Category: Holiday desserts

Categories
Chocolate Cheer Fancy Pantsy Grown Up People Desserts Holiday desserts Pies

Today, I Will Not Be Salty. Today, I Will Leave That To My Pie.

So, I’m going to try to use today’s post to express some positivity, which is going to be hell quite difficult for me because I am super cranky right now. Below, in brackets, is a small taste of where this post was originally going:

[BAH HUMBUG YA’LL!

I am in such a crap mood these days. Is sugar a depressant? How can it be, when it’s an essential part of any this grown late-twenties Indian woman’s daily diet?! HAVE SOME HUMANITY, SYBIL’S INNER WORKINGS!]

It got wayyyyy darker than that. So yeah… scrapped. Let’s talk happy stuff?

BUT I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT HAPPY SH…. see? Even I can’t stop me. Whew. Ok. Let’s start over. Hey! Let’s make a list!

In the spirit of the holiday, here's a picture of Hoover, my favorite Christmas ornament from our tree. (I purposely left out the "whole tree" pic. I like to keep it tasteful around here. ;))
In the spirit of the holiday, here’s a picture of Hoover, my favorite Christmas ornament from our tree. (I purposely left out the “whole tree” pic. I like to keep it tasteful around here.)

1. The holidays are approaching. For me, this used to mean grumbling about the lines at Macy’s and over-salting eggnog with my bulbous, lonely tears. Now, it means shopping online and not salting my eggnog at all, because I finally realized I hate eggnog! Also, I like people again.

2. To repeat, the holidays are approaching. I have amassed a booklet of recipes to try– cookies, brownies, eclairs (!), something involving turning things that shouldn’t be fudge into fudge, and on and on. Who knows how many of these I will actually complete, but damnit, I am determined. F*&$%ing positivity, guys!!!

3. The holidays…they are upon us. This means Sylvapotamus and I are doing our damndest to get ourselves invited to the fanciest winter soiree this side of De Stuteville Drive (I Googled “fancy place names” and that popped up). This adventure is proving, so far, to be an utter failure…. but IT’S SO MUCH FUN.

4. Oh, and since you casually mentioned the holidays– that was you, right?– I went to the Holiday Train Show this weekend at the Botanical Garden. It was super overpriced and the ticket takers are monsters  gorgeous. Really, really breathtaking, and despite some early hiccups (see: crossed out part of the previous sentence), we all had a lovely time. Even my dad had a ton of fun, and he’s just as surly as I am!

2014-12-14 19.07.16
Photo credit: Sylvapotamus, The Wonderful.

 

Being a completely ridiculous human being at the Train Show.
Being a completely ridiculous human being. Photo credit: The Incredible Sylvapotamus

Those all sound pretty great, right? Writing that out is certainly giving me perspective on what truly matters: sugar. Wait… sugar AND loved ones.  In no particular order. Actually, no, those two things are in the right order. Sugar rules all.

Speaking of sugar, let’s talk pie. Speaking of pie, let’s talk chocolate pie. Speaking… ok. We’ll just get to it then.

Salted Chocolate Caramel Tart (makes one 9-inch round tart)

pie crust from Canal House & filling from Saveur

CRUST

3 cups of all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon of sugar

1/2 teaspoon of salt

12 tablespoons of very cold, unsalted butter,  grated (Yes! Grated! It’s genius!)

1 egg, beaten, mixed with enough cold water to produce 1/2 cup

Pie weights (I usually use uncooked rice, but dried beans or actual pie weights work too)

FILLING

For the caramel

1 1/2 cups of sugar

3 tablespoons of light corn syrup

1/4 teaspoon of salt

6 tablespoons of butter (note: I used salted because it’s what I had; if you’re in the same boat, omit the above salt)

6 tablespoons of heavy cream

For the ganache

1/2 cup of heavy cream

4 ounces of bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped

Sea salt for garnish

Ok, before we start, I kind of think I’ve finally found a pie crust recipe that doesn’t make me want to throw in the tea towel in defeat. I found it very easy to work with, which I’ve never, ever been able to say. I’d love to hear what others think of it.

Butter and lightly flour a 9-inch pie tin; set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together flour, sugar and salt. Add in the butter, then blend in using either a pastry blender or a fork. Using your fingers, rub the mixture together just until it feels like wet sand. Stir in the egg mixture with a fork until it begins to come together into a dough.

