Baking

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Will bribe for friends

Monday, July 4th, 2011

By this time on Saturday, I had already climbed to the top of the highest mountain in Colorado.

Annie Parsons - Mt. Elbert

Today, I am still in my pajamas, drinking coffee, and trying to figure out how I’m going to survive today’s heat.  I think I’ll bake for the neighbors in hopes of being invited to their BBQ that I overheard them talking about through my office window when they were on their front porch.

You wish I was joking.  I kind of wish I was joking, too, but… the cake is in the oven.

Domesticating

Monday, March 1st, 2010

Yesterday, I had a hankering for something that, to my knowledge, did not exist.  So I took matters into my own hands and invented it.

The result is probably worthy of a Nobel Prize – that is, if there were a Nobel Prize for HOLLA.

See, if there are two things that I love in this world, they are coconut curry soup, and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.  Why not combine them, and create the most delicious thing imaginable:

Coconut Curry Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies.

As my former roommates Julie and Mel can attest to, I do not use recipes when baking cookies.  I just throw a dash of this, a scoop of that, a dollop of thus-and-such into a bowl, mix it up, say a prayer, and bake at 375 for 8 minutes.  So that’s what I did – but this time, I incorporated about a cup of coconut flakes and two tablespoons of curry powder – and some glugs of half-and-half, for good measure, and for posterity’s sake.

(I just really wanted to say “for posterity’s sake.”)

Not to hail my own self or anything, but… okay, fine.  The outcome was nothing short of genius.  I’m only worried that I will never be able to recreate it, what with my lack-of-recipe and all.

On the heels of a Saturday night achievement of Balsamic-Glazed Chicken with Sun-Dried Tomato Rice and Steamed Broccoli (all perfectly timed, I might add, and served to my parents and sister on beautiful dishes in my very cute apartment – video tour to come), I am starting to think that Domestic Goddess is a title I am straight up owning.

cimg2206_2

Next up: the sewing of my own throw pillows – piping and all.  Stay tuned!

Finally Friday

Friday, January 23rd, 2009

Holy Mother of Pearl – do you have any idea how happy all of your delurking made me? It was like the clouds opened up and God showered me with Sweet Tarts ALL DAY LONG! Reading your messages made me grin out loud, if there is such a thing – and I know there is, since I did it. I learned of people that I had no idea existed, and heard from people that I knew existed but had no idea were frequent readers.

Thank you for reading this little blog. No, I’m serious. Thank you. Your sweet words throughout the years have been life to my soul, and your companionship, even just through this crazy internet contraption, has been such an encouragement. Plus – so many of you have great blogs yourself! I’m subscribing to all sorts of new ones after your delurking yesterday.

I made cookies last night, and I came up with a brilliant idea. You know how Crisco has started packaging their shortening in little blocks wrapped in paper, for easy measuring? Gone are the days of trying to level 1 cup of Crisco in a measuring cup, which only ever winds up giving you a lardy hand.

(Sidenote:
If I ever form a band, maybe we’ll call ourselves Lardy Hand?

The Lardy Hand Band?

No?)

So here’s my idea: what Crisco has done with shortening… someone needs to do that with peanut butter. Because it’s always the same dilemma. HOW is one supposed to gracefully and easily measure peanut butter without making a huge mess? I want my peanut butter in stick form!

You heard it here first.

Tonight, I am driving to Chattanooga to take part in a Special Edition Running Club. Tomorrow morning, we’ll run along the river, and then Josh’s mom Deb is making us breakfast. Free food has always been the way to my heart, and yes, I will drive 133 miles to get it.

The last time I was in Chattanooga was in September for a wedding. I drove down by myself, and stopped at the Wal-Mart to get a card to go with my gift. And walking out of the store, in front of God and rednecks and everyone, my wrap dress came unwrapped. Just fell open, right there in the parking lot. Let’s hope for better luck this time.

And finally, based on my life every single morning, something I would like to share.

Travel Mug
- a little poem by Annie Parsons
Once
just once
I would like to discover
a travel mug that
does
not
leak

All over my lap
All over my life

Leaving behind
the evidence of
my addiction

and exposing me
as the sloven
I am.

Pumpkin Fail

Thursday, October 16th, 2008

My friend Carly has a fabulous food blog aptly titled Fabulously Classic. She is my dream wife, coming up with all sorts of delicious concoctions to feed her husband Ben. Recently, she posted a recipe for pumpkin bars, and since it’s fall and I have A NEW MIXER, I thought I would bake a batch for my friendliest neighbors: the ex-cons across the street.

Except I didn’t follow the instructions. Carly said “jelly roll pan.” I took that to mean “any pan that I want.” Bad decision.

The pumpkin batter in my pan wound up being FAR too deep to bake all the way through, so in the end, I was presented with a “crispy around the edges” and yet “completely unbaked wad of dough in the middle” cake. I pulled it out and looked at it, flabbergasted, trying to scientifically deduce what I had done wrong. I’ve decided that a good law to live by should be, “Never do what your brain thinks will be okay.” That rule of thumb would have saved me from several speeding tickets, an ill-fated decision to pass up Dramamine, and $400 at a date auction in 2001.

However, never one to waste anything – especially sugar and lard – I waited for the cake to cool and then revisited it. I decided that there were salvageable pieces around the edges, so I took a knife to the whole, and wound up with 3 platefuls of mini-squares of perfectly good cake. Today, I will frost them individually, and bring them to my favorite former prisoners.

But I still have the mush from the middle – a doughy lump of ugly-yet-probably-delicious cake. And call me crazy, but I’m thinking… breakfast for 2 weeks.