A Beautiful Day at the Bakery

Wednesday. I was tired. I haven't been sleeping well the past few nights and worry the same will happen tonight (blame the sinus pressure and the NyQuil not kicking in fast enough ... I guess I can also blame the random web surfing that is keeping me occupied enough to stay awake but to run off on tangents ... FOCUS). The bakery. On Wednesday. Right? Yes!

I was exhausted. And looked it apparently (as commented by the little flitting Tinkerbell). My assignment that day was to frost cakes. Lots of them. Loads. There was a six inch red velvet with the most random birthday inscription I have ever come across and a challenge to fit on the small face of the cake. But, mission accomplished.

There were more red velvet cakes. An Achilles heel (much like pancakes, baguettes, some pastas, you get the picture). I could never slather on enough of the buttercream to get the cake to look just as I really wanted it to look. Perhaps I thought too much. Perhaps I allowed myself too much time to frost each cake. Not so much on Wednesday. Too make cakes. I got to work, pulled out the off set spatula, gave the buttercream a good turn, flipped over the first layer, frosted, cleaned, smoothed, flipped on the second, frosted, cleaned smoothed, and then decorated as instructed. Perfect. Even by my standard. There were four more like it before I moved on to other cakes.

A good day. An accomplished day. And I got to squeeze in a Pilates class before work. Joy!

The Power of Orange Cookies

Or any cookie for that matter. I walked into a pastry shop around my apartment with the idea of "scoping it out" for a possible summer internship. I haven't sampled any of their offerings and thought I should (support local business, right) before seeing about anything else. The display cases were not at all appetizing or appealing (the shop wasn't either to be truthful) so I picked what looked the most interesting--a chocolate cheesecake. While waiting for the pre-cut slice to be put into a paper bag I looked at the rest of the offerings--more cakes: chocolate mousse, carrot, german chocolate ... standard fare). There was a large bowl of chocolate chip cookies and some interesting looking (and LARGE) rugelach and I was overcome with the desire to purchase a chocolate chip cookie. Not because it looked particularly tasty (it looked dry actually) but to see if I could judge the quality of a bakery on a cookie. That has given me ideas. I feel like I judge myself based on the quality of my cookie. Why can't I do the same with others? So, a horrible task and assignment but one I think I can suffer through ... sample the cookie offerings of New York City's bakeries. See what passes the test and what should just be passed by.

Coffee for One

I don't make coffee all too often in my apartment. It's a reminder that I am enjoying a meal alone. Something I relish at times but at others it smarts. Especially after a day spent with friends and loved ones or remembering the evening prior when a meal was shared with friends who enjoy food and the varied creations as much as I do.

But every so often I will pull out the grinder, the whole beans, I'll put the water in the kettle, take out the coffee mug, the spoon, wash all the parts of my cute little french press, reassemble, and wait for the whistle to tempt me to caffeine and the promises of the relaxing moments to come.

The relaxation this evening joined by a grilled gouda and fontina cheese sandwich on whole wheat bread with smoked turkey and spiced with some hot mustard.

The coffee is finished. The remains of the sandwich still being wiped from the corners of my smiling lips.

My assignment tonight is simple (after I avoided the intoxicating power of "How To Pick a Peach"): write a blog, or two, disconnect from Facebook, do some dishes (maybe), read an article, and then really plan out how to turn my kitchen into a classroom.

I'm Not Yet Awake ...

and forgot to chronicle the tales of yesterday's day at the bakery.

I was scheduled to work with the little wandering Tinkerbell again but she was not in yet by the time I arrived. So instead the head baker had me start her work. Yes, an intern, not yet in school, baking 30 yellow cakes that would later be topped with chocolate or a buttercream and displayed and sold or delivered with a "Happy Birthday Christopher." I creamed the butter. Weighed the sugar. Sifted the flour. Beat the eggs. Doing all of this while the head baker opted to help me by prepping my cake pans. I was left alone to make the cakes. Left alone in my own little utopia where I joked and chatted in English and broken Spanish. And where in later weighing the batter per cake pan I realized where I might have not paid the most attention. A lesson learned and retained for next time and for my own kitchen experimentation. Each day always delivering a lesson in patience and in paying full attention.

The time flew by and before I knew it the cakes were cooling, Tinkerbell was at work at red velvet cakes, I had already frosted three Devil's Food cakes, and was on my way to wishing Christopher a "Happy Birthday" written out in broken cursive and surrounded by confetti.

