Bake and Shake

They also dipped my limbs in platinum

Christmas Spoils, 2007

Merry and Bright

I hope you have the best Holidays yet, folk, and if your Holiday has past, I hope it was wonderful. I plan on celebrating these last few days before Christmas by exfoliating, making things that require lots of butter, sleeping in and re-reading 'Don't You Want Me?' and 'My Life on a Plate', ordering movies on Pay-Per-View and doing some work, too. This weekend my cousins arrive, and I plan on smothering them, especially the one who can't run away yet, with love. My sisters have already locked themselves away from me. I will see you after the New Year, which I hope brings only fantastic things for you and your loved ones. Thank you for every comment, every note, every thing -- this site isn't even a year old yet, but I needed to thank you anyway. Thank you. You all smell so nice.

I would also like the gum wrappers in your pocket

Ever since I found my favorite tweezers in the pocket of a purse I no longer use, after months of frantic prayer, I thought I'd never need anything so frivolous in my life again. The above collection completely dissolves that resolution, and fully paints me as a horrible girl who covets. Behold -- after weeks of Etsy, things I either literally cannot afford or do not deserve. What do you wish would land on your roof, randomly, and then not show up in your checking account a few days later?

(In no particular order) 1. Fresh scents: Mangosteen, Fig-Apricot and Hesperides  2. Yellow Polka Dot Girl painting by KateP 3. Borghese Mirrored Dresser 4. MAC Curiousitease Holiday Lipglass set 5. TWINKLE Glamour Girl Mat 6. Organic Vanilla Beans 7. Luisa Clare French Curve Bag 8. MIU MIU Crystal Embellished Flats 9. Tom Binns Swarovski Cuff 10. Out-of-Season Peonies 11. Coppola Sophia Sparkling '06 12. Cynthia Rowley Dirty Dishes Cup and Saucer

I love the following words

"Maybe out of fear, or maybe out of necessity, Dana cut out early for a “date.” We let her know that baking day wasn’t for quitters, and when she apologized and promised to be back the following day for her share of the cookies, I let her know that she would find them scattered in the street. This day is not for the weary or faint of heart. If you bake with us, you bake hard and long and you like it." Uncouth Heathen

"Well, I talked to them and they’re *@#$ers. They won’t even honor the work they did two months ago. They wanted to charge me $75 bucks to just come out and see that they didn’t fix you. Don’t worry, we’ll never let [...] HVAC contracting ever touch you again." The House Rules

"Yesterday I needed something quick for lunch because I had to get back to watching my Tivo & surfing the internet." Shutterbean (Who obviously is living my life, except I don't have a Tivo, just OnDemand)

Also, Amy's gift tags. I am going to print them out and put them all on my Dad's gift. Except the "I love you so much it makes me sick..." one, because I'm pasting that on my dog, the one I've had for ten years.

Mangy mushrooms

"This is the last time we're walking home from the Holiday Work Party."

"Janie from HR just fell in the gutter." 

Now that I've grossed you out, like Inappropriate Teacher Gross-Out levels, by talking about creme brulee, let's do some damage control. I've already downloaded Amy Grant's crossover album, and I've been listening to 'Every Heartbeat' on repeat for the past twelve hours, wearing high-waisted denim culottes, a crushed velvet bodysuit and giant straw hat with poly-fabric flowers around the crown. I also used that instant-perm shampoo, and some Jovan Body Musk. Wholesome.

So if you make creme brulee, you'll have egg whites left over. While I enjoy egg whites, I find that I suddenly turn helpless in their stranded presence. "Wow, don't you guys have parents? They must not love you. You've been sitting on the curb for like two hours. I'm going to get into my mom's car, now. My mom's car, that she drove here in, to pick me up. If you guys are still here in an hour, light your backpack on fire and hope the dude who runs the combination pizza and hookah restaurant next to the mini-mart sees the smoke and thinks someone started up a competing store." No child left behind. In a parking lot. 2008 and beyond!

