Categories
Doughnuts Easy Baking Fancy Pantsy No-Bake Recipes Strange and Yummy

Relationships Are Like, Whoa, Nuts. And I Made Wonuts.

the-office-quotes-7

Do you ever jokingly say this to describe yourself? I do. Jokingly. Jokingly. Do people ever take me seriously? Periodically. Eh…often.

Almost always. Some dude I barely know recently told me my resting bitch face was the reason I wasn’t married yet. MISOGYNY IS FUN, YA’LL!

Maybe it’s my fault for the whole “hahahahIHAVENOSOULhahahaha” thing that some might refer to as a “defense mechanism,” but CRAP if there was ever a time to be taken at my word…

Truthfully, I haven’t wanted to write a new post in weeks. I haven’t wanted to bake in weeks either. I’d like to claim that it’s because I’ve suddenly come into a great sum of money and was in an exotic foreign country doing…something exotic. But I wasn’t. I was home mostly, drinking [crazy pricey for my tax bracket] bourbon and crying to episodes of The Office. The Jim and Pam thing is dangerous territory guys. Show of hands: who here has fought with your significant other because of this unrealistically perfect union? The Office has the potential to destroy even the strongest of relationships.  Sorry Jimmy. I love you. [BUT LIKE HOW HARD IS IT TO GET A DOCUMENTARY FILM CREW TO CUT SNIPPETS FROM OUR RELATIONSHIP TOGETHER, GUY?! WAITING ON YOUR RESPONSE.]

I bought these sunflowers because I was having a rotten week and they brightened up the whole room. See?! I'M ALIVE INSIDE.
I bought these sunflowers because I was having a rotten week and they brightened up the whole room. See?! I’M ALIVE INSIDE.

Oh, I’m avoiding, you say? I definitely am. I just replayed both the clean and dirty versions of T.I.’s “Whatever You Like,” a song I haven’t heard in like six years, just to prove to myself that I still know all the innocent and filthy lyrics. I do. I am proud. It is great. Avoidance is magic.

I don’t know. I feel lame. And lameness is a lame thing to discuss. I normally hate large gatherings of people I do not know, mostly because I am horribly introverted. At parties, I gravitate toward the animals (domesticated ones…usually), small children and The Cookie Table. I then pray someone will engage me, because I am very self-conscious and also incredibly weird (see: possibly wild animals, capitalizing The Cookie Table). A couple of weeks ago I found myself bawling on my boyfriend’s shoulder in an Arby’s parking lot over a particularly baaaaad get-together I’d just attended. Yes, when you are crying buckets that stain your dude’s seersucker shirt with liquid eyeliner in front of an establishment known for their roast “beef,” things are bad. It started like this: I walked in to a room with a huge grin pasted on my face–difficult to sustain if you know me–and a bunch of women I didn’t know stared daggers at me and then proceeded to ignore me for the better part of two hours. I felt like I was seven again and the cool girls at the playground didn’t like my Sunday comics collection (that I kept in a brown paper bag, just in case you thought I was making anything up to seem creative. I am fine with instead seeming lame). And I was invited! From the moment I walked in to the second I scampered away, I felt like the confused loser who couldn’t take a hint. It was awesome.

Friendship is hard, and it’s especially hard for people who have trouble finding other people to connect to in the first place. Rejection, then, is even more difficult to swallow, especially when there’s no real rhyme or reason to it. We all grow out of friendships, but I wish it were more acceptable to just say “Yo. I like you but we’re kind of over, right? Let’s wish each other well but just sort of like each other’s posts on Facebook. Yeah?” All of this to say yes, I am totally traumatized and yes, I did cry-eat lots and lots of curly fries at Arby’s. God bless that Horsey sauce.

Speaking of food and whatever…people are like doughnuts. They’re like waffles. They’re like wonuts! They’re awesome apart, but better together. Unless you’re asexual, but that doesn’t work for my simile. That’s pretty much the best I can do, guys.