The Morning After

I must start with a picture. Look at that, will you. I live alone. Where is the moldy piece of cheese, the one egg, the bottle of beer (those are actually on the fridge door and out of the picture's frame), and the wilting take-out Chinese box? Oy vey!

What made my refrigerator regurgitate so much in offerings? A trip to the market. I really only wanted eggs and butter. I came back with a little more (you should see my pantry, also out of the picture's frame). And a dinner party. With only three people (including me) but oh so many wonderful and delightful leftovers.

Let's rewind a bit before I get ahead of myself.

The plan was thought and decided upon back during the Biden-Palin debate. Yes, back in October we looked at each other and said "let's get together and cook." It only took 6 months. Hey, I needed to get all of my ideas and eggs in order to create a friend-worthy dessert. Okay, maybe I just procrastinate. But Rachel and I chatted about it when we ran into each other at a concert at work. And I realized, okay, we really need to do this now instead of always just saying we have to do it. Afterall, I'm in danger of just appearing to be a flake. (I am. A little flitting flake.) So I emailed David thus securing the date.

My responsibility? Dessert. And it was set (sort of, but more on that later). I had left over frosting from my banana coconut cupcakes. I swore the frosting too sweet (or maybe full of too much rum). David denied both. Said impossible. Implored me to deliver a cupcake topped with the frosting. Unfortunately, the cupcakes were all gone by the time I tried to salvage one for him. That little hiccup dictated dessert. I had frosting. I needed to make the cupcake David never tasted. A cake was made instead. And frosted. And displayed. And later eaten. And maybe the frosting wasn't as sweet as I remember. Maybe it was just what was needed at the end of the evening after the wonderfully savory bits that tickled my palate.

What were those savory bits? Cherry tomatoes to snack on while David chopped and prepped and I brushed dirt off of mushrooms. Those tomatoes washed down with some Pellegrino mixed with a tart cranberry juice (rest in peace Juicy Juice). A salad of greens with shredded cabbage, chopped avocado, a sliced red pepper, and later topped with a bit of Goddess dressing (truly divine; sacrilegious be damned!). Another salad with feta cheese mixed in with some olive oil and chopped cucumbers and more tomatoes. Finished with a frittata of mushrooms, sauteed onions, garlic, and rosemary. My stomach turning happy little flips in remembrance. Oh, and I must not forget the bottle of organic pale ale.

I'm groggy now just thinking about it. How wonderful it was to wake up and remember the amazing evening cooking together, watching videos, listening to music, talking about astrological charts, and sophisticated crunchy populations.

A Trip to the Laundromat

A bizarre title to start a new musing on food, ay?

Laundry on Sunday morning. It affords me a cup of coffee and some peace and quiet. An even more bit of bizarre, I admit. But there is something about being in the midst of the noise of the outside world that allows me to disassociate myself, remove myself, focus myself in ways that I cannot do in the comfort of home where I feel the strain of the surrounding four walls, the unused kitchen, the clogged bathroom sink (again!), and run on sentences. (And it affords me random thoughts like how I really need to look at my kitchen like a classroom. So many ideas out of that one!).

Laundry on Sunday morning allows me something else. Well, laundry on any morning but this particular morning being a Sunday means I personify all mornings with the name Sunday. Good morning Friend! The coffee. Two dollars. Actually a little less but the change extends itself to the homeless man outside of the Dunkin Donuts. Being the least I can do for the man who opens the door and who greets me with a cheery good morning regardless of whether my feet take me through his door or down the subway steps. My constant morning companion to an otherwise quietly expressed good morning.

The large windows, available washers standing by, and the open bench gift me this luxury. A place to insert myself and write. Each trip here different. Some mornings I write. Others I sit back and read the stories of the people walking by, or flip through the pages of the magazines I have not touched, highlighting recipes to try or alter, or dream of trips to Morocco, Kerala, Puerto Rico, my beloved Madrid, the unseen Paris, the unexplored United States.

This morning I write. My words filling the blank pages. I plan to put the pen away. Tuck her back into the wilds of the the bag where she will lose herself among my ipod, laundry detergent, and free laundry sheets. When inspiration returns I'll juggle and maneuver to greet her and to give me voice.

Beer and Cupcakes

A challenge this summer. To really get a handle on the various beers out there and learn how to pair them with all of the sweet and savory delectables I plan to produce in my kitchen.

Here's a great article on beer to whet your appetite until this project really gets moving.