Cooking Carrot Cake Like It's The Seventies

Carrot Cake is delicious and tasty, and my thoughts on this subject clearly mean I was born in the wrong decade. Except, like fashion, food fads come around. And sure, red velvet cake may be the popular one right now, but hey, carrots are way more awesome than chocolate (okay, maybe they aren't) and you still get the cream cheese frosting!


But that's beside the point. Or maybe it is the point. I'm not quite sure. What I do know, however, is that I've made this carrot cake three times in the past month. THREE. I didn't even have the recipe with me the third time. That's how easy it is! It also means I have no idea where I originally got these proportions from, since I kind of just looked for a recipe that used the ingredients that I believed went into carrot cake, and went from there.

What prompted this carrot cake madness? Gorgeous carrots of course! Except they weren't all that pretty the third time. In case you were wondering, which you probably weren't, the carrots I used in Tehran were way more orange than the ones I picked up at a Schnuck's in St. Louis last week. But regardless of just how orange the carrots are, the cakes were tasty both places. The only time the cake, in my opinion, turned out less than stellar was when I cooked it in the form of a tube cake at my grandparent's garden house. Right before I was about to pour the batter into the pan, I thought it looked off, and realized I'd forgotten the oil. Adding oil at the last step meant overstirring the cake, bringing out the sticky property of gluten - not something you want in a tender cake. But, everybody still loved the cake, or at least they pretended to. All-in-all, I ended up giving four people the recipe for this cake while I was there. It'll be interesting to find out if any of them ever actually make it.


Simple Carrot Cake
Note: This cake can make 2 9" cake rounds, or probably somewhere around 24 cupcakes, or a bundt cake, or a sheet cake. The cooking instructions below are for cupcakes.

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger (alternately, you can use 2 teaspoons of fresh grated ginger)
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups granulated sugar
4 eggs
1 cup canola oil
4 cups grated carrot (about 5-6 average-sized carrots)
1 cup raisins (or chopped, toasted walnuts), optional


Preheat the oven to 350ºF (180ºC). Line a cupcake pan with 12 liners. If you have 2 pans, line both, otherwise you'll need to bake them in two batches.

In a small bowl, whisk together the all-purpose flour, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and salt. Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the sugar and eggs until pale and thick. Whisk in the canola oil.

Add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients, and with a spatula or wooden spoon, stir until just almost combined. Add the carrots and raisins or walnuts, if using and stir until all the flour is moistened.

Fill the lined muffin cups about 2/3 full of batter. Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the tops spring back when lightly touched. Remove from oven and let cool for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

Once cool you can top them with cream cheese frosting, if desired. See recipe below or use your favorite cream cheese frosting recipe.

Cream Cheese Frosting

8 ounces (1 package) cream cheese, softened
4 ounces (1 stick) butter, softened
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup powder sugar, or to taste

Beat together cream cheese and butter until smooth and fluffy. Beat in salt and vanilla extract. Slowly add powdered sugar and beat to incorporate.

Modified Tuna Boats Not The Best Idea

Coming home, I learned something new about my father. He doesn't really like tuna. After spending the unusually steamy May day job hunting, steaming hot food was the last thing I wanted to eat. So I set my eyes on making a macaroni salad, something I eat far too much of when I'm at school. The one I eat at school is elbow macaroni, roasted red peppers, parsley, and chunks of creamy smoked gouda and salami in a balsamic dressing. But I wanted to do something different, and after a failed brainstorming session with myself and some browsing, I came across something delicious looking on Simply Recipes A tuna macaroni salad that looked tasty and for which I had half the ingredients. I quickly texted my parents to make sure they were okay with the idea, and I got a quick, and brief, response from my dad: "No."

Since I like to make people happy, the macaroni salad was out of the question. And with that, my mind switched from being set on eating macaroni salad to having canned tuna for dinner. And my favorite recipe using a can (or two) of tuna would have to be these simple zucchini boats I've made quite a few times over the past four years. But this time, I decided to mix it up. Instead of basic and oven-roasted tomatoes, I decided to go with roasted red pepper and a jalapeno mayonnaise. Gorgeous tiny zucchini was just 69 cents a pound at the store, and I probably did not take advantage of that as I should have. With all my ingredients in my basket, I headed home and started prep on dinner.