This is our rosemary plant. I recommend such a plant if you want your weird city kitchen to smell fancy.
This is our rosemary plant. I recommend such a plant if you want your weird city kitchen to smell fancy.

A wonut is basically doughnut batter that has been waffled. It’s amazing, as are most things that are waffled. You may recognize the below recipe as a variation on the one I used for my baked doughnuts from a couple of years ago, and it works perfectly here in a waffle iron.

Olive Oil Wonuts (makes 6-7 wonuts)

3/4 cup of all purpose flour

1 teaspoon of baking powder

Pinch of salt

1/4 cup of sugar

1 large egg

1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons of milk

1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil

The next four ingredients are for lemon-rosemary wonuts

1 teaspoon of lemon zest

1 tablespoon of lemon juice

1 teaspoon of fresh rosemary, chopped

Powdered sugar for dusting

The next two toppings are for chocolate sea salt wonuts

1/2 cup of melted chocolate

Coarse sea salt for garnish

Heat waffle iron. In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking powder and salt. Whisk in sugar, egg, milk and olive oil until batter has formed.

Full disclosure: I could not decide between lemon rosemary wonuts and chocolate sea salt wonuts, so I made all the wonuts. If you, too, would like to make all the wonuts, divide your batter into two different bowls. Then fold lemon zest and rosemary into one bowl.

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Pour 1/4 cup of batter into the center of your waffle iron, then close and cook for a minute, until wonut has set. Set aside to cool while you make the rest of your glorious wonuts.

Dust powdered sugar over the lemon rosemary wonuts if you’d like. I recommend pouring melted chocolate over the plain olive oil ones and then sprinkling sea salt on top.

SONY DSC

SONY DSC

Edit: I realize I was fretting so much over telling that story about the weird party I went to that I forgot to tell you all how awesome these wonuts were. You would think they’d just taste like waffles, but NO! The olive oil gives them an interesting little kick, and they actually taste like doughnuts somehow. I couldn’t decide which ones I liked more, but I will say this: the lemon rosemary wonuts were more of a breakfast treat, while the chocolate sea salt wonuts seemed like more of a dessert to me. And yes, to answer your inevitable question, I will begin work on lunch and dinner wonuts ASAP.

Categories
Doughnuts Easy Baking Fancy Pantsy No-Bake Recipes Strange and Yummy

Relationships Are Like, Whoa, Nuts. And I Made Wonuts.

the-office-quotes-7

Do you ever jokingly say this to describe yourself? I do. Jokingly. Jokingly. Do people ever take me seriously? Periodically. Eh…often.

Almost always. Some dude I barely know recently told me my resting bitch face was the reason I wasn’t married yet. MISOGYNY IS FUN, YA’LL!

Maybe it’s my fault for the whole “hahahahIHAVENOSOULhahahaha” thing that some might refer to as a “defense mechanism,” but CRAP if there was ever a time to be taken at my word…

Truthfully, I haven’t wanted to write a new post in weeks. I haven’t wanted to bake in weeks either. I’d like to claim that it’s because I’ve suddenly come into a great sum of money and was in an exotic foreign country doing…something exotic. But I wasn’t. I was home mostly, drinking [crazy pricey for my tax bracket] bourbon and crying to episodes of The Office. The Jim and Pam thing is dangerous territory guys. Show of hands: who here has fought with your significant other because of this unrealistically perfect union? The Office has the potential to destroy even the strongest of relationships.  Sorry Jimmy. I love you. [BUT LIKE HOW HARD IS IT TO GET A DOCUMENTARY FILM CREW TO CUT SNIPPETS FROM OUR RELATIONSHIP TOGETHER, GUY?! WAITING ON YOUR RESPONSE.]

I bought these sunflowers because I was having a rotten week and they brightened up the whole room. See?! I'M ALIVE INSIDE.
I bought these sunflowers because I was having a rotten week and they brightened up the whole room. See?! I’M ALIVE INSIDE.