The other day I watched a 10 minute segment where Martha Stewart made a Buche De Noel that looked like a birch log. This is the sort of thing I enjoy doing with my free time, watching OnDemand cooking show segments. I also like to settle down and weep in front of the computer, watching montages of Britney Spears dance breaks over the years. Ever since I figured out how to use YouTube, I've been your Grandma, finding videos of my favorite things and making you watch them. "Cats batting at goldfish that are for some reason, swimming around in a toilet! Honey come see this." The Britney montages make me sad, for a lot of reasons, and I just feel like maybe I need to stop watching them. Hence the Martha.

Because I have no idea if her actual recipe is available outside of my TV, I used a recipe posted on one of my favorite blogs, "Everybody Likes Sandwiches". I had four egg whites, so I added a few extra tablespoons of sugar, and it all turned out swell, even though I only have a hand mixer. As referenced in my Veruca Salt-like "I want" magazine post, I may try to make real buttercream with the hand mixer soon. I will report back, obviously.

These are fantastic, though top-heavy and wobbly. They are very good, very sweet and charming, just charming. You could make them and bag them up, give them away as little edible gifts, or decorate cakes with them, or just tell people they'll die if they eat them. "But they smell like chocolate."

"Death smells like chocolate."

Enjoy!

Mangy Mushrooms
Adapted from EbLS/Martha Stewart

4 egg whites, room temperature
3/4 cup granulated white sugar + 2 Tbs
Dash of salt
Seeds from 1/4 vanilla bean
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup melted bittersweet chocolate
1/2 cup melted white chocolate

Cocoa powder (optional)

In a clean, large bowl beat the egg whites with an electric hand mixer (or stand) until voluminous and frothy. Slowly shake in the sugar, reserving a few tablespoons-worth for later. Continue mixing, on medium, then medium-high, then high until egg whites are satiny, shiny and hold a stiff, clingy peak when beaters are lifted. Add the reserved sugar, vanilla extract and vanilla bean seeds. Beat for another three to five minutes until really stiff, and the mixture 'tugs' against the beaters as you work it.

Preheat oven to 180 degrees F. Line two large half-sheet pans with parchment paper. Using a piping bag, either sans or with a really large piping tip, pipe flat circles of varying sizes for mushroom tops, then vertical 'squidges' for the stems -- start with one little plug, then draw the piping bag upwards, using steady pressure until meringue has extruded itself to your desired height(s). Pull away, and later pat down the resulting peak with a finger dipped in cool water.

Bake meringues for at least 1 hour and forty minutes -- check after 1 1/2 hours. The should be dry to the touch, have no color or golden edges, light and lift easily off of the parchment, leaving no sticky patches behind. You may have to remove the smaller caps and stems, and continue baking the larger caps for another 10-15 minutes to really dry them out. Either way, once done, remove from the baking sheets and cool completely on a rack, to promote air circulation. When all pieces are cool, use an offset spatula or butter knife to spread a thin layer of bittersweet chocolate on the flat undersides of the caps. Allow to cool or set 90% (surface should be dull, but still somewhat soft -- a line drawn in it should not bleed back together), then do the same with the white chocolate -- however, before this coat has a chance to set completely, use a toothpick to draw "gills" on the underside of each cap -- sort of like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, widening as they reach out.

Gently, with a dab more of bittersweet chocolate if you like, attach suitable stems to each cap and dry upside down. Try to match stems to caps, remembering that the double coat of chocolate will make them a little top-heavy. If you like, you can gently tap a sieve of cocoa powder over the tops of the mushrooms to speckle them. Display, eat or use them to decorate unsuspecting cakes. If you like, store them for a few days -- I left mine out uncovered, on a plate, and they suffered barely any moisture-intake, remaining shatter-crisp and lovely. For those who dared to eat them.

"The Haaah-tub" or Creme Brulee

"I got to second base with dessert, bro."

I've always had an issue with various lists of "Sexy Food". Oysters and caviar on ice, champagne, whipped cream and strawberries, creme brulee. Spiced lamb shanks.

For one, they're not, to me. There have been too many pre-highschool dance party memories where parents serve strawberries and whipped cream, too many bottles of warm Andre at parties, too many Hotel banquet desserts featuring creme brulee and too many hot tubs, with Jimmy Fallon, Rachel Dratch and Will Ferrell to truly find carnal pleasure in any of those foods.

