cake of the month, part 12: peach-blueberry ice cream pie

Have you ever noticed that, though vacation is probably the greatest thing ever invented (right up there with non-stick pans and indoor plumbing), the work that you know is building up back at the office can *almost* make you wish you hadn’t stepped away from your desk? Not only have I experienced this phenomena many times before, I’m in the throes of it right now.

When we were abroad, I slept in. I sampled multiple local pastries DAILY. The hardest decision I had to make was at what time to switch from coffee to beer. And all the while my work inbox kept growing and growing and growing.

I came back to over 200 emails. That might not be a lot for you, but it certainly made me choke on my morning coffee. Thus, the remainder of my first week back was weeding through the FYI-type missives and the OH EM GEE PLEASE READ ME AND RESPOND NOW emails (which sadly out-numbered the FYIs).

By last Friday, I had pretty much gotten my butt back in gear. And was immensely grateful to have a long weekend to relax yet again. So I thought, what better way to celebrate my regained relaxation than with ice cream?

Lucky for moi, Bon Appetit dedicated a whole section in its June 2012 issue to that creamy-yet-refreshing dessert, and it’s is where I found this wicked-good recipe for Peach-Blueberry Ice Cream Pie.

There are a number of “work on this and then let it set for hours”-type steps in this recipe, but please don’t let it deter you. Hang in there, and you’re rewarded with a sweet, tart, creamy, spicy treat that can cool down the hottest summer day (or night!).

Full disclosure: I didn’t add the blueberry sauce in my photo, but you had better believe I drizzled a generous helping onto each slice before I served it.  It is not to be missed!

Check out the other Cakes of the Month!

June

July

August

September

October

November

January

February

March (Cake the First)

March (Make-up Cake)

April

ice and elves

In the words of Beirut, “It’s been a long time, long time now,” hasn’t it?

I do apologize for the radio-silence over the past week and a half.  I have been globe-trotting with Mr. Nate and am still recovering from the jet lag (Mr. Nate has, of course, already bounced-back…lucky duck).

Where did we go?  Where didn’t we go.  Actually, we didn’t go to a LOT of places. We did go to Iceland and Holland.

Everyone asks, so I’ll just tell you now that the trip to Iceland was influenced by none other than the deluge of ads on the Metro advertising geothermal pools, volcanoes, and turquoise-blue water.  Holland (Amsterdam, to be specific) was chosen because it was a cheap flight from Iceland.

We did and saw lots in both locations, and I really want to share some highlights with you here, so I’m thinking I’ll start with Iceland today and catch you up with Holland soon.  Sound good?

Other than snippets about their economic collapse, I knew nothing about Iceland prior to taking off for Reykjavik two Sundays ago. While there, though, I learned a bunch, thanks to some fantastic tour guides and lovely townies.  So, if you’re planning on visiting Iceland (and I recommend you do), here’s a quick and dirty rundown of some interesting facts:

• The Icelandic language has more letters than ours does and many of them look funny.  This is because every letter makes a very specific sound.  So there is no such thing as a Northern or Southern accent in Iceland. Everyone pronounces every word the same.
• Everyone in Iceland learns English and is good at it.  The only thing you will be able to pronounce is “Takk” (like “talk” without the “L” sound), which means “thank you.” Don’t try to say anything else. You will butcher it and possibly offend someone.
• The weather in Iceland changes constantly due to its location in the North Atlantic and the fact that it’s the size of Kentucky.
• It can get really cold. But it can also be freezing but beautiful outside. Icelanders call this “window weather” (as in, it sure looks good from inside my warm house, but it would take a pack of Vikings to get me to go out in this cold weather).
• An Icelandic pancake looks much more like a crepe than an American pancake.
• Over half of the population believes in elves.

And, since you’ll want to see some sights, might I suggest:

Kerid, a volcanic crater.

Gullfoss, the “Golden Waterfall.”

The geyser fields.

Thingvalla, the meeting place of the Vikings and the place where the Eurasian Continental Plate meets the North American Continental Plate.