After a failed attempt at roasting a red pepper (it kind of worked, my hand cramped up from holding the tongs before it had cooked long enough) and discovering that our mayonnaise had expired a few months ago after pureeing the jalapeno pepper in it, I made some quick swaps (some questionable greek yogurt and a generous dose of ancho chili powder and a dash of cayenne) that probably decreased the tastiness and increased the safety. But it worked, it was just... different. And not as good as usual, which is quite tasty.

So I'm not adding this variation to my list of things I've succesfully made. However, when Dad isn't around, I'll still make these zucchini boats.

Kitchen, Knife, and Rootstock?

Since I've gone to school my mom keeps mentioning restaurants to me that I've never heard of, whether they be new restaurants or restaurants they'd just never been to before. One of those restaurants, Rootstock, I heard about from both my mom AND one of her friends via twitter. I ate there with my parents back on December 29th, and, thanks to the contents of our fridge at the time, decided I'd write down the description of one of their flatbreads that sounded tasty and try to recreate my idea of it the following evening:
Prosciutto, garlic herbed sheeps milk cheese, arugula, brandied cranberry vinaigrette & pistachio

I never did get around to giving it a try, despite buying cranberry juice, pizza dough, and having serrano ham, manchego, and arugula in the fridge. (I never said it was going to be exactly the same thing, considering I don't actually know what exactly it is.)

Well, now, 135 days later, I've finally given it a try. Only without the prosciutto. And, okay, not really the same thing at all, but it was still tasty. The dressing was quite sour and strong (I liked it), and I served it with another idea from Rootstock's menu, via their website. This description: Black Earth organic burger, bacon-scallion aioli, red onion, Fiscilini cheddar, w/ mezclun greens & house pickles

Well, that translated into mini bunless burgers, and the use of a few shortcuts. No homemade aioli - yogurt was used instead, but the red onions were sauteed in lard (I know, I can't even believe I just said that. What happened to me in college?).



All in all, it was probably a bit adventurous for my first night back in a kitchen. But hey, there's always take-out if nothing turns out edible.

Fall Dessert For Spring Break

So I have problems with seasons? Is that really that bad? I mean, it feels like summer right now, there's piles of snow on the ground, and grocery stores carry practically everything year round. How am I supposed to not be confused?

Apples are delicious. Especially when they aren't of the Red Delicious variety, but more tart, like a Granny Smith, or crisp, like a Braeburn. I'm happy now. And you should be, too. I'm updating, and sharing a sort of recipe for something quite tasty. But maybe, just maybe, you should wait for cooler weather come November to make this. Because right now, I think something along the lines of lemon cheesecake fits the weather better. But maybe not the season.

But instead, out of the oven comes what resembles an apple crumble or cobbler, minus the topping. Spooned into bowls and topped with a maple whipped cream, it was a tasty ending to my dad's delicious dinner, far too fancy to be eaten on the couch while watching the Academy Awards. But that's (sort of) just what we did.



And this is also a testament to the reason I shouldn't start posts and finish them a month later. I don't remember what I did to make that. I just remember it contains apples, cinnamon, and maple syrup, and maybe some salt baked in the oven. And that the whipped cream was heavy whipping cream that I attempted to use almond extract in, didn't like the results, and covered it up with maple syrup. And then topped it with almonds, that if I had the foresight, I would have toasted.

A Cake for A Potluck with Paella

As I mentioned last night, Dad was making paella for the potluck at our house. Mom contributed with tuna empanadas, and I was in charge of dessert. While the main course was a mish-mash of paella, kuku-ye lubiya (a Persian-style frittata with green beans), breaded shrimp with veggies, salad, and two different mast-e khiar (cucumber yogurt). I focused my dessert though to follow through with a theme started by the paella.
I have a recipe for a bizcocho de naranja in a magazine I picked up in Barcelona last year, but I used a different one that I made before and had notes on it so I knew that it would turn out tasty. I didn't want to risk a bad cake without time to try to save it.

