Taste of Childhood

I did it. I did what every person should do at least once in their lives. You know, just to say that they did.

I made Moon Pies.

Are you impressed? Or confused. Probably confused. 

Moon Pies are more of a southern thing. I know that I technically live in the south, but come on now, Maryland is really part of the central Pacific states. I think I may have just made up that term. 

Growing up I remember my mother loving moon pies. Whenever we could get a special treat at the store, she would pick one of those. Honestly, that habit was a bit curious seeing as she is from California.

I've been on pinterest for a while, and it has sucked a lot of time away from me. One thing it has done, however, is lend itself to giving me new recipe ideas. Moon Pies popped up on my adventuring one day, and I knew that I must make them.

I found the recipe at this lovely little blog. And the recipe proved to be delicious.

I did not in face document the entire moon making extravaganza, I just captured the end result. And badly. Meaning the pictures I took were mediocre.

It was a pretty involved process. But it was worth it to eat a moon pie with homemade graham crackers and marshmallow.

Since they are my mother's favorite treat, they were gone in a few days. I recommend them for school snacks, or a really special treat. But why can't that be one in the same?

Strawberry Goodness

Can you believe that it is almost Christmastime? Can you believe that Maryland suffered an earthquake [okay, so that was back in September]? Can you believe that the seasons change so quickly? You blink once and fall is practically over. I am a bit ashamed at my lack of blogging-ness as of the past few months. I've been focusing on other things I suppose. Time has passed quickly, however. 

I just want to show off some delicious-ness that I baked up for my sister's birthday in September. She turned 14. She is generally quite awesome. Quite the little artist. And by little artist I mean that she kicks artistic butt. She is incredibly talented at what she does, and I can only imagine that she will grow in leaps and bounds in the next few years as she develops her talent. Well done, sister.

So, the few days before her birthday I was brainstorming cakes. I almost always make chocolate cakes. It is like I am incapable of baking anything else. Legitimately. It's sad. It's just that when I think of dessert I always think of chocolate. That's what I would like to eat when I am indulging [or on a regular basis really]. So I thought to myself, "what can I whip up that isn't chocolate for once?" The answer? Well, I wanted to do something simple. So I opted for a cake layered with strawberries. But that's not all. I then thought that I should incorporate red velvet cake in there somewhere. And probably white cake. So why not both? Throw some cream cheese frosting in there and we are good to go.

The cake ended up being a monster of a thing. But isn't that the way most of my baking escapades end up? [If you don't know the answer to that question, it is an undeniable yes]

Did I say I was pleased with the results? Cause I was. The white cake recipe I found was especially wonderful. It was so fluffy and perfect. I never knew that whipping meringue into a cake works wonders for the consistency! Joy and joyness abounded in my heart at one am in the morning.

The final result included frosting the outside of the cake with a thin layer of cream cheese frosting. I'd like to claim that I did that on purpose, but the real reason was that I ran out of frosting and was too lazy to make more. So it got the "rustic look." And lots of sprinkles.

I found fantastically long candles at Michaels which claimed to be those re-lighting sparkler candles. They didn't re-light so well. Also, my sister tried to blow them out with her nose. Disgusted yet? They were pretty though. I like using them despite their inability to cause surprise. I think they look distinguished on huge cakes.

I told Jannie to look nice for the picture. This is what I got:

Then I told her to look excited for the cake. This is what I got:

Obviously other members of the family were more enthused about the cake. Clearly.

I do have to show case the intense inside of the cake in order that you understand how tasty this thing was despite the lack of chocolate.

 Also, I have a weird habit where I get my picture with almost all the cakes I have baked. I say almost because now someone is going to fact check that statement and discover that I have not in fact gotten a picture with all of them. So to cover my rear end I inserted the word almost. Works like a charm every time.

And in case you forgot what the Bigelow girls look like, here's a picture. I am the midget of the family, and I embrace that fact. And fact checkers, you can check that fact because I am 99.9% sure that it is true. Unless we are counting dogs, then not so much and I retract my former statement.

Tye Dyed CupCakes

Baking is a hobby of mine. I love it. Someday I hope to own my very own bright yellow Kitchen Aid Mixer. I'm hardcore like that. And legitimate. 