Now, with the rise of sensory food writing, so many foods beyond the contents of Elizabeth Taylor's Mini-Fridge are 'sexy' or sensual. I get it, I understand it, I've had meals and eaten things that I've quietly thought "Nice" about, but I don't think I could handle comparing something I've just digested to sex in lengthy terms. "This mollusk reminds me of the time your Uncle and I had a rendezvous down at the docks, among shellfish and kelp. I still have scars on my back from the barnacles. How's college going?"

Because food and sex are both primal, both a little taboo when talked about too much in front of people you don't know well, we all have our own private rituals associated with both, I understand the natural link. But it still makes me a little wary, a little uncomfortable when people go too 'big' with their descriptions. However.

I made creme brulee last night, for no real reason other than I wanted to know what it would taste like if fresh nutmeg showed up in the custard. Drunk and shameful, wearing someone else's pants. And this afternoon, when I broiled the sugar and photographed it, I saw what the producers of eighties sitcoms saw. When I tasted it, I understood. You crack it, and then you kind of slide in and it's gorgeous, just all slippery cream, dark from the nutmeg, with a faint tobacco smoke in the background from the caramelized sugar. It tastes like 'On Call' by Kings of Leon sounds.

To me, anyway. It may taste like 'Strokin' by Clarence Carter to you.

Vanilla Bean and Nutmeg Creme Brulee
Adapted from Nielsen Massey

1 1/2 cups Heavy Whipping Cream
1/2 cup milk
4 egg yolks
1/4 + 1 Tablespoon granulated sugar
1 vanilla bean, split and scraped
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Demera, turbinado or granulated white sugar

Put a kettle on to boil, and line the bottom of a round, 9-inch cake pan or 8x8 square pan (depending on how many vessels you'll be using -- I used four custard cups, and it worked out perfectly. Adjust up or down depending on the size of your custard cups or ramekins) with a kitchen towel. Place the dishes you've decided on on top of the towel, and set aside.

Preheat your oven to 300 degrees F. In a small bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and vanilla extract until pale yellow and liquid. In a medium saucepan, heat the cream, milk, sugar, vanilla bean pod and scraped seeds together for around 5 minutes, until heated through, steamy and sugar has dissolved. Add the nutmeg, and remove from heat.

Pour a 1/4 cup of the cream mixture into the eggs, whisking well to 'temper' the yolks and bring them up to a similar temperature. Once warmed, pour the egg yolks into the cream mixture and whisk well. Strain into a pitcher or Pyrex measuring cup (at least a 2-cup measure), and pour into ramekins, dividing equally. Place ramekins/pan on oven rack, and then carefully fill, around the edges, with hot water from the kettle until it reaches the halfway point.

Bake for 20-30 minutes, or until custards are set but jiggle nicely when shaken gently. Remove, cool until tepid and then cover tightly with plastic wrap and transfer to the fridge. Chill for at least eight hours, or overnight, and when ready to serve sprinkle with an even layer of your desired sugar -- demera, brown or granulated white and either broil for 2-3 minutes (watching closely) or caramelize with a torch until golden brown and crackly. Remove, and serve immediately* with fresh fruit, whipped cream, Vaseline.

*If your broiler takes a particularly long time to caramelize the tops, like mine did, shove the pots back in the fridge (once cool enough to handle) and let them firm back up. The sugar topping shouldn't suffer too much.)

The Impossible Dream

One of my favorite Sassy (or maybe it was Seventeen, I don't know, but if so, it was when Seventeen was great -- like from 1993-97, back when that 'Boy' Column was written by an actual dude, the guy with blond hair and glasses and they visited real schools and took pictures of androgynous girls wearing their boyfriends flannels and their boyfriends wearing their own flannels and 1 out of every 3 people pictured would have either white-dude dreads, a Gwyneth Paltrow haircut or be wearing overalls, or both. If they weren't wearing overalls, they were wearing kilts and thigh-high socks. Everybody was named 'Rain'.) articles was where they told you how, in great detail, to have a dinner party for people using items you bought at your local 7-11. When I read it I felt like they were pretty positive, pretty sure they believed in our motor skills and brain capacity. It was inspirational.