Turn dough out onto a floured surface, kneading just until it holds together. Divide the dough in half, shape each half into flat discs, then cover in plastic wrap. Refrigerate for at least an hour or up to three days (you can freeze it for up to three months). When ready to use, remove dough from fridge and let it come to room temperature.

On a large, floured flat surface, roll dough out to 14-inch round (and if yours actually stays round, I envy you, magic baker). Gently roll the dough onto a rolling pin, then lay into pie plate. Trim off any excess, leaving 1/2 inch or so of overhang, then curl overhang under lid and crimp decoratively if you have the skills for this. Alas, I do not. Prick the dough all over with a fork, then refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

It's a pie crust that LOOKS LIKE A PIE CRUST!
It’s a pie crust that LOOKS LIKE A PIE CRUST!

To blind bake the shell, preheat your oven to 400ºF. Line shell with parchment paper or foil, then place weights evenly along the bottom of the shell. Bake for about ten minutes, then remove weights and parchment/foil. At this point, I like to cover the edges of the pie with a ring of foil to prevent them from burning. Send back into the oven for 5 to 8 minutes, until the shell is golden brown. Let cool before filling.

Now let’s work on the most amazing caramel. In a medium-sized saucepan, stir together sugar, corn syrup, salt and 6 tablespoons of water. Bring the mixture to a boil. Continue to cook, without stirring, until a candy thermometer inserted into the pan reads 340ºF. Ok, full disclosure: I kind of let this go to 350ºF because I was curious as to what would happen/not paying attention, and I actually really liked the nutty, deep taste the extra time gave the caramel. Remove the pan from heat, then whisk in butter and cream (the mixture will bubble up considerably). Whisk until smooth, then pour evenly into pie shell. Refrigerate for 4 to 5 hours, until caramel is firm.

Almost there, folks. Almost.
Almost there, folks. Almost.

I know, I know this is like a days-long pie recipe, but you will thank me dude. We’re on the last step, the ganache. In a medium-sized saucepan, bring cream to a boil. Place chocolate in a medium-sized heatproof bowl, then pour in the boiled cream. Let the mixture sit for one minute, then gently stir together with a rubber spatula until smooth. Pour ganache evenly over the tart and chill in refrigerator for at least 5 hours. Sprinkle sea salt evenly over the top before serving.

Heaven's surface is sea salty and chocolatey.
Heaven’s surface is sea salty and chocolatey.

So? So. No– no it’s not so-so. It’s anything BUT so-so. It’s like the fanciest, most wonderful candy bar your mouth has ever had the pleasure of receiving. I know there’s been a bit of a backlash against salty desserts, but my brain does not have time to comprehend this. If you have the time– and, truth be told, from start to finish, it’s entirely possible this pie will take days of prep work– please, please make this for yourself and the people closest to you.

*Definitely* make sure this pie is chilled before you slice it if you're looking to photograph it. I simply could not wait any longer.
*Definitely* make sure this pie is chilled before you slice it if you’re looking to photograph it. I simply could not wait any longer.
How it looked after a couple of days. Am I a bad blogger because I did this to this tart, or a good blogger for being honest with you?
How it looked after a couple of days. Am I a bad blogger because I did this to this tart, or a good blogger for being honest with you?
Categories
Desserts with Fruit Fancy Pantsy Holiday desserts Pies

Hand Me A Hand Pie, And I’ll Tell You A Story

Do you ever notice yourself having the same conversation with different people within a short period of time? (And not the boring “Ho, man, the weather, right?!” conversation that should never, ever have to happen between people who like each other.) I realized that in the past week, I’ve talked to three separate people about how easy it is to completely change the course of your life with a seemingly small action, and then not realize until years and years later– in my case, almost a decade– how massive that shift actually was.

I’m not sure how specific I can or should get without upsetting a few balances in my life, even though I’m not sure how “balanced” those balances even are right now. But I’m also not sure how cryptically general I can be without making you lovely people hate me for being so freaking cryptically general. I guess I’ll just say that I made a decision to assert my independence at a young age and have only just realized that, in the process, I may have inadvertently completely bleeping jacked up any chance of “following my dreams.” Those last three words are in quotes because part of me– probably the Indian part of me, since I feel like “dreams” are a privilege and brown people laugh at those things– thinks that most people in the world aren’t afforded the opportunity to lament not pursuing dreams, and so I should STFU and be happy with my life. And for the most part, I am. But then…Eh. I dunno. I guess the title of this blog does start with the word “sad,” so, you know, can’t expect Sesame Street, right folks? I’m trying not to complain. Like I’ve said many times before, I am thankful for so much of my life. But sometimes it’s hard not to feel like there’s something I’m not doing that I could be, you dig?