Last time I used orange juice from a bottle since we already had it in the house, and this time I freshly squeezed it. Also, instead of following the recipe, I used Brown Cow cream top yogurt to make the cake, and since it was a new container and I didn't stir it up, most of the yogurt used was the cream top, which probably contributed to some of the richness, but the original recipe called for low-fat yogurt. I also probably need to find a better garnish because raspberries are not super tasty (and outrageously priced) this time of year. It just looks so boring without it, but tastes fine.


Bizcocho de Naranja (orange yogurt cake)
adapted from Cooking Light, July 2005
Serves 12 (or so)

1 cup freshly-squeezed orange juice
a large pinch crushed saffron threads
2 cups (9 1/2 ounces; 275 g) all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 large egg white
1/4 cup plain yogurt
6 tablespoons good-quality olive oil

3 Tablespoons orange marmalade
1 Tablespoon Grand Marnier or other orange-flavored liqueur

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Grease a 9-inch round cake pan with at least 1 1/2 inch sides.

Bring juice to a simmer in a small saucepan over medium heat. Remove from heat; stir in saffron. Let stand 10 minutes, or while you are doing other steps.

Combine flour, baking powder, and salt with a whisk in a medium bowl.

In a large bowl (or bowl of a mixer), beat sugar, egg, and egg white at medium speed until thickened, about 5 minutes. Add yogurt, beating well. Gradually add oil and the juice mixture, beating until well blended. Add half of flour mixture; beat just until blended. Add remaining flour and beat until just blended.

Spoon batter into prepared 9-inch cake pan. Bake for about 40 minutes or until a wodden pic inserted in center comes out clean. Cool for 5 minutes in pan on a wire rack; remove and cool completely on wire rack.

Place cake on serving platter. Combine marmalade and liqueur in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer stirring constantly. Remove from heat and spread mixture evenly over top of the cake, allowing to drip over sides. (If you like lots of glaze or don't like the look of the chunks, you can either double or strain it because this doesn't make a whole lot of glaze, its a very thin layer.)

Oven Love

I have a fear of deep frying. I've used an electric fryer (is that what they're called?) once to make shirini panjereyi, a fried cookie, with my cousin in Tehran, but the thought of tossing chicken in one and either a) not burning it b)not burning me c)getting it cooked through or d)not setting off the smoke alarm, seems rather slim. But maybe it is just an unrationalized fear.

But, with oven-fried chicken this tasty, who needs to worry about trying to figure out how to fry it? It can't be much easier than this....well, except that it might not need the breading if you left a crispy skin on...

Dinner last night was a group effort. It started on Thursday with Mom preparing the marinade and marinating the chicken while I made the ice cream base. Friday, Mom got caught at work and Dad at the dentist with my aunt, who had already helped by washing and cutting the kale-something that would have taken me at least half an hour. Mamanzari worked on breaking up the sausage and mixing in the onions for the stewed okra, Uncle Larry did the hard part of battering the chicken and arranging it on the roasting rack, and Aunt A brought over a cast-iron pan and helped whisk the ingredients for cornbread.

As to how the meal turned out... It wasn't our first time following the chicken or the kale recipe, though Mom made the kale last time and did most of the work for the chicken from start to finish. I think Nick may have helped her. I just made the grits... which were super cheesy and salty from thinking we'd had more grits than we did and grating far too much cheese.

This time though, it turned out a lot tastier. I followed most of the recipes (doubling the chicken and okra), except used cayenne instead of Tabasco for the chicken, bacon instead of ham for the kale, and italian sausage instead of breakfast sausage for the okra.

