I learned a lesson or two

Well, here we are. No more bad date stories. I have to say, I went on quite a few dates. And you know what? A lot of them were pretty good. You know why you haven’t heard about those? Because they’re not funny. Who wants to hear about an enjoyable happy hour with a decent human being? Nobody, that’s who. OK, maybe your mom. But that’s it. Those are the dates you want to experience, not read about. Good dates inspire zero sarcasm. I do, however, feel like I need to tell you that there were good ones. As entertaining as bad dates are, it would be pretty depressing if they all turned out that way. Also, you might seriously question my judgment of character. I met a lot of cool people on those perfectly nice dates. A lot of the time there was just no spark, but there’s nothing wrong with some good conversation and a tasty meal with someone new. And come on, it gives you an excuse to put on a real outfit after work – back away from the sweatpants. Wait, who am I kidding? I love sweatpants. But don’t wear them on a date. Pro tip.

I also learned a thing or two over the past couple of years. I will now bestow some of that knowledge on you. You probably figured out all of this ages ago (thanks for sharing, by the way), but I’ll tell you anyway.

1)      I can be the problem, too. I know I wrote some funny stories about a few guys I met, but seriously – I’m sure I can be just as ridiculous. (Well, maybe not QUITE as ridiculous, but you get the idea. I mean, I’d like to think my common sense and extreme aversion to being embarrassed prevail more often than not… maybe.)

2)      If he likes you, he’ll call. If you like him, it’s OK to call him, too.

3)      If he doesn’t like you, he won’t call. But, he’ll still be nice and say what he thinks you want to hear in response to your text message because, let’s be honest, dudes avoid confrontation at all costs. Don’t fall for this, smart and pretty ladies. If a guy wants to see you, he will make time, just like you would.

4)      It’s OK to go on dates for conversation and company, without mentally planning your wedding to the near-stranger sitting across from you. One date does not a boyfriend/girlfriend make, you guys.

5)      It’s actually fun to hang out with your couple friends…as the THIRD WHEEL (dun, dun, duuun.) Seriously, get over it. It’s not that scary. And I’m willing to bet your couple friends don’t generally spend the entire evening making out in front of you and baby-talking to each other. If they do, find some new friends please.

6)      Set-ups can make you question how well your friends actually know you. For real.

7)      Online dating is not as scary as it sounds. It can be fun to try, but it’s also fine to realize it’s not for you.

8)      Sometimes it’s awkward. Sometimes it’s even more awkward. Accept the awkwardness.

9)      I found out just how compelled I am to fill an uncomfortable silence. And then I found out exactly how much more uncomfortable that can make things. Sometimes less is more. And by sometimes I mean basically always. I’m not saying suddenly becoming a mute is the way to go, but if you hear a little voice in your head saying “Shut. Up. Already.” you might want to think about listening.

10)   Figure out the basics of who you are and what’s important to you, and stick to them like glue (you know, like that superglue that makes your fingers stick together for a moment of sheer panic). Molding yourself into what you think someone wants will never, ever work. Ever.

I could go on, if you want. No, that’s enough? OK, I’ll stop. I think the most valuable thing I learned is that I was pretty cool with being alone. And, when you least expect it, something awesome might happen and if you’re cool with yourself then you’ll be ready for it. Because you guys, the boy who wasn’t a frog was totally worth the wait. I’ll tell you about him sometime.

Joy the Baker’s Browned Butter Blueberry Muffins

I’m just going to pretend like it hasn’t been two months since my last post, OK? Let’s be friends again.

If you don’t know about Joy the Baker, get familiar. She’s basically my Internet baker/blogger/wisdom-giver hero. I aspire to one day be as cool as she is; also, to take beautiful pictures of my baked goods like she does. But, enough gushing. I’ve made recipes from her blog before, but when she came out with a cookbook I ordered it immediately. There is just something about paging through a cookbook (like sifting through old recipe cards) that makes baking feel more special…scrolling through an Internet recipe just can’t quite live up to it. Don’t get me wrong, I will Pinterest the shiz out of delicious recipes – but chances are if it’s a winner, I’ll write it on an index card and throw it in the recipe box with my other favorites. I guess it’s sentimental or something; I like to call it vintage.