Oh, I’m avoiding, you say? I definitely am. I just replayed both the clean and dirty versions of T.I.’s “Whatever You Like,” a song I haven’t heard in like six years, just to prove to myself that I still know all the innocent and filthy lyrics. I do. I am proud. It is great. Avoidance is magic.

I don’t know. I feel lame. And lameness is a lame thing to discuss. I normally hate large gatherings of people I do not know, mostly because I am horribly introverted. At parties, I gravitate toward the animals (domesticated ones…usually), small children and The Cookie Table. I then pray someone will engage me, because I am very self-conscious and also incredibly weird (see: possibly wild animals, capitalizing The Cookie Table). A couple of weeks ago I found myself bawling on my boyfriend’s shoulder in an Arby’s parking lot over a particularly baaaaad get-together I’d just attended. Yes, when you are crying buckets that stain your dude’s seersucker shirt with liquid eyeliner in front of an establishment known for their roast “beef,” things are bad. It started like this: I walked in to a room with a huge grin pasted on my face–difficult to sustain if you know me–and a bunch of women I didn’t know stared daggers at me and then proceeded to ignore me for the better part of two hours. I felt like I was seven again and the cool girls at the playground didn’t like my Sunday comics collection (that I kept in a brown paper bag, just in case you thought I was making anything up to seem creative. I am fine with instead seeming lame). And I was invited! From the moment I walked in to the second I scampered away, I felt like the confused loser who couldn’t take a hint. It was awesome.

Friendship is hard, and it’s especially hard for people who have trouble finding other people to connect to in the first place. Rejection, then, is even more difficult to swallow, especially when there’s no real rhyme or reason to it. We all grow out of friendships, but I wish it were more acceptable to just say “Yo. I like you but we’re kind of over, right? Let’s wish each other well but just sort of like each other’s posts on Facebook. Yeah?” All of this to say yes, I am totally traumatized and yes, I did cry-eat lots and lots of curly fries at Arby’s. God bless that Horsey sauce.

Speaking of food and whatever…people are like doughnuts. They’re like waffles. They’re like wonuts! They’re awesome apart, but better together. Unless you’re asexual, but that doesn’t work for my simile. That’s pretty much the best I can do, guys.

This is our rosemary plant. I recommend such a plant if you want your weird city kitchen to smell fancy.
This is our rosemary plant. I recommend such a plant if you want your weird city kitchen to smell fancy.

A wonut is basically doughnut batter that has been waffled. It’s amazing, as are most things that are waffled. You may recognize the below recipe as a variation on the one I used for my baked doughnuts from a couple of years ago, and it works perfectly here in a waffle iron.

Olive Oil Wonuts (makes 6-7 wonuts)

3/4 cup of all purpose flour

1 teaspoon of baking powder

Pinch of salt

1/4 cup of sugar

1 large egg

1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons of milk

1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil

The next four ingredients are for lemon-rosemary wonuts

1 teaspoon of lemon zest

1 tablespoon of lemon juice

1 teaspoon of fresh rosemary, chopped

Powdered sugar for dusting

The next two toppings are for chocolate sea salt wonuts

1/2 cup of melted chocolate

Coarse sea salt for garnish

Heat waffle iron. In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking powder and salt. Whisk in sugar, egg, milk and olive oil until batter has formed.

Full disclosure: I could not decide between lemon rosemary wonuts and chocolate sea salt wonuts, so I made all the wonuts. If you, too, would like to make all the wonuts, divide your batter into two different bowls. Then fold lemon zest and rosemary into one bowl.

SONY DSC

Pour 1/4 cup of batter into the center of your waffle iron, then close and cook for a minute, until wonut has set. Set aside to cool while you make the rest of your glorious wonuts.

Dust powdered sugar over the lemon rosemary wonuts if you’d like. I recommend pouring melted chocolate over the plain olive oil ones and then sprinkling sea salt on top.