Alas, in the meantime, as I said, let us celebrate and be grateful. For, Thanksgiving has just passed, the greatest holiday that ever could be. A friend innocently asked me how I was preparing and I shook the mini-booklet of recipes that I collected and had SPIRAL-BOUND at her. Yeah. That kind of cray. And on page one of that booklet? Hand pies. There is nothing more genius than a hand pie. It’s pie. In your hand. That you share with exactly no one. How does life get more awesome? It doesn’t, right? Hand pie pizza, hand pie cakes, hand pie steaks. I don’t even eat steak and I could totally get behind a hand pie steak. I feel like the person who invented hand pies is such a wizard, such an innovator, such a problem-solver, that s/he could probably help me figure out my mess of a life. Hand Pie Creator, oh, Hand Pie Creator, where art thou? Does thou take payment in, um, hand pies? (Prob not.)

Pear Cranberry Hand Pies (makes eight pies)

based loosely on a recipe from Food and Wine

1 pear, cored and chopped (you can peel it too if you prefer, but I like the texture of it so I keep it on)

2 pears, cored and cut into 1/2 inch dice (I realize I put pears on separate lines, but you’ll see why in a second, promise)

12 ounces of fresh cranberries

1 cup of sugar

1 tablespoon of all-purpose flour

1 pinch of cinnamon

1 pinch of salt

14-ounce package of cold, all-butter puff pastry

1 egg white

Sugar for dusting, optional

So, to start, I’m going to let ya’ll in on a secret: this recipe is a monster hybrid of two other recipes, only one of which you’ll notice I linked to, because the other one sucked so badly. It was so bad that I realized about halfway through preparing the “treat” gave it the side-eye and decided to ultimately Tim Gunn it into this recipe (holla at me if you get the reference). Cool? Cool.

SONY DSC
SONY DSC

Start by pureeing the one chopped pear together with your cranberries, 1 cup of sugar and 1 cup of water in a blender. Mix until smooth, then transfer puree into a medium-sized saucepan and cook over medium heat for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally (be careful, as this will most certainly splatter, neat freaks), until thick.

SONY DSC
SONY DSC

Transfer to a medium-sized bowl and set out to cool at room temperature, about 2 hours.

When puree is cooled, add in your remaining chopped pears, flour, cinnamon and salt, and toss to combine. Set aside.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the puff pastry to a 12 to 14 inch square. Note that you don’t have to be exact about it. I sure as hell wasn’t.

One of my Instagram friends compared this to the Windows logo, prompting me to wonder if there's any universe in which Bill Gates would pay me for this. (There is not.)
One of my Instagram friends compared this to the Windows logo, prompting me to wonder if there’s any universe in which Bill Gates would pay me for this. (There is not.)

Divide the square into eight sort of equal smaller squares. Spoon some of the pear mixture onto one side of the pastry, then fold over and crimp the edges. You’ll notice that I said “some of the mixture” and did not give you an exact amount. Try less than what I did, but more than a teaspoon. Basically just make sure you can close them properly. I mean, I could, but it took some maneuvering and a LOT of annoying questions about the elasticity of puff pastry dough from my boyfriend. Still, I ain’t complaining about oozing, hot, gloriously gooey hand pies.

SONY DSC
SONY DSC

Transfer pies to a parchment-lined baking sheet and chill for at least 30 minutes.(The first time I made these, I chilled them overnight because I was exhausted and still had to prep two pies, macaroni and cheese, cranberry sauce, cornbread, Brussels sprouts and myself mentally for all of the foods I just mentioned. Chilling the pies overnight worked out totally fine.)

Preheat your oven to 400ºF, and brush each pie with a bit of egg white. Sprinkle sugar on top, if desired, then send these babies into the oven for 30 minutes, until they are golden and the fruit mixture looks bubbly.