Anyway, the first recipe I made from her cookbook was for browned butter blueberry muffins. While they were delicious, next time I will probably use fewer blueberries. I dearly love blueberries, but they were just a touch overwhelming. The actual muffin was unbelievable though – moist (yep, I hate that word just as much as you do), slightly sweet and very easy to put together. I’ve never used browned butter before, but apparently it is magical. Try these out and you will be a breakfast goddess. Or god; I don’t discriminate against boy bakers.

Also, can we pause for a moment and take in the glorious fact that mine look EXACTLY like the picture in the cookbook? Victory!

The recipe is in her cookbook, and also on her blog.

Ingredients

7 Tablespoons unsalted butter

1/3 cup whole milk

1 large egg

1 large egg yolk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

3/4 cup sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

3/4 teaspoon salt

2 cups fresh blueberries (I’d probably use about 1 1/4 cups next time)

For the Topping

3 Tablespoons cold, unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

3 1/2 tablespoons sugar

Directions

Put a rack in the upper third of the oven and preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Line muffin pan with paper or foil liners.

Melt butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Keep an eye on the butter. Melt and cook down the butter until little brown bits appear in the pan. The crackling will subside and butter will begin to brown fairly quickly after that. Keep a close eye. Remove from heat.

Whisk milk, egg, yolk and vanilla until combined. Add the brown butter and stir to combine.

Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a medium bowl. Add milk and butter mixture all at one and stir gently to combine. Gently but thoroughly fold in the blueberries.

Divide the batter among muffin cups and spread evenly. (The batter is pretty thick – don’t be alarmed!)

To make the topping combine all of the ingredients in a bowl and rub together with your fingertips until crumbly. Sprinkle evenly over the batter in the cups.

Bake until golden and crisp and a wooden pick inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean, about 18-20 minutes. Cool in pan on a rack for 15 minutes then remove from the pan. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Andes Mint Chocolate Cookies and another apology

So, I made these for Christmas. And yes, I realize that was about four months ago. What can I say, I like to drag out the holiday spirit as long as possible. Or, I’ve just been moderately busy and totally neglecting my blog. It’s probably the second one, but I think the first excuse sounds much better. Either way, I’ve been a bad blogger and I’m sorry to the six or seven of you who have stuck around all this time. I appreciate you. You are lovely and smart and awesome and I will continue to butter you up so you keep reading when I get my booty back on the writing track. This will happen simultaneously with getting my booty back on the “working out so I can eat my own baked goods” track. It’s happening.

Anyway, these are delicious and you will love them as long as you appreciate the glorious combination of mint and chocolate. If you don’t, I feel kind of bad for you. They are probably my second favorite cookie that I make regularly. I usually make them pretty small, and the recipe makes a ton of cookies so make sure you have some time to dedicate to these. That, or many, many cookie sheets and several ovens. I’m guessing you’ll have to go with the extra time option.

I originally found these here. You don’t have to wait for Christmas, either – they are good any time, and don’t seem too holiday-ish for regular cookie making days. Plus, you might be having Girl Scout cookie withdrawals and these are a fair substitute for Thin Mints. Sort of.

Ingredients

3/4 cup butter

1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar

2 tablespoons water

12 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips (2 cups)

2 large eggs

2 1/2 cups AP flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda

Andes mints candies, broken in half (I usually use about two bags of them)

Directions

Heat oven to 350°F.

Over low heat, combine butter, sugar and water. Heat until melted and add chocolate chips until partly melted. Remove from heat and stir. Pour into large mixing bowl. Let stand 10 minutes to cool slightly.

Beat in eggs one at a time on high speed. Reduce mixer to low speed and add flour, salt and baking soda. Beat until well-blended.

Chill one hour.

