been in that same place on the counter for, well, don't even ask me how many months)

cute? yes. precise? maybe not so much...

egg separation fail

lesson learned: frozen berries go rogue in the oven

For what I lack in meal preparation skills, I like to think I make up for in the baking arena.  I don't say this because I like to brag, but because I feel like I should be able to do at least something right in the kitchen. 

And usually, I can.  Usually, I can make an addictive batch of chocolate chip cookies for overseas friends, or a spot-on tiramisu for Sunday girls dinner.  I've expanded the repetoire lately to include the often-baked blueberry buttermilk cake, and I have a bevy of bookmarked links with new things to try.

So when my office decided we needed to send our boss off in style, I offered to crank out a few things for our final staff meeting with her.  I already knew my new go-to guy, mr. blueberry buttermilk, was going to make an appearance.  But this seemed to be the perfect opportunity to yank Pioneer' Woman's coffee cake recipe right out of the "someday file."  The Pioneer Woman's recipes have never failed me (see: bbq sauce, shortbread cookies), and I'm a sucker for anything with that much butter (there must be some French lineage in there somewhere...). 

Things did not get off to a fortuitous start.  As I was attempting to grease and flour the bundt pan, I grabbed the (very full) bag of flour by the top, and dropped a good cup to cup and half of flour in the sink.  After I defrosted a plethora of frozen blueberries, I dripped bright blue juice all over the floor.  As that cake baked, I noticed a remarkable absence of blueberries (meaning they'd all sunk to the bottom of the pan, which, unfortunately, became a very unattractive TOP of the cake). 

If all else fails, I've got the Pioneer Woman cake, I thought.

So while the blueberry cake baked along in the oven (losing a few reliability points, mind you) I chopped pecans, I creamed butter and sugar, I separated eggs....or should I say "I tried to separate eggs?" As i was cracking egg number two of three, I managed to drop a bit of yolk into my bowl of whites.  And I didn't have enough eggs to just start over.  Trying to embrace the Pioneer Woman's nonchalant attitude, I rolled with it (after kicking myself). 

When it came time to beat the egg whites into stiff peaks, I felt like the tiny bit of yolk was leading the whole crew on a revolt, because after several minutes of trying (with an electric mixer and with a whisk), I admitted defeat and accepted that the eggs were staunchly against moving past the soft peak stage. I folded them in to the batter, threw it in the pan, and poured the sinful topping on there (I say sinful because, well, it's butter, sugar, cinnamon, and pecans.  Heavy on the first two). 

I mean, really how big of a deal are properly beaten eggs? Right?

So, while me and my type A self would've been content to sit in front of the oven and watch the cake (hopefully) bake up properly, I had about eighty bajillion dishes to contend with.  See, I always start out all "clean as you go" and organized.  Then egg yolks go rogue, blueberry juice is all over the floor, the egg whites join the egg yolks in revolt, and I just don't have time to worry if the counter is littered with various tools that were pressed in to duty in an attempt to stave off a kitchen uprising.  

After what seemed like ages, my hands were pruney, but the casualties around the kitchen had all been accounted for and were scrubbed and drying peacefully on various towels.  I finally had time to check on the cake.

It was puffing up, not at all like the delicious "sinking" of the sinful toppings as Pioneer Woman had described in her recipe.  Even when I pulled it out of the oven and gave it a gentle (ok, maybe slightly violent) thwack on the counter, there wasn't much settling. 

But I am happy to report that when both coffee cakes were sliced up in oh-so-professional fashion (thanks to my years behind the counter at Midtown Cafe), they were incredible.  The Pioneer Woman cake in particular was a hit (I mean, three sticks of butter might be responsible for that...just sayin).  If there was any lingering hesitancy to my acceptance here in the office, I think it was decimated by the coffee cake. 

So anyways...normally "stress baking" manages to assuage whatever nagging worries have been keeping me awake at night.  The farewell coffee cakes certainly distracted me, but they were a little unexpectedly stressful.  Nevertheless, the overall success of the endeavor has re-convinced me that I can do at least one thing right in the kitchen, even if said kitchen ends up covered in blueberry juice.

the yoga dichotomy

on one side of the LKTC, we have my oh-so-grown up dinner (ps-have I mentioned lately how much I love my overly magnetic apartment? well, I really do)

and on the other, we have all the makings of blueberry buttermilk pound cake

is this not the cutest little bundt pan you've ever seen? no? well it's the cutest one i've ever seen 

Today is the third time I've made it to Pentagon yoga, meaning I currently have perfect attendance since I first started going again after a one year hiatus.  I realized that yoga class tends to inspire some pretty dichotomous thoughts, and subsequently actions.