Thingvalla and beyond from the top of the volcanic cliffs (note the clouds in the distance–those made up a blizzard happening just over the mountains).

Gorgeous, no?

french yogurt cake

This cake is technically a French Yogurt Cake. At least, that’s what the latest Bon Appetit magazine says. I, however, like to think of it as the Little Cake That Could.

I was not on my “A” game when baking this treat. The recipe called for an 8″ loaf pan–I used a 9.5″. It directed a light greasing with Pam. My Pam was well past its expiration date (yikes), so I went with Crisco. One jumbo egg had to suffice for two large, because we bought the wrong size last week at the grocery store. By my estimation, this loaf should’ve come out of the oven like a rock or an underdone blob of yogurt and sugar.

Instead, it was a light, lovely, lemony cake. Not too sweet and certainly not cloying, the French Yogurt Loaf made its debut at Casa de Condo after dinner that night and encored at breakfast the next morning.

My version was no looker, as you can see by the picture. Should you decide to make this–and I really think you should–and you follow the directions, then you can expect a much taller loaf, with a pretty golden top and that satisfying crack along the top characteristic of all sweet loaves. But if you miss a step, or get mixed up, persevere. Even a funny looking version of this cake is totally, completely worth it.

simply sweet strawberry buttermilk ice cream

Ladies, have you ever taken your guy into a bath and beauty store?

I am convinced, after having dragged the husband into one yesterday, that they are categorically designed to keep men out.

Now, I’m sure these shops spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on special consultants advising them how to deter the “male element,” but I am about to share this information for FREE because I’m feeling generous and I may or may not have mixed myself a bellini this morning.

The key elements are:

• Blasting Katy Perry and Ke$ha dance remixes from no fewer than ten speakers strategically placed anywhere anyone may want to have a conversation (next to a particularly interesting display, by the front door, near the cash register, etc.);
• Spraying every entering customer with perfume that smells of jasmine, sugar cookies, and lemon;
• Giving every product cutesy names like “Princess Peppermint Pretty Toes Foot Creme,” “Don’t be a Jojoba Body Butter,” and “Rub-A-Dub-Dub Super Duper Bath Salts”; and
• Insisting on testing products on any customer that has stood still for longer than ten seconds (“Don’t you just love how this sand paper scrub exfoliates your epidermis right off?!”).

“Why would these businesses do this? Don’t they want the extra revenue?” you ask. Easy. Men ask too many questions. They look incredulous when told prices and say things like, “For this little jar???” And their impatience makes the women they go shopping with throw their hands up and walk out of the store with only half a baggie full of salves and potions.

So you see, the keeping out of men is essential to these stores’ existence. I’m wondering if this could be done for cupcake shops and those fancy make-your-own salad places, too, because I often feel like I’m stuck waiting behind indecisive dudes who change their minds five times, not wanting to “commit” to a certain flavor or dressing. Ugh.

One thing I’ve found men and women can always agree on and enjoy is homemade strawberry ice cream.  Particularly this Simple Strawberry-Buttermilk Ice Cream from the kitchen of sweets guru Shauna Sever. To make this lovely concoction, just combine a few easily-accessible ingredients into your food processor (or use your immersion blender, like moi), give them a whirl and freeze them according to your ice cream maker.

It’s that easy. And really yummy. And if you want to keep your guy away from the bowl, burn a pineapple vanilla mint candle and blast the Spice Girls in your kitchen. I guarantee he won’t get anywhere near it.

caramel pecan bars

This dessert was something of a perfect storm. A perfect, sugary storm of goodness.

It all started with a jar of caramel (oh, if I had nickel for every time a story of mine began this way…just kidding, natch). I bought it on a whim in the ice cream aisle one weekend, thinking it would be the perfect topping for a monster sundae that tragically never materialized.

With the jar in hand, I assessed the pantry situation. Half a bag of pecans. Many, many bags of chocolate chips. Flour and brown sugar. And so much butter (in the fridge, not the pantry of course. That would be gross.)