Roll into balls, place two inches apart on parchment paper-lined baking sheets. Bake for 10 minutes.

Place an Andes Mint half on top after taking them out from the oven. Allow to melt slightly and spread with a spoon.

Can I call you doll face?

This guy. This. Flippin’. Guy. Oh my lord of the rings, people. Sometimes it’s hard to find the words to describe complete ridiculousness (this one took me a year). I’m going to give it a try, but you almost have to experience him for yourself. Except, don’t. I wouldn’t want any of you to have to suffer the fate of dating this dude. So, I took one for the team. But soak it up, kids – this is the last time.

First of all, for the greater good of this story and in the spirit of full disclosure, I have to tell you I met this gem through my brief adventures in online dating. Really though, they aren’t all this bad. Although online dating wasn’t for me, I’ve heard many success stories that started with a wink on match.com, and I’m not talking about the commercials with “actual first date footage.” (Side note: WTF, match.com. I can’t think of many more horrifying things than being filmed on a first date, let alone with a total stranger.) I’m glad I tried it, if only for the pure entertainment it provided.

When Mr. I Move Fast, I Talk Fast (we’ll get to that) got in touch with me, he seemed to have some potential. We shared the same hometown, we had similar taste in music, books, movies and bars (because obviously if he’s dance club and you’re Irish pub it will never work). We agreed to meet, and so it was the beginning of the end.

Our first meeting was for coffee at a dirty hipster coffee shop (his choice, clearly). Red flag number one waved gently in the breeze when he said even though he was 33 years old, his partying days were FAR from over. See, the thing was, there was just somewhere he HAD to be seen every night. He supposed that’s what happened when you have TOO many friends. His dating life was like an episode of Seinfeld – there was just SOMETHING wrong with every girl. Oh, right. It was clearly the girls. Couldn’t possibly have been his ego that was bigger than the Canadian wilderness. And yes, he actually said those things. It was like he was auditioning for the role of “hipster douche” in the romantic comedy of life.

Against my better judgment, I agreed to a second date. Give me a break, it was free dinner. We met for burgers, and he casually mentioned he just quit smoking the week before. Um, excusez-moi? I seemed to recall a firm stance of “non-smoker” on his very informative profile. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “When I chose the ‘trying to quit’ option, I found out that most girls wouldn’t agree to a date so I just changed it.” Well, when you put it that way… His attempt at creative truth-telling was the second red flag, and this time it was flapping violently in the wind.

Silly me, though, decided to give it one more chance. I was told I’d been too quick to put the kibosh on other dates in the past, so I decided three dates = the old college try (I think that’s the official definition of “college try,” actually. Trust me. Don’t look it up.) During this date, which took place shortly before Valentine’s Day last year, I talked to our table neighbors while he told me about his DUI and reiterated how awesome he is and how many friends he has. I mean, you love this guy, right? Want me to introduce you? Despite my extreme disinterest by the end of that night, he somehow thought I’d want to “be his Valentine.” Like, he actually asked me that. And like, I actually said no. His hearing must have been impaired by his enormous head though, and he asked me out again anyway. I said “maybe Tuesday, I’ll let you know,” and left it at that. I figured I wouldn’t hear from him again, and obviously my busy Tuesday schedule of eating Cheez-Its and alphabetizing my book shelves was going to get in the way of any future hangouts.

Assuming I was done with his shenanigans, I went on with my life. Sunday rolled around, and I got a text saying “I’m going to have to cancel our Tuesday plans.” Since those plans only existed in his imagination, I said “Ok. Got a hot date?” And now, I give you his reply (unfortunately my phone at the time spontaneously combusted and I don’t have the exact messages…this is the Reader’s Digest version that has been burned in my brain forever):

Him: “No, you brat! I just can’t tell if you’re into me, or just in it for something to do.”

Me: “Well, I guess I don’t really know that after only a couple of dates.”

Him: “I need my ego petted constantly. I move fast, I talk fast and I need someone who can keep up with my self-destructive behavior.”