So wanted to make funfetti cupcakes as requested by older [and quite needy] sister. She loves white cake. And she especially loves it with sprinkles throughout. 

I think I got a little too sprinkle crazy, however, as my cupcakes turned out essentially tye dyed. Waaawaaaa. They didn't just have a few different colors throughout, they were almost completely a different color.

They were pretty though. Like a picture. Like a picture of a cupcake taken by someone who was really bored and had nothing else to take pictures of.

Now I'm hungry. Fantastic. Celery just doesn't cut it.

Claiming My Italian Heritage

Here is an important question which is normally answered in a negative fashion.

  Have you ever consumed fresh pasta? 

I say a negative fashion because when I generally ask individuals they answer with a resounding "no". This makes me quite sad. Being an Italian myself [mostly. i'm actually more irish, but let's not dwell on that small fact], I am aghast when I discover that the majority of my friends have never consumed homemade pasta. Aghast I tell you.

Once you eat fresh pasta, you will never ever want to go back. I am assuming this. Maybe you will want to go back, right away, to that comforting starchy mess of a meal. But just maybe you will want to run into the future flying the banner of homemade deliciousness to which your belly will gratefully thank you.

My brother and I worked together to turn out around 4 pounds of pasta. It was enough to serve eleven individuals and still have leftovers. 

 Bryan made the dough for me. I tried to make the first batch and kind of failed. He is the dough master. This picture depicts him trying to crush an egg in his large hands just by squeezing it. A rather difficult task. Harder than you might think.

I ran the pasta through our handy dandy little machine. First you flatten out a piece of dough and run it through the first part of the machine where it is made even flatter and thinner. Then you crank it through the second part of the contraption which cuts it into linguine. 

Bryan and Lauren eventually cracked the egg while giggling the entire time. It was kind of a mess. They splattered egg on the cabinet and floor. The dogs enjoyed the mess thoroughly.

After letting the pasta dry for a time, we floored the pieces so that they wouldn't stick together and threw them on a pan. Since it was around 11pm at this point, we stuck it in the freezer for lunch the next day.

My grandma made her wonderful marinara sauce for lunch. We took the pasta out of the freezer and boiled in for literally three minutes and it was done! Best meal ever. Fresh pasta really is the best.

Cake-O-Mania

My life has been filled with a lot of cakes lately. This is due to wedding showers, weddings, birthdays, and grandparents visiting. Any situation, really, calls for cake. The relaxation theme in my life since I have graduated from college has been baking. It is a way I can be creative and also try something new without venturing out my house when I don't want to be social. Perfection.

The first cake arrived not with a bang or huge fanfare, instead it arrived in my mouth by way of a wedding shower. The bride to be was recently wed in Florida, thus the theme was tropical. One of her friends offered to make a cake for the party with a beach theme, and santo monos did it turn it out pretty!

Thoughtfully thinking of those who have wished portion control into their lives, our baker friend also made a slew of cupcakes.

The next cake entered my mouth by way of another wedding shower. A friend from school happens to live about forty-five minutes away from me here in Maryland. Her wedding is scheduled for June, so some of her dear friends threw her a surprise wedding shower last month to celebrate. 

The cake eating has just continued! The next few are my fault, however. Like I said, baking is relaxing to me, thus I have taken it up on a regular basis. My grandfather and his seasonal girlfriend recently came through town on their way back from Florida [are you question the "seasonal" part of this last sentence? totally true. she is seasonal because they don't see each other during the summer when they live in new york. they simply live with each other when winter comes around every year. it's weird. i realize this.]. I recognized this as a perfect opportunity to make some huge creation and force my family to come together for a meal.

So I made this beast of a cake. It was a chocolate buttermilk cake with toasted marshmallow filling and  raspberry swiss meringue buttercream topped with chocolate ganache. It was massive. I baked the layers in two cookie pans and then cut the layers in half and stacked them. The cake was literally bigger than my head. And while I don't have an overly large head [it is in fact smaller than average], that is still quite a large cake. And of course my family commented on the fact that we would never be able to consume such a large dessert.

It was eaten in a day.

And folks, that is what occurs when you have twelve people in your house for lunch.

Find the recipe here!