SONY DSC
SONY DSC

Ok, originally the plan was to haul these over to my parents’ house as part of our Thanksgiving dessert menu but…um… I was having a lot of feelings that night and decided to eat them. The pies. Also my feelings. I definitely ate a lot of feelings that night. And the feelings tasted PHENOMENAL. They’re flaky, gooey, tangy and overall wonderful. They’re also not too sweet, which I greatly appreciated.

Note: I’m writing this at about 9:20pm on a Wednesday night and I just made another batch of these because I had leftover filling. I purposely brushed my teeth while baking to avoid attacking one fresh out of the oven. Then I saw the pies, promptly forgot about my teeth, and had at ’em. #worthit

Also! Without getting all preachy on all of you, I’m trying to put together a toy drive for homeless kids, working with Coalition for the Homeless. Here’s a link to the wish list based on a list provided by the Coalition. If you’re willing and able, or know someone who is, please contribute. Thanks friends!

Categories
Desserts with Fruit Fancy Pantsy Holiday desserts Pies

Hand Me A Hand Pie, And I’ll Tell You A Story

Do you ever notice yourself having the same conversation with different people within a short period of time? (And not the boring “Ho, man, the weather, right?!” conversation that should never, ever have to happen between people who like each other.) I realized that in the past week, I’ve talked to three separate people about how easy it is to completely change the course of your life with a seemingly small action, and then not realize until years and years later– in my case, almost a decade– how massive that shift actually was.

I’m not sure how specific I can or should get without upsetting a few balances in my life, even though I’m not sure how “balanced” those balances even are right now. But I’m also not sure how cryptically general I can be without making you lovely people hate me for being so freaking cryptically general. I guess I’ll just say that I made a decision to assert my independence at a young age and have only just realized that, in the process, I may have inadvertently completely bleeping jacked up any chance of “following my dreams.” Those last three words are in quotes because part of me– probably the Indian part of me, since I feel like “dreams” are a privilege and brown people laugh at those things– thinks that most people in the world aren’t afforded the opportunity to lament not pursuing dreams, and so I should STFU and be happy with my life. And for the most part, I am. But then…Eh. I dunno. I guess the title of this blog does start with the word “sad,” so, you know, can’t expect Sesame Street, right folks? I’m trying not to complain. Like I’ve said many times before, I am thankful for so much of my life. But sometimes it’s hard not to feel like there’s something I’m not doing that I could be, you dig?

(Giving you a break again, you’re welcome. Also…it’s amazing.)

Alas, in the meantime, as I said, let us celebrate and be grateful. For, Thanksgiving has just passed, the greatest holiday that ever could be. A friend innocently asked me how I was preparing and I shook the mini-booklet of recipes that I collected and had SPIRAL-BOUND at her. Yeah. That kind of cray. And on page one of that booklet? Hand pies. There is nothing more genius than a hand pie. It’s pie. In your hand. That you share with exactly no one. How does life get more awesome? It doesn’t, right? Hand pie pizza, hand pie cakes, hand pie steaks. I don’t even eat steak and I could totally get behind a hand pie steak. I feel like the person who invented hand pies is such a wizard, such an innovator, such a problem-solver, that s/he could probably help me figure out my mess of a life. Hand Pie Creator, oh, Hand Pie Creator, where art thou? Does thou take payment in, um, hand pies? (Prob not.)

Pear Cranberry Hand Pies (makes eight pies)

based loosely on a recipe from Food and Wine

1 pear, cored and chopped (you can peel it too if you prefer, but I like the texture of it so I keep it on)

2 pears, cored and cut into 1/2 inch dice (I realize I put pears on separate lines, but you’ll see why in a second, promise)

12 ounces of fresh cranberries

1 cup of sugar

1 tablespoon of all-purpose flour

1 pinch of cinnamon

1 pinch of salt

14-ounce package of cold, all-butter puff pastry

1 egg white

Sugar for dusting, optional

So, to start, I’m going to let ya’ll in on a secret: this recipe is a monster hybrid of two other recipes, only one of which you’ll notice I linked to, because the other one sucked so badly. It was so bad that I realized about halfway through preparing the “treat” gave it the side-eye and decided to ultimately Tim Gunn it into this recipe (holla at me if you get the reference). Cool? Cool.

SONY DSC

Start by pureeing the one chopped pear together with your cranberries, 1 cup of sugar and 1 cup of water in a blender. Mix until smooth, then transfer puree into a medium-sized saucepan and cook over medium heat for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally (be careful, as this will most certainly splatter, neat freaks), until thick.

