Cake Challenge: Fortune Cookie vs. Smith Island Cake

Aaron's birthday is today. The past few years, he has always requested a "non-traditional" or "stunt" cake. I am a solid baker, no doubt, but the cakes I bake for his birthday always end in disaster and near-tears. Also, it doesn't help that it is August and a 350F oven doesn't go well with the 90 degree ambient temperature.

Remember the ice cream cone cupcakes? Oh right, I had to destroy all photo-documentation, it was so horrific and demoralizing. There was also the giant cupcake. Which tasted great, but was big, lopsided and bulky. (The smoke alarm-inducing burning of cake batter wasn't evident in the finished product, thankfully.)

This year, Aaron has asked for a Smith Island Cake.

Smith Island is the only inhabited island off the coast of Maryland in the Chesapeake Bay. They have their own cake. Last year, Maryland made it the official state dessert--only two other states have one (MA & SD)--and it goes well with their state drink, milk. Smith Island Cake traditionally has 8-12 thin layers of yellow cake with some sort of chocolate goo frosting, and in this case, crushed frozen peanut butter cups between the layers.

This is what it is supposed to look like (but with PB cup bits in between):

I'm scared. Things could get ugly. [correction: things did get ugly. There was even a frosting emergency.]

Happy birthday, Aaronosaurus!

The many thin layers of the Smith Island Cake:

Chocolate goo frosting and crushed PB cups between each layer. The crushed PB cups looked like ground meat to me:

Finished product. Those are mini-PB cups on top. Note the chocolate goo sliding into pools along the side of the cake. Not pretty.

Project File: Tags

I somehow managed to volunteer to make favors for Murphy's upcoming baby shower. I'm going to bake some cookies, put them in little cellophane bags tied with ribbon and these paper cut out tags (with the celebratory info on them, of course):

































The finished product:













Babymama:

Project File: Embroidery Experiments

It's been many years since I stopped working in a lab. There is something about working with my hands (e.g. running experiments) that is extremely satisfying. When I left that behind, I started to bake more. It's a different kind of science.

I also started crafting more.

Embroidery is something I've always been fascinated with. When done right, it is amazing. It can also be guilty of being a little grandma-y. I've been trying to teach myself how to do it. I'm the first to admit I am not the best at sewing--as OCD as I can be, I'm just a little too lazy with my stitching.

At the Museum of Art & Design we went to a free Etsy workshop on "non-traditional embroidery and fabric assemblage." It was fun to drink wine and craft, and the best thing was that I got to take home the embroidery hoop! I had been needing one so I could start the Embroidery Experiment.

Here's what I worked on at the Etsy workshop. There wasn't enough time to finish it--they started to hustle us out of there after 30 minutes. A girl can only craft so fast. I plan on adding some more embroidery and fabric pieces:















Here's my first attempt at crewel-esque embroidery. The green stalk ended up looking more like asparagus than a strand of grass, but I didn't think it was so bad for a first time satin stitch. The little yellow flower were practice french knots.:

Our Bodies, Ourselves

Our bodies try to tell us when something is wrong or something is needed: we have pain & swelling when injured, our stomach grumbles when hungry, our eyelids get heavy when sleepy, we expel things the body rejects.

I can't say I'm always attune to the more subtle signals my body sends me, but I've noticed something of late: I crave bananas [no euphemism there] when I have a leg cramp developing, from what I assume is caused by a potassium deficiency. Because whenever I ignore the banana thoughts--and I do, because quite frankly, I have never been that fond of bananas in the first place--within a few days I'm awakened by a horrific leg cramp in the middle of the night.

So I suppose the true test is if I can safely avoid charley horses by all of these bananas. The two could be totally unrelated, but I'm interested by biomechanics and physiology (yes, even for a PhD drop-out), and it would be pretty cool if it was.

Say "Hello" to my little friend

We are in the throes of a NYC summer which means it is hot as hell outside. It also happens to be an ice box inside my office. I often find myself with at least 3 layers of clothing on and a shawl on my lap, fingers tinged blue as I type away. This is not okay.

My last space heater died on me about a month ago (R.I.P) and I have been suffering through the frigid office temperatures alone. I hit up every possible store within a 10 block radius looking for a new space heater, but to no avail. (Strangely, all they have out are air conditioners and fans...) I finally ordered this little guy online. He oscillates, has multiple temperature controls, including a fan and "anti-freeze" for those really cold days, and a remote control! I guess I won't have to use my toes anymore.

My only issue with him is that he beeps at me a lot. Press a button and he beeps. Move him and he beeps. Look at him wrong and he beeps. He'd be perfect if he were just a little quieter...

Back in the 'hood

Dirty and Brad's ultimate frisbee league finals were this weekend and we planned a spectating picnic. The finals took place up in Inwood Hill Park, which is located at the northern tip of Manhattan. I lived in Inwood many years ago--it is one of three neighborhoods I've lived in these past 16 years I've been in New York. It was a completely different time of my life then, and that neighborhood holds a lot of memories for me. I seldom make it up that far any more, except to ride past on my way to Target, so it was nice to walk around there again. The area has become much more gentrified--there are fancier restaurants and a lot more white people than when I lived there almost 8 years ago. There's even a Payless Shoe Source now. I think the best addition to the area is a Venezuelan spot that sells patacones, or sandwiches with tostones (fried green plantains) instead of bread. Genius.