SONY DSC

SONY DSC

Edit: I realize I was fretting so much over telling that story about the weird party I went to that I forgot to tell you all how awesome these wonuts were. You would think they’d just taste like waffles, but NO! The olive oil gives them an interesting little kick, and they actually taste like doughnuts somehow. I couldn’t decide which ones I liked more, but I will say this: the lemon rosemary wonuts were more of a breakfast treat, while the chocolate sea salt wonuts seemed like more of a dessert to me. And yes, to answer your inevitable question, I will begin work on lunch and dinner wonuts ASAP.

Categories
Boozy Desserts Fancy Pantsy Grown Up People Desserts No-Bake Recipes Strange and Yummy

C’mon Get Happy. Like Now. Will Booze Help?

tumblr_m5xo22TQRY1rpn7e8o1_500

The above very important, very official, bored-certified (because I’m bored, nyuk nyuk, waka waka) chart is currently hanging on the wall of my cubicle. This and the Star Jedi font I use in my email signature have both improved my 9 to 5 experience and certainly solidified my title at work as Strange And Now Also Apparently Frighteningly Nerdy Bitchy Resting Faced Indian Woman Who Sits Near The Exit. So it goes.

Where would you rate yourself on this chart? I think Gonzo, Beaker, Sam the Eagle and the Swedish Chef all have me pretty much covered these days, with a little Statler and Waldorf thrown in for good measure. All the great ones, amiright?! Fine, yes, I am clearly feeling pretty blue today (Sam the Eagle! Sam the Eagle!), and am very obviously trying to avoid talking about why. It could be because I don’t completely know why, and it could also be because all of the many reasons could fill an Encyclopedia Britannica book (probably the “F” one, because… F word) and the Encyclopedia Britannica is very similar to my problems in that it is OLD NEWS, HONEY. I know right, that was such a burn on me. Would we count that as an own-goal, guys?

Sometimes an event that doesn’t have any direct impact on your current life can affect you in profoundly sad, surprising ways. In my case, that event was the sudden death of an old friend whom I had in recent days only communicated with via Facebook. And she was much better about keeping up with me than I was with her, and I feel guilty and stupid and sad and horrified and angry and shocked about how much this has bothered me. It’s not something I have spoken about with anyone, really, except for my sister, who also knew this person and who was also very sad and shocked. The theme of the past half-year or so seems to be loss, with two family members, a beloved professor and this sweet old friend all passing away and me kicking myself for not being better about being there for people. Because, to face facts, I am pretty terrible at keeping up with loved ones, and I know why. I’m shy and introverted and spend a lot of time sad, and spend probably as much time trying to be less shy and less sad, which means a lot of time for unattractive self-involvement and very little time for other people. It’s very, very dumb of me, and I am now in the process of beating myself over this nonsense “I’m going to get myself 100% normal and together and THEN catch up with all of the people I love” mindset, because it is pure garbage. No one has it completely together, even if FOMO-friendly Facebook would lead me to believe otherwise, and the sooner we all open up and actually talk to each other about what is really going on, the better. And damnit, I am going to get better at it.

The other thing I’d like to get better at is baking. You would think that many, many years of it would improve my skills but… well… let’s let the pictures do the walkin’.

This is a mustachioed carrot cake pop that I made for my father, who has a mustache. He does not have large bumps all over his face, but I cake pops are horribly difficult.
This is a mustachioed carrot cake pop that I made for my father, who has a mustache. He does not have large bumps all over his face, nor does his face spill over into his mustache, but cake pops are horribly difficult.
This is a Star Wars- themed cake I made for my boyfriend. The Millenium Falcon piece, also the best piece on this cake, is from an excellent mold. I painted the ship to look super beat-up, as I am very good at making things look super beat-up. :(
This is a Star Wars- themed cake I made for my boyfriend. The Millenium Falcon piece, also the best piece on this cake, is from an excellent mold I purchased on Amazon. I painted the ship to look super beat-up, as it has been through some real stuff, and I am very good at making things look super beat-up. No, I will not share a different angle of the cake, because it’s way too sad. 😦
This is an ice cream sandwich (yes, I am telling you what each sweet is because I'm not confident that it's obvious from the pictures) that was made with this weird no-churn "ice cream" recipe I found. I am still saving my rupees to buy a proper ice cream maker, and in the meantime must deal with weird subs. The salted chocolate chip cookies I made were, however, SO BANGIN.
This is an ice cream sandwich (yes, I am telling you what each sweet is because I’m not confident that it’s obvious from the pictures) that was made with this weird no-churn “ice cream” recipe I found. I am still saving my rupees to buy a proper ice cream maker, and in the meantime must deal with weird subs. The salted chocolate chip cookies were, however, SO BANGIN.