There are moments in yoga where you feel like the world's most powerful person.  When you're in the middle of bird of paradise (go ahead, google it, I'll be here when you get back), it can be really energizing.  

Then there are moments in yoga where you feel like you can just check out when it's convenient.  Most yoga classes begin with the reminder that you can return to child's pose (go ahead, google this one, too) at any time the practice becomes "more than you want it to" that day. I don't know about you, but I rarely need an invitation to take it easy in the gym (yeah, I warned you all a long time ago that I was lazy).  

You can quickly go from twisting yourself into a pretzel to just laying on the mat while the rest of the class goes from plank to downward dog and back a million times.  

Tonight's yoga class was low intensity, but very balance-focused, which can demand a good deal of concentration (something I've long struggled with in yoga). I initially left feeling all world-conquer-y.  Or at least kitchen conquer-y.  I had grand plans of walking home from the metro station further from my apartment to allow for a stop at Safeway, and thus an ambitious dinner involving the chicken I remembered to set in the fridge to defrost pre-work this morning.  

Then I got to the Pentagon metro and realized I had to wait 15 minutes for a train. This would typically incite a frustrated, antsy response, but tonight all I could muster was a halfhearted complaint to Allie via BBM.  I attribute this in part to my Nook (seriously, love that thing), as it allowed me to re-immerse myself in my latest purchase, The Fourth Star.  (I felt like I needed something with a little more weight after devouring The Help.  Must say, not totally loving it, but, they're at the part where all four generals are in/involved in Iraq so I currently can't put it down).  Reading always makes me sleepy, and the lingering stress from starting my new job snuck up on me and joined forces with the sleepiness. 

Suddenly I was on the opposite end of the yoga dichotomy and indulging the "you can quit any time your body tells you to" part.  (I should have known it was coming.  I totally bowed out of 3 separate instances of camel pose because I just wasn't in the mood).  By the time I made it home, I had no desire to so much as touch that raw chicken, but I did want to bake.

So I scarfed down a bowl of cheerios (see above) while talking to Mom about the family's impending visit (hence the blackberry's prominent position in the baking line up above), setting up the LKTC for some light baking, and taking pictures.  Check out that multitasking skill.  (Obviously the world conquer-y endorphins were still making one last stand)

I had both buttermilk and blueberries that were nearing the end of their short life spans, so I decided to make this cake that I've baked with great success before (with blueberries in place of raspberries, as I hate raspberries).  A cop out, I know, but, I was only feeling so inspired.  It turned out to be a bit of a mess, with a fine layer of creamed butter/sugar on my work out clothes (ironic, yes), but there were no major disasters, and by the smell of things, it came out deliciously. I won't be cutting in to it until the family arrives this weekend.  Stay tuned. 

Now in keeping with the freewheeling side of the yoga dichotomy, I'm going to ignore the dishes and go read in bed.  Genuine wild woman right here.   

best laid plans

what I actually had for dinner

what I was supposed to have for dinner

I had really respectable intentions for my meals this week.  I even drafted a rudimentary dinner line up (although you can see that it fell apart a bit when I got both bored and overwhelmed and decided I couldn't possibly plan for NEXT weekend).  I had Allie's cooking magazines marked, and I made sure to include every last necessary ingredient on my grocery list to minimize the chances of straying from the plan.  

And then I devoted a sizable percentage of my weekly adventurous culinary spirit to some seriously successful biscuits and meatballs yesterday.  And after a day of being up to my elbows in goo, I think I lost a little steam.  Plus, I realized there was no way I was setting my alarm for one single second before 6:30, making a shower AND crock pot prep unlikely if I wanted to get to work on time.  

So spicy pork lost out to hygiene (I'm sure my coworkers would be grateful if they weren't such heathens themselves), and I figured there was no harm in swapping Tuesday's and today's planned meals.  

I was still on track, albeit a slightly parallel one, when I sat down to copy Allie's food magazines before cooking dinner.  One of the first recipes I had dog-eared was for buttermilk pancakes.  I happen to have just enough buttermilk sitting in my fridge.  My sweet tooth has returned with a vengence after winter.  And I love breakfast for dinner. DINNER = DERAILED.  