I had no choice. I had to make Caramel Pecan Bars from Kristan, the genius behind Confessions of a Cookbook Queen.

You would not believe how easy these are to make. Combine the brown sugar and flour. Cut in the butter. Sprinkle the pecans and pour on the caramel. Bake till bubbly, then melt the choco chips. Done like a stun gun (I just made that up, so technically it’s copy written. I know laws and such).

These would be PERFECT for a pot luck situation. Or a birthday situation. Or an it’s Sunday and I have to go to work tomorrow so I’m going to eat like it’s going out of style situation. Word.

cake of the month, part 11: salted caramel cheesecake pie

Does anyone else get house envy?

Don’t get me wrong. I capital “L” Love the Condo Far, Far Away, but sometimes Nate and I will casually pop into an open house in our development or drive around some ridiculously cute neighborhood, and I can’t help but come down with a case of the “I wants.”

Last night on the way home from dinner, for example, we peeked into a friend’s house that she is renovating to sell. It was beautiful. Big, open, lots of rooms, a short walk to the metro…sigh. On the way back to our place, we drove through a sweet little neighborhood, with modest brick houses surrounded by picket fences and azalea bushes.  Sigh, again.  Times ten.

If this happens to you, too, I have a fool-proof way to combat the green eyed monster: remember what it’s like to move. Think about wrapping up 38 plates, 19 glasses, your impressive collection of mismatched coffee mugs, countless pieces of silverware, and drawers full of utensils.  Ruminate on how you held you breath when the movers tried to navigate your couch, your bed frame, your dining room table, around tiny doorways and narrow halls. And remember exactly how you felt when the power company told you that they double-booked your appointment, and they wouldn’t be able to turn on your electricity for another week. At the end of July. In a city that was once a swamp.

Phew. Better, right? We really dodged a bullet there.

Do you know what else won’t cause you envy anymore? Those over-achieving cheesecake bakers. Because, with this AMAZING recipe for Salted Caramel Cheesecake Pie from Dorie Greenspan and Zoe Nathan via Joy the Baker, you can impress friends, family, and anyone else who might be hanging around with minimal effort.  Interested?

It couldn’t be easier. You grind up some ginger snaps to make the crust. You mix some cream cheese, eggs, and sugar for the filling. You boil some sugar (no candy thermometer necessary!) with corn syrup and butter to make the caramel topping. You give yourself a mani/pedi because you have a decent wait while it bakes. Then you accidentally eat a slice before you take a picture. Because it’s that good. Trust.

Check out the other Cakes of the Month!

June

July

August

September

October

November

January

February

March (Cake the First)

March (Make-up Cake)

chubby hubby bars

Nothing will make you feel more out of shape than trying to keep up with two elementary school-aged children on a jungle gym.

Yes, I speak from experience.

Last weekend, my brother, sister-in-law, and niece and nephew dropped by my parents’ house on their way to NYC.  After a few hours inside, I had the brilliant idea to go to my old elementary school and expel some energy on the playground.  Fun for the kids and a nice chance for nostalgia for me.  Win-win.

We chose to check out the smaller playground, which seemed manageable for a totally coordinated adult like myself.  I mean, I don’t like to brag, but I scaled quite a few monkey bars in my day, and could flip backwards on the stand-alone horizontal bar like a champion.  I figured I could show the kids a few pointers and look like a rock star.

It took maybe five seconds for me to realize that, though I am the height of most ten-year-old children (the ones that have gone through growth-spurts, to be fair), I can no longer impress other kids on the jungle gym like one. This epiphany occurred while I was hanging motionless from the monkey bars, trying to remember how I hooked my feet to do a trick I used to love.  While I hung there like a heavily medicated sloth, my niece was swinging effortlessly from ropes and scaling the playground like a monkey.  My jealousy was palapable.

So I went home and made Cookies and Cups’ Chubby Hubby Bars, which are filled with pretzels, mini peanut butter cups, chocolate and caramel.  And I ate two.  Because there are upsides to being a grown-up, even if riding a teeter-totter gives you vertigo.

sour cream coffee cake of awesomeness

Saturday, I was sucked into a You Tube vortex.