SONY DSC
Yeah… this will be scalding. Don’t try to taste test unless you’re prepared to part with your tongue for a few days.

Transfer to a medium-sized bowl and set out to cool at room temperature, about 2 hours.

When puree is cooled, add in your remaining chopped pears, flour, cinnamon and salt, and toss to combine. Set aside.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the puff pastry to a 12 to 14 inch square. Note that you don’t have to be exact about it. I sure as hell wasn’t.

One of my Instagram friends compared this to the Windows logo, prompting me to wonder if there's any universe in which Bill Gates would pay me for this. (There is not.)
One of my Instagram friends compared this to the Windows logo, prompting me to wonder if there’s any universe in which Bill Gates would pay me for this. (There is not.)

Divide the square into eight sort of equal smaller squares. Spoon some of the pear mixture onto one side of the pastry, then fold over and crimp the edges. You’ll notice that I said “some of the mixture” and did not give you an exact amount. Try less than what I did, but more than a teaspoon. Basically just make sure you can close them properly. I mean, I could, but it took some maneuvering and a LOT of annoying questions about the elasticity of puff pastry dough from my boyfriend. Still, I ain’t complaining about oozing, hot, gloriously gooey hand pies.

SONY DSC
Mmmm… overfilled hand pies…

Transfer pies to a parchment-lined baking sheet and chill for at least 30 minutes.(The first time I made these, I chilled them overnight because I was exhausted and still had to prep two pies, macaroni and cheese, cranberry sauce, cornbread, Brussels sprouts and myself mentally for all of the foods I just mentioned. Chilling the pies overnight worked out totally fine.)

Preheat your oven to 400ºF, and brush each pie with a bit of egg white. Sprinkle sugar on top, if desired, then send these babies into the oven for 30 minutes, until they are golden and the fruit mixture looks bubbly.

SONY DSC

Ok, originally the plan was to haul these over to my parents’ house as part of our Thanksgiving dessert menu but…um… I was having a lot of feelings that night and decided to eat them. The pies. Also my feelings. I definitely ate a lot of feelings that night. And the feelings tasted PHENOMENAL. They’re flaky, gooey, tangy and overall wonderful. They’re also not too sweet, which I greatly appreciated.

Note: I’m writing this at about 9:20pm on a Wednesday night and I just made another batch of these because I had leftover filling. I purposely brushed my teeth while baking to avoid attacking one fresh out of the oven. Then I saw the pies, promptly forgot about my teeth, and had at ’em. #worthit

Also! Without getting all preachy on all of you, I’m trying to put together a toy drive for homeless kids, working with Coalition for the Homeless. Here’s a link to the wish list based on a list provided by the Coalition. If you’re willing and able, or know someone who is, please contribute. Thanks friends!

Categories
Cakes Desserts with Fruit Fancy Pantsy Grown Up People Desserts Holiday desserts Puddings

Sorry For My Face. It’s Just My Face. Here’s Some Cake. There’s Booze In It.

So it has come to my attention that I have a condition that needs addressing. No, it’s not my asthma, which I’ve had and unfortunately known about since I’ve been able to retain memory, though that’s decided to rear its ugly, suffocating head this weekend as well. It’s an affliction that seems to be incurable, unless I suddenly come into a significant sum of money and develop a desire to make nice with a cosmetic surgeon.
I have Bitchy Resting Face.

Ok, I’m messing with you guys. I totally knew I had BRF. I’m not a complete moron! It has, however, come up more frequently in recent days, which either means that a. I’ve gotten bitchier-looking as I’ve aged, or b. more people have been talking to me and have felt comfortable telling me I’m scary, which is probably impossible if I’m that scary, so it’s probably a. My bad, guys. I’m trying out a new eyeliner?

How I've been nursing the pain
How I’ve been nursing the pain

The brave few in life who have dared approach me fall into the category of My Boyfriend (there’s, uh, one person in that group) and Nice People Who Have Told Me My I Dropped My Cell Phone (there are a LOT of people in this group. The most recent is a dude who informed me of the dropped device, handed it back to me, proceeded to start a conversation with me, then proceeded to promptly end that conversation once he saw what he was dealing with. And I smiled, too!). Sometimes, I even try to make pleasant conversation with other people, and it fails. Yesterday I attempted to joke around with the nurse who was treating me (for the asthma, not my face, though that’s probably kind of an untapped market, no?) and she just… left? Then, whilst picking up my prednisone at Duane Reade, I decided to load up on Halloween Kit-Kats that were still on clearance (32 cents each!) and tried to be all self-deprecating with the pharmacist, who was NOT having it. I mean, you’re not really supposed to mix chocolate and asthma– why did you bestow this illness upon me, Baby Jesus?!– so maybe she was just being judgmental, but still. It’s totally my face.