We ate some patacones, babycakes, homemade pickles and enjoyed the summer day, watching other people running around after a plastic disc in the heat. Unfortunately, Dirty and Brad's team lost early on. On the bright side, that gave them more time to picnic with us.

It's like high school all over again, except I'm meaner

One of my main responsibilities at work is special projects--it's probably at least 50% of my job. Basically, this means that if they need someone to work on a project or join a committee no one else has time (or inclination) for, I am automatically volunteered.

One of my current projects is to work on the development of a research "advisory council" made up of research staff. It is essentially going to be a student council of research staff, with elected members, who will tackle important issues. Like prom. Oops, sorry, wrong type of council.

Now, this project is perfect for me since I have six years of student council experience under my belt. Grades 7-12, baby! Elected to Executive Board the last two years, no less. (Yes, this was in addition to my senior class presidential duties. Totally ridiculous, I know. It's a burden being popular.)

We are working out all of the by-laws and logistics for the first election and it has been decided that this initial council's Board will be made up of people from the development committee. There are three Board positions and five committee members, myself included. That means only two people will be off the hook. Take a wild guess who everyone wants to be Chair...You got it. Yours truly. This will never happen, for many reasons, but I had to laugh at how it was just like high school all over again. Except my hair is better and I'm much snarkier.

babycakes

A cake, a bike and two cats: Happy Birthday, Dirty!

Dirty had a rooftop BBQ and there was lemon-lemon birthday cake to celebrate his belated birthday. The cake was delicious (of course) but I had the most fun with the decorations--I found a mini red bike and some kitty cake toppers. Janie did a little surgery on one of the kitties so it more closely resembled the wonderful three-legged Nora. Svig is on the left.

















Please note the view of Manhattan behind the cake.

Sweet, sweet, angel food cake

Project File: Miniature Terrariums

My latest project is making mini-terrariums out of jars and random glass vessels. So far they are all succulents and cacti in open terrariums. I am thinking of eventually moving onto tropical mini-plants in closed terrariums. We'll see how the small moss does in the closed jar...

He's Just Not That Into You

E-money, the little nephew, is now 3 years old and quite the ladies' man.

He goes to preschool with a girl named Sela and she just loooooooves him. She runs to him every morning when he walks into the classroom. She is always trying to hug him and has been advised on the merits of giving people their personal space. During a class photo when everyone else said "Cheese!", she said "I love E-money!"

How does the little man feel about all of this? On the way to school he's said, "Mommy, no want Sela!"

Ah, unrequited love.

I suspect little Sela is going to grow up to be a hottie and poor E-money will have already peaked at the age of 3.

But really, how can you resist this kid?

Newsflash: Pinata-donk decapitated by candy-hungry mob!

It was SMM's birthday bbq and I got a little overzealous with the pinata. Of course I had to get the largest donkey pinata I could find in New York. And fill it chock full of her favorite goodies. And some of my favorites too, because quite frankly, I don't like Good-n-Plenty. But I do love me some Zots.

We did it nice and proper--the birthday girl was given a long piece of ply wood, blind folded, spun around until she was ready to vomit, and let loose on the poor candydonk.

She successfully decapitated it, then beat it further until it released it's treasure trove of treats.



Happy Birthday, SMM!

Aaaw yeah! OR, Putting the Magic in Magic Bars

I realized that I don't really document my baked goods (with the exception of the yeast rolls and the giant cupcake.) I am still sad I didn't take any pics of my attempts at making cinnamon rolls from scratch--especially because attempt #2 turned out AWESOME. (Don't worry, I will bake some more. See, I AM learning patience with dry active yeast...)

Here are the crowd pleasing magic bars (a/k/a seven layer bars: graham cracker & butter crust, walnuts, chocolate chips, white choco chips, butterscotch chips, toasted coconut, all smothered in sweetened condensed milk and baked to goodness.)

Mitten Penguins!

My Foray into Savory Baking

I am a dessert baker: cakes, cupcakes, brownies, magic bars, tarts and even the occasional pie. But I saw a recipe for yeast rolls that looked really good and relatively simple so I thought I'd dig up the dough hook for my mixer that I haven't used in the 10+ years I've had it and give it a shot. Here are the results:

These were really tasty fresh and warm, with a little bit of sweetness to them. They were very easy to make, but the 3.5 hours of rising time was a bit much. I know, I know: Patience, Grasshopper.

It's Not a Party Until There's Processed Cheese

The weather was wonderful this weekend and we did a little backyard grilling and games on Saturday night. Vickie brought the leftover Kraft cheese from the barn house weekend. I'll admit it was a little awkward when she put it on the table next to the party snacks.

Sorry, no speakah English

I received a call the other night:

Fortune: Hello?

Telemarketer lady: (in Mandarin) Are you the head of household?

Fortune: Sorry, I don't understand Chinese

Telemarketer lady: Oh. (hangs up)

I had to laugh, because if Telemarketer Lady actually took a second to think about my response, she'd realize that the only way I'd know she was speaking Chinese is if I understood it.

Then I waited a few minutes in fear that she would call me back and call me out on my subterfuge. She didn't.

Strangers on a Train

Uptown 1 train. I couldn't resist taking a photo of this man in an orange fleece outfit.