The cornbread, which was the easiest part of the meal, was a recipe from Uncle Larry. And it requires a cast iron pan, something we don't own. (I am definitely getting one soon. Ame wants to learn how to make the cornbread, and I can't show her without a pan. It's a good excuse.) I first had this cornbread two years ago while studying for finals. The girls, my mom, my aunt, and I, were on one side of the house reading/studying while the guys, my dad and uncle, watched a football game. For dinner we had chili and cornbread with a honey butter, I think. It was awesome.
We didn't have the honey butter last night, and the cornbread was dotted with scrambled eggs, but it was nevertheless delicious sopping up the stew.

Recipes (from October/November 2006 Eating Well):
Eating Well's Oven-Fried Chicken
Southern Kale
Stewed Okra & Tomatoes


Skillet Cornbread
recipe from Uncle Larry, but it says it is from Zinfandel Restaurant
Serves 8 if nobody wants seconds

2 large eggs
1 3/4 cups buttermilk
4 Tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 cups stone-ground yellow cornmeal (also called polenta)
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking soda.

Preheat oven with 8" cast-iron skillet in it to 425ºF.

Whisk eggs in a medium bowl. Whisk in buttermilk.

When oven is preheated, remove pan and add butter. Swirl the butter around. If the butter does not melt, the pan is not hot enough.
Swirl the butter to coat the bottom and sides of the pan, and whisk remaining butter into the buttermik and eggs. Whisk in cornmeal, salt, and baking soda. A few lumps are okay.

Scrape batter into the hot pan. It should start to sizzle and rise immediately.
Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until puffed and golden.

Invert onto a plate or basket and serve it while its hot!

The Crescent City

I'm spending the weekend in New Orleans. It is my first time in New Orleans, and it has already been clear to me what the main thing to do is: eat.

And I'm sad to say, out of four meals so far, only one meal was truly something, two were okay, and then there was the one was with my mom that was part of her meeting, but that doesn't count.

Saturday Night, so far disappointed with New Orleans with the exception of going to Art for Art's Sake. Afterwards, we ate and walked down Bourbon Street. That is something I never want to do again. I'm not fond of drunk people with oversized beers, pounding music mixing together from all sides, and the strong scent of liquor mixed with vomit and urine. I find it disgusting-and not in an exhilarating way.

Sunday was much better. Despite twice getting caught in the on again/off again heavy rain in the morning. The first quick downpour led to my riding on a streetcar for the first time. As soon as it started moving, it stopped raining. No more than a minute we got off at the end of the line, halfway to our destination in the Garden District, it started pouring again. Mom thought we should hang out in the underpass until it stopped. The air was so damp that we gave up on having the umbrella dry even after the rain did stop.
The rest of our walk was pleasant. We saw pretty houses, and others that still needed to be repaired. There was a new looking AT&T store in front of a crumbling yellow house. That made some things clear.

When we arrived at Commander's Palace, mom was damp and excited to be inside; I, miraculously, was comfortable in the steamy weather. The recently redone hundred-year old restaurant was definitely worth the weather. We walked in, and a server led us through a line of servers that greeted us with warm smiles, through a dining room, up a flight of stairs, through another dining room, and into a smaller dining room with striped walls with matching curtains that blended right in. It seemed almost as if it should be tacky, but it wasn't in the least.

Our three-course jazz brunch was spectacular. Mom was worried when I said I wanted to go there for brunch and insisted we get a reservation that it was going to be all show and no taste. After she had a piece of garlic bread (made with real garlic and cheese) with her chicory coffee, she changed her mind. When she read over the menu, and our waiter said that the pecan-crusted gulf fish was drum, Mom insisted I try it. Drum is her new favorite fish. She had it a few nights ago for dinner, and was blown away. She was also thrown by the size of a soft-shell crab her friend had gotten, and decided to get soft-shell crab.

We started with salads, a romaine salad similar to a Ceasar, except with a buttermilk-black pepper dressing and toast points, and a Warm Rabbit and Apple Salad that had pears, apple, candied pecans, warm rabbit, and a sweet vinaigrette.
Our entrees were also wonderful: the pecan-crusted drum with lump crab and a corn bisque-like sauce converted me to a drum lover. Mom's scary large soft-shell crab with its crunchy fried exterior and melt in your mouth interior with a remoulade was delicious. And I never thought I really liked crab.