How do you all deal with these problems, dear readers? It’s very difficult to make friends as an adult, that is a fact. It’s even harder when you’re workin’ with what I’m workin’ with. I’ve decided to try and push through it the healthiest way I know how: drowning my sorrows in booze. And booze-soaked cake. Also it’s almost Thanksgiving, and you all know I like this holiday a little bit, so we’re recipe testing. Also booze. For the soul. Maple Bourbon Banana Pudding Cake, anyone? Try saying THAT while you’re buzzed, amirite?*

Maple Bourbon Banana Pudding Cake 

adapted from Food & Wine

6 tablespoons of unsalted butter

1/4 cup of brown sugar

1 overripe mashed banana

1 large egg

1 cup of milk, room temperature

1 cup of all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon of baking powder

Big pinch of salt

3/4 cup of pure maple syrup

1/4 cup of brown sugar

3 tablespoons of bourbon

1/4 cup chopped pecans, optional

1/4 cup of chocolate chips, optional

Ice cream, for serving, optional, highly recommended though

Preheat your oven to 375ºF.  In the microwave, melt butter in a deep 2-quart baking dish. Stir in sugar and banana until combined, then whisk in egg and milk. In a separate bowl, sift together flour, baking powder and salt, then stir into baking dish until everything is mixed fully.

This is a dangerous mixture, btw. You'll be curious and will want to sip from this. Do not. It is the drink of the Devil.
This is a dangerous mixture, btw. You’ll be curious and will want to sip from this. Do not. It is the drink of the Devil.
SONY DSC
SONY DSC

In a microwave-safe cup or in a saucepan (you can do this in the microwave, high power for one minute, or on a stovetop, medium heat until hot), heat maple syrup, 1/4 cup of brown sugar and 1/2 cup of hot water. Add in bourbon, then drizzle over the batter (it will seep to the bottom, and it will be glorious, just you wait). Don’t stir it.  Scatter pecans and chocolate chips on top, if using.

Set the dish on a baking sheet, then bake for at least 40 minutes (mine took closer to 50), until the top is golden. Let it cool for 5 minutes, then serve with ice cream if desired.

SONY DSC
SONY DSC

So, my feelings? Um, they’re mostly feelings of drunken happiness. More happiness than drunkenness, but there’s a significant amount of the latter in there, I think because I was sipping bourbon while this was baking. Why, I cannot tell you. Inspiration? Maybe I thought it would go well with asthma meds? That’s totally safe, right?

SONY DSC
SONY DSC

I mean, it may not look like much, but this thing packs a punch. It’s basically a cake-y top with a lovely, syrupy, lightly-bourbon-kissed pudding nestled underneath. If you’re trying to stretch your stomach in time for Turkey Day (um, I am) while inspiring your taste buds with fall favorites, this is the pudding cake for you. Oh, also, be over 21. There. A recipe AND a PSA. You’re welcome, America!

*Ya’ll know I’m kidding right? That’s super unhealthy. Pick up a journal, have some tea and have a good cry. Then call me in the morning. It’s better on the phone, you won’t have my bitchface to look at. Oh also I’m a little tipsy from, uh, recipe testing. 

Categories
Cakes Desserts with Fruit Fancy Pantsy Grown Up People Desserts Holiday desserts Puddings

Sorry For My Face. It’s Just My Face. Here’s Some Cake. There’s Booze In It.

So it has come to my attention that I have a condition that needs addressing. No, it’s not my asthma, which I’ve had and unfortunately known about since I’ve been able to retain memory, though that’s decided to rear its ugly, suffocating head this weekend as well. It’s an affliction that seems to be incurable, unless I suddenly come into a significant sum of money and develop a desire to make nice with a cosmetic surgeon.

I have Bitchy Resting Face.