It’s okay.  You don’t need to save me.  Clearly, I survived.

But, seriously, does this happen to anyone else?  I get some song from my formative years stuck in my head, and I go to You Tube to relive those moments parked in front of the TV watching TRL drinking Diet Cokes and eating Bugles.

I started with Better Than Ezra.  Then the Smashing Pumpkins.  Gin Blossoms.  Courtney Love.  Foo Fighters.  Beck.  Red Hot Chili Peppers.   Hours literally passed while I rocked out, sometimes solo, sometimes with Mr. Nate.  Disarrono on the rocks may have played a part in this ultimate time waster.

Yesterday, I made Shutterbean’s Sour Cream Coffee Cake to accompany the second non-Easter, Easter dinner I’ve had this year.  This cake has nothing to do with 90s alternative rock.  It has everything to do with nostalgia.

I grew up eating lots of coffee cake (it was the fall-back dessert in my household, and not a soul complained).  This coffee cake is the “Best Of” remix of those childhood confections.  It has the requisite moist crumb, the cinnamon notes, the buttery awesomeness.  It also has a vanilla wash.  And a maple, vanilla, sugar glaze.  It smells like a Belgian waffle and a shortstack of pancakes.  Booyah.

If you, too, crave moments from your past, I recommend you make this cake.  If you want to completely forget about the past, I still think you should make this. Because coffee cake is timeless.  Just like 90s alternative rock and Bugles.

cake of the month, part 10: the double chocolate make-up cake

In my mind, I’m still 18 years old. In reality, I’m 18+8.

I try to do things befitting an 18+8-year-old.  I really do.  I have a mortgage.  I bring clothes to the dry cleaner.  I read the Washington Post.  I watch documentaries.

And yet, I still want to own anything covered in glitter.  I buy lip gloss that smells like cupcakes.  I have to remind myself yearly that I’m too old for the Warped Tour.  I can quote entire scenes from The Simpsons.

Baking a giant chocolate cake makes me feel 18, when my culinary tastes centered exclusively around chocolate and frosting.  Back then, I didn’t care about presentation or technique.  When I wanted dessert, I wanted what all teenagers desire time in memoriam: a cake that tasted like a Hershey’s bar and gave me an epic sugar high.  So, last weekend, I gave in to my 18-year-old self and whipped up Chocolate Mayonnaise Cake from Serious Eats.  Then I slathered it with King Arthur Flour’s Super Simple Chocolate Frosting.  Then I sprinkled it with colorful sprinkles for good measure.

This cake was so good, so moist, so AWESOME, that both my 18- and 18+8-year-old selves were thrilled.  I know this because they both had a slice (but only the 18+8-year-old got a wicked sugar headache).  Figures.

Check out the other Cakes of the Month!

June

July

August

September

October

November

January

February

March (Cake the First)

gluten-free peanut butter cookies dipped in chocolate

At work I think about important work things.  Like pie charts.  And TSP reports. And synergy.

But sometimes my brain wanders.  This week, it’s wandered to food trucks. Namely a food truck named, What I Ate Today, that I will (wo)man with one of my lovely coworkers (we’ve already got it all planned out).  Basically, I’ll peddle whatever I want to eat that day.  Today, for example, I’m feeling lobster mac and cheese with an arugula side salad.  For dessert, I’d bake up a batch of these Gluten-Free Peanut Butter Cookies.  They’re over-the-top peanut buttery, a cinch to make, and just fantastic.  So fantastic, in fact, that no one will ever suspect they’re sans flour.

I started with this recipe from Gluten Free Girl (don’t forget to make your fork cross-hatch before you pop these in the oven).  And then, because I can’t leave well enough alone, I melted some dark chocolate chips and dipped a bunch of the cookies into it.  I clearly have my priorities in order.

I have to insist that you make a batch of these ASAP, because it’s going to take me a least a week or two to get this food truck thing off the ground, and you absolutely shouldn’t wait that long to chow down on these cookies. Mmkay?