Me: “Well, you’re definitely not looking for me.”

Him: “And I might not be the right match for you. But, I really like you and you’re SO pretty and I can’t help but think I’m making a huge mistake.”

Me: “…”

Him: “Well, we have each other’s numbers. Take care, doll face.”

Well, he had my number at least (because I deleted his…get it?). And please, this is not Mad Men. You don’t get to call me doll face.

A few months later, long after I’d exited the online dating world, I got an email notification telling me I had a message. Apparently, in all of my tech savvy glory, I hadn’t actually deactivated my account like I thought. And what do you know; it was Mr. I Move Fast, I Talk Fast. And here’s what he said:

“Wow, you’re still on here? You must be picky I’m back on, I got bored.” Followed by some other condescending nonsense I couldn’t read because I was busy rolling my eyes. Really? Do you think a thinly veiled insult is the way to a girl’s heart? I think that method of flirting probably worked better in third grade.

I couldn’t help myself, and replied saying “Wow, thanks for the insult. I’m not that picky; I just found it was slim pickings on here. Still too cool for school, I see.”

To which he replied something along the lines of “No way! That wasn’t an insult. To be honest, I wanted to see if there was any chance we could get together again…” I’m pretty sure he thought I’d been sitting at home writing in my diary about how much I wished he’d call me again. I wasn’t, in case you were confused about where this was going. I didn’t respond again, and made very sure that my account was actually deleted this time (getting rid of your profile is like trying to get a red wine stain out of the carpet – you practically need a degree in rocket science).

I can only hope that I managed to knock down his cocky attitude a tiny notch. I’m guessing I wasn’t successful, but at least he has WAY too many friends to distract him from being such a huge tool shed. They must come in handy.

And there it is, you guys. We’ve come to the end of my bad date stories. Anti-climactic, eh? But don’t worry, we’re not breaking up. I’ve got a lot more to tell you about. Next up, cookies. And then I’ll tell you the story you’ve been waiting for, about the boy who wasn’t a frog. Ok, maybe you haven’t been on the edge of your seat for that one, but I’m going to tell you anyway. And you’re going to like it. So stick around…pretty please?

We were on a break!

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I won’t leave you for so long ever again. Pinky swear.

So, I’ve got some stuff in the works. I’ll tell you about what might be the most ridiculous series of dates I went on — actually, the dates that became the inspiration for this blog. I made some Christmas cookies, so I’ll tell you about those, too. (Yeah, I know it’s almost February. You can make them next year. Or now, if you like to disregard seasons and live dangerously.) And, I’ve got some news. Good news.

All of these things are on the way this week, lovelies. Keep an eye out.

In the mean time, eye candy:

The date that never was

Sometimes, a date is so bad it doesn’t even happen. I know this from experience, and I would like to share with you the demise of a date over the course of 11 emails. In this case, it was a promising setup gone wrong. He seemed like a fun guy, but unfortunately my opinion may or may not have been influenced by the five or six glasses of Stella Artois that I consumed before meeting him. That Stella, she’s a real biatch.

This exchange can only truly be appreciated in its entirety (obviously with my witty commentary sprinkled in. Duh.). You can’t make this stuff up, kids. So here it is – the date that never was. Have a little laugh at my expense. No really, I don’t mind.

———————————————————————————————–

Email 1: The beginning of the end.

Hi Kate Ann.

Both of my sisters’ middle names are “Ann.” And because of that, so is our dog’s, Ringo. Whenever he gets in trouble my mom refers to him as “Ringo Ann Peterson”—it kind of drives my sisters nuts. [Hey, thanks for this pointless anecdote that essentially compares me to your dog. Flattering.]

Saturday. I’m excited. We will have fun (which is a requirement anyway). Does 8pm work for you?

