I'm a hopeless romantic. You're just hopeless.

There's something very romantic for me about the Summer season. Not that I'm expecting anything different this summer than my status quo singlehood. I am not really sure if I don't date because I think dating is awful, or if I think dating is awful because I don't date. That stupidism sounded really good in my head.

People try to set me up sometimes, which is always amusing. Some people even put some thought into it and come up with an effort better than "You're both single." I don't realize how much people worry for me. Like every time I said I went to Dallas & Natchitoches with Matt I got some excited "Ooh! Matt! What's going on there?" or "You should bring him around so we can meet him."

My plan is to catch a boyfriend with my amazing baking. After all, at Christmas, Granddaddy was eating a cake I baked and said, "You could catch yourself a boyfriend with this cake." I think he said it more than once. This guy is going to have to have an unbelievable sweet tooth, though. I'll have to analyze my recipes and decide just what kind of guy I want to catch.

Like Tuesday, I made some Peanut Butter & Jelly Cupcakes. Now with those, I would probably catch a man very in touch with his inner child. A man of simple tastes, perhaps.

Then there's the whole elimination process accompanying making a dessert with coconut or nuts. I'm surprised that people exist who do not like either of those; sick, sick people. I always think of George Bailey's line in It's a Wonderful Life: You don't like coconuts? Say brainless, don't you know where coconuts come from?

Feeding him dark chocolate would really be bringing out the big guns. Dagoba Xocolatl is actually supposed to have aphrodisiacal properties. Then there are my other favorites, like cheesecake, Key Lime Pie, various ice creams.

Tonight I'm trying to decide between making Spice Cake with Sea Foam Frosting and Alton's Tres Leche Cake. I watched Good Eats and was a little scared by a Southern boy like Alton calling it "Traays Leche" instead of "Tres Leches" like we Texans do. Since June is Dairy Month, I think the Tres Leche Cake is going to win out. Sure to catch a guy who likes Mexican food and salsa dancing.

Soul Food

You might not have known that June is National Soul Food Month. Common mistake. Most of you didn't know that today was National Rocky Road Ice Cream Day, either. (I accidentally jumped the gun and made Rocky Road on Monday instead. Then I made another batch Wednesday with pecans instead of almonds. Totally different flavor.) I am a person willing to celebrate for almost any reason, so I am geared up for Soul Food Month.

Even though I was there in May, not June, we're going to say that my Natchitoches trip kick started my celebration. I tried the famous Natchitoches Meat Pies, along with Chicken & Alligator Sausage Gumbo. Matt was nice enough to give me a cookbook, Cane River Cuisine, that has some recipes I plan to try now that I'm back from the plantation. We had a fun time laughing at the recipes for various molded salads and "Sally's Armadillo Something or Other...Armadillo is cleaned similarly to turtle." Of course it is!

On tomorrow's Sunday dinner menu: Natchitoches Meat Pies, Beans & Rice, and something for dessert. Usually when I plan a menu, I choose a dessert to make first, but I'm not sure what would be great with those courses. I could do a Cajun favorite like Bread Pudding or Beignets, but I think I'm going to try a Sour Cream Pound Cake recipe that Matt said was fabulous.

I was scouring the cookbook and the Net for a good Red Beans and Rice recipe, but I might just make Alton Brown's Once and Future Beans. Recipe reviewer Thomas from Alpharetta, Georgia wrote, "I've looked high and low for a great baked bean recipe, and this one is the best I found." Spoken like a true Georgian. Anything cooked with a pound of bacon would taste pretty good to me. Those beans are the reason I invested in a dutch oven.

And now a little Foodie for Dummies before signing off. Check restaurant menus and advertisements carefully for misspellings. Don't ever catch yourself eating "Chili Rellenos" or "Chile Reanos" or anything with a name beginning with "Mc."

Ace of Cakes

Pride goeth before a fall.


I am the friend or family member that always offers to make a cake when someone is having a birthday or party. I am the one who obsessively photographs her baking creations. I am the one who hounds and interrogates those who sample said baked goods. "Would you like a piece of cake?" "What do you think?" "Why are you making that face?"