So, I spent a few weeks pretty pissed off that I seemed to be in something of a baking-related funk. I mean, sure, everything above tasted pretty good, but it all looked god-awful. My dad’s cake pops were more like cake tumors. The Tatooine on Jimmy’s Star Wars cake looked more like circa-1990s Rockaway Beach after a particularly rough night. It was bad. So bad that I decided to just drown my sorrows in more jelly shots. Yup.

Margarita Jelly Shots 

2 packets of unflavored gelatin

1 cup of boiling water

1/2 cup of sugar

1/2 cup of lime juice

1 cup of tequila (I used Herradura Silver because yum)

Sea salt, for sprinkling (optional, but totally recommended)

Before you ask, yes, the recipe testing for this was SUPER fun.

Pour water in a large, heatproof bowl and stir in sugar until dissolved. Sprinkle gelatin over water and allow mixture to cool just slightly. Stir in lime juice and tequila and continue to whisk until no gelatinous lumps remain. Pour into molds and refrigerate until set, about two hours.

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Sprinkle salt on top of jellies just before shooting.

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I realize there are a lot of shots of my boyfriend’s hand lovingly tilting these toward the camera, and that is because I am in LOVE with these jellies. They’re strong as hell, which means NO driving/heavy machinery operating/polka dancing on rooftops after consuming, but they are so, so refreshing and perfect for your summer party, to which you should totally invite me because I will bring these and also attempt to be social and normal. Possibly. 

 

Categories
Desserts with Fruit Easy Baking Frozen Desserts Grown Up People Desserts No-Bake Recipes Stuff Your Parents Would Like

Sad Shibow’s Got A Bad Case of FOMO, Requests A Good Case Of Wine (Oh I Made Poptails Too)

As many of you probably haven’t noticed because the change is so subtle it’s, like, not even there, I’m trying to be more positive on this blog, just to see what that’s like. But I can’t really muster up the will to do that this time around. I am grumpy, plain and simple, and there isn’t a confection in the world that could cure my crankiness, damnit.

I have a confession: I got the FOMO, guys. I got the FOMO real bad. I have stalked all of your Instagrams, seen your happy news on Facebook, chuckled at your vibrantly witty tweets and liked your new positions on LinkedIn, and I AM ALSO CRAZY JELLY OF ALL OF YOU. And it totally smarts to admit that.

I’ve spent almost every day of the last three months on Google Flights, selecting flights on SUPER shady (and also dirt-cheap) airlines to fancy European destinations. I get all the way to the “payment info” page before I pretty much freak out, bail, and whine about money. I get that there are bigger problems in the world– I’m lucky to have a forum to complain on, hell I’m lucky to have an internet connection– but sometimes it is very difficult not to feel like a big old damned loser. Where did I go wrong in life, that I can’t even purchase a simple 4 or 5 day vacation to anywhere without losing my mind over the cost?! (Btw, as I write this, I have no less than seven other tabs open with seven separate vacation deals from seven separate sites, all pretty much at the checkout stage. Sigh). This is probably some sort of cultural or hereditary or Catholic thing, because somewhere in life, I am convinced, someone told me that the purpose of life is suffering, and that all that matters is that we toil away in misery until we all eventually perish, penniless and alone. Maybe that was never expressly told to me, and is instead something my twisted brain took away as a lesson from an episode of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, because that’s something that happens to anxious, misanthropic Indian women sometimes. Right?