My next creation was baked the next week when my grandmother was in town to visit. Not wanting her to feel left out by the whole cake thing, I attempted to make a meringue cake with marscapone and creme de cocoa filling topped with dark chocolate ganache. Slowly and surely I am starting to realize that I cannot physically make a cake without including ganache. I think my hips are starting to realize that it's a problem. 

It looks funny, and it also sounds like an odd combination. Yet, this was an exceptional dessert. Find the recipe here from my favorite cake blog. Seriously, her recipes are phenomenal. And while my cakes almost never turn out quite as beautiful and amazing as hers, I can also say that I have never had any formal training. That's my excuse, and I am absolutely sticking with it. They have all been tasty though. Every single dessert that I have attempted from Rosie have given me another reason to live [i'd probably still live if it weren't for her cakes, there just wouldn't be as many sugar induced hallucinations if it weren't for her]. This sounds like an odd combination for a cake, but you should at least try it.

Aside from the fact that I look incredibly exhausted in the above picture [i was, i had been making cake and pasta for about six hours], the meringue cake just was not as humongous as the cake before. Ah well, I fed my family homemade pasta to lessen their appetites for the cake.

Anyone else been baking recently? Any great recipes you want to share?

Cornbread Cupcakes?

My family members are generally the taste testers for the baked goods I produce in my parents kitchen. This can often be a very positive thing in my life. To hear the comments, "Julia, you are a genius!" and "How have I lived without your tasty morsels passing my lips? These cupcakes have brought life to my previously darkened soul!" Yes, the comments can be quite intense, but they also push me forward to bring more lost souls to baked goodness heaven.

Have I played this up enough?

Now you can understand how crushing any negative comments can be to my psyche. That whole premise of supportive yet constructive suggestions helping a person improve in their craft is ridiculous. It just makes my ego deflate like someone stuck a pin in my balloon head [weird image, i know]. I just can't handle anything really. I just want people to adore me and say nice and pretty things about me.

Dulce de Leche cupcakes in theory sound tasty. Just the way the title rolls off your tongue fills the dessert with intrigue and mystery and sweetness. The cupcake is composed of a cake batter which is noted as being not too sweet but the perfect companion to a very sweet frosting and dulce de leche frosting. A normal combination.

But they honestly were not that great.

The baking part was fun as always. I do enjoy some therapeutic baking sessions every now and again. I started this one by boiling an unopened can of sweetened condensed milk for three hours in a pot of water. This makes automatic dulce de leche [which is handy for those who do not desire to pay copious amounts of money for a jar at Whole Foods]. The next day I made the batter and the frosting and then assembled the mini cakes.

The dishes that await me at the end never light a happiness in my soul. Rather I despair. Does it even make sense that I would clean the dishes since I labored over the treats? It really doesn't add up. Ah well, as long as my mother doesn't have to attend to them [which I totally took advantage of Saturday night when I looked at her with puppy dog eyes and pleaded that she clean the dishes instead of I. pathetic. i know]. 

The end result was pretty.

I used a plastic baggie for my frosting. I simply filled the bag and then cut off the tip. It was easy and it turned out pretty. To finish it up I drizzled some of the remaining dulce de leche on top and then completed it with either sprinkles, sugar, or sea salt.

One of my siblings bit into the cupcake and immediately blurted out, "What is this? Cornbread?" My bakers soul was crushed. My idealistic world came crashing to the ground. Cornbread? That's what you eat with fried chicken or chili! Not dulce de leche frosting. What barbarians my siblings are. They should try holding their comments in their mouths next time. That way they can hold onto them until they reach their bedrooms. Then they can blurt out their comments all they want. My cupcakes were not made out of cornbread, it was a cupcake recipe I found on a blog that didn't involve corn any of sorts.

Okay. Let's be real. Was I really crushed? Absolutely not. You win some, you loose a lot. That's life. I have learned from this baking adventure to not make cornbread cupcakes again. Simple.

And what is life without cute dog pictures?

The Cake Disaster of 2011 - Part Two

Picking up where I left off: I had just made all the layers for my cake and the marshmallows were toasted to perfection. After creaming the said marshmallows together with fluff, butter, sugar and a little vanilla extract, I was ready to slap that sticky stuff on the layers. 

