A Banner Day of Baking

You know, you'd think one day I might submit/admit to just sucking at sweets. Today was not that day.

Attempt #1: Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies

To start with, I was stoked for this project. My sister-in-law fixes these for the colonel, and he absolutely loves them. So when I found two different recipes that looked promising, I set out to do a scientific experiment: fix a small batch of each and do a blind taste test. Little did I know...

When I opened my box of oats and found it almost empty, I should have just stopped right there.

Pictured: Not a large bowl

This doesn't do the situation much justice, but here you see only one cup of oats. Each of the two recipes calls for three cups. "Bah!" said I. "I know my measurement conversions. I'll just be even more science-y!" It was legal pad time.

Pictured: Science! (or maybe not, it turns out)

It all came out totally manageable except for the 1/6 cup of sugar and 1/6 of a stick of butter. And even the sugar was workable using a variation of the jugs-in-the-park trick from Die Hard With A Vengeance.

In case, inexplicably, you forgot

 Or in my case, measure 1/2 cup of sugar, then remove 1/3 cup from that (3/6 - 2/6 = 1/6). Eureka!

I was just gonna have to eyeball the butter, though. Anyway here's a lovely shot of the sugar, butter, milk, and cocoa bubbling away on the stove. That shit is delicious, by the way.

Mmmm

The only difference between the above two recipes is, one includes peanut butter, and one does not. So I did the whole process twice and set my lovely sheet of no-bake cookies aside to set. (Cue ominous music.)

They did not set.

Pictured: Not cookies

That's with peanut butter on the left, and plain chocolate on the right. I dunno, maybe I got my conversions wrong, or maybe I've angered the confection gods. Given the rest of this post, I feel like either or both are possible. Screw it...

Attempt #1: Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies Chewy Chocolate Oatmeal Bites

Yeah, that's the ticket. They really are good to eat, all gooey and chocolatey and (half) peanut buttery and tasty. But I really wanted cookies, dammit!

Attempt #2: Chocolate Surprise Cookies

This recipe is an old favorite that I've not made in ages. They're super easy and totally delicious. Just follow the link right there and have a ball.

Pictured: Not a disaster

Except, about half of them epoxied themselves to the baking sheets. I've never had that problem with these cookies before.

Pictured: More not cookies

I wonder: What's the appropriate sacrifice to appease a confection god? I'm going to say a shot of whiskey, and sacrifice it down the hatch.

Disinclined to waste such a quantity of yumminess, I pondered until I found a solution. And like so many of life's problems, that solution was ice cream.

You know where this is going.

Attempt #3: Chocolate Surprise Milkshakes

And wouldn't you know I jobbed that up too? In my defense, the last time I made a milkshake was an experiment involving Bailey's Irish Cream, circa 1997. Too much milk, the solution to which was even more ice cream -- to the extent I had to bust out these humongous glasses.

Another three cookies gave their lives for the garnish.

I can't even explain how awesome those milkshakes turned out. The whole experience reminds me of something my grade school art teacher used to say: "There are no mistakes."

At least, I guess, where there's chocolate involved.

---

In a Fit of Lunacy

It always starts so innocently - in this case, with a pint of strawberries just too perfectly red and ripe to pass up. The madness escalated with the discovery of a soft, fluffy goat cheese from a local farm. I tried these together, and they made a marvelous snack. Marvelous, but not perfect.

I craved crunchy, and no mere cracker or cookie would do. Chocolate, that would be the ticket, and crispy, but not too sweet, and...

Biscotti!

Now that's lunacy. Long-time readers know I'm no pastry chef. Not being able to taste and adjust at the last minute freaks me right out. But I was determined, and Chef Google pointed me to this double chocolate biscotti.

The Ingredients

• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 2/3 cup white sugar 
• 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder 
• 2 teaspoons baking powder 
• 2 eggs 
• 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour 
• 4 (1 ounce) squares white chocolate, chopped 
• 3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips 

All of which I happen to keep around pretty much all the time.

Except white chocolate, which, let's be honest, wouldn't survive an hour under my roof.

My baking paranoia makes me pretty disciplined about following the instructions on these things. Plus, twice-baked fancy European cookies? That's a frighteningly more complex project than I've ever tackled. 

Anyway, butter and sugar, into KitchenAid the Great.

Looks "light and fluffy to me"

Next came the cocoa powder, which y'all may be aware has a fine, fairy-dust like consistency. Which in turn led to a choking cloud of chocolate despite my care in adding it to the bowl. In short, I recommend a drywall mask.

At this point I should also note I was sorely tempted just to scuttle this whole idea and spread that chocolate-sugar-butter wonder on some toast. Cuz I'm classy like that. Instead I threw in the baking powder right quick, thus committing myself to the follow-through.

This, I figured, would be the only sucky part: stirring in the flour by hand. And yeah, it sucked...

Turns out Teflon spoons are super-bendy

Until I remembered I bought a dough cutter in a previous fit of lunacy involving biscuits. (Sensing the theme here?)