I’m not sure what part of town you live in, but I am currently “in-between cars” (as I like to say)… would you mind coming to my neck of the woods? I live downtown-ish. There are a few different places within strolling distance of my house—we could meet up there? If that works for you, let me know and I will send you directions. I have a few ideas of some watering holes you might like! [In between cars, eh? Is this an environmental choice? I’m guessing no. And no, I will not be coming to your house so we can “stroll” somewhere nearby. I’ll be free to make an emergency exit at any moment, thank you.]

Happy Hump Day—I hope your week is going well thus far. I hope my grammar, spelling,[I'm a big advocate of the oxford comma] and punctuation is up to your standards!

[Names have been removed to protect the awkward]

Email 2: My reply.

Hi [Awkward email guy],

Sure, 8 pm works for me on Saturday.  I live near downtown, so I can head your way.  How about you pick one of those “watering holes” and I’ll meet you there?

I hope you’re having a good week, too.  Agree to disagree about the series comma.

Email 3: For the love of God, just choose a place.

Sounds good. I may need to re-evaluate the comma issue once I have a drink or ten in me, though.

Before I choose our rendezvous point, let me ask you a question: If you could travel to any one of the following places, where would you go?

A. Ireland

B. London

C. Germany

[Seriously, buddy? A. Nobody needs this many emails to arrange a date. Or any emails at all, for that matter. Remember when I gave you my phone number? B. I don’t want to take a quiz to meet for a cocktail. The process is simple: choose place, choose time, consume drink. Easy peasy.]

Email 4: Can you tell how amused I am?

D. Greece.

Kidding. Ireland I guess. [At this point, I assume he will pick up on the brevity of my emails, indicating annoyance. I was wrong.]

Email 5: He’s not a good listener. 

Ha, okay. How about we meet at Brit’s pub on Nicollet Mall (and 11th street) at 8pm? At least at Brit’s, we should have the choice of the patio outside, indoors, [serial comma] or the roof deck! From there, we can move to ireland or germany if you want. [Note the choice of Brit’s. I said Ireland. Not London. You go to the trouble of a multiple choice date option, and then disregard my choice anyway? Really? And don’t get me started on the ongoing serial comma debate, or the fact that he is assuming we will be making more than one stop on this ill-fated date.]

I’m looking forward to it! [Mutual friend] told me that you have a HUGE crush on me and that you’ve been pining over me for the last week. Don’t worry, it’s natural.

Email 6: Reevaluating my participation in the making of these plans.

Brit’s works for me – - see you there at 8.

[Mutual friend] doesn’t always tell the truth, I don’t spend much of my time pining. And, we can’t be friends if you keep using a series comma.

Email 7: At this point I can’t believe he can’t feel my rage through the Internet.

We also can’t be friends (enemies, yes. lovers, sure. acquaintences, maybe.) if you keep commiting crimes against typography. IE: Double hyphen in place of an em dash. [Maybe you should stop committing crimes against basic spelling. And don’t make me shudder with your use of “lovers.” Just a couple of suggestions.]

INCORRECT: Brit’s works for me – - see you there at 8.

CORRECT: Brit’s works for me—see you there at 8. [Bold, capital letters? I'm sure you can assume how I feel about this.]

Just sayin’. If you want, I can give you one of my type lectures from the design courses I teach. Typically, girls go crazy for my typography lectures…

Email 8: I lose all graciousness. It happened. I’m not proud of it.

Really? Crimes against typography? I don’t know about that. It is just an email, after all. Those all caps, bold words are a little heavy handed, don’t you think? Also, there should be spaces on either side of that em dash. Just sayin’.

I’m sure your lectures are riveting. Maybe I can give you a lecture about correcting girls before you even go out with them.

Email 9: And, the point of no return.

Beautiful Miss Royer,

Please pardon my earlier crass response. Typography is a sore subject for me. For the record, I’m not even going to point out that there are not supposed to be spaces on either side of an em dash. Not going to do it. That would not be gentlemenly of me. [I see what you did there, funny guy. If you’re going to keep correcting me, try using spell check.]

I am looking forward to the pleasantries of our Saturday evening courtship.