Let me tell you, dear reader, the layering was going absolutely wonderfully. Sure the cake was a little crumbly and moist, the layers weren't completely straight across, but they were getting stacked! One layer. Two layers. Three layers. Four layers. Fantastic. I felt so pleased with my results that I turned around to finish my last step of the process, whipping up the outside icing. The recipe called for a malted frosting with Ovaltine mixed in. However, I am not the hugest fan of malt flavor. Instead I simply substituted the Ovaltine for cocoa powder. The result was a divine frosting.

The frosting was great, life was great. It was only eleven thirty, I had plenty of time to sleep that night. Life was just peachy. 

Then I turned around.

To this:

My stacked cakes were literally falling apart. The marshmallow frosting was out of control and destroying the cakes with its sticky vengeance. All I had wanted was for everyone to get along and love each other, and this is what happens. You really can't trust marshmallows sadly. As soon as I turned around I dashed across the kitchen to try and save my "leaning tower of Pisa". It was pretty much to no avail. Chunks of cake had come undone, and the tower of chocolatey goodness was tottering. I tried pushing it so it would mostly stand up, but it looked pretty horrendous.

There was only one thing to do. Frost over the entire thing so it would look like nothing had ever happened. I am pretty sure that this is the secret of all great bakers. Julia Child would be proud.

I forgot to get a picture of the cake unwrapped that evening, but this basically shows how unstable this enormous beast was that evening. I went to bed thinking, 'If the cake falls over, it falls over. My parents can discover the mess is the morning'. My spirits were not crushed as the whole ordeal was comical to say the least. 

Aghast at the amount of cake in their kitchen that Saturday, many of my family members departed their wisdom to me. "That is way too much cake. We need to give some away." Such wisdom and understanding. By Sunday afternoon the cake was absolutely gone. I didn't even have to shove it down anyones throat. I barely managed to grab a piece for my coworkers.

The Cake Disaster of 2011 - Part One

I have never claimed to be an architect. I've never even read a book on architecture. But I have read a few cookbooks in my time. And I really like cake. Chocolate cake to be exact. The other day I was in a restaurant and ordered flourless chocolate cake and a diet coke. The waitress looked at me square in the face and laughed while sputtering out, "Diet Coke?" Lady, that is one of the best combinations in the world! Don't mock me for wanting a drink with no calories coupled with a cake with a lot of calories. Don't do it. Then I shoved my face in the cake like Bruce Bogtrotter from Matilda and ate the entire thing while the waitress looked on and gasped at my bad manners [at least that was what I was envisioning in my head where all good plans are accomplished].

Last week while stumbling around the blog world I found this recipe for a Toasted Marshmallow Cake. It is made with buttermilk chocolate cake and has marshmallows in the middle. Could I honestly pass up making this cake in all its glory? Heck no. Was I really equipped to take on this baking feat with a tall cake? Not really. I'm not a proficient baker, nor am I am architect. However, I did not dwell on my incompetence or inadequicies. Instead I strove blindly ahead on a Friday night by whipping up two of the layers of my grandeous cake.

After they came out of the oven I decided that two layers just wouldn't be enough, so I made two more.

It was quite obvious at this point that I didn't know what was to be ahead in my cake making. Look at me, my hair is down, I'm wearing a scarf, I have a look of indifference on my face. What is this? I also didn't mention that there was about two hours inbetween the making of the first batch of batter and the second batch. The reason for this? My parents were watching a movie and didn't want the blender on. So I watched the Departed for two hours and then went back to cake baking around nine thirty give or take.

Thoroughly prepared [or so i thought, cue Jaws theme music] I set about making the filling for this cake. It involved a lot of butter. A lot of butter. And it involved fluff and marshmallows.

I popped a tray of marshmallows in the oven to broil them so they would have that smokey campfire taste to them without the bear maulings and renditions of Kumbaya.

Then I whipped all the ingredients together to make one tasty and very sticky [think a vat of marshmallow fluff combined with honey... except there is no actual honey in the recipe] batch of toasted marshmallow filling.

At this point it was nearly ten thirty at night. Not too bad. Yet, I was up till at least twelve thirty making this beast. And the disaster hadn't even occurred yet! Well, two of my cakes did kind of fall apart when coming out of the pan. I do believe that was the start of my problems.

To be continued...