Sylvapotamus and I rescued this little Ewok, who's been happily lounging on my parents' couch for the past two weeks. Soon after this photo was taken,  our friend decided he wanted nothing more to do with me and now barely acknowledges my existence. You see now why I am the way I am.
Sylvapotamus and I recently rescued this little Ewok, who’s been happily lounging on my parents’ couch for the past two weeks. Soon after this photo was taken, our friend decided he wanted nothing more to do with me and now barely acknowledges my existence. You see now why I am the way I am.

I have recently realized that I will happily spend money on household necessities, gifts for loved ones, and even mint chocolate chip ice cream (*shudder*) for my boyfriend, but I will find every single reason in the world to resist treating myself. Yes folks, Clorox Cleaning Wipes > Anything That Could Possibly Elevate My Overall Well-Being. I really don’t get it either. What I do get is that this is very much a champagne problem, but it is still one that I can’t help writing for all of you to see, mostly because I am hoping I am not the only one who feels this way. And I think a big part of it is also coming to terms with the fact that my life has taken a much different trajectory from the life I’d planned, from the life people around me are living and– I assume– expected I’d live, too. Sometimes it’s hard to see the people around you grow and change and experience amazing things that you always thought you’d have experienced too by now. It’s hard to accept that your timeline is different, or that your timeline was never even really a timeline but a time rhombus that will zip and zoom you in and out of places faster than you could say “Why in blog’s name am I so bitter?!” It’s difficult to feel left behind, to feel like there are choices that I should have made but didn’t, and that now because of the way I’ve gone I’m somehow lacking in awesome. And I don’t want to be lacking in awesome.

Now, it is currently an unseasonably warm 80 degrees outside, and I have been known to short-circuit and completely bug out when I overheat, so maybe this is all weather-related angst. And I think I know how to fix that: more booze popsicles.

Pina Colada Poptails

1 1/2 cups of coconut milk

1 cup of fresh pineapple

1/3 cup of brown sugar

1/3 cup of lime juice

1 teaspoon of cinnamon

1/4 cup of rum (omit if making non-alcoholic)

1/4 cup of shredded coconut, optional

This particular bottle is near and dear to my heart/belly for sentimentally boozy reasons.
This particular bottle is near and dear to my heart/belly for sentimentally boozy reasons.

In a blender, mix together coconut milk, pineapple, brown sugar, lime juice and cinnamon. Stir in rum and fold in coconut, if using. Divide among paper cups or popsicle molds and freeze for at least four hours (if using paper cups, snip one side to make it easier to remove popsicles when frozen,; wait at least an hour until popsicles are semi-frozen and place a wooden popsicle stick into each cup, then place back in freezer).

I think I threw my beloved popsicle molds away in a fit of moving-related rage. :(
I think I threw my beloved popsicle molds away in a fit of moving-related rage. 😦

If using molds, dip mold in warm water until popsicles slide out, and if using paper cups, tear the cup around the popsicle. Enjoy.

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Ho man. Do not drive or operate any heavy machinery for a LOT of hours after having one of these potent poptails. But are they any good? Oh they’re I’m-not-planning-any-parties-so-I’m-going-to-have-a-solo-frozen-fiesta-ASAP good. I’m home alone and I’m happily snacking (sipping?) on one.

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Warning: may cause FOMO in all of your FB friends 😉

Categories
Doughnuts Easy Baking No-Bake Recipes

Sad Shibow: An Unexpected Journey (That Ends With Fritters)

Um. It’s still cold.