One of my favorite Seventeen features was a piece of fiction, about a girl who ended up having a sketchy phone relationship with her uncle who was also a radio host and she wore camouflage pants and the whole thing was inappropriate yet crazy intriguing. That and then a story about two sisters, one wrote/worked for the magazine, who went on a road trip and ate green chile cheeseburgers and took Polaroids of themselves standing next to cacti. There was also a sidebar in one issue, a narrative about finding the perfect back to school outfit for senior year. She ended up wearing a pair of tuxedo pants and her friend wore a long floral dress and ankle weights.

I also really liked Lacey Chabert's recipe for Pralines.

Lots of women my age bemoan the death of Sassy, and then we mourned Jane, and now we're holding a wake for Blueprint because that's what we're supposed to do -- get behind a magazine that finally either tries to or sort of gets it and then say "What? What?" when it goes away. I bought the last copy of the last issue of Jane at New Seasons, and it had some sort of random sticky residue on the cover and as the older clerk apologetically wiped it clean despite my "No, seriously, it's cool, I'm probably going to spill on it later" protests, I felt like she was apologizing for the actual fold of the magazine.

The readers are out there, we're all still waiting, we're all hoping something hits and sticks and gets it and I think Blueprint did a lot of things right, almost too right in some cases, too on-it, hip and with-it. It was a little unapproachable, your friend who wouldn't let you set the table and made chili using veal and porcini mushrooms because she can. She carries a muff, too, during the cold months and no one says a goddamn word about it.

I love Vogue, I love Domino and InStyle and ElleDecor and I can't ready Lucky on a regular basis because it makes me feel homeless, but I really loved Sassy, really enjoyed Jane when I remembered to pick it up and actually had a subscription to Blueprint. And while Sassy taught me how to make a casserole with cornbread mix and canned chili, Blueprint told me how to decorate the foyer of my 786,000 thousand dollar single-family home. I'm not there yet, I'm always a few years behind the demographic or income level catered to by any of the magazines, but one day maybe I will be and then I'll know that the perfect holiday foyer involves small purebred canines, fresh fir garlands and no actual furniture.

I have no idea what I'm trying to say, just that I miss loving a magazine as much as I loved the few years of Sassy I was old enough to find relevant, I wish I had saved my old 90's Seventeen magazines for my youngest sister so she didn't have to read the current format, which is 90% Clean and Clear ads, 10% Baby V and Zac Efron, I miss Jane and I wish Blueprint wasn't going anywhere -- it had good roots, it had a clear target audience and people willing to grow with it as long as it grew with us.

But really I just want a magazine that goes backstage and shows me pictures of people's makeup bags and what they buy at Plaid Pantry during overnight drives to the next city, I want to know how to throw a dinner party in the woods using tinfoil-wrapped baked potatoes and I want a review of the best sparkling wines under 10 dollars, with Polaroid pictures and taste-tests by drunk people on the street. I want to know who makes the cheapest but most luxurious cashmere among national department stores as tested by perma-itchy children who won't lie, which big-box stores have the best free samples and gifts with purchases, how to somehow get stuck in the elevator with that guy at work you like, how to make real buttercream with a hand mixer and why Lisa Loeb's Food Network show brought on feelings of seasonal affective disorder and immense empathy for Dweezil. I want to know how to get people to actually come to the parties you throw that aren't random, impromptu ones, I want to know how Maggie Mason and Lisa Congdon find all the great stuff they do, I want Jonathan Adler to put together a hot bedroom using items found only at TJMaxxx, I want a roadtrip diary from Anne Hathaway and Stanley Tucci despite their last (and only) movie together being released a good three years ago, I want Martha Stewart to throw a white-trash food party for socialites, I want interior pictures of mini-fridges belonging to famous people, I want to know who designs my favorite book covers and I want Cesar Milan to spritz cosmetic counter employees in the face with a spray bottle every time they come at you with 'Obsession' or 'White Diamonds'. And I want it all bound and sold to me with a glossy cover with a nice font choice for the masthead.

Conde Nast, get on it.   

"They have dirt ice cream, Pa!"

So nice to hear it put to music

"You will be the cause of a rabies epidemic."