It is only fitting that I should fall flat on my face with some regularity, right? Last week it was Molly's eighth birthday, so I offered to make some sort of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. I decided to try a recipe for Chocolate Cream Cake: three devil's food cake layers with whipped cream between, frosted with a chocolate buttercream.

I got home from my Natchitoches trip with not a moment to spare before starting the cake that was needed the same night. All seemed to be going well. The cakes came out of the oven and were so moist that it was difficult to move them. The whipped cream was made with a little gelatin to stabilize it. I began assembling the cake with the first cake layer, then a whipped cream layer, &c. Let me add that at this point, unfrosted, the cake looked really wonderful. I applauded myself and predicted that this would really be the best, most impressive cake that I had made to date.

I made the chocolate buttercream and began to frost the cake. I frosted the top of the cake and then moved to the sides. It was very difficult to frost the sides, as the whipped cream kept seeping into my frosting, along with some chocolate cake crumbs, and worst of all, the cake was beginning to bulge out a bit on the sides. Wendy was watching me, and we both started laughing, but as I kept frosting, the laughter died and the cursing started. By the time I'd finished frosting the cake, I kept repeating aloud, "Oh my goodness. This is so ugly. There is no way I can take this cake to the party." It was really nightmarish, but nothing else could be done, and we were already late for the party.

Wendy hopped behind the wheel of my truck, and I sat in the passenger seat with the cake stand on my lap. Then we pulled out of the driveway, and I saw a couple of small cracks appear in the frosting on top of the cake. "Oh no, Wendy! Look!" Every jostle only widened the cracks, and by the time we reached the end of my block, we had the beginnings of what would be a full-blown fault line right down the center of the cake.

It was at this point that I began to take pictures of the cake, holding the camera with one hand, and the Mariana Trench Cake with the other. I was in slight shock and yelled to Wendy that she'd better step on it, because I believed the cake was about to split in two and crumble into my lap.

The ending is somewhat happier. I shared my sob story, over-emphasizing that moving the cake in the car was the cause of the cake's ugly demise. Lacy was good-natured about it, setting the cake on the table and announcing, "When Molly was born the earth shook, and so we're having an earthquake cake." Aunt Sue really thought the cake was supposed to look like that. The big 8 candle sank ever so nicely into the whipped cream. Everyone said they liked the cake, and Aunt Sue asked for the recipe. Granddaddy said that ugly cakes taste better, and he is never wrong.


It was Wendy who started calling me Ace. I will at least acknowledge that I learned something from the experience. Next time I will do a better job of leveling the cake layers, since I didn't do that at all this time. Stacking cake layers with rounded tops probably contributed to the top layer splitting. It might also have worked better to divide the cake batter into two pans instead of three and then halve the two cakes into four layers. I actually only have two identical 9" cake pans, and the third cake pan always produces a cake with a slightly different shape and requires a different baking time than the two matching pans. Unwise to mix and match when it comes to cake pans. The cake recipe actually called for a packaged mix to be used for the cake batter. I gasped in horror at the thought, but a cake made from a mix does have a more uniform crumb and would be less prone to splitting. I think I'll also try sticking the cake in the freezer after it's assembled but before frosting it. I don't know what it would hurt to have some extra firmness in both the cake and the frosting.

Mostly I was reminded that one should never never never try a new recipe for the first time when it's to be shared or taken somewhere. I hate that I always choose to debut new recipes in front of a mass audience, like at Thanksgiving dinner. Church potlucks are an exception. You can always expect an unintentionally-purple-colored chicken salad to be lost amongst an array of equally untantalizing dishes. "Looks like Ina Joe Smith brought her Bisquick sausage balls again! Some poor fool must have raved to her about those awful things." What was I saying about pride?

Molly's Birthday flickr slideshow

Make Cupcakes Not War

I have been on a baking spree the last couple of weeks that rivals anything I've ever done in this life or any of my past lives that I remember. I've made something like five dozen cupcakes, four dozen cookies, a couple of cakes, a couple of pies, and what else?