And the bread pudding souffle, the signature dessert, was that classic New Orleans bread pudding topped with a puffy meringue. Mom's praline sundae had a tasty cookie wrapped around it that I couldn't stop eating. Plus, I really like candied pecans. After our dessert came, the jazz trio came around to our table and asked what we would like to hear. Mom asked if they had anything original, and they just played covers, but they chose Down Yonder in New Orleans to play for us.

After breakfast- and yes, depite my long narration, that failed to mention the polka-dotted bathroom walls, there was more to our day than a delicious brunch - it was time to do some exploring.

It was raining again when we left the restaurant, so we took a cab to the Ogden Museum of Southern Art and spent a few hours looking around in there. There was an exhibit that was a guy who changed his name twelve times in a year, changing his persona and style each time, until his twelfth name, which is what he still goes by thirty years later with a style he still produces works of art with.

We walked back to our hotel from the museum on the same street we'd walked back on the night before. I got a picture of a Lutheran Church the night before, and it looked so different in the daylight. The street where the galleries were also looked less friendly.

After spending a while in our room (I was doing some homework, Mom read the paper), we decided to explore the French Quarter. We took the wrong street the first time, Dumaine, but walking back to the hotel, we found the street to see. Royal. It's chock full of galleries, restaraunts, and cute shops. Right off of Royal, on Toulouse, was a used cookbook and music store called Kitchen Witch. I was so glad that when I saw the sign that said "Cook books" I turned back around and headed towards it with Mom. We spent probably half an hour in it, and the owners were so friendly, as were Bob, the official greeter who happened to bea cat that reminded me of Jack, Sophie, a large black dog, and another dog whose name I don't remember.
I ended up buying a new book that's pretty recent called "Ruby Slippers" a cookbook with stories about Katrina that was put together by a twenty-nine year old woman. So far it is interesting to read.

We also saw a portion of Bourbon Street that was residential. Not quite the Bourbon Street thought of, but more pleasant.

Now that I've discovered Royal Street though, the French Quarter doesn't seem like such a bad place.

Brownie Points

When I was little there was the brownie, and then there were all those other things that I wasn't quite sure what they were. Until I was nine or ten, those other things got my attention because they were devoid of nuts. Though I liked nuts, sometimes. Like in white chocolate macadamia cookies; I thought macadamia was the fancy name for white chocolate chunks. They were my favorite cookies. And I liked walnuts in my chocolate chip cookies too. Just like the brownies.

Then, the brownies started being in different varieties. There were the "original" ones - a fudgy brownie loaded with walnuts, raspberry brownies, and orange brownies. The orange ones then became my favorite, cool out of the freezer with their orange zestiness and smooth nutless texture. One brownie would last me a week.

Then, suddenly, the brownies stopped coming. I was shipped down to Arkansas with a box of brownies ("don't bring me any of those weird ones. I don't like them") for my grandmother's freezer, and never saw any again.

Every year when I go down to visit, Granma's friend asks me when I'm going to give her the recipe and Granma wants to know if they'll ever be made again. Dad told me the recipe once (I stopped listening when he got to 48 eggs), and the enormity of it overwhelmed and discouraged me. He told me it was straight from The Professional Chef. I looked through the book and never found it, and then, this past January, I found it. In the Professional Pastry Chef, that is. I e-mailed it to myself from his desk and then never did anything about it. Sixteen by twelve inches sounds a lot more intimidating than it really is.

So yesterday I decided I was finally going to tackle these little bad boys. And yes, they are bad. In the best possible way. I bought enough stuff to make a half-portion of the recipe, and then realizing I had no adequate pans, changed my mind and bought the rest of the ingredients I needed to make a whole recipe (which is actually 1/6 of the recipe my dad recited that had scaredme so much) and then didn't do anything about it. Until dinner time. We were all ravenous by the time we sat down to eat because I just had to get those brownies in the oven.

The sheer enormity of it all though meant dad had to do most of the heavy lifting. And stirring. And pouring. I'm glad we have an outrageously large metal mixing bowl, which we thought at first was too large. It was just right.