Muuuuch better!

Here's where the "double" part of double chocolate goes in (and I pedantically reflect on how it should really be "triple" chocolate if you add the white...)

Oh for Pete's sake just cook, woman.

Things got intense for a while, as I mixed in these chips and then rolled the dough into logs.

I imagine this part would offer a stellar opportunity for a brave mom to involve her kids in the process, because Play Dough isn't the only dough awesome for playing. And it ain't like my grownup self didn't slop chocolate all over half the kitchen and up to my elbows. 

It was messy, is what I'm saying. But here's what I ended up with, popped in the fridge to chill for 10 minutes.

Chocolate logs. Snicker.

Note: I greased the cookie sheet with butter, because fuck Crisco. Gross. I was admittedly worried I'd have to wrestle these free, but that didn't come to pass. After 25 minutes at 375, behold...

Chocolate, speed bumps, I guess?

After cooling for an hour, I sliced 'em up like... like... Okay every metaphor in my mind right now is terrifying. Moving on.

Like this

Then back onto the cookie sheet to bake at 325, for 9 minutes on each side.

Flipping these was like finger-wrestling Satan. They were hot, is what I'm saying.

When it was all said and done I ended up with what looked remarkably like a biscotti. (I know, every Italian mother in America just gasped in horror. I beg forgiveness and offer tribute.)

Crispy, chocolatey tribute.

Despite being a Herculean feat of delayed gratification (all told the project took three hours from emptying the cupboards to boxing up the cookies), it was so totally worth it.

Maybe I'm feeling loony enough to try biscuits again...

---

Devilishly delicious birthday

This is a special weekend for us. We celebrate Doug's birthday of course. But we also reflect on the night twelve (OMG, TWELVE) years ago, when we first met. The night I crashed -- that's right, crashed -- his twenty-[censored] birthday party.

Mind you, that story sounds a lot more romantic when he tells it: "she showed up on my doorstep." Awww... Whether you're grinning or gagging right now, you're probably feeling the right thing.

At the start of last week, his story was, he didn't want a birthday cake. Say what?! I would be super depressed if I didn't have a birthday cake. I insisted. He relented. "How about something chocolate?" Speak to me, baby. The language of love.

Devil's food. I could get behind that. It would mark my first foray into the world of Baker's chocolate. It would press me and the KitchenAid to our greatest challenge yet. It would be scary. It would be messy. It would be epic.

So I got myself a recipe, consulting with Chef Google, and I got to myself to work making the magic.

NOTE: By "making the magic," I naturally mean, "obsessively following the directions." Which means I don't have much to say about the process -- the recipe's author did a bang-up job of that. Why re-invent the devil's food cake, you know?

But I couldn't resist the lure of visual proof...

Print recipe, stick to cupboard

Grease & flour trusty cake pan

Boil some water

Melt butter with chocolate

Cool, drool

Measure sugar, crack eggs

Cream eggs and sugar, worship mixer

Sift dry ingredients

 Add chocolate, make mess...

...of pot

...of self

...of mixer

...of counter

...even of the freakin floor!

Add water, end up with this

NOTE #2: After I'd slung chocolate over half the kitchen, I realized, better I should put down the camera and focus on getting the dry ingredients into the bowl. Wisdom.

Add milk/vinegar mixture. Hey neato! It fizzes!

Pour into pan

Don't waste a drop

NOTE #3: Thanks, babe, for using valuable birthday time to take some chocolate action photos.

Pop into oven, take well earned break

Cool

Frost

Gobble

Devil's food cake from scratch, bitches. I don't even feel bad about gloating. Well I take that back. It was Doug's day after all. But I absolutely don't feel bad about eating cake for breakfast today. Again.

Scary? A little. Messy? A lot. Complicated? Kinda. But you know what? I wouldn't call it difficult.

I would call it delicious. And totally worth it.

---

What about that sugar craving?

Ok, well, I flaked on the red beans and rice last night. There was enough chili left to mix with some pasta and cheese. I called it chili-mac and gave myself the night off from serious cooking. Maybe tomorrow I'll throw together some kind of bean salad. We shall see...

Anyway my challenge for today was to satisfy the old sweet tooth. I nursed a carton of ice cream as long as I could, which was precisely until yesterday. Back into the cupboards to see if I could come up with anything. I used all my flour on that loaf of bread, so cakes and cookies were out. But that partial bag of semi-sweet chips has been bugging me. Surely I can put those to use.

I know! Buckeyes! I've got butter and peanut butter and powdered sugar. Never tried buckeyes before but what the hell. Let's do this...

First things first. If I was gonna be short of anything, it would be the chocolate. So I measured...

Aren't the tastiest treats the simplest?

One cup. So I have to do math. Okaaay...