That’s about as far as I can take it. If you live anywhere that isn’t south Florida or San Diego, you have stared at the single-digit temps on your various weather apps/televisions and cried in despair, I know. I have too. Actually, it’s pretty ignorant and America-centric of me to only single out part of two warm states. Oceania and most of the Southern hemisphere, I am shaking my fist in envy at all of you, as well. Truthfully, my fist is shaking all on its own anyway, BECAUSE IT’S THREE DEGREES OUTSIDE. Also while we’re being honest, I’m usually jealously shaking my fists at Oceania anyway, because my lifelong dream has been to bum around New Zealand and pretend that I am a Hobbit, which wouldn’t be too difficult given my diminutive stature (yes, I said lifelong, because my life clearly began once I found a story involving other petite, introverted, curious creatures with a preference for brightly-colored clothing with whom to identify). One day, NZ. One fateful day.

The scene outside my window today. Poor little guy needs a space heater.
The scene outside my window today. Poor little guy needs a space heater.

Actually, can we talk more about Hobbits for a sec? Because my knowledge basically comes from all of the movies and now Wikipedia, which I am finding fascinating. If Wiki is to be believed, Hobbits “come of age” at 33, which means that it’s totally fine that I still feel completely and utterly lost in life. Perhaps in three and a half years’ time, I’ll find myself on an unexpected journey (*wink*) to self-actualization. Tee hee. Ok, I know what’s coming next so I’m going to try to head it off: guys please no more lectures on how nerdy this blog is getting. I already took a few jabs with the Star Wars references a couple posts back. I get it, I’m a hopeless geek. BUT I’M A GEEK WITH A TRIBE NOW. A fictitious tribe that now exists basically on the internet, in public libraries, and on DVD/Blu-ray, but still. Also my Gollum impression will bring you to tears [of pity or joy, it doesn’t really matter]. Ok, I’m really done now. I swear.

But speaking of things that are PRECIOUS, who likes fritters? I likes fritters. I likes them lots, but what I don’t like is third-degree burns from deep-frying stuff, so I’ve never attempted to fry anything before. Since I’m trying to be more courageous these days, and also badly wanted fritters but was too lazy to step into the bitter cold for them, I decided that there was no better time than the present to try my hand at making some. Don’t be afraid, friends. Let’s do this.

Lemon Ricotta Fritters (makes about 30 fritters)

adapted from Epicurious

4 cups vegetable oil, or other neutral-tasting oil

3/4 cup of all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons of baking powder

1/4 teaspoon of salt

2 teaspoons of grated lemon zest

1 tablespoon of lemon juice

1 cup of ricotta

2 lightly beaten eggs

2 tablespoons of granulated sugar (add a tablespoon if you want these to be sweeter)

1 1/2 teaspoons of vanilla extract

Maple syrup for topping, optional

Confectioner’s sugar for dusting

To start, in a large, wide saucepan with high sides, heat oil until a deep-fat thermometer inserted reads at 370ºF. Try to keep the oil at this temperature throughout the cooking process by adjusting the heat as needed.

Uhhh... maybe don't look directly into a boiling vat of oil.
Uhhh… maybe don’t look directly into a boiling vat of oil.

While the oil is heating, mix together flour, baking powder, salt and lemon zest. In a separate, larger bowl, stir together ricotta, lemon juice, eggs, sugar and vanilla, then add dry mixture to wet.

You’re going to fry these in batches. To start, drop a tablespoon of batter into the oil and allow to fry until golden brown, about 2-3 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon, allow to cool, and taste-test the fritter to make sure it’s cooked to your liking. Then, begin dropping more spoonfuls of batter into the oil. You want to make sure there’s enough room for all of the fritters– I did about six spoonfuls per batch.

Set fritters on a paper towel-lined plate to drain and cool. While still warm, if you’d like, you can drizzle these with maple syrup (just a thought, but I thought the maple hooked. these. up.).

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Once cooled, dust with confectioner’s sugar, and serve.

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Gahhhhh……

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Ohhhhhhh…..

They’re beautiful. Truly lovely, crunchy on the outside, creamy and lemony on the inside. Definitely best the day they’re made, these bite-sized fritters will not– did not, in our case– last long.