Most Respectfully Yours,

[Awkward email guy]

Email 10: I stoop to his level. Again, I’m not proud.

You must not be familiar with the AP Stylebook.  We can also agree to disagree about spaces on either side of a dash. [This was an unnecessary comment on my part. I realize this.]

So… I’m really sorry, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to cancel on our Saturday plans. I’m just not sure this would work out and I don’t want to waste anyone’s time!  I do appreciate the invitation though, and hope you still have a good weekend!

Email 11: Typography — the date killer.

This comes as a disappointment, but I appreciate your honesty!

Hopefully you’re not cancelling simply due to my obsession with typography… ? [No sir, it is not. It is due to the fact that you irritate me more than an itchy wool sweater. So you’ve got that going for you.]

If that’s the case, then I would feel bad for being so abrasive. [I felt a tiny bit bad here. I got over it.]

———————————————————————————————–

There you have it folks. I was told I may have been too quick and harsh in my judgment of this dude, and that he was just trying to be charming and witty. If that’s the case, my bad. Next time I’ll try to have more tolerance for condescending wittiness. And, I’ll take out the space on either side of those dashes. That was clearly the problem.

How can I have s’more of nothing?

I’m a huge fan of s’mores.  The crunchy graham cracker, the gooey marshmallow, the melty chocolate. If you’re unfamiliar with this tasty treat, a tutorial can be found here.

These bars are a favorite of mine, and I’ve made them many times for different events. They are quick and easy to throw together, and perfect for almost any occasion. Kids love them, adults love them…and if they’re lucky they’ll get one before I eat all of them.

I found the recipe here. And if you don’t like these, you’re killin’ me, Smalls.

Ingredients:

1/2 cup butter, room temperature

1/4 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup sugar

1 large egg

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 1/3 cups all purpose flour

3/4 cup graham cracker crumbs

1 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

2 king-sized milk chocolate bars (e.g. Hershey’s)

1 1/2 cups marshmallow creme/fluff (not melted marshmallows)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease an 8-inch square baking pan.

In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar until light. Beat in egg and vanilla. In a small bowl, whisk together flour, graham cracker crumbs, baking powder and salt. Add to butter mixture and mix at a low speed until combined.

Divide dough in half and press half of dough into an even layer on the bottom of the prepared pan. Place chocolate bars over dough. 2 king-sized Hershey’s bars should fit perfectly side by side, but break the chocolate (if necessary) to get it to fit in a single layer no more than 1/4 inch thick. Spread chocolate with marshmallow creme or fluff. Place remaining dough in a single layer on top of the fluff (most easily achieved by flattening the dough into small shingles and laying them together).

Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until lightly browned. Cool completely before cutting into bars.

Makes 16 cookie bars.

But it was a setup!

I’ve heard a lot of people groan about friends and family always wanting to set them up with this person or that person. I totally understand; often, the only requirement people have in mind when setting up two single friends is that they are both single. Never mind that he is a tobacco-chewing, Polaris-jacket-wearing outdoorsman and she’s more of a high heel-wearing, “I like the outdoors if it’s the beach and they bring me cocktails” type of gal. Who needs things in common? Man, people and their narrow requirements these days.

While that is sometimes the case, it can’t hurt to be open to meeting new people, right? That’s what I thought when a coworker asked if I’d be interested in meeting her friend. I figured there was nothing to lose…she is a cool chick, and usually cool people flock together. Usually. As I would learn later, this is not a safe assumption to make. Take heart, lovelies; sometimes a weirdo sneaks into the cool group.

She gave me the bare bones info: age, job, brief history of their friendship. It seemed harmless enough, so she passed along my number. We set up a happy hour, and I had the usual escape plan of “dinner with friends at 7.” This actually means “cereal for dinner at my apartment,” but a girl needs an out just in case. Don’t judge me.