I threw some fruit on there to make myself feel a little better about a dinner swimming in maple syrup.  And there's turkey bacon for protein.  Let's just say there were a few more than 2 slices involved, but I got hungry while I was making the pancakes.  I mean, who can turn down "thin and crispy" turkey bacon (which reminds me, I need to write a thank you email to whatever genius at Oscar Meyer decided to manufacture that)?  

I feel just the tiniest bit guilty about succumbing to the siren call of syrup, but whatever.  This whole adventure is about becoming more comfortable and self-sufficient in the kitchen (and, you know, religion, too).  And I think being in a quasi-sugar coma will actually prove helpful as I battle Comcast to get my cable back in working order.  

weekend update

Friday night - Moroccan spiced shrimp, brown rice, garlic naan

Saturday night - sauteed beef, fried rice, more garlic naan

Saturday morning - buttermilk biscuit experiment

Saturday morning - buttermilk biscuit fail 

Sunday morning - pre-opera brunch picnic

For someone who gave up eating out (and hates to cook), I'm eating pretty well.  Not healthy, but well.  There's a big difference.  And I did not give up eating junk (although I probably should have), so I'm totally ok with it.  

Friday night, I made shrimp, rice, and naan for Allie and I. In the spirit of full disclosure, Trader Joe's made the naan, and it was delicious.  The spice rub on the shrimp was also pretty amazing, but in this case, I also can't take credit for anything other than my blog-trolling skills, which led me to this cool site called Dinner: A Love Story (where I found the recipe).  Saturday I used the remainder of the naan as a vehicle for rice and sauteed beef.  It was just so/so, but that's what I get for using pre-packaged rice mixes (Sarah, if you're reading this, I clearly need some cooking lessons-your fried rice rocks).    

Saturday morning, I decided to experiment with two different biscuit recipes to prepare for today's pre-opera picnic brunch.  The first one was for plain biscuits from Paula Deen and the second one was for buttermilk biscuits from Epicurious.  I didn't want to be too wasteful, so I cut each recipe down by half or more, which turned out to be an excellent decision, because both were total flops.  I tried really hard to follow the directions verbatim and to not overwork the dough (a no-no for biscuits, shortbread, etc).  And yet I pulled two separate pans of flat, blah biscuits out of my oven.  I refuse to throw in the towel, though, because I think every self-respecting quasi Southern woman should be able to make biscuits from scratch in a pinch.  If anyone out there knows the secrets to the fluffy, flaky Bojangles style biscuits, we can negotiate recurring payments for access to this (dangerous) intel. 

Because I had strawberries and fresh whipped cream (as in, I poured heavy cream into a bowl and created deliciousness), I had to develop a vehicle for that sugary goodness.  Enter shortbread.  I found a shortbread recipe by accident when I was searching for biscuit recipes, and decided I also wanted to give that a go.  (Are we noticing a butter-related trend yet?).   So after spending yesterday with Allie (more on that in a minute), I came home and made shortbread.  I was disheartened by how crumbly the dough was (I could barely roll it out), and by the fact that the cookies weren't pretty (did I remember to warn you all that I'm a very typical first-born perfectionist/type A? and that part of my disdain for cooking is this trial and error process? ok, well now you've been warned).  In case you're also trying to consume your weight in butter, here's the shortbread recipe.  I got a little wild and added some grated lemon peel to balance the sweetness of the cream and strawberries.  

But the cookies were delicious, and were, in fact, the perfect vehicle for spoonfulls of fresh whipped cream and sliced strawberries.  We also had eggs, bacon, muffins/danish, pasta salad, and cheese and crackers along with our champagne.  Then we piled into a cab in our fancy dresses and saw Madama Butterfly at the Kennedy Center.  Oh, and it was about 65 degrees and sunny today.  PERFECT SUNDAY.  

And finally, yesterday was basically a perfect Saturday.  I bookended the day with baking experiments, and spent the middle of the day shopping and crafting with Allie.  We originally set out to just go to the craft store, but detoured to Bed, Bath, and Beyond, World Market, Marshalls, Old Navy, and Home Goods first.  I picked up all sorts of random accessories for the LKTC (microplane, biscuit cutters, carafe, mini bottles of champagne, etc).  Then we went to Michael's and JoAnn's, where we tried to find the perfect fabric and trim to make a headboard out of scratch for Allie's room.  See pictures of the entire process right here.  

Ok, that was the most disjointed account of my weekend that I could have possibly dreamed up.  I'd lie to you and say it was intentional...trying to keep you on your toes and all that...but mostly I'm just exhausted and not thinking (or writing) all that logically.  Sorry to confuse/bore you...I'll be back on top of things after I kick daylight savings time's little butt.