Everyone at work asks me what treat I've brought for the day, and they get a little angry if I don't bring something. I'm mostly exaggerating. Yesterday at work, Sandra walked by my desk and saw the German Chocolate Cake in her periphery:

Sandra: Have you been on a baking spree or something lately?
Me: Yes. I'm out of school.
Sandra: So you don't have anything to do or what?
Me: Oh, I have lots of stuff to do. I just like to bake.
Sandra: Well, call me when you cut the cake.

The most fun was probably baking for the piano recital that my students performed in. Those kids were stacking dessert plates high with cupcakes, Rice Krispie treats, and cookies as big as their faces. I found a cupcake on the floor that didn't survive the mêlée.

Bake sale Key Lime Pie and Dark Chocolate Cupcakes with Ganache - My co-workers went nuts about the cupcakes, and it started an interesting discussion on how men don't like dark chocolate as much as women.


There was the Strawberry Cream Cake I made for Mother's Day. Then I found out Mom doesn't really like Strawberry Shortcake. Oops. "Happy Mother's Day! I made something you don't like!"


Then there were the Taiwanese peanut butter cookies. Katie sent me some Skippy PB from Taiwan, and somehow I was out of extra crunchy peanut butter on Tuesday, so I used what she sent me. Best cookies ever.


I made a German Chocolate Cake for Dad's birthday in April, and I had since wanted to try a frosting variation with Coffee, Cashews, and Coconut (instead of coconut and pecans) - an alliteration cake. I think it turned out really well. My favorite part of the story is that pregnant Pauline said her baby was moving around like crazy after eating the cake. I hope that's a good thing??

I've read more than once that menial tasks are making a comeback as hobbies, e.g., knitting, gardening, and cooking. Somehow doing laundry for fun hasn't really taken off, though. I love to bake, but I couldn't do it for employment. I'm much too slow and meticulous at measuring and following instructions to be efficient. Boring.

I'm off to the Metroplex. Matt and I are taking a little day trip to Natchitoches, so I'm hoping I'll post some good pictures. Wendy will be here when I get back! It sounds like a good opportunity to make ice cream.

World's Biggest Geek

That would be me. I'm sitting here eating a spinach and tofu burrito, and that right there should tell you that this post is going to be a ball of sunshine.

A typical Saturday night for me involves listening to the delightful musical selections of Lawrence Welk, but tonight I went with my parents to take pictures at the high school prom. The excitement was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Then I met some friends at a Cinco de Mayo fiesta outside On the Border. Some live bands were playing, namely, the Kinky Wizards. The excitement was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

I liked the Wizards' sound and song selection. It's a little embarrassing, however, that I couldn't name most of the famous songs or artists they were covering. So while the groupies were dancing and swinging their arms in time, I sat in the metal folding chair wishing the whippersnappers would sit down so I could see. After all, the lead looked like Paul McCartney. How old am I?!? My friend panned her camera around to me while the song was playing, taping me lip-synching the lyrics. I was able to follow "I want you to want me. I need you to need me." before I just started making funny faces and mouthing "I don't know the words." I left the festivities at 12:30 to go turn in my library books. Those fines are nothing to sniff at.


I missed out on a lot of rock music and cable television during my childhood, I guess. I like to tell myself sometimes that missing all that nonsense and partying will surely give me an edge over my peers in competition. So far, I just have abundant social awkwardness and ignorance of pop culture. I didn't go to prom, either.

I feel so old. Not just because I don't know the lyrics to any songs recorded after 1970, either. I feel tired and worn out and my bones creak when I stand up after sitting too long. I'm sure things will start looking up for me. I'd hate to think my life has already peaked.

Foodie for Dummies

Who better than I could write Foodie for Dummies? It would be a guidebook on becoming a foodie for the uninitiated reader. Nothing groundbreaking here, and perhaps no particularly good ideas either, but when did that stop me or anyone else from writing? My favorite reads are the ones that tell me what I already know. I feel empowered at sharing an opinion with a published writer. Blogs count. "Don't buy cheap shoes. Don't spend money you don't have," they tout. "Ooh, you're so right," I say. So here's the first idea I'm sharing. More will follow. Discussion and/or dissension is encouraged.

When you eat at a restaurant, order one of the house specials, the especialidades de la casa, the 'chef recommends,' whatever it's called. There is no point in going to a steakhouse to order chicken, a seafood restaurant for a hamburger, or anywhere to get chicken strips (if you're over ten years old).



Tonight for dinner: Italian chicken breasts, wheat spaghetti with tomato sauce, garlic bread, and a couple of new recipes: Wilted Spinach Salad with Bacon and Balsamic Vinaigrette and Lemon Chiffon Cake. I liked the spinach salad, but I love spinach. Scott said bacon was the only ingredient in the salad he liked, so that left more for me! Today I made my first attempt at chiffon cake. I was terrified of underbeating the egg whites, which turned out fine. However, as I feared, my tube pan was smaller than the one called for in the recipe. (Who can find a 16-cup tube pan?) The cake didn't spill over the edge, but it did puff up quite a bit during cooking, creating a two-inch wide burned ring around the bottom of the cake. A serrated knife and a lemon glaze helped its appearance somewhat, though it's just going to have to settle for being pretty in its own little way. The cake and I both try to get by on our sparkling personalities instead.

I forgot to plug the Lubbock Arts Festival to my wide reading audience in Lubbock. Now it's too late, but if you didn't make it, you can still hit the First Friday Art Trail on May 4.

Feasting on Asphalt II

Yesterday was Daddy's birthday, and at dinner we lived it up with a salad. If that doesn't sound like indulgence to you, then let me tell you about this so-called salad. Last week when we were in Provo, we went to a yummy restaurant called Cafe Rio. Wendy told us to get the Pork Barbacoa Salad, something I wouldn't have chosen on my own, but that was only because I didn't know what I was missing.


The salad starts with a handmade flour tortilla that's fairly thin and as big as your arm. It's covered with Romaine lettuce and a good helping of rice and black beans. Then there's the pork! It's a nice, sweet meat (thanks, Babe) that melts in your mouth. Their pork is probably cooked on a low heat for hours to get to that tender perfection. Add to that the house dressing - a tomatillo-lime delight, some cojita cheese, guacamole, pico de gallo, and tortilla strips, and you've got yourself a 12,000 calorie salad. It reminds me of a line from my favorite Budweiser Real Men of Genius radio ad: Mr. Giant Taco Salad Inventor. Is it healthy? "Of course it is. It's a salad, isn't it?"

Then Dad opened presents. I was really excited about giving Dad his gifts, because I think he's pretty hard to shop for. He's the guy that doesn't seem to need or want anything. We gave him Microsoft Flight Simulator X with a flight simulator yoke. He also got Feasting on Asphalt on DVD.

Dad used to have fun flying planes and riding his motorcycle all around the country, but I guess now he's just doing it vicariously. I haven't heard him laugh so hard in a long time as he did when we watched Feasting on Asphalt last night. I haven't enjoyed a TV show so much myself in quite awhile. Alton Brown and the gang ride cross-country (sort of) on their motorcycles hitting small diners and other off-the-beaten-path establishments. Actually, that's how my dad met my mom. He and his family rode from Lubbock up to southern Colorado on their motorcycles. They stopped in a little touristy town called Silverton, where Mom worked as a waitress in a restaurant called the Bent Elbow, where they stopped to eat. The rest is history, or that's the version I've been told.

In the course of the show, Alton even tries pickled pigs feet. That makes me think of my mom, who had a craving for those awful things when she was pregnant, and will still eat them to this day. I know, it sounds like a horrible joke, but it is true!

Everyone was too full from the salad to eat birthday cake, so we ate it today instead. No candles on top, just vanilla ice cream on the side. No need to mar that yummy frosting with candle wax. I told Dad I'd just put 54 pecans in his German Chocolate Cake instead. Happy birthday, Daddy!


(Here are the birthday party pics. I found the salad recipe here. I made a couple of changes to the salad dressing recipe. I didn't use all the lime juice it called for, only used 1 envelope of Fiesta Ranch salad dressing mix, and I added about a half cup of mayonnaise. Thank you, Rosa's, for supplying the tortillas, pico de gallo, and guacamole.)

Feasting on Asphalt I

Homeland security

I don't yet know what to think of these new security measures in place on the financial sites I hit, e.g., banking and credit card, and on various other sites requiring a user name and password. Most of them now require you to select a super secret password with a combination of upper and lower-case letters, numbers, and Chinese characters. Then you have to type "Open Sesame" in three languages. The more frustrating part is the super secret security questions you have to answer. These sites allow you to choose from random questions that supposedly only you will know the answer to, such as:

What is your mother's maiden name?
What is your favorite restaurant?
What is your favorite music group?
What is your pet's name?
Where did you meet your spouse?
What kind of shampoo do you use?

Some of the questions don't apply to everyone, like people without mothers, people who don't eat, the pet-free, the deaf, the unmarried, the unhygienic - of course, those last two groups can be lumped together.

I find it hard to select a security question that even applies to me. My other beef with some of these questions is that they're too hard for me to answer. I can remember the answer to the mother's maiden name question, but I'm usually stuck on the rest of them. My favorites change weekly. I listen to "MyStation" on Yahoo! Music and think, "I once rated this song 'Can't get enough'? I hate this song! And Paul Anka is on my favorites list?!?"

What happens is that I get in an argument with myself that sounds like something from 'The Newlywed Game.' I imagine that all those couples that are on the show go home after it's over and fight about the answers they gave on the show. "I can't believe you said that your favorite food is pizza, when we both know it's steak!" Nag nag. So I say to myself, "There's no way you said that your favorite music group was Bread, when we both know that you own multiple Beatles posters." "I can't believe you don't remember what your favorite place to visit as a child was, either."

These security measures aren't keeping anyone but me from accessing my personal information. It's rather like some of the airport security measures which guarantee that no one will get past the security checkpoint with lipstick and volumizing gel. They also guarantee that your luggage will be rifled through, generally mussed up, and probably damaged in some way. Anyone with a credit card, bank account, or a roof over their head has probably already given away any semblance of privacy and secure personal information. I for one can't keep all the user names and passwords straight. That's why I had to make a Word doc called "Passwords" to save on my desktop. The rest of the passwords are written on sticky notes scattered around my home and office.

My folks' new laptop has one of those fingerprint-identifying scanners for Windows login. Having fingerprint identification on my laptop is the last place I need it. The computer never leaves my lap, and the odds of me sharing are slim. I am, however, holding out for a retina scan on my front door. The guys picking me up for a date would be prescreened for gorgeous eyes.

Signs of sleep deprivation

In my experience, sometimes a Thursday the 12th can be just as bad as a Friday the 13th, but for some reason, no one acknowledges it.

I can always tell when I haven't gotten enough sleep. I feel fine but the outward signs manifest themselves. Clues:

• I lock my keys in my car. (This happens more often than I want to admit.)


• I have real trouble talking: stuttering, using words in ways never intended, &c.


• I fall asleep with cookies baking in the oven.


• I reach for the rubbing alcohol instead of the eye makeup remover. Ouch!

I know there are other manifestations. I've probably even blogged about them. It's just hard to tell the difference between that lack of sleep thing and that lack of brainpower thing.

What happens to you when you don't get enough beauty sleep?

The weather is here. Wish you were beautiful.

I'm so glad I'm not at home this weekend. The kids at home will be hunting Easter Eggs in the snow. Meanwhile, I'm up here enjoying the sunshine and 70º weather. I even got a little sunburn. It's funny to coordinate with other people about little things like where you're going to park and who's going to get a shot at the one bathroom first. I've been living alone for too long.

Our first night in Provo, we ate at Munchies, which is a restaurant owned by a Taiwanese family. Everything was very tasty. I love boba drinks. I don't think Dad or Scott had ever tried one before, and it was pretty funny to watch them try a fruit smoothie with boba (tapioca pearls) in the bottom. Yesterday we ate lunch at Skyroom and had a nice view of the campus. Wendy and I went to the BYU Museum of Art. Then we drove up to see the Bridal Veil Falls at the south end of the Provo Canyon. We also got to see some of our Utah relations and some family friends from Lubbock that moved to Utah, including one of my very best childhood friends. Then we ate dinner at Pier 49 Pizza.

Here are some Provo pictures.