And the brownies. Well, they weren't quite as I remembered them, but they probably are. Partially because I was too impatient to let them cool (well, it is past my bedtime) and because some of the walnuts on top burned. Maybe for once nostalgia doesn't really make things taste better.

I can't wait until I see Granma's face on Christmas now.

Figuring it out

Not having power for 67 hours gave me time to do some thinking.

Actually, I'll be honest. That had very little to do with the thinking. I was walking home from the store this morning with aseptically-packaged milk and some figs, and instead of paying attention to where I was going, I was thinking about, well, a lot of stuff.

One being, why do I have a blog?
I suppose that Just My Dinner is the only thing I do that can not be classified as a chore or schoolwork, no matter how hard you try. Cooking, well, everyone has to eat, and that is just about my only other hobby.
This also serves as an organizational tool. Without it, if I lost the scratch piece of paper I scrawled random ingredient measurements without any details on it for the almond-cherry cheesecake ice cream I made last week, I wouldn't be able to make it again, which I will probably be doing since my dad's friend called to tell me I should. Make it again that is, not lose my papers. He also told me it was runny and he had to freeze it, so I'm sure how much of it he'd had when he said that. We gave it to him since it had been slowly melting in our freezer over the 29 hours before we gave it to him. It seemed like a better plan than throwing it out.

The other reason being that this is my creative outlet. It allows me to, for however small of an audience, display my "work". Mostly, I just like looking back at it, especially when wanting to make something familiar, and it gives me a chance to flex my finger muscles. No, seriously. I quit playing the piano when I was ten; this really is my finger workout. I don't write much, or at least very little for myself anymore, like I used to when I was in fourth or fifth grade. In seventh grade, when I started my first blog, I wrote little. And it was a recount of my day, almost like a diary lacking those details a person would want to remember looking back at it, because I feared a crazy stalker.

When I went to Iran last summer, I temporarily abandoned my blog in favor a newer one just for that purpose. I felt less restricted, it had no history to tie it down and I was freer. Mom said my history teacher had rubbed off on me and I was writing better. I still think I ramble like I'm trying to cover the state in roads, but maybe it has gotten better.

Now, this is the only blog I tend to, and when I'm pressed for time or ideas, or just sleepy, it is evident. The posts are short and dull. Usually those are ones that I've meant to be so rich, writing them in my head as I walk home from the store or school or take far too long in the shower because I forget to wash my hair because I'm so enraptured by the post I'm mentally writing in my head. Of course, by the time I make it to a computer, I've long forgotten it. Much like this post. I wrote it this morning around nine o'clock, but I'm not quite sure what I meant to say.

This is longer than I've meant it to be. And is missing half of what I wanted to say. But we now have our power back. And lots of thawed meat. Not to mention that school is back in session and back pain is once again upon me. Enjoy these days of summer, and if you want something cool to eat, I really do recommend the almond-cherry cheesecake ice cream. Even though I only had a scoop of it before we lost power in the nasty storm on Thursday.

And no, those figs have no recipe attached to them. I was just excited to see some semi-affordable ones and my hopes were dashed by the blandness. But what did I expect. This is the midwest.

The Last Friday in June

Friday nights usually mean dinner with my great uncle and aunt. Now that my grandparents are in town, our recent dining expeditions to hit the best new restaurants, as named by a magazine, are on hold. Instead it means we're back to good ol' home cooking.