• 3/8 cup peanut butter (Awesome. I have to eyeball that one.)
• 1/4 cup butter (Easy enough. Half a stick.)
• 1/8 tsp vanilla extract (Damn. Gotta eyeball that too.)
• 6/4 (reduces to 3/2 which equals 1 1/2) cup confectioners' sugar
• And the previously established 1 cup chocolate chips

Now the online recipe says just dump everything but the chocolate into a bowl. I decided to blend all my "wet" ingredients first, then add the sugar. I figured it would be less messy that way. And considering I didn't frost the whole kitchen in powdered sugar, I think I might have been right.

I used a fork to combine everything, but by the time I was done my aching arm was all, "Damn, lady. Didn't you buy a pastry cutter just for stuff like this?"

And my brain was all, "Yeah but that's a nightmare to clean. So shut it."

Ah, intrapersonal conflict. I stirred until I had this:

I really could eat this with a spoon... Focus, Misty!

Then I was ready to start rolling. Except, blast it I'm out of wax paper. Fine. You know what? I'll butter the baking tray. That'll work. (And it totally did.) I'd be remiss if I didn't mention, for my readers who have offspring: This step is super kid-friendly. Think Play Doh, you know?

I had another oh crap moment when I looked at the nearly empty toothpick box. I had enough, it turned out, but just barely. Add that to tomorrow's shopping list (which is exploding).

Please don't judge my well-loved baking pan.

That went into the freezer where I left it for a half hour. Then I got to melting the chocolate.

Did I mention I've never done this before?

Ok, so, this part brought an old song to my mind, the Chef from South Park classic. No, not "Chocolate Salty Balls." Though, I guess that would be appropriate. The other classic...

You wait and you wait and you wait and you wait...

(Sing along with me)

And you wait and you wait and you wait...

And you wait and you wait and you wait but she's still going to the bathroooooom...

Also stir. The recipe says the chocolate should get "smooth." For some mysterious reason I really never accomplished that. But I started to get worried after about 20 minutes that the chocolate would cook. Not okay. So out came the peanut butter and I started dipping.

Except it wasn't really dipping. The chocolate was about the consistency of cake frosting. So it was more like wallering. I kinda had to -- roll the balls around in there to get them coated good.

As a result, I utterly mangled two and badly compromised the visual appeal of the rest. Whatever, dude. I put them back in the buttered pan, then stuck it all in the fridge for about 20 minutes. Once the chocolate was set, I moved them out of the baking pan and into a storage container.

Ta-daaaa...

Yeah... I realize they came out pretty funky-looking. But you won't hear me griping, because they taste freaking awesome. And in this house? Flavor counts a lot more toward your final score than prettiness.

Sugar craving? Solved. And tomorrow? I get to go shopping again! Cue choirs of angels...

---

Spoiled. Rotten.

Not food, mercifully! Just lil ol me. For my sweet, thoughtful momma has hooked me up with the ultimate home-cooking luxury...

Behold!

I have wanted one of these badboys for probably 15 years. It's something I doubt I would ever have bought for myself. Courtney was writing about hers not long before Christmas, and I guess I got to raving about it when I was home for the holidays.

I'd totally forgotten that conversation until my phone rang, about midnight last Sunday. I ran to grab it, because shit man. A call at that hour usually means somebody's either hurt or needs bail money. Not this time!

MOM: Honey, can you turn on QVC?

ME: Uh, hang on. Doug's watching the basketball. I may have to negotiate.

MOM: Tell him Momma says this is important!

(Negotiations ensue.)

ME: Ok, I have it on... Wait... Are you kidding me...?

(Mixers gleam in the studio lights, like heaven on a counter top.)

MOM: Are those the mixers you were talking about?

ME: (dreamily) Yeah...

I've used the phrase blown away before, but never was it more appropriate. She put the smackdown all my, "Honestly, Mom, I really don't need it," objections, even though they were true. I've gotten along a-okay all these years, but OMG I sure did want one. And now it has arrived. I feel extremely, unspeakably grateful.

So! Let the baking commence! I am celebrating with a project right out of the owner's manual: Quick Yellow Cake.

I will never mess with Duncan Hines again.

When Doug got home, he got to use it too, for his legendary homemade frosting. The recipe comes from the Hershey's cocoa box:

Chocolate Buttercream Frosting

• 1 stick butter
• 2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa
• 3 cups powdered sugar
• 1/3 cup milk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

The box says melt the butter, but he has better results just bringing it to room temperature. Stir in the cocoa, then alternately add powdered sugar and milk, beating to spreading consistency. Add a small amount of additional milk, if it gets too thick. Stir in vanilla. Makes about 2 cups. 

Also? I had to run out and buy vanilla ice cream. I mean, obviously.

You'd never know it's not my birthday.

At risk of gushing past the point of appropriateness, I wanted to throw this in too. See, when the UPS guy delivered the mixer, he brought two boxes to the door. I assumed the smaller one was the mixer's cover. Oh but no!

Surprise! I told you. Spoiled. Rotten.

I've also never had a proper tea kettle before. Since my college days in the dorms, I've used a Pyrex measuring cup to boil my water in the microwave. I feel so fancy now!

Thank you, Mom.