When I got to the bar, I scanned the room. Huh, I thought. He must not be here yet. It can’t possibly be that portly, balding, middle-aged looking man sitting over there alone. No. I’d like to think I’m youthful and moderately attractive; she wouldn’t do me wrong, would she? Wait, is he walking toward me? Maybe I should act like I’m lost and don’t speak English… Alas, it was too late. And yes, it was the portly, balding man. For a 34-year-old person, he looked remarkably like a weathered 50-year-old. And not in a hot Paul Newman weathered way. More like Paul Giamatti.

Ok, looks aren’t everything. So many different things make people attractive once you get to know them. He must have an amazing personality, right? Um, wrong. So tragically wrong. After the requisite get-to-know-you small talk and about two sips into our drinks, this tool shed confided to me that all of his friends’ wives are terrible nags, and the guys aren’t allowed to go out and party with him anymore unless the wives “let them leave the house.” Now, I know you’re wondering how I managed to resist the charm oozing out of this guy. It was especially hard when he said he would take me to a Twins game because he gets free tickets from work and could say I was a “client” and expense everything. Swoon.

I cashed in on my “dinner plans” and took off after one seemingly bottomless cocktail. He, apparently, thought the date was a success. He told my coworker it was great and we’d be hanging out again soon. I’m not sure when we set up that date…maybe it was after he told me about the hot young girls he likes to look at in his office building. I mean, who wouldn’t want to lock this guy down? Turns out, I ended up being busy for the rest of eternity. It’s such a bummer when you can’t coordinate schedules, isn’t it?

Rock ‘n’ roll cookies

Picture yourself at a concert. You’re standing in front of the merchandise table, pondering which band t-shirt to buy. What else do you see? CDs for sale? Posters? Free cookies? Wait, what? Ok, so maybe you’ve never seen cookies at the merch table before. At least not until last weekend. Last weekend, Lake Avenue threw a party and played a show to celebrate the release of their new EP, Midwest Ethics. (If you haven’t listened already, you should. Seriously. Stop reading right now, go here and download. But come back and finish reading, ok? Promise?) They had t-shirts. They had CDs. And they had cookies…with their name on them.

If you’re wondering where a band gets cookies with their name on them (and even if you’re not wondering, I’m obviously going to tell you), you’ve come to the right place. All you have to do is make sure one of the band members has a sister who bakes. In this case, the sister is me. I agreed to this months ago. Obviously, I did not think it through. As it would turn out, I am not a cookie decorator. In fact, I’m pretty confident there are 3-year-olds out there that could write with frosting better than I can. And if not, at least they have that whole “I haven’t learned how to write yet” excuse to fall back on.

Since I ruled out writing with actual frosting, I had to come up with some other edible way to get “Lake Avenue” on these cookies. I turned to Google, as I do in any baking crisis, and found out that these food decorating pens exist. Since I discovered these, they have changed my cookie-decorating life. (Side note: if you have a “cookie-decorating life” does that mean you don’t have a regular life? Jury is still out.) I just made a basic roll-out sugar cookie recipe, frosted them with royal icing and boom: you write on them like you’re using a Sharpie, and you don’t poison anyone. Genius.

I made four batches of the cookie recipe, and one batch of frosting. I added a little extra almond extract to both recipes, just for flavor. The frosting recipe says that it will cover 9-10 dozen cookies, but I made about 120 small round cookies, frosted them all and I had about half of it left.

Since I had never really decorated with royal icing before, I basically taught myself with the help of these two wonderful sites: The Sweet Adventures of Sugarbelle and Karen’s Cookies. They have great tips and tricks, and give you play-by-plays on how everything should look. This is key when you have no idea what you’re doing. Having an idea of what the right consistency is for “piping icing” and “flood icing” makes a huge difference when you’re learning how to do this. If I went into detail about all of the trial and error I went through we’d be here all day, so I recommend checking out those other sites. I’m a newbie to this, and they explain it better than I ever could.

Flood icing

The cookies were good, but the band was better. They rocked everyone’s faces off that night, and despite the length of this blog post indicating otherwise, the cookies were just a tiny little corner of the merch table. I mean, I wouldn’t want to show up the band on their big night.