Yesterday I was finally able to try a batch of ice cream, since on my birthday, which my mom was going to get me an ice cream maker for, she found the old one hidden behind a cappuccino machine and some silver trays. I checked out some books from the library, and tried my hand at a hazelnut gelato. Not the easiest thing to make, but I figured, if I was going to use an ice cream maker, why not make something that is worth the effort (it was either going to be that or what sounded like it would be like eating a dark chocolate bar- but in ice cream form). Uncle Larry voted for hazelnut when I saw him yesterday for lunch, so hazelnut it was. The gelato started with hazelnut milk (whole milk that was steeped in toasted, skinned hazelnuts, pureed, and strained through cheesecloth) that was then mixed with cream, egg yolks, sugar, vanilla extract, and salt to make the custard base for the gelato. After cooling overnight in the fridge, it met the ice cream maker tonight right as we sat down for dinner. It may have been able to spend a bit longer in the ice cream maker, but I thought it was done and took it out. It was just soft at the top from all the salt falling to the bottom of the canister. Mom's considering getting one of the gel ice cream makers, but I'm not sure if it would work any better, it would just be easier since it wouldn't require ice or salt to use, though it would require thinking hours ahead (though that is sort of required anyways with a custard base to chill it thoroughly.) Unfortunately, my pictures turned out blurry, but everyone said they liked the gelato, which dad topped with some dark chocolate shavings. I kind of was regretting choosing hazelnut because it doesn't pair well with fruit (at least not in my mind), because I automatically am programmed to associate it with chocolate. I blame nutella for that. The next ice cream I make (or gelato, or maybe even a sorbet or sherbet) will be something more summery to take advantage of the abundance of fresh fruit around. Ice cream really is not all that difficult to make. It just isn't something to do on a whim.

But I had no energy to figure out dinner that would appeal to everyone. Actually, I knew what I wanted to make, but it was spicy and my grandmother doesn't like spicy food. So instead, the salmon recieved a garlic rub and the corn was just grilled by itself. Mom suggested a cucumber-tomato salad, so she made that to go along with it, and the dressing was equal parts yogurt and and spicy salsa. We also had the leftover bean salad.

I look forward to Friday nights, though next Friday I know I'll be doing something else. Maybe I'll go to the Art Institute, since Friday nights are FREE!

I'm No Domestic Goddess, but with an Afternoon of Tea comes Domesticity

Today is (was?) my birthday. And it was a good day. There's no sob story coming from me about my sixteenth birthday. I couldn't have asked for a better day. (Not the weather, but I was inside and it was cool out, so the rain doesn't matter.)

My birthday cake, which I was originally going to make, was the Devil's Food Cake with Mint-Chocolate Ganache from Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook, but my cousin Tiff wanted to make me a cake for my birthday, so I told her what I was going to make (definately a decadent treat) and she made it for me. And it was rich.

As for the tea itself, we had tea sandwiches (salmon, chive & cream cheese on white; prepared LMG curried chicken salad, and watercress on pumpernickel; cucumbers with lime, mint-chile butter, on thin white) that Mom made with a little help from Maddy and me, freshly baked scones, angel-food cake bites with lemon curd and raspberries that Granma helped assemble, and pea salad cups that Granma and Maddy put together for me.
It makes me feel like I almost didn't have to do anything. And it was relaxing, with all the help my family put in.

My aunt even made a gorgeous poster of a tea pot for a game of "put the lid on the teapot", a spinoff of "pin the tail on the donkey" that was a hit.

And now that I have a cart to go shopping, and an apron prettier than most of the clothes I own, I can go to the grocery store and venture to the kitchen with even fewer limits.

Food & Wine: Calling All Foodies In Training

Food & Wine has a contest for kid chefs - though of course my parents have to fill out the stuff. You have to submit your child's favorite recipe, and that's where my problem is: I don't have a favorite recipe. I like most that I make, except for some that have problems that I try to fix. Some of the better one are the apple-oatmeal muffins, which I've altered from the magazine recipe to make even tastier and eat with peanut butter to make the perfect combination. But I'm still not sure.

What do you think that I've ever made that looks the best? Any suggestions. The contest form must be mailed by the 14th (this Saturday!)

Christmas Eve at Uncle Larry's

As usual, Christmas Eve was lots of fun. It's nice to be with family.

And, Uncle Larry outdid himself with dinner. I wish I could represent all of it, but I was already getting yelled at for slowing things down, and I didn't want anyone to have to eat cold food because I was taking too long to take pictures. Fortunately, I did get a picture of the stuffing, which was by far my favorite part, and of the bread pudding since it needed time to cool.