Ok, I’m messing with you guys. I totally knew I had BRF. I’m not a complete moron! It has, however, come up more frequently in recent days, which either means that a. I’ve gotten bitchier-looking as I’ve aged, or b. more people have been talking to me and have felt comfortable telling me I’m scary, which is probably impossible if I’m that scary, so it’s probably a. My bad, guys. I’m trying out a new eyeliner?

How I've been nursing the pain
How I’ve been nursing the pain. Oh, also, it’s in the cake. Yeah. #relevance

The brave few in life who have dared approach me fall into the category of My Boyfriend (there’s, uh, one person in that group) and Nice People Who Have Told Me My I Dropped My Cell Phone (there are a LOT of people in this group. The most recent is a dude who informed me of the dropped device, handed it back to me, proceeded to start a conversation with me, then proceeded to promptly end that conversation once he saw what he was dealing with. And I smiled, too!). Sometimes, I even try to make pleasant conversation with other people, and it fails. Yesterday I attempted to joke around with the nurse who was treating me (for the asthma, not my face, though that’s probably kind of an untapped market, no?) and she just… left? Then, whilst picking up my prednisone at Duane Reade, I decided to load up on Halloween Kit-Kats that were still on clearance (32 cents each!) and tried to be all self-deprecating with the pharmacist, who was NOT having it. I mean, you’re not really supposed to mix chocolate and asthma– why did you bestow this illness upon me, Baby Jesus?!– so maybe she was just being judgmental, but still. It’s totally my face.

How do you all deal with these problems, dear readers? It’s very difficult to make friends as an adult, that is a fact. It’s even harder when you’re workin’ with what I’m workin’ with. I’ve decided to try and push through it the healthiest way I know how: drowning my sorrows in booze. And booze-soaked cake. Also it’s almost Thanksgiving, and you all know I like this holiday a little bit, so we’re recipe testing. Also booze. For the soul. Maple Bourbon Banana Pudding Cake, anyone? Try saying THAT while you’re buzzed, amirite?*

Maple Bourbon Banana Pudding Cake 

adapted from Food & Wine

6 tablespoons of unsalted butter

1/4 cup of brown sugar

1 overripe mashed banana

1 large egg

1 cup of milk, room temperature

1 cup of all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon of baking powder

Big pinch of salt

3/4 cup of pure maple syrup

1/4 cup of brown sugar

3 tablespoons of bourbon

1/4 cup chopped pecans, optional

1/4 cup of chocolate chips, optional

Ice cream, for serving, optional, highly recommended though

Preheat your oven to 375ºF.  In the microwave, melt butter in a deep 2-quart baking dish. Stir in sugar and banana until combined, then whisk in egg and milk. In a separate bowl, sift together flour, baking powder and salt, then stir into baking dish until everything is mixed fully.

This is a dangerous mixture, btw. You'll be curious and will want to sip from this. Do not. It is the drink of the Devil.
This is a dangerous mixture, btw. You’ll be curious and will want to sip from this. Do not. It is the drink of the Devil.

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In a microwave-safe cup or in a saucepan (you can do this in the microwave, high power for one minute, or on a stovetop, medium heat until hot), heat maple syrup, 1/4 cup of brown sugar and 1/2 cup of hot water. Add in bourbon, then drizzle over the batter (it will seep to the bottom, and it will be glorious, just you wait). Don’t stir it.  Scatter pecans and chocolate chips on top, if using.

Set the dish on a baking sheet, then bake for at least 40 minutes (mine took closer to 50), until the top is golden. Let it cool for 5 minutes, then serve with ice cream if desired.

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So, my feelings? Um, they’re mostly feelings of drunken happiness. More happiness than drunkenness, but there’s a significant amount of the latter in there, I think because I was sipping bourbon while this was baking. Why, I cannot tell you. Inspiration? Maybe I thought it would go well with asthma meds? That’s totally safe, right?

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I mean, it may not look like much, but this thing packs a punch. It’s basically a cake-y top with a lovely, syrupy, lightly-bourbon-kissed pudding nestled underneath. If you’re trying to stretch your stomach in time for Turkey Day (um, I am) while inspiring your taste buds with fall favorites, this is the pudding cake for you. Oh, also, be over 21. There. A recipe AND a PSA. You’re welcome, America!

*Ya’ll know I’m kidding right? That’s super unhealthy. Pick up a journal, have some tea and have a good cry. Then call me in the morning. It’s better on the phone, you won’t have my bitchface to look at. Oh also I’m a little tipsy from, uh, recipe testing.