Basic Rolled Sugar Cookies (from Karen’s Cookies)

1 cup butter, softened

1 cup superfine sugar, or granulated sugar, processed in blender or food processor for 30 seconds

½ tsp. salt

1 large egg

1 large egg yolk

2 tsp. vanilla extract

½ tsp. almond extract or emulsion, optional

2 ½ cups all-purpose flour.

Cream butter, sugar and salt until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes with mixer set at medium speed (see Dough Preparation and Baking tutorial for more information on creaming times). Add yolk, beat well. Add whole egg, vanilla and optional almond extract and beat until well-incorporated. Add flour; beat at low speed just until flour is mixed in; do not overmix. Divide dough in halves or thirds and wrap in plastic wrap. Refrigerate until firm, at least one hour and up to 2 days.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Dust work surface and rolling pin with flour. Roll dough to 1/4″ thick, sprinkling with additional flour as needed to prevent sticking. Cut into desired shapes and place on parchment or silicone-lined pans. Bake in preheated oven until cookies appear dry on the surface and are light golden brown on the edges, about 10 minutes (very large cookies may take up to 12 or 13 minutes). Remove from cookie sheets to cooling racks and cool completely before decorating

SweetSugarBelle’s Royal Icing (this post has some of the best and easiest instructions on royal icing)

4lbs {two bags} confectioner’s sugar

3/4 c. meringue powder

1 1/3-1 1/2 c. warm water

2-4 tbsp. oil-free extract or flavoring

Add the dry ingredients first. Use your mixer’s whisk attachment to incorporate the sugar and meringue powder. Add the extract to the water and slowly add it to the dry ingredients while mixing. At first the icing will be very liquid-like. Continue to mix it at medium-high speed until it is fluffy and stiff peaks form, about 7-10 minutes. Mixing times are approximate, keep your eye it icing and stop mixing as soon as it becomes stiff. Over mixing and oil-containing extracts can keep the icing from setting up, so keep this in mind as you work. This recipe makes enough icing to decorate at least 9-10 dozen cookies. Royal icing will keep at least a month. I prefer refrigerating it, but it can also be left at room temperature.

This bread is bananas

On the list of “things that smell amazing,” baking banana bread is right up there with freshly cut grass, anything cinnamon and crisp fall air. Sometimes I make banana bread just so my apartment will smell delicious – and then it obviously can’t go to waste, so I clearly have to eat all of it. We all have our burdens to bear.

This recipe comes from my Grandma Vi. I already told you about her amazing cupcakes; I wasn’t kidding around when I said she was a fabulous baker. This is one of the simplest recipes I’ve ever made – when I made it the first time, I thought for sure I skipped a line or two when I was copying the recipe. Turns out, most of the time the simplest recipes are the best. (Hear that, Martha Stewart? Obscure ingredients and baking tools don’t make you that cool. Yeah, I said it. Wanna fight about it? Just kidding Martha. I love you.) There are a lot of banana breads out there with a million different twists – cinnamon swirls, streusel toppings, nuts, chocolate chips. I’ve tried others that are definitely yummy, but I always come back to this.

I freeze my overly ripe bananas so I have them around any time I get a craving for a banana-themed baked good. Since my apartment somehow causes fruit to ripen at warp speed (seriously, scientists should study this place) at any point in time I have about 10 of them in my freezer – which just gives me another excuse to bake this tasty treat. Just pull them out of the freezer a few minutes before you need them. They’re really easy to peel and mash after they’re slightly thawed.

Here’s the recipe. And I promise I didn’t skip anything – it really is this easy.

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

1/3 cup shortening

2/3 cup sugar

2 eggs

3 ripe bananas, mashed

1 1/3 cups flour

2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. baking soda

In a medium bowl, mix together flour, baking powder and baking soda. Set aside. In another bowl, beat shortening, sugar and eggs together. Alternately add banana and flour mixture until combined.

Pour into greased bread pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour.