Pan Cake Quotes

Her Pan-Cake makeup was cracking like a dried-out Dakota lake bed.

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would not take the garbage out! She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans, Candy the yams and spice the hams, And though her daddy would scream and shout, She simply would not take the garbage out. And so it piled up to the ceilings: Coffee grounds, potato peelings, Brown bananas, rotten peas, Chunks of sour cottage cheese. It filled the can, it covered the floor, It cracked the window and blocked the door With bacon rinds and chicken bones, Drippy ends of ice cream cones, Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel, Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal, Pizza crusts and withered greens, Soggy beans and tangerines, Crusts of black burned buttered toast, Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . . The garbage rolled on down the hall, It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . . Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs, Globs of gooey bubble gum, Cellophane from green baloney, Rubbery blubbery macaroni, Peanut butter, caked and dry, Curdled milk and crusts of pie, Moldy melons, dried-up mustard, Eggshells mixed with lemon custard, Cold french fried and rancid meat, Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat. At last the garbage reached so high That it finally touched the sky. And all the neighbors moved away, And none of her friends would come to play. And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said, "OK, I'll take the garbage out!" But then, of course, it was too late. . . The garbage reached across the state, From New York to the Golden Gate. And there, in the garbage she did hate, Poor Sarah met an awful fate, That I cannot now relate Because the hour is much too late. But children, remember Sarah Stout And always take the garbage out!

My Papa's Waltz: The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.

There’s a term for this irrational fear of joy: cherophobia (chero is the Greek word for “rejoice”). People with cherophobia are like Teflon pans in terms of pleasure—it doesn’t stick (though pain cakes on them as if to an ungreased surface).

The women are young, young, young, liquidy and sweet-looking; they are batter, and I am the sponge cake they don't know they'll become. I stand here, a lone loaf, stuck to the pan.

Adults have big, big wishes that we do not expect to come true. That is why we need so many more candles on our cakes.

I had a lump in my throat the size of a bundt cake pan.

They will find the cake and they will gobble it up, because, having no mother, they don't know how dangerous 'tis to eat rich damp cake.

We can do little things for GOD; I turn the cake that is frying on the pan for love of Him, and that done, if there is nothing else to call me, I prostrate myself in worship before Him, Who has given me grace to work; afterwards I rise happier than a king. It is enough for me to pick up but a straw from the ground for the love of GOD.

Remember how we use to pray to get invited to birthday parties? And they only asked us because we were so grateful we'd do anything, stay late and help the mothers wash the cake pans. I'm still that girl, flattered to death if somebody wants me around.

HOPE CAKES 2 tablespoons butter 8 ounces cream cheese 3 bananas 1 teaspoon vanilla 2 cups white sugar 2 eggs, refrigerated 3 cups flour ½ teaspoon baking powder ½ teaspoon baking soda ½ teaspoon salt Topping 1 tablespoon flour ⅔ cup brown sugar 1 cup butter ½ cup nuts Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a big baking pan with butter. In a large bowl, mix together the butter, cream cheese, bananas, vanilla, and white sugar. Add the eggs. Add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt, mixing all the while. Pour the batter into the pan. To make the topping, in a medium bowl combine flour and brown sugar, then mix in the butter and the nuts. Using a fork, gently lay the topping on the batter. Bake in oven for 40 minutes, or until an impossible thing comes true. Whichever comes first. AUTHORS’ NOTES JENNIFER FINNEY BOYLAN

Downstairs, I could hear the return of a long-lost sound: Amy making breakfast. Banging wooden cupboards (rump-thump!), rattling containers of tin and glass (ding-ring!), shuffling and sorting a collection of metal pots and iron pans (ruzz-shuzz!). A culinary orchestra tuning up, clattering vigorously toward the finale, a cake pan drumrolling along the floor, hitting the wall with a cymballic crash.

She glared down at the pan. And then she kicked it. The first kick sent it tumbling a couple of feet; something black and gooey came out. The second kick got better distance, maybe because it wasn’t as heavy now. Evidently unsatisfied, she advanced on one of the pickups and grabbed a hammer from the back. Going down on one knee, she swung the hammer for all she was worth and beat the hell out of that pan, then she got up and kicked it one more time for good measure. “Damn,” Walt muttered. “I’m not ever going to say a single bad thing about her cooking. “Yeah,” Eli muttered in return. “No matter what it is, I’ll eat it or die. Even that cake.” “More like, eat it and die,” Patrick put in.

Louie's mother, Louise, took a different tack. Louie was a copy of herself, right down to the vivid blue eyes. When pushed, she shoved; sold a bad cut of meat, she'd march down to the butcher, frying pan in hand. Loving mischief, she spread icing over a cardboard box and presented it as a birthday cake to a neighbor, who promptly got the knife stuck. When Pete told her he'd drink his castor oil if she gave him an empty candy box. "You only asked for the box, honey," she said with a smile. "That's all I got." And she understood Louie's restiveness. One Halloween, she dressed as a boy and raced around town trick-or-treating with Louie and Pete. A gang of kids, thinking she was one of the local toughs, tackled her and tried to steal her pants. Little Louise Zamperini, mother of four, was deep in the melee when the cops picked her up for brawling.

They don’t call them ‘breakfast cakes’ do they? They call ’em pancakes, and pan is just the Greek word for ‘all,’ which means you can eat ’em all the time.

The room filled with the smell of warming butter and sugar and lemon and eggs, and at five, the timer buzzed and I pulled out the cake and placed it on the stovetop. The house was quiet. The bowl of icing was right there on the counter, ready to go, and cakes are best when just out of the oven, and I really couldn't possibly wait, so I reached out to the side of the cake pan, to the least obvious part, and pulled off a warm spongy chunk of deep gold. Iced it all over with chocolate. Popped the whole thing into my mouth.

Grandma Rosa's Ricotta Cheesecake   1 box of yellow cake mix 2 pounds ricotta cheese, drained (the whole milk kind works best) 4 eggs ¾ cup granulated sugar ¼ teaspoon vanilla extract   Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Prepare the cake mix according to directions on the box, and pour into a 13x9 inch greased pan. Mix together all the other ingredients. Pour ricotta mixture over the cake mix, leaving the outside edge open. Bake at 350 degrees for one hour. Sprinkle with confectioners' sugar and cut into cubes.       *

He waved cheerfully, then opened the door, tripped over the threshold, and as his balance was already impaired, nearly went face down on the floor for the second time that day. He caught himself, hung on to the side of the counter, and waited for the pub kitchen to stop revolving. With the careful steps of the drunk, he walked over to the cupboard to get out a pan for frying, a pot for boiling. Shawn was singing in his break-your-heart voice, about the cold nature of Peggy Gordon. And with one eye closed, his body swaying gently, he dripped lemon juice into a bowl. “Oh, fuck me, Shawn. You are half pissed.” “More than three-quarters if the truth be known.” He lost track of the juice and added a bit more to be safe. “And how are you, Aidan, darling?” “Get way from there before you poison someone.” Insulted, Shawn swiveled around and had to brace a hand on the counter to stay upright. “I’m drunk, not a murderer. I can make a g.d. fish cake in me sleep. This is my kitchen, I’ll thank you to remember, and I give the orders here.” He poked himself in the chest with his thumb on the claim and nearly knocked himself on his ass. Gathering dignity, he lifted his chin. “So go on with you while I go about my work.” “ What have you done to yourself?” “The devil cat caught me hand. Forgetting his work, Shawn lifted a hand to scowl at the red gashes. Oh, but I’ve got plans for him, you can be sure of that.” “At the moment, I’d lay odds on the cat. Do you know anything about putting fish cakes together?” Aidan asked Darcy. “Not a bloody thing,” she said cheerfully. “Then go and call Kathy Duffy, would you, and ask if she can spare us an hour or so, as we have an emergency?” “An emergency?” Shawn looked glassily around. “Where?

FOOD Adobo (uh-doh-boh)---Considered the Philippines's national dish, it's any food cooked with soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, and black peppercorns (though there are many regional and personal variations) Almondigas (ahl-mohn-dee-gahs)---Filipino soup with meatballs and thin rice noodles Baon (bah-ohn)---Food, snacks and other provisions brought on to work, school, or on a trip; food brought from home; money or allowance brought to school or work; lunch money (definition from Tagalog.com) Embutido (ehm-puh-tee-doh)---Filipino meatloaf Ginataang (gih-nih-tahng)---Any dish cooked with coconut milk, sweet or savory Kakanin (kah-kah-nin)---Sweet sticky cakes made from glutinous rice or root crops like cassava (There's a huge variety, many of them regional) Kesong puti (keh-sohng poo-tih)---A kind of salty cheese Lengua de gato (lehng-gwah deh gah-toh)---Filipino butter cookies Lumpia (loom-pyah)---Filipino spring rolls (many variations) Lumpiang sariwa (loom-pyahng sah-ree-wah)---Fresh Filipino spring rolls (not fried) Mamón (mah-MOHN)---Filipino sponge/chiffon cake Matamis na bao (mah-tah-mees nah bah-oh)---Coconut jam Meryenda (mehr-yehn-dah)---Snack/snack time Pandesal (pahn deh sahl)---Lightly sweetened Filipino rolls topped with breadcrumbs (also written pan de sal) Patis (pah-tees)---Fish sauce Salabat (sah-lah-baht)---Filipino ginger tea Suman (soo-mahn)---Glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk, wrapped in banana leaves, and steamed (though there are regional variations) Ube (oo-beh)---Purple yam

FOR THE CAKE: Beat together eight soup spoons butter with one cup sugar until fluffy. Mix in two eggs and three soup spoons juice from an orange. In a small bowl, blend one and two-thirds cups flour, a teaspoon baking powder, and half a teaspoon salt. Add dry to wet mixture along with one cup buttermilk. Blend well. Stir in one cup raisins, half a cup chopped walnuts, and one soup spoon finely grated orange peel. Pour the mixture into a buttered pan and bake forty-five to fifty minutes. Cool before icing.   FOR THE ICING: Stir two soup spoons juice of orange and two cups powdered sugar together until the sugar dissolves completely and the icing is smooth. The icing should be thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. If it is too thick, add more liquid; if too thin, add a little sugar.

Lou recovered some foie gras, duck confit, and assorted veggies and herbs. As she grabbed the items, a menu started bubbling to the surface: foie gras ravioli with a cherry-sage cream sauce, crispy goat cheese medallions on mixed greens with a simple vinaigrette, pan-fried duck confit, and duck-fat-roasted new potatoes with more of the cherry-sage cream sauce. For dessert, a chocolate souffle with coconut crisps.

Genevieve’s “I Love You” Birthday Cake 2 ¾ cups sifted cake flour (unbleached) 4 tsps. baking powder ¾ tsp. salt 4 egg whites (organic) 1 ½ cups white sugar ¾ cup butter (do NOT substitute) 1 cup milk (organic) 1 tsp. PURE vanilla extract 1 tsp. almond extract Measure sifted cake flour, baking powder, and salt; sift together three times. In a mixing bowl, beat egg whites until foamy. Add ½ cup of sugar gradually, and continue beating only until meringue will hold up in soft peaks. In a separate bowl, beat butter until smooth. Gradually add remaining 1 cup of sugar, and cream together until light and fluffy. Add sifted ingredients alternately with milk a small amount at a time, beating each addition until smooth. Mix in flavorings. Add meringue, and mix thoroughly into batter. Spread batter in a 15x10x1 inch pan which has been lined on the bottom with parchment paper. Bake at 350 degrees F for 30 to 35 minutes. Cool cake in pan 10 minutes, then remove from pan and transfer to a wire rack to finish cooling. You can also bake this cake in two 9 inch round pans for 30 to 35 minutes, or in three 8 inch round pans for 25 to 30 minutes.

I like to watch Peter when he doesn’t know I’m looking. I like to admire the straight line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone. There’s an openness to his face, an innocence--a certain kind of niceness. It’s the niceness that touches my heart the most. It’s Friday night at Gabe Rivera’s house after the lacrosse game. Our school won, so everyone is in very fine spirits, Peter most of all, because he scored the winning shot. He’s across the room playing poker with some of the guys from his team; he is sitting with his chair tipped back, his back against the wall. His hair is still wet from showering after the game. I’m on the couch with my friends Lucas Krapf and Pammy Subkoff, and they’re flipping through the latest issue of Teen Vogue, debating whether or not Pammy should get bangs. “What do you think, Lara Jean?” Pammy asks, running her fingers through her carrot-colored hair. Pammy is a new friend--I’ve gotten to know her because she dates Peter’s good friend Darrell. She has a face like a doll, round as a cake pan, and freckles dust her face and shoulders like sprinkles. “Um, I think bangs are a very big commitment and not to be decided on a whim. Depending on how fast your hair grows, you could be growing them out for a year or more. But if you’re serious, I think you should wait till fall, because it’ll be summer before you know it, and bangs in the summer can be sort of sticky and sweaty and annoying…” My eyes drift back to Peter, and he looks up and sees me looking at him, and raises his eyebrows questioningly. I just smile and shake my head. “So don’t get bangs?” My phone buzzes in my purse. It’s Peter. Do you want to go? No. Then why were you staring at me? Because I felt like it.

Driven by heartache, she beat the eggs even more vigorously until the glossy meringue quickly formed into stiff, bird's beak peaks. "Philippe, do you have any orange liqueur?" Marie asked, rummaging through her brother's pantry. "Here it is," Philippe said, handing a corked bottle to her. "What are you making?" "A bûche de Noël," Danielle said, concentrating on her task. Carefully measuring each rationed ingredient, she combined sugar and flour in another bowl, grated orange zest, added the liqueur, and folded the meringue into the mixture. "It's not Christmas without a traditional Yuletide log." Marie ran a finger down a page of an old recipe book, reading directions for the sponge cake, or biscuit. "'Spread into a shallow pan and bake for ten minutes.'" "I wouldn't know about that," Philippe said. "I don't celebrate your husband's holiday," he said pointedly to Marie. "Let's not dredge up that old argument, mon frère," Marie said, softening her words with a smile. "I converted for love." A knock sounded at the front door. Danielle threw a look of concern toward Philippe, who hurried to answer it. "Then we'll cool it," Danielle said, trying to stay calm. "And brush the surface with coffee liqueur and butter cream frosting, roll it like a log, and decorate." She thought about the meringue mushrooms she had made with Nicky last year, and how he had helped score the frosting to mimic wood grains.

A great flood of aromas swamped the noise, thick as soup and foaming with flavors: powdery sugars and crystallized fruit, dank slabs of beef and boiling cabbage, sweating onions and steaming beets. Fronts of fresh-baked bread rolled forward then sweeter cakes. Behind the whiffs of roasting capons and braising bacon came the great smoke-blackened ham which hung in the hearth. Fish was poaching somewhere in a savory liquor at once sweet and tart, its aromas braided in twirling spirals... The silphium, thought John. A moment later it was lost in the tangle of scents that rose from the other pots, pans and great steaming urns. The rich stew of smells and tastes reaching into his memory to haul up dishes and platters.

We walk inside, and I stop short. Our booth, the one we always sit in, has pale pink balloons tied around it. There’s a round cake in the center of the table, tons of candles, pink frosting with sprinkles and Happy Birthday, Lara Jean scrawled in white frosting. Suddenly I see people’s heads pop up from under the booths and from behind menus--all of our friends, still in their prom finery: Lucas, Gabe, Gabe’s date Keisha, Darrell, Pammy, Chris. “Surprise!” everyone screams. I spin around. “Oh my God, Peter!” He’s still grinning. He looks at his watch. “It’s midnight. Happy birthday, Lara Jean.” I leap up and hug him. “This is just exactly what I wanted to do on my prom night birthday and I didn’t even know it.” Then I let go of him and run over to the booth. Everyone gets out and hugs me. “I didn’t even know people knew it was my birthday tomorrow! I mean today!” I say. “Of course we knew it was your birthday,” Lucas says. Darrell says, “My boy’s been planning this for weeks.” “It was so endearing,” Pammy says. “We called me to ask what kind of pan he should use for the cake.” Chris says, “He called me, too. I was like, how the hell should I know?” “And you!” I hit Chris on the arm. “I thought you were leaving to go clubbing!” “I still might after I steal some fries. My night’s just getting started, babe.” She pulls me in for a hug and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, girl.” I turn to Peter and say, “I can’t believe you did this.” “I baked that cake myself,” he brags. “Box, but still.” He takes off his jacket and pulls a lighter out of his jacket pocket and starts lighting the candles. Gabe pulls out a lit candle and helps him. Then Peter hops his butt on the table and sits down, his legs hanging off the edge. “Come on.” I look around. “Um…” That’s when I hear the opening notes of “If You Were Here” by the Thompson Twins. My hands fly to my cheeks. I can’t believe it. Peter’s recreating the end scene from Sixteen Candles, when Molly Ringwald and Jake Ryan sit on a table with a birthday cake in between them. When we watched the movie a few months ago, I said it was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen. And now he’s doing it for me.

Lillian lifted the cake pans from the oven and rested them on metal racks on the counter. The layers rose level and smooth from the pans; the scent, tinged with vanilla, traveled across the room in soft, heavy waves, filling the space with whispers of other kitchens, other loves. The students food themselves leaning forward in their chairs to greet the smells and the memories that came with them. Breakfast cake baking on a snow day off from school, all the world on holiday. The sound of cookie sheets clanging against the metal oven racks. The bakery that was the reason to get up on cold, dark mornings; a croissant placed warm in a young woman's hand on her way to the job she never meant to have. Christmas, Valentine's, birthdays, flowing together, one cake after another, lit by eyes bright with love.

HOPE CAKES 2 tablespoons butter 8 ounces cream cheese 3 bananas 1 teaspoon vanilla 2 cups white sugar 2 eggs, refrigerated 3 cups flour ½ teaspoon baking powder ½ teaspoon baking soda ½ teaspoon salt Topping ½ cup flour ¼ cup oats ¼ cup brown sugar 1 teaspoon cinnamon ¼ cup butter ½ cup nuts Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a big baking pan with butter. In a large bowl, mix together the butter, cream cheese, bananas, vanilla, and white sugar. Add the eggs. Add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt, mixing all the while. Pour the batter into the pan. To make the topping, in a medium bowl combine flour, oats, brown sugar, and cinnamon, then mix in the butter and the nuts. Using a fork, gently lay the topping on the batter. Bake in oven for 40 minutes, or until an impossible thing comes true.

A well-known skin specialist patronized by many famous beauties charges seventy-five dollars for a twenty-minute consultation and eight dollars for a cake of sea-mud soap. I get more satisfaction and just as much benefit out of applying a purée of apples and sour cream! [...] Of course, all masques should COVER THE NECK too. [...] Masques should only be used ones or twice a week. [...] While the masque is working, place pads soaked in witch hazel or boric acid over your eyelids and put on your favorite music. [...] A masque really works only when you're lying down. Twenty minutes is the right length of time. Then wash the masque off gently with warm water and follow with a brisk splash of cold water to close the pores. [...] For a luxurious once-a-week treatment give your face a herbal steaming first by putting parsley, dill, or any other favorite herb into a pan of boiling water. (Mint is refreshing too.) Hold a towel over your head to keep the steam rising onto your face. The pores will open so that the masque can do a better job. [...] Here are a few "kitchen masques" that work: MAYONNAISE. [...] Since I'm never sure what they put into those jars at the supermarket, I make my own with whole eggs, olive or peanut oil, and lemon juice (Omit the salt and pepper!). Stir this until it's well blended, or whip up a batch in an electric blender. PUREED VEGETABLES - cucumbers, lemons, or lettuce thickened with a little baby powder. PUREED FRUITS - cantaloupe, bananas, or strawberries mixed to a paste with milk or sour cream or honey. A FAMOUS OLD-FASHIONED MIXTURE of oatmeal, warm water, and a little honey blended to a paste.

I knew how to bake. The first thing I was sure of was that this was all about cake. Pies, tarts and tartlets, a dozen different kinds of gorgeous cookies, soufflés- they all spun through my head and I dismissed them all. I was going to specialize. It also seemed to me that there was no single cake that could really represent what I could do. I got on my hands and knees and emptied out a low cupboard until I found a set of six-inch cake pans. With these it would be reasonable to take every restaurant three different kinds of cakes, one chocolate, one fruit, and one wild card, like the sweet potato cake or the scarlet empress. I had a Bundt pan that held about three cups of batter, and I thought of an almond cake surrounded by little marzipan birds, tiny yellow buntings asleep at the base. I was a fool for marzipan.

HOPE CAKES 2 tablespoons butter 8 ounces cream cheese 3 bananas 1 teaspoon vanilla 2 cups white sugar 2 eggs, refrigerated 3 cups flour ½ teaspoon baking powder ½ teaspoon baking soda ½ teaspoon salt Topping ½ cup flour ¼ cup oats ¼ cup brown sugar 1 teaspoon cinnamon ¼ cup butter ½ cup nuts Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a big baking pan with butter. In a large bowl, mix together the butter, cream cheese, bananas, vanilla, and white sugar. Add the eggs. Add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt, mixing all the while. Pour the batter into the pan. To make the topping, in a medium bowl combine flour, oats, brown sugar, and cinnamon, then mix in the butter and the nuts. Using a fork, gently lay the topping on the batter. Bake in oven for 40 minutes, or until an impossible thing comes true. Whichever comes first.

Then just when I thought I was going to really break down for a good cry, I remembered a large bag of pistachio nuts in the back of the pantry. I don't know what made me think of them. I had hidden them beneath several packages of dried pasta. Sam liked pistachio nuts. I bought them for a cake recipe I had seen in Gourmet. I stood up like a sleepwalker, my hands empty of sheets or shoes. I would take care of all this once the cake was in the oven. The recipe was from several months ago. I didn't remember which issue. I would find it. I would bake a cake. My father liked exotic things. On the rare occasions we went out to dinner together over the years, he always wanted us to go to some little Ethiopian restaurant down a back alley or he would say he had to have Mongolian food. He would like this cake. It was Iranian. There was a full tablespoon of cardamom sifted in with the flour, and I could imagine that it would make the cake taste nearly peppered, which would serve to balance out all the salt. I stood in the kitchen, reading the magazine while the sharp husks of the nuts bit into the pads of my fingers. I rolled the nut meat between my palms until the bright spring green of the pistachios shone in my hands, a fist full of emeralds. I would grind the nuts into powder without letting them turn to paste. I would butter the parchment paper and line the bottom of the pan. It was the steps, the clear and simple rules baking, that soothed me. My father would love this cake, and my mother would find this cake interesting, and Sam wouldn't be crazy about it but he'd be hungry and have a slice anyway. Maybe I could convince Camille it wasn't a cake at all. Maybe I could bring them all together, or at least that's what I dreamed about while I measured out the oil.

When Sam and I were living in Australia, one winter weekend we rented a cottage in the countryside. We toured local wineries by day and at sunset we wrapped ourselves up in blankets on the porch overlooking the valley below, tucking into our bounty of wine and local cheese. I can’t remember who initiated it (OK, fine, probably me), but we decided that during this magic hour while day turned to night we could ask each other anything. This moment in our relationship changed everything. I got to ask all my questions and so did Sam. We also had to answer them. I think for both of us it’s the night we tipped over from infatuation to falling in love. Even now, the phrase ‘wine and cheese hour’ is shorthand for this safe space, when we need to sit down and reconnect. This is so bougie and painful to admit, especially because I don’t even like wine and this is now far more likely to be ‘coffee and Jaffa cake hour’. (Vodka and Pringles works, too.)

See, for the Kuri Kinton chestnuts, I used prepackaged boiled sweet potatoes! I simmered them in some orange juice and then mashed them until they were smooth. Normal Kuri Kinton use gardenia fruit to give the chestnuts an orange color, but I swapped those out for sweet potatoes and orange juice... ... making mine more of a Joke Kuri Kinton! The rolled omelet is made of egg and Hanpen fish cakes I found near the Oden ! I blended it all in a food processor with some salt and sugar before cooking it in an omelet pan. Red-and-White Salad! Seasoning regular salad veggies with salt, sugar and vinegar turns them into a Red-and-White Salad! Salting the veggies ahead of time draws out moisture, making them crispier and allowing them to soak up more sweet vinegar. Checkered Prosciutto Rolls! I just wrapped some snack-cup precut carrot and daikon sticks in prosciutto strips and voilà! A little honey and mustard dabbed inside the prosciutto works as a glue to hold it all together.

Nut Cake 3½ cups plain flour, not self-rising ½ pound salted butter, room temperature 3 cups sugar 6 large eggs 1 cup heavy whipping cream 3 cups chopped pecans 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 teaspoon lemon extract Preheat oven to 325°F. Generously grease a tube pan with Crisco and lightly flour. Sift flour three times and set aside. Cream butter with sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time. Beat only until each disappears. Blend in 1 cup flour followed by ½ cup whipping cream. Repeat with 1 cup flour then ½ cup whipping cream. Add 1 cup flour. Coat pecans with remaining ½ cup flour. Carefully fold pecans into batter. Fold in vanilla and lemon extracts. Add batter to pan, level it, and knock bottom of pan on the edge of the counter, once, to get out the air bubbles. Place in the center of the oven and bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until it’s medium brown on top and begins to pull away from the sides of the pan.* Remove from oven. Wait 10 minutes and invert on a cake plate. Do not cover until cool to touch.

BONNIE BROWNIE COOKIE BARS Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.   4 one-ounce squares semi-sweet chocolate (or 3/4 cup chocolate chips) 3/4 cup butter (one and a half sticks) 1½ cups white (granulated) sugar 3 beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glass with a fork) 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 cup flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it) 1/2 cup chopped cashews 1/2 cup chopped butterscotch chips 1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips (I used Ghirardelli)   Prepare a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan by lining it with a piece of foil large enough to flap over the sides. Spray the foil-lined pan with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray.   Microwave the chocolate squares and butter in a microwave-safe mixing bowl on HIGH for 1 minute. Stir. (Since chocolate frequently maintains its shape even when melted, you have to stir to make sure.) If it’s not melted, microwave for an additional 20 seconds and stir again. Repeat if necessary.   Stir the sugar into the chocolate mixture. Feel the bowl. If it’s not so hot it’ll cook the eggs, add them now, stirring thoroughly. Mix in the vanilla extract.   Mix in the flour, and stir just until it’s moistened.   Put the cashews, butterscotch chips, and chocolate chips in the bowl of a food processor, and chop them together with the steel blade. (If you don’t have a food processor, you don’t have to buy one for this recipe—just chop everything up as well as you can with a sharp knife.)   Mix in the chopped ingredients, give a final stir by hand, and spread the batter out in your prepared pan. Smooth the top with a rubber spatula.   Bake at 350 degrees F. for 30 minutes.   Cool the Bonnie Brownie Cookie Bars in the pan on a metal rack. When they’re thoroughly cool, grasp the edges of the foil and lift the brownies out of the pan. Place them facedown on a cutting board, peel the foil off the back, and cut them into brownie-sized pieces.   Place the squares on a plate and dust lightly with powdered sugar if you wish.   Hannah’s Note: If you’re a chocoholic, or if you’re making these for Mother, frost them with Neverfail Fudge Frosting before you cut them.

GRAHAM CRACKER CAKE Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position. ½ cup salted butter, softened (1 stick, 4 ounces, ¼ pound) ¾ cup white (granulated) sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 2 large eggs 2 teaspoons baking powder ¼ teaspoon salt 2 and ¼ cups graham cracker crumbs 1 cup whole milk 1 cup chopped nuts (measure after chopping—I used walnuts)   8 and ¾ ounce can crushed pineapple WITH juice ¼ cup white (granulated) sugar Hannah’s Note: You can either crush your own graham cracker crumbs by placing graham crackers in a bag and rolling the bag with a rolling pin, crushing them in the food processor by using the steel blade, or you can buy ready-made graham cracker crumbs at the store. Spray a 9-inch square baking pan with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray and sprinkle the inside with flour. Shake out excess flour. You may also use Pam spray for baking, which contains a coating of flour. Both will work well. In an electric mixer, cream the butter and the sugar, adding the sugar gradually with the mixer on MEDIUM speed. Add the vanilla extract and mix it in thoroughly. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, incorporating the first egg before you add the second. Add the baking powder and the salt, beating until they’re thoroughly mixed. Mix in half of the graham cracker crumbs with half of the milk. Beat well. Mix in the other half of the graham cracker crumbs with the remaining half of the milk. Remove the bowl from the mixer and fold in the chopped nuts by hand. Pour the Graham Cracker Cake batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with a rubber spatula. Bake your cake at 350 degrees F. for 30 minutes. Take your cake out of the oven, turn off the oven, and place the cake on a wire rack to await its topping. In a saucepan on the stovetop, combine the contents of the can of crushed pineapple and juice with the white sugar. Cook the pineapple mixture over MEDIUM HIGH heat, stirring constantly until it boils. Turn the burner down to LOW and cook the pineapple mixture for an additional 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Pour the hot pineapple sauce over the hot cake. Cool in the pan. Serve the Graham Cracker Cake with sweetened whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Avocado Brownies   Vegetables have always been used in desserts, but this avocado brownie is truly special because the avocado gives it a lot of moisture and a smooth, creamy consistency. Just a square of this and your taste buds will be in heaven.   Yields: 10 servings   Ingredients: 2 ripe avocados, mashed 1 cup dark chocolate (72% cocoa), melted 1/4 cup coconut oil 1/2 cup agave syrup 2 brown eggs 1 cup almond flour 1/4 cup organic unsweetened cocoa powder 1 pinch salt 1 teaspoon baking soda   Directions: 1. In a bowl, mix the avocados with the melted chocolate, then stir in the eggs, agave syrup and coconut oil. 2. Fold in the almond flour, cocoa powder, salt and baking soda. 3. Spoon the batter into a baking pan lined with parchment paper and bake in a preheated oven at 350F for 30-40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. If it comes out with traces of batter, the cake needs a few more minutes in the oven. 4. When done, remove from the oven and let it cool completely before cutting in smaller portions.   Nutritional information per serving   Calories: 280 Fat: 20.6g Protein: 5g Carbohydrates: 24.7g

Load the sailboat with bottles of white wine, olive oil, fishing rods, and yeasty, dark-crusted bread. Work your way carefully out of the narrow channels of the Cabras port on the western shore of Sardinia. Set sail for the open seas. Navigate carefully around the archipelago of small boats fishing for sea bass, bream, squid. Steer clear of the lines of mussel nets swooping in long black arcs off the coastline. When you spot the crumbling stone tower, turn the boat north and nuzzle it gently into the electric blue-green waters along ancient Tharros. Drop anchor. Strip down to your bathing suit. Load into the transport boat and head for shore. After a swim, make for the highest point on the peninsula, the one with the view of land and sea and history that will make your knees buckle. Stay focused. You're not here to admire the sun-baked ruins of one of Sardinia's oldest civilizations, a five-thousand-year-old settlement that wears the footprints of its inhabitants- Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans- like the layers of a cake. You're here to pick herbs growing wildly among the ancient tombs and temples, under shards of broken vases once holding humans' earliest attempts at inebriation. Taste this! Like peppermint, but spicy. And this! A version of wild lemon thyme, perfect with seafood. Pluck a handful of finocchio marino,sea fennel, a bright burst of anise with an undertow of salt. Withfinocchioin fist, reboard the transport vessel and navigate toward the closest buoy. Grab the bright orange plastic, roll it over, and scrape off the thicket of mussels growing beneath. Repeat with the other buoys until you have enough mussels to fill a pot. In the belly of the boat, bring the dish together: Scrub the mussels. Bring a pot of seawater to a raucous boil and drop in the spaghetti- cento grammi a testa. While the pasta cooks, blanch a few handfuls of the wild fennel to take away some of the sting. Remove the mussels from their shells and combine with sliced garlic, a glass of seawater, and a deluge of peppery local olive oil in a pan. Take the pasta constantly, checking for doneness. (Don't you dare overcook it!) When only the faintest resistance remains in the middle, drain and add to the pan of mussels. Move the pasta fast and frequently with a pair of tongs, emulsifying the water and mussel juice with the oil. Keep stirring and drizzling in oil until a glistening sheen forms on the surface of the pasta. This is called la mantecatura, the key to all great seafood pastas, so take the time to do it right.

FOOD Adobo (uh-doh-boh)--- Considered the Philippines' national dish, it's any food cooked with soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, and black peppercorns (though there are many regional and personal variations) Bibingka (bih-bing-kah)--- Lightly sweetened rice cake, commonly consumed around Christmas. There are many varieties, but the most common is baked or grilled in a banana leaf-lined mold and topped with sliced duck eggs, butter, sugar, and/or coconut. Buko (boo-koh)--- Young coconut Champorado (chahm-puh-rah-doh)--- Sweet chocolate rice porridge Lambanog (lahm-bah-nohg)--- Filipino coconut liquor Lumpia (loom-pyah)--- Filipino spring rolls (many variations) Matamis na bao (mah-tah-mees nah bah-oh)--- Coconut jam (also known as minatamis na bao) Pandan (pahn-dahn)--- Tropical plant whose fragrant leaves are commonly used as a flavoring in Southeast Asia. Often described as a grassy vanilla flavor with a hint of coconut. Pandesal (pahn deh sahl)--- Lightly sweetened Filipino rolls topped with breadcrumbs (also written pan de sal) Patis (pah-tees)--- Fish sauce Pinipig (pih-nee-pig)--- Young glutinous rice that's been pounded flat, then toasted. Looks similar to Rice Krispies. Salabat (sah-lah-baht)--- Filipino ginger tea Tuyo (too-yoh)--- Dried, salted fish (usually herring) Ube (oo-beh)--- Purple yam

...and the smells, you know, the smells- I mean, if only our customers knew; they haven't got a clue about the greatness of these things when they buy them the next morning; you see, when the muffins come down the conveyor belt, and they're thrown from their pockets in the rack pans as the belt turns down-well, this paddlewheel action, if you're standing right there, flings this absolutely amazing hot aroma right into your face-from the Oat Brans, from the Banana-Rhubarbs, especially from the Double Double Chocolates; and then the muffins themselves are so warm and nice-shaped, like these great little trumpet mutes of cake like texture, and you're feeling this kind of glistening inside your cheeks, this liquidy glowing, and you're thinking that these muffins would, you know, just fit so well right in your fist, where you could take them and shove them sugar-warm right into your face-just fill up your mouth and chew and chomp, densely, sweet-texturedly, liquidly ... ; and then, you know, while you're sweet-chomping, it would be like you could smell them with your entire mouth, with your entire sinuses, with your pores...; but all this is gone by the time the muffins are distributed to the delis and diners in the morning, all dead and cold and dry; in fact, no one out there even has the beginning of a clue how good this shit is;

English Gingerbread Cake Serves: 12 to 16 Baking Time: 50 to 60 minutes Kyle Cathie, editor for the British version of The Cake Bible (and now a publisher), informed me in no uncertain terms that a book could not be called a cake "bible" in England if it did not contain the beloved gingerbread cake. When I went to England to retest all the cakes using British flour and ingredients, I developed this gingerbread recipe. Now that I have tasted it, I quite agree with Kyle. It is a moist spicy cake with an intriguing blend of buttery, lemony, wheaty, and treacly flavors. Cut into squares and decorated with pumpkin faces, it makes a delightful "treat" for Halloween. Batter Volume Ounce Gram unsalted butter (65° to 75°F/19° to 23°C) 8 tablespoons (1 stick) 4 113 golden syrup or light corn syrup 1¼ cups (10 fluid ounces) 15 425 dark brown sugar, preferably Muscovado ¼ cup, firmly packed 2 60 orange marmalade 1 heaping tablespoon 1.5 40 2 large eggs, at room temperature ¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons (3 fluid ounces) 3.5 100 milk 2/3 cup (5.3 fluid ounces) 5.6 160 cake flour (or bleached all-purpose flour) 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (or 1 cup), sifted into the cup and leveled off 4 115 whole wheat flour 1 cup minus 1 tablespoon (lightly spooned into the cup) 4 115 baking powder 1½ teaspoons . . cinnamon 1 teaspoon . . ground ginger 1 teaspoon . . baking soda ½ teaspoon . . salt pinch . . Special Equipment One 8 by 2-inch square cake pan or 9 by 2-inch round pan (see Note), wrapped with a cake strip, bottom coated with shortening, topped with a parchment square (or round), then coated with baking spray with flour Preheat the Oven Twenty minutes or more before baking, set an oven rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 325°F/160°C. Mix the Liquid Ingredients In a small heavy saucepan, stir together the butter, golden syrup, sugar, and marmalade over medium-low heat until melted and uniform in color. Set aside uncovered until just barely warm, about 10 minutes. Whisk in the eggs and milk. Make the Batter In a large bowl, whisk together the cake flour, whole wheat flour, baking powder, cinnamon, ginger, baking soda, and salt. Add the butter mixture, stirring with a large silicone spatula or spoon just until smooth and the consistency of thick soup. Using the silicone spatula, scrape the batter into the prepared pan. Bake the Cake Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, or until a wire cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean and the cake springs back when pressed lightly in the center. The cake should start to shrink from the sides of the pan only after removal from the oven. Cool the Cake Let the cake cool in the pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes. While the cake is cooling, make the syrup.

Caramel Apple Bundt Cake For people. Cake 1½ cups flour 1 cup pecans 2 teaspoons baking powder ½ teaspoon baking soda 1½ teaspoons cinnamon ¾ teaspoon nutmeg ¾ teaspoon cloves ¼ teaspoon salt 2 medium apples, peeled and cored ½ cup sugar + extra 1¼ sticks (10 tablespoons) butter at room temperature + extra for greasing the pan 1 cup packed dark brown sugar 2 large eggs at room temperature 1 cup applesauce Preheat oven to 350ºF. Place the flour, pecans, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and salt in a food processor and pulse until the pecans are fine. Transfer the flour mixture to a bowl. Insert the grating disk and grate the apples. Take 1 tablespoon of sugar out of the plain sugar and set it aside. Cream the butter with the sugars. Beat in the eggs. Alternate adding the applesauce and the flour mixture until completely combined. Stir in the grated apples. Grease the Bundt pan liberally. Sprinkle the extra sugar on the butter. You may need another tablespoon of sugar for full coverage. Use a cooking spoon to ladle the batter into the Bundt pan and smooth the top. Bake 40 minutes or until it begins to pull away from the sides and a cake tester comes out clean. Allow to rest on a baking rack about 5 to 10 minutes. Loosen the edges, and flip onto the rack. When cool, top with caramel. Caramel 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 cup packed dark brown sugar ¼ cup heavy cream Place the ingredients in a deep microwave-safe dish (I used a 4-cup Pyrex measuring cup). Microwave in short bursts, stirring occasionally, until it bubbles up and the sugar melts. (You may find that you even like it if the sugar doesn’t melt!) Swedish Tea Ring For people.

Cakes: Microwave milk, water, oil, and butter for two minutes. Make certain it is not too hot to touch (90–100 degrees. We don’t want to kill off our little hardworking yeast, do we? No. We are not killers). Crack eggs into liquid. In the mixing bowl of a standing mixer, combine 1 ½ cups of flour, the salt, sugar, and yeast. Add the liquid and stir thoroughly. Add remaining 2 cups of flour one cup at a time, stirring between each addition. With mixer on low and using the bread paddle or hook, mix dough for 4 minutes. If you don’t have a standing mixer for some strange reason, which I cannot fathom because they are the most useful things ever, you can knead it by hand for 8 minutes instead. Scrape dough into a greased and floured mixing bowl. Let rise for one hour in a warm place. (I preheat my oven to 100 degrees and then turn it off before putting the dough inside, covered with a towel. This is a Great Way to Not Kill Your Yeast.) After one hour, remove the dough and place on a floured cutting board. Gently roll it out to a 12 x 20 inch(ish) rectangle. Combine 3 tablespoons melted butter and ¼ teaspoon orange extract for the filling. Spoon the filling to cover the rectangle, then roll it up. It will be . . . slimy. Delicious, but slimy. Use a sharp knife to cut the log into 12 rolls. (They should be swirled like cinnamon rolls.) Place each roll cut side up in a greased muffin tin and let rise for a half hour covered with the towel. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees, then bake rolls (remove the towel first, flames are such a pain in the kitchen) for 14 minutes. Let them cool in the pan for a few minutes, then tip them out onto a large plate for the next step.

Saturday is birthday cake day. During the week, the panadería is all strong coffee and pan dulce. But on weekends, it's sprinkle cookies and pink cake. By ten or eleven this morning, we'll get the first rush of mothers picking up yellow boxes in between buying balloons and paper streamers. In the back kitchen, my father hums along with the radio as he shapes the pastry rounds of ojos de buey, the centers giving off the smell of orange and coconut. It may be so early the birds haven't even started up yet, but with enough of my mother's coffee and Mariachi Los Camperos, my father is as awake as if it were afternoon. While he fills the bakery cases, my mother does the delicate work of hollowing out the piñata cakes, and when her back is turned, I rake my fingers through the sprinkle canisters. During open hours, most of my work is filling bakery boxes and ringing up customers (when it's busy) or washing dishes and windexing the glass cases (when it's not). But on birthday cake days, we're busy enough that I get to slide sheet cakes from the oven and cover them in pink frosting and tiny round nonpareils, like they're giant circus-animal cookies. I get to press hundreds-and-thousands into the galletas de grajea, the round, rainbow-sprinkle-covered cookies that were my favorite when I was five. My mother finishes hollowing two cake halves, fills them with candy- green, yellow, and pink this time- and puts them back together. Her piñatas are half our Saturday cake orders, both birthday girls and grandfathers delighting at the moment of seeing M&M's or gummy worms spill out. She covers them with sugar-paste ruffles or coconut to look like the tiny paper flags on a piñata, or frosting and a million rainbow sprinkles.

Whoooa! Red! Green! Yellow! Brown! Purple! Even black! Look at all those bowls full of brilliantly colored batter!" She used strawberries, blueberries, matcha powder, cocoa powder, black sesame and other natural ingredients to dye those batters. They look like a glittering array of paints on an artist's palette! "Now that all my yummy edible paints are ready... ...it's picture-drawing time!" "She twisted a sheet of parchment paper into a piping bag and is using it to draw all kinds of cute pictures!" "You're kidding me! Look at them all! How did she get that fast?!" Not only that, most chefs do rough sketches first, but she's doing it off the cuff! How much artistic talent and practice does she have?! "All these cutie-pies go into the oven for about three minutes. After that I'll take them out and pour the brown sugar batter on top..." "It appears she's making a roll cake if she's pouring batter into that flat a pan." "Aah, I see. It must be one of those patterned roll cakes you often see at Japanese bakeries. That seems like an unusually plain choice, considering the fanciful tarts she made earlier." "The decorations just have to be super-cute, too." "OOOH! She's candy sculpting!" "So pretty and shiny!" That technique she's using- that's Sucre Tiré (Pulled Sugar)! Of all the candy-sculpting arts, Sucre Tiré gives the candy a glossy, nearly glass-like luster... but keeping the candy at just the right temperature so that it remains malleable while stretching it to a uniform thickness is incredibly difficult! Every step is both delicate and exceptionally difficult, yet she makes each one look easy! She flows from one cutest technique to the next, giving each an adorable flair! Just like she insisted her apple tarts had to be served in a pretty and fantastical manner... ... she's even including cutesy performances in the preparation of this dish!

CAKE whole black peppercorns whole cloves whole cardamom 1 cinnamon stick 2 cups flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda ½ teaspoon salt 3 large eggs 1 large egg yolk 1 cup sour cream 1½ sticks (6 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature 1 cup sugar 2 large pieces fresh ginger root (¼ cup, tightly packed, when finely grated) zest from 2 to 3 oranges (1½ teaspoons finely grated) Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour a 6-cup Bundt pan. Grind your peppercorns, cloves, and cardamom and measure out ¼ teaspoon of each. (You can use pre-ground spices, but the cake won’t taste as good.) Grind your cinnamon stick and measure out 1 teaspoon. (Again, you can use ground cinnamon if you must.) Whisk the flour with the baking powder, baking soda, spices, and salt in a small bowl. In another small bowl, whisk the eggs and egg yolk into the sour cream. Set aside. Cream the butter and sugar in a stand mixer until the mixture is light, fluffy, and almost white. This should take about 3 minutes. Grate the ginger root—this is a lot of ginger—and the orange zest. Add them to the butter/sugar mixture. Beat the flour mixture and the egg mixture, alternating between the two, into the butter until each addition is incorporated. The batter should be as luxurious as mousse. Spoon batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 40 minutes, until cake is golden and a wooden skewer comes out clean. Remove to a rack and cool in the pan for 10 minutes. SOAK ½ cup bourbon 1½ tablespoons sugar While the cake cools in its pan, simmer the bourbon and the sugar in a small pot for about 4 minutes. It should reduce to about ⅓ cup. While the cake is still in the pan, brush half the bourbon mixture onto its exposed surface (the bottom of the cake) with a pastry brush. Let the syrup soak in for a few minutes, then turn the cake out onto a rack. Gently brush the remaining mixture all over the cake.

Chris- the one who wrote the halfway creepy thing about missing me so much when I didn't post and thinking I was dead- found it mind-boggling that before the Julie/Julia Project began, I had never eaten an egg. She asked, "How can you have gotten through life without eating a single egg? How is that POSSIBLE???!!!!!" Of course, it wasn't exactly true that I hadn't eaten an egg. I had eaten them in cakes. I had even eaten them scrambled once or twice, albeit in the Texas fashion, with jalapeños and a pound of cheese. But the goal of my egg-eating had always been to make sure the egg did not look, smell, or taste anything like one, and as a result my history in this department was, I suppose, unusual. Chris wasn't the only person shocked. People I'd never heard of chimed in with their awe and dismay. I didn't really get it. Surely this is not such a bizarre hang-up as hating, say, croutons, like certain spouses I could name. Luckily, eggs made the Julia Child way often taste like cream sauce. Take Oeufs en Cocotte, for example. These are eggs baked with some butter and cream in ramekins set in a shallow pan of water. They are tremendous. In fact the only thing better than Oeufs en Cocotte is Ouefs en Cocotte with Sauce au Cari on top when you've woken up with a killer hangover, after one of those nights when somebody decided at midnight to buy a pack of cigarettes after all, and the girls wind up smoking and drinking and dancing around the living room to the music the boy is downloading from iTunes onto his new, ludicrously hip and stylish G3 Powerbook until three in the morning. On mornings like this, Oeufs en Cocotte with Sauce au Cari, a cup of coffee, and an enormous glass of water is like a meal fed to you by the veiled daughters of a wandering Bedouin tribe after one of their number comes upon you splayed out in the sands of the endless deserts of Araby, moments from death- it's that good.

Step 6. Ensure That Your Environment Supports Your Goals Some people subscribe to the philosophy that if the cure doesn’t hurt, it can’t be working. When it comes to permanent changes in diet and lifestyle, the opposite philosophy is the best: The less painful the program, the more likely it is to succeed. Take steps to make your new life easier. Modify your daily behavior so that your surroundings work for you, not against you. Have the right pots, pans, and utensils to cook with; have the right spices, herbs, and seasonings to make your meals delicious; have your cookbooks handy and review them often to make your dishes lively and appealing. Make sure you give yourself the time to shop for food and cook your meals. Change your life to support your health. Don’t sacrifice your health for worthless conveniences. Avoid temptation. Very few people could quit smoking without ridding their house of cigarettes. Alcoholics avoid bars to stop drinking. Protect yourself by protecting your environment. Decrease the time when you are exposed to rich foods to avoid testing your “willpower.” One of the best ways to do this is to throw all the rich foods out of the house. Just as important is to replace harmful foods with those used in the McDougall Program for Maximum Weight Loss. If many of your meals are eaten away from home, make the situations meet your needs. Go to restaurants that offer at least one delicious, nutritious item. Ask the waiter to remove the butter and olive oil from the table. Accept invitations to dinner from friends who eat and live healthfully. Bring healthful foods with you whenever possible. Keep those people close who support your efforts and do not try to sabotage you. Ask family and friends to stop giving you boxes of candy and cakes as gifts. Instead suggest flowers, a card, or a fruit basket. Tell your mother that if she really loves you she’ll feed you properly, forgoing her traditional beef stroganoff.

TIO TITO’S SUBLIME LIME BAR COOKIES Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position. ½ cup finely-chopped coconut (measure after chopping—pack it down when you measure it) 1 cup cold salted butter (2 sticks, 8 ounces, ½ pound) ½ cup powdered (confectioners) sugar (no need to sift unless it’s got big lumps) 2 cups all-purpose flour (pack it down when you measure it)   4 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork) 2 cups white (granulated) sugar cup lime juice (freshly squeezed is best) cup vodka (I used Tito’s Handmade Vodka) ½ teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon baking powder ½ cup all-purpose flour (pack it down when you measure it) Powdered (confectioners) sugar to sprinkle on top Coconut Crust: To get your half-cup of finely-chopped coconut, you will need to put approximately ¾ cup of shredded coconut in the bowl of a food processor. (The coconut will pack down more when it’s finely-chopped so you’ll need more of the stuff out of the package to get the half-cup you need for this recipe.) Chop the shredded coconut up finely with the steel blade. Pour it out into a bowl and measure out ½ cup, packing it down when you measure it. Return the half-cup of finely chopped coconut to the food processor. (You can also do this by spreading out the shredded coconut on a cutting board and chopping it finely by hand.) Cut each stick of butter into eight pieces and arrange them in the bowl of the food processor on top of the chopped coconut. Sprinkle the powdered sugar and the flour on top of that. Zoop it all up with an on-and-off motion of the steel blade until it resembles coarse cornmeal. Prepare a 9-inch by 13-inch rectangular cake pan by spraying it with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. Alternatively, for even easier removal, line the cake pan with heavy-duty foil and spray that with Pam. (Then all you have to do is lift the bar cookies out when they’re cool, peel off the foil, and cut them up into pieces.) Sprinkle the crust mixture into the prepared cake pan and spread it out with your fingers. Pat it down with a large spatula or with the palms of your impeccably clean hands. Hannah’s 1st Note: If your butter is a bit too soft, you may end up with a mass that balls up and clings to the food processor bowl. That’s okay. Just scoop it up and spread it out in the bottom of your prepared pan. (You can also do this in a bowl with a fork or a pie crust blender if you prefer.) Hannah’s 2nd Note: Don’t wash your food processor quite yet. You’ll need it to make the lime layer. (The same applies to your bowl and fork if you make the crust by hand.) Bake your coconut crust at 350 degrees F. for 15 minutes. While your crust is baking, prepare the lime layer. Lime Layer: Combine the eggs with the white sugar. (You can use your food processor and the steel blade to do this, or you can do it by hand in a bowl.) Add the lime juice, vodka, salt, and baking powder. Mix thoroughly. Add the flour and mix until everything is incorporated. (This mixture will be runny—it’s supposed to be.) When your crust has baked for 15 minutes, remove the pan from the oven and set it on a cold stovetop burner or a wire rack. Don’t shut off the oven! Just leave it on at 350 degrees F. Pour the lime layer mixture on top of the crust you just baked. Use potholders to pick up the pan and return it to the oven. Bake your Sublime Lime Bar Cookies for an additional 30 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and cool your lime bars in the pan on a cold stovetop burner or a wire rack. When the pan has cooled to room temperature, cover it with foil and refrigerate it until you’re ready to serve. Cut the bars into brownie-sized pieces, place them on a pretty platter, and sprinkle them lightly with powdered sugar. Yum! Hannah’s 3rd Note: If you would prefer not to use alcohol in these bar cookies, simply substitute whole milk for the vodka. This recipe works both ways and I can honestly tell you that I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like my Sublime Lime Bar Cookies!

Load the sailboat with bottles of white wine, olive oil, fishing rods, and yeasty, dark-crusted bread. Work your way carefully out of the narrow channels of the Cabras port on the western shore of Sardinia. Set sail for the open seas. Navigate carefully around the archipelago of small boats fishing for sea bass, bream, squid. Steer clear of the lines of mussel nets swooping in long black arcs off the coastline. When you spot the crumbling stone tower, turn the boat north and nuzzle it gently into the electric blue-green waters along ancient Tharros. Drop anchor. Strip down to your bathing suit. Load into the transport boat and head for shore. After a swim, make for the highest point on the peninsula, the one with the view of land and sea and history that will make your knees buckle. Stay focused. You're not here to admire the sun-baked ruins of one of Sardinia's oldest civilizations, a five-thousand-year-old settlement that wears the footprints of its inhabitants- Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans- like the layers of a cake. You're here to pick herbs growing wildly among the ancient tombs and temples, under shards of broken vases once holding humans' earliest attempts at inebriation. Taste this! Like peppermint, but spicy. And this! A version of wild lemon thyme, perfect with seafood. Pluck a handful of finocchio marino,sea fennel, a bright burst of anise with an undertow of salt. With finocchio in fist, reboard the transport vessel and navigate toward the closest buoy. Grab the bright orange plastic, roll it over, and scrape off the thicket of mussels growing beneath. Repeat with the other buoys until you have enough mussels to fill a pot. In the belly of the boat, bring the dish together: Scrub the mussels. Bring a pot of seawater to a raucous boil and drop in the spaghetti- cento grammi a testa. While the pasta cooks, blanch a few handfuls of the wild fennel to take away some of the sting. Remove the mussels from their shells and combine with sliced garlic, a glass of seawater, and a deluge of peppery local olive oil in a pan. Take the pasta constantly, checking for doneness. (Don't you dare overcook it!) When only the faintest resistance remains in the middle, drain and add to the pan of mussels. Move the pasta fast and frequently with a pair of tongs, emulsifying the water and mussel juice with the oil. Keep stirring and drizzling in oil until a glistening sheen forms on the surface of the pasta. This is called la mantecatura, the key to all great seafood pastas, so take the time to do it right.

STRAWBERRY SHORTBREAD BAR COOKIES Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.   Hannah’s 1st Note: These are really easy and fast to make. Almost everyone loves them, including Baby Bethie, and they’re not even chocolate! 3 cups all purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it) ¾ cup powdered (confectioner’s) sugar (don’t sift un- less it’s got big lumps) 1 and ½ cups salted butter, softened (3 sticks, 12 ounces, ¾ pound) 1 can (21 ounces) strawberry pie filling (I used Comstock)*** *** - If you can’t find strawberry pie filling, you can use another berry filling, like raspberry, or blueberry. You can also use pie fillings of larger fruits like peach, apple, or whatever. If you do that, cut the fruit pieces into smaller pieces so that each bar cookie will have some. I just put my apple or peach pie filling in the food processor with the steel blade and zoop it up just short of being pureed. I’m not sure about using lemon pie filling. I haven’t tried that yet. FIRST STEP: Mix the flour and the powdered sugar together in a medium-sized bowl. Cut in the softened butter with a two knives or a pastry cutter until the resulting mixture resembles bread crumbs or coarse corn meal. (You can also do this in a food processor using cold butter cut into chunks that you layer between the powdered sugar and flour mixture and process with the steel blade, using an on-and-off pulsing motion.) Spread HALF of this mixture (approximately 3 cups will be fine) into a greased (or sprayed with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray) 9-inch by 13-inch pan. (That’s a standard size rectangular cake pan.) Bake at 350 degrees F. for 12 to 15 minutes, or until the edges are just beginning to turn golden brown. Remove the pan to a wire rack or a cold burner on the stove, but DON’T TURN OFF THE OVEN! Let the crust cool for 5 minutes. SECOND STEP: Spread the pie filling over the top of the crust you just baked. Sprinkle the crust with the other half of the crust mixture you saved. Try to do this as evenly as possible. Don’t worry about little gaps in the topping. It will spread out and fill in a bit as it bakes. Gently press the top crust down with the flat blade of a metal spatula. Bake the cookie bars at 350 degrees F. for another 30 to 35 minutes, or until the top is lightly golden. Turn off the oven and remove the pan to a wire rack or a cold burner to cool completely. When the bars are completely cool, cover the pan with foil and refrigerate them until you’re ready to cut them. (Chilling them makes them easier to cut.) When you’re ready to serve them, cut the Strawberry Shortbread Bar Cookies into brownie-sized pieces, arrange them on a pretty platter, and if you like, sprinkle the top with extra powdered sugar.

BUTTERSCOTCH BONANZA BARS Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.   ½ cup salted butter (1 stick, 4 ounces, ¼ pound) 2 cups light brown sugar*** (pack it down in the cup when you measure it) 2 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 2 beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glass with a fork) 1 and ½cups flour (scoop it up and level it off with a table knife) 1 cup chopped nuts (optional) 2 cups butterscotch chips (optional) ***- If all you have in the house is dark brown sugar and the roads are icy, it’s below zero, and you really don’t feel like driving to the store, don’t despair. Measure out one cup of dark brown sugar and mix it with one cup regular white granulated sugar. Now you’ve got light brown sugar, just what’s called for in Leslie’s recipe. And remember that you can always make any type of brown sugar by mixing molasses into white granulated sugar until it’s the right color. Hannah’s Note: Leslie says the nuts are optional, but she likes these cookie bars better with nuts. So do I, especially with walnuts. Bertie Straub wants hers with a cup of chopped pecans and 2 cups of butterscotch chips. Mother prefers these bars with 2 cups of semi-sweet chocolate chips and no nuts, Carrie likes them with 2 cups of mini chocolate chips and a cup of chopped pecans, and Lisa prefers to make them with 1 cup of chopped walnuts, 1 cup of white chocolate chips, and 1 cup of butterscotch chips. All this goes to show just how versatile Leslie’s recipe is. Try it first as it’s written with just the nuts. Then try any other versions that you think would be yummy. Grease and flour a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan, or spray it with nonstick baking spray, the kind with flour added. Set it aside while you mix up the batter. Melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat on the stovetop, or put it in the bottom of a microwave-safe, medium-sized mixing bowl and heat it for 1 minute in the microwave on HIGH. Add the light brown sugar to the mixing bowl with the melted butter and stir it in well. Mix in the baking powder and the salt. Make sure they’re thoroughly incorporated. Stir in the vanilla extract. Mix in the beaten eggs. Add the flour by half-cup increments, stirring in each increment before adding the next. Stir in the nuts, if you decided to use them. Mix in the butterscotch chips if you decided to use them, or any other chips you’ve chosen. Spoon the batter into the prepared cake pan and smooth out the top with a rubber spatula. Bake the Butterscotch Bonanza Bars at 350 degrees F. for 20 to 25 minutes. (Mine took 25 minutes.) When the bars are done, take them out of the oven and cool them completely in the pan on a cold stove burner or a wire rack. When the bars are cool, use a sharp knife to cut them into brownie-sized pieces. Yield: Approximately 40 bars, but that all depends on how large you cut the squares. You may not believe this, but Mother suggested that I make these cookie bars with semi-sweet chocolate chips and then frost them with chocolate fudge frosting. There are times when I think she’d frost a tuna sandwich with chocolate fudge frosting and actually enjoy eating it!

MONKEY BREAD   Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position. 1 and ¼ cups white (granulated) sugar 1 and ½ teaspoons ground cinnamon 4 cans (7.5 ounce tube) unbaked refrigerated biscuits (I used Pillsbury) 1 cup chopped nuts of your choice (optional) 1 cup chocolate chips (optional) (that’s a 6-ounce size bag) ½ cup salted butter (1 stick, 4 ounces, ¼ pound) Hannah’s 1st Note: If you prefer, you can use 16.3 ounce tubes of Pillsbury Grands. If you do this, buy only 2 tubes. They are larger—you will use half a tube for each layer. Tony’s Note: If you use chocolate chips and/or nuts, place them between each biscuit layer. Spray the inside of a Bundt pan with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. Set your prepared pan on a drip pan just in case the butter overflows. Then you won’t have to clean your oven. Mix the white sugar and cinnamon together in a mixing bowl. (I used a fork to mix it up so that the cinnamon was evenly distributed.) Open 1 can of biscuits at a time and break or cut them into quarters. You want bite-size pieces. Roll the pieces in the cinnamon and sugar mixture, and place them in the bottom of the Bundt pan. Sprinkle one-third of the chopped nuts and one-third of the chocolate chips on top of the layer, if you decided to use them. Open the second can of biscuits, quarter them, roll them in the cinnamon and sugar, and place them on top of the first layer. (If you used Pillsbury Grands, you’ll do this with the remainder of the first tube.) Sprinkle on half of the remaining nuts and chocolate chips, if you decided to use them. Repeat with the third can of biscuits (or the first half of the second tube of Grands). Sprinkle on the remainder of the nuts and chocolate chips, if you decided to use them. Repeat with the fourth can of biscuits (or the rest of the Grands) to make a top layer in your Bundt pan. Melt the butter and the remaining cinnamon and sugar mixture in a microwave safe bowl on HIGH for 45 seconds. Give it a final stir and pour it over the top of your Bundt pan. Bake your Monkey Bread at 350 degrees F. for 40 to 45 minutes, or until nice and golden on top. Take the Bundt pan out of the oven and let it cool on a cold burner or a wire rack for 10 minutes while you find a plate that will fit over the top of the Bundt pan. Using potholders or oven mitts invert the plate over the top of the Bundt pan and turn it upside down to unmold your delicious Monkey Bread. To serve, you can cut this into slices like Bundt cake, but it’s more fun to just let people pull off pieces with their fingers. Hannah’s 2nd Note: If you’d like to make Caramel Monkey Bread, use only ¾ cup of white sugar. Mix it with the cinnamon the way you’d do if it was the full amount of white sugar. At the very end when you melt the butter with the leftover cinnamon and sugar mixture, add ¾ cup of brown sugar to the bowl before you put it in the microwave. Pour that hot mixture over the top of your Bundt pan before baking and it will form a luscious caramel topping when you unmold your Monkey Bread. Hannah’s 3rd Note: I don’t know why this is called “Monkey Bread”. Norman thinks it has something to do with the old story about the monkey that couldn’t get his hand out of the hole in the tree because he wouldn’t let go of the nut he was holding in his fist. Mike thinks it’s because monkeys eat with their hands and you can pull this bread apart and eat it with your hands. Mother says it’s because monkeys are social animals and you can put this bread in the center of the table and everyone can sit around it and eat. Tracey says it’s because it’s a cute name. Bethie doesn’t care. She just wants to eat it.

3 cups flour 2 cups sugar 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon table salt 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon bananas (about 3) 2 cups diced overripe bananas 3 beaten eggs 1 cup chopped toasted pecans 1 cup vegetable oil 2 tablespoons honey 1 (8-oz.) can crushed pineapple, drained Preheat oven to 350°. Sift together first 5 ingredients in a large bowl; add the remainder of the ingredients, stirring just until dry ingredients are moistened. Pour batter into 4 greased and floured 9-inch square or round cake pans. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pans on wire racks for about 10 minutes; then remove from pans and place the cakes on wire racks, to cool completely. Browned Butter Frosting 1 cup butter 1 lb. powdered sugar ¼ cup milk 1 tablespoon honey Melt butter in a heavy saucepan over medium heat, stirring constantly for 8 to 10 minutes or until butter begins to turn golden-brown. Remove pan immediately from heat, and pour butter into a small bowl. Chill for an hour or until butter begins to solidify. Beat butter with an electric mixer until fluffy, and add sugar alternately with milk. Stir in the honey. Frost the cake and sprinkle with pecans. Chill for at least 1 hour before serving to make it easier to cut and serve.

LIZZIE’S SPOILS-OF-WAR ORANGE CAKE FOR THE CAKE: Beat together eight soup spoons butter with one cup sugar until fluffy. Mix in two eggs and three soup spoons juice from an orange. In a small bowl, blend one and two-thirds cups flour, a teaspoon baking powder, and half a teaspoon salt. Add dry to wet mixture along with one cup buttermilk. Blend well. Stir in one cup raisins, half a cup chopped walnuts, and one soup spoon finely grated orange peel. Pour the mixture into a buttered pan and bake forty-five to fifty minutes. Cool before icing.   FOR THE ICING: Stir two soup spoons juice of orange and two cups powdered sugar together until the sugar dissolves completely and the icing is smooth. The icing should be thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. If it is too thick, add more liquid; if too thin, add a little sugar.

actually continue baking in their pans even when you pull them out of the oven. To get a really moist cake,

MOM’S SOUR CREAM COFFEE CAKE This recipe is another classic from my mom’s kitchen. She liked to make this yummy cake to take to someone who needed their spirits lifted or just to have as a treat. It’s an all-time favorite with my family, too, and, when it’s my turn to host fellowship hour at church, it’s always part of my repertoire!   Ingredients for Cake 1 cup sugar ¼ pound butter (softened) 1 cup sour cream 1 teaspoon vanilla 2 eggs 2 cups flour (sifted) 1 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda Pinch salt   Ingredients for Topping ½ cup chopped walnuts ½ cup sugar 1 teaspoon cinnamon   Directions Mix topping ingredients together. Set aside. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease and flour angel-food cake pan. Cream together butter and sugar with electric mixer. Add eggs and sour cream and beat until smooth. Sift together remaining dry ingredients in a separate bowl and blend into mixture. Batter will be thick. Spread half the batter into the angel-food cake pan and sprinkle with half of the sugar, cinnamon, and nut topping. Spread remaining batter on top and sprinkle remaining sugar, cinnamon, and nut mixture. (I gently press down the topping with the back of a spoon.) Bake for 40 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. Let cool and remove from pan. Enjoy anytime with a hot cup o’ coffee or tea or a big glass of milk!

GRANDMA GLORIA’S BETTER THAN SEX CAKE 1 heaping cup walnuts, finely chopped 1 cup flour 1 stick butter, softened ¾ cup confectioners’ sugar 1 8-ounce package cream cheese, softened 1 large container Cool Whip, thawed 1 large box instant chocolate pudding 3 cups milk Preheat oven to 350°F. Crust: Mix butter, flour, and most of the nuts together (reserve 2 tablespoons for garnish) and press into a 9 x 13-inch pan. Bake for 20 minutes and cool completely. First Layer: Beat confectioners’ sugar, cream cheese, and 1 cup of Cool Whip with an electric mixer until well blended, and spread carefully over crust. Second Layer: Beat pudding and milk for 2 minutes with an electric mixer and spread over first layer. Third Layer: Spread Cool Whip generously over the pudding layer and garnish with remaining nuts. Refrigerate several hours before serving, and then enjoy! (Alternatively, let the pudding set for a few hours before adding Cool Whip Layer (makes Cool Whip easier to spread). Warning: Aphrodisiac properties well documented. Consume at your own risk!

CAKE whole black peppercorns whole cloves whole cardamom 1 cinnamon stick 2 cups flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda ½ teaspoon salt 3 large eggs 1 large egg yolk 1 cup sour cream 1½ sticks (6 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature 1 cup sugar 2 large pieces fresh ginger root (¼ cup, tightly packed, when finely grated) zest from 2 to 3 oranges (1½ teaspoons finely grated) Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour a 6-cup Bundt pan. Grind your peppercorns, cloves, and cardamom and measure out ¼ teaspoon of each. (You can use pre-ground spices, but the cake won’t taste as good.) Grind your cinnamon stick and measure out 1 teaspoon. (Again, you can use ground cinnamon if you must.) Whisk the flour with the baking powder, baking soda, spices, and salt in a small bowl. In another small bowl, whisk the eggs and egg yolk into the sour cream. Set aside. Cream the butter and sugar in a stand mixer until the mixture is light, fluffy, and almost white. This should take about 3 minutes. Grate the ginger root—this is a lot of ginger—and the orange zest. Add them to the butter/sugar mixture. Beat the flour mixture and the egg mixture, alternating between the two, into the butter until each addition is incorporated. The batter should be as luxurious as mousse. Spoon batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 40 minutes, until cake is golden and a wooden skewer comes out clean. Remove to a rack and cool in the pan for 10 minutes. SOAK ½ cup bourbon 1½ tablespoons sugar While the cake cools in its pan, simmer the bourbon and the sugar in a small pot for about 4 minutes. It should reduce to about ⅓ cup. While the cake is still in the pan, brush half the bourbon mixture onto its exposed surface (the bottom of the cake) with a pastry brush. Let the syrup soak in for a few minutes, then turn the cake out onto a rack. Gently brush the remaining mixture all over the cake. GLAZE ¾ cup powdered sugar, sifted or put through a strainer 5 teaspoons orange juice Once the cake is cooled, mix the sugar with the orange juice and either drizzle the glaze randomly over the cake or put it into a squeeze bottle and do a controlled drizzle. AUTHOR’S NOTE This is a work of fiction.

this attractive coffee cake at a holiday brunch or on Christmas morning for a surefire crowd pleaser. To eat, pull off sugary, orange-crusted rounds of sweet bread, one at a time. DOUGH SMALL SWEET DOUGH OF YOUR CHOICE, such as Basic Not-So-Sweet Dough GRATED LEMON RIND 1 teaspoon MEDIUM SWEET DOUGH OF YOUR CHOICE, such as Basic Not-So-Sweet Dough GRATED LEMON RIND 1 teaspoon LARGE SWEET DOUGH OF YOUR CHOICE, such as Basic Not-So-Sweet Dough GRATED LEMON RIND 2 teaspoons 1. Place dough ingredients, including the grated lemon rind, in bread pan, select Dough setting, and press Start. 2. When the dough has risen long enough, the machine will beep. Turn off

Potato Bake or Party Potatoes Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position   This is another recipe from Vera Olsen (“Hot Stuff”) who’s engaged to marry Andrew Westcott (“Silver Fox.”)   1/3 cup flour ½ teaspoon baking powder 2 teaspoons salt 1 teaspoon pepper ½ teaspoon garlic powder ½ teaspoon onion powder ½ teaspoon paprika 4 eggs 1 large grated onion ½ cup melted butter (1 stick, ¼ pound) 5 cups frozen hash browns or frozen Potatoes O’Brien 2 cups grated cheese (any kind will do)   Spray a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan with Pam or other non-stick spray. Mix flour, baking powder, salt, pepper, and seasonings in a large bowl with a fork. Add the eggs and whisk it all up. Stir in the onion, melted butter, grated cheese and potatoes. Dump the mixture into the cake pan, cover it with foil, and bake at 350 degrees F. for one hour. Remove foil, turn the oven up to 400 degrees F., and bake for an additional 15 to 30 minutes, or until the top is crusty and golden brown. If you want to make this into what Vera Olsen calls “Party Potatoes,” take the potatoes out of the oven, let them cool for about ten minutes so that the eggs and cheese hold them together, cut them into serving-size squares, (you can get about 12 from a pan,) transfer the squares to a platter, and top each one with a generous dollop of sour cream and a sprinkling of caviar (or crumbled bacon for those who don’t like caviar.)

EASY FRUIT PIE   Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position. Note from Delores: I got this recipe from Jenny Hester, a new nurse at Doc Knight’s hospital. Jenny just told me that her great-grandmother used to make it whenever the family came over for Sunday dinner. Hannah said it’s easy so I might actually try to make it some night for Doc. ¼ cup salted butter (½ stick, 2 ounces, pound) 1 cup whole milk 1 cup white (granulated) sugar 1 cup all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it) 1 and ½ teaspoons baking powder ½ teaspoon salt 1 can fruit pie filling (approximately 21 ounces by weight—3 to 3 and ½ cups, the kind that makes an 8-inch pie) Hannah’s 1st Note: This isn’t really a pie, and it isn’t really a cake even though you make it in a cake pan. It’s almost like a cobbler, but not quite. I have the recipe filed under “Dessert”. You can use any canned fruit pie filling you like. I might not bake it for company with blueberry pie filling. It tasted great, but didn’t look all that appetizing. If you love blueberry and want to try it, it might work to cover the top with sweetened whipped cream or Cool Whip before you serve it. I’ve tried this recipe with raspberry and peach . . . so far. I have the feeling that lemon pie filling would be yummy, but I haven’t gotten around to trying it yet. Maybe I’ll try it some night when Mike comes over after work. Even if it doesn’t turn out that well, he’ll eat it. Place the butter in a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan and put it in the oven to melt. Meanwhile . . . Mix the milk, sugar, flour, baking powder and salt together in a medium-size bowl. This batter will be a little lumpy and that’s okay. Just like brownie batter, don’t over-mix it. Using oven mitts or potholders, remove the pan with the melted butter from the oven. Pour in the batter and tip the pan around to cover the whole bottom. Then set it on a cold stove burner. Spoon the pie filling over the stop of the batter, but DO NOT MIX IN. Just spoon it on as evenly as you can. (The batter will puff up around it in the oven and look gorgeous!) Bake the dessert at 375 degrees F., for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until it turns golden brown and bubbly on top. To serve, cool slightly, dish into bowls, and top with sweetened whipped cream or vanilla ice cream. It really is yummy. Hannah’s 2nd Note: The dessert is best when it’s baked, cooled slightly, and served right away. Alternatively you can bake it earlier, cut pieces to put in microwave-safe bowls, and reheat it in the microwave before you put on the ice cream or sweetened whipped cream. Yield: Easy Fruit Pie will serve 6 if you don’t invite Mike and Norman for dinner. Note from Jenny: I’ve made this by adding ¼ cup cocoa powder and 1 teaspoon of vanilla to the batter. If I do this, I spoon a can of cherry pie filling over the top.

The Christmas Cake (Bessie’s Apple Cake) Cream together ½ cup of butter and 2 cups of sugar Add 2 eggs and 2 teaspoons of vanilla mixing well Mix in the finely grated zest and the juice of one large orange Add 2 cups of flour, 2 teaspoons of baking soda and ½ teaspoon of nutmeg mixing well Add 4 cups of chopped apples (do not peel) and 2 cups of broken pecans or walnuts mixing everything well Pour into a greased and floured Bundt pan and bake at 325 degrees for 1 hour and 15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Man, that smells good,” Paige said. “What did you make?” “Eggs, venison bacon, and hoe cakes,” Betty said. “I’m sorry,” Tara snickered. “Did you say hoe cakes?” “Yes,” Betty laughed. “They’re very popular in the south.” “They’re called hoe cakes because they were cooked on an iron pan that was called a hoe,” Paige explained. “I wonder what it did to deserve that,” Tara laughed.

Man, that smells good,” Paige said. “What did you make?” “Eggs, venison bacon, and hoe cakes,” Betty said. “I’m sorry,” Tara snickered. “Did you say hoe cakes?” “Yes,” Betty laughed. “They’re very popular in the south.” “They’re called hoe cakes because they were cooked on an iron pan that was called a hoe,” Paige explained. “I wonder what it did to deserve that,” Tara laughed. “Paige is right,” Betty chuckled. “Though the name is humorous.” Betty dished each of us a plate, and I dug in with a vengeance. Typically I wasn’t extremely hungry before a mission, but the smell of that venison bacon had made my mouth water, and I groaned when it hit my tongue. The eggs were fluffy and well seasoned, and the hoe cakes were savory and sweet. “This is delicious,” I said through bites. “Thank you,” Betty chuckled. “I’m glad you like it.” “We all already knew Tav liked hoes,” Anna said with a pointed look at Tara. “Hey!” Tara laughed and hit the redhead on the arm. “I do like the hoes,” I chuckled as I took another bite. “That sounded so wrong,” Paige said seriously, but then her expression cracked, and she broke into a laugh.

Creation Myth I'm the great-grandson of a sheep farmer, child of sumacs, trash trees shedding their ancient scales. I'm drawn from fair grass on the north end, my molecules spat from coal and cattle, the Indiana dusk. I'm notes scrawled on freezer paper, the one looped oven mitt Aunt Bev crocheted while the baby lay feverish in its crib. I rise from a day gone thin as Cousin Ceily, who wore her cancer wigs to church. I come from boys unfastening in the 4-H bathroom, the stink of urinal cakes, dirty hands that scratched an itch. I breathe in arc welders and air compressors. I breathe out milk leaking from nurse cows, Uncle Jake's spoiled old bitches. I'm run through with moths and meth labs, a child of the KKK, men who lynched Tom Shipp from a split oak in Marion, August 1930. My cells carry his shadow swaying over uncut grass. They carry my second third cousin cheering in the back. I rise from aphids in honeysuckle, egg yolks flecked with blood. Born one humid summer night, my body hums like a black cricket, transmitting August across the fields. I sing till my throat bleeds. I smoke like a pan of scorched sugar. I'll never forget the miracle of firecrackers, freezer meat, murky gray lemonade. I'm born to thunder in the veins, a child of form, a rusted gasket ring, some disenchanted thing, the promise of a worm.

9 ounces (250 g) bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped 8 tablespoons (120 g) unsalted butter ⅓ cup (65 g) sugar 4 large eggs, at room temperature, separated 2 tablespoons flour Pinch of salt 1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Butter a 9-inch (23-cm) loaf pan and line the bottom with a strip of parchment paper. 2. In a large bowl set over a pan of simmering water, heat the chocolate and butter together just until melted and smooth. 3. Remove from heat and stir in half the sugar, then the egg yolks, and flour. (You don’t need to measure the half-quantity of sugar exactly. Just pretend you’re a Frenchwoman cooking in her home kitchen and don’t worry about it.) 4. Using an electric mixer or a whisk, begin whipping the egg whites with the salt. Keep whipping until they start to form soft, droopy peaks. Gradually whip in the remaining sugar until the whites are smooth and hold their shape when the whisk is lifted. 5. Use a rubber spatula to fold one-third of the egg whites into the chocolate mixture to lighten it, then fold in the remaining egg whites just until the mixture is smooth and no visible white streaks remain. 6. Scrape the batter into the prepared loaf pan, smooth the top, and bake for 35 minutes, just until the cake feels slightly firm in the center.

3 cups flour 2 cups sugar 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon table salt 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon bananas (about 3) 2 cups diced overripe bananas 3 beaten eggs 1 cup chopped toasted pecans 1 cup vegetable oil 2 tablespoons honey 1 (8-oz.) can crushed pineapple, undrained Preheat oven to 350°. Sift together first 5 ingredients in a large bowl; add the remainder of the ingredients, stirring just until dry ingredients are moistened. Pour batter into 4 greased and floured 9-inch square or round cake pans. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pans on wire racks for about 10 minutes; then remove from pans and place the cakes on wire racks, to cool completely. BROWNED BUTTER FROSTING 1 cup butter 1 lb. powdered sugar ¼ cup milk 1 tablespoon honey Melt butter in a heavy saucepan over medium heat, stirring constantly for 8 to 10 minutes or until butter begins to turn golden-brown. Remove pan immediately from heat, and pour butter into a small bowl. Chill for an hour or until butter begins to solidify. Beat butter with an electric mixer until fluffy, and add sugar alternately with milk. Stir in the honey. Frost the cake and sprinkle with pecans. Chill for at least 1 hour before serving to make it easier to cut and serve. [Source: Adapted from a traditional Southern recipe]

There’s a term for this irrational fear of joy: cherophobia (chero is the Greek word for “rejoice”). People with cherophobia are like Teflon pans in terms of pleasure—it doesn’t stick (though pain cakes on them as if to an ungreased surface). It’s common for people with traumatic histories to expect disaster just around the corner.

Piper chose a pan-roasted and porcini-dusted chicken over a mushroom, artichoke, and Parmesan risotto, while Bertrand and Marguerite both ordered the sauté of Gulf shrimp in a pancetta, sun-dried tomato, and basil beurre blanc with goat-cheese grits.

Carole’s amazing roast chicken. Because how better to deal with fears of bird flu than by eating a bird, am I right? Here’s how you can make it yourself. You’ll need a chicken, first of all. Carole cuts it up herself but I’m lazy, so I buy a cut-up chicken at the store. You’ll need at least two pounds of potatoes. You’ll need a lemon and a garlic bulb. You’ll need a big wide roasting pan. I use a Cuisinart heavy-duty lasagna pan, but you can get by with a 13x9 cake pan. Cut up the potatoes into little cubes. (Use good potatoes! The yellow ones or maybe the red ones. In the summer I buy them at the farmer’s market.) Spray your pan with some cooking spray and toss in the potatoes. Peel all the garlic (really, all of it!) and scatter the whole cloves all through with the potatoes. If you’re thinking, “All that garlic?” just trust me on this. Roasted garlic gets all mild and melty and you can eat it like the potato chunks. Really. You’ll thank me later. Finally, lay out the chicken on top, skin-down. You’ll turn it halfway through cooking. Shake some oregano over all the meat and also some sea salt and a few twists of pepper. Squeeze the lemon, or maybe even two lemons if you really like lemon, and mix it in with a quarter cup of olive oil. Pour that over everything and use your hands to mix it in, make sure it’s all over the chicken and the potatoes. Then pour just a tiny bit of water down the side of the pan—you don’t want to get it on the chicken—so the potatoes don’t burn and stick. Pop it into a 425-degree oven and roast for an hour. Flip your chicken a half hour in so the skin gets nice and crispy.

Come on in - I'm in the middle of baking." "How is it?" I asked as I straightened. "Did you remember to add the coffee?" He rolled his eyes but grinned. "Yes." "Did you put in enough cocoa?" "Yep." "Did you grease the pans and put flour in them, so the cakes won't stick?" His eyes went wide. " Oh my God." "Rhys!

You're making tarte à la bouille as an angel food cake?" Ah. He got it. And, if I wasn't mistaken, he was impressed. Or maybe he was just confused. I felt pretty gratified, either way. I flipped my wrist to remove his hand and then went about my business. "Have you read To Kill a Mockingbird, Chef Cavanagh?" "Yes. Of course I have." "So you remember when Heck Tate told Atticus that they should keep the secret, about Boo Radley saving the kids. He told him that if the people of the town found out, they'd all use their appreciation as an excuse to meddle in Boo's life." I finished pouring my mix into the pan and then looked at him- probably a little more pleased with myself than good manners allowed for. "They'd all be showing up at Boo's door with angel food cake.

Recipe for Bannock Ingredients: 2 cups all-purpose flour 2 tablespoons sugar 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 tablespoons butter 1 cup buttermilk 1/2 cup dried currants (optional) Directions: Combine flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Cut butter into flour mixture with pastry cutter. Add buttermilk until dough is soft. Stir in currants. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead for 5 minutes, or until smooth. Form dough into a 7-inch round. Place on a lightly oiled cake pan or cookie sheet. Cut ½-inch deep cross side to side. Score with cross ½-inch deep on the top. Bake in a preheated 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) oven for 40 minutes.

There’s a term for this irrational fear of joy: cherophobia (chero is the Greek word for “rejoice”). People with cherophobia are like Teflon pans in terms of pleasure — it doesn’t stick (though pain cakes on them as if to an ungreased surface). It’s common for people with traumatic histories to expect disaster just around the corner. Instead of leaning into the goodness that comes their way, they become hypervigilant, always waiting for something to go wrong.

Minnie’s Amazing Fruit Cake Serves 12 Juice of half an orange (about 2 tablespoons) Zest of 1 orange 2 tablespoons brandy (optional) 2¼ cups mixed dried fruit (combination of raisins, currants, and maraschino cherries—any dried fruit you like!) 1½ sticks unsalted butter, softened ½ stick (4 tablespoons) margarine, softened 1 cup packed light brown sugar 4 large free-range eggs, room temperature 1 cup self-rising flour ½ cup ground almonds 1 teaspoon cinnamon 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice 1 cup chopped almonds (optional) Combine the orange juice, orange zest, and brandy, if using, in a mixing bowl. Add the dried fruit, cover the bowl, and soak overnight. Line the bottom of a deep 8-inch round cake pan with parchment paper, cut to fit, and lightly butter the bottom of the paper to make it stick, then butter and flour the sides of the cake pan. Preheat the oven to 320F (160C). In a large bowl, beat the butter, margarine, and sugar with an electric mixer at high speed until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at time and beat after each addition until well combined. Sift together the flour, ground almonds, cinnamon, and pumpkin pie spice. Add the flour mixture to the bowl and fold in until just combined. Add the soaked fruit and chopped almonds, if you are including them. Pour the mixture into the prepared cake pan. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes, and test with a toothpick or skewer. When it comes out clean, the cake is done. If not, return to the oven for 10 minutes and repeat. You may need to bake for up to 1 hour and 45 minutes, depending on your oven. If the top starts to burn before the middle is done, loosely cover the cake pan with foil. Enjoy the cake with family or friends, sharing your dreams and ambitions for the year ahead. Where would you like to be eating fruit cake this time next year?

1/2 cup (2 ounces) Dutch-process cocoa powder, preferably Valrhona 1 1/2 cups (10 1/2 ounces) sugar 2 teaspoons kosher salt or 1 teaspoon fine sea salt 1 3/4 cups (9 1/4 ounces) all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking soda 2 teaspoons vanilla extract 1/2 cup neutral-tasting oil 1 1/2 cups boiling water or freshly brewed strong coffee 2 large eggs at room temperature, lightly whisked 2 cups Vanilla Cream (page 423) Preheat the oven to 350°F. Set a rack in the upper third of the oven. Grease two 8-inch cake pans, then line with parchment paper. Grease and sprinkle generously with flour, tap out the excess, and set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the cocoa, sugar, salt, flour, and baking soda, then sift into a large bowl. In a medium bowl, stir the vanilla and oil together. Bring the water to a boil or brew the coffee. Add it to the oil-vanilla mixture. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and gradually whisk in the water-oil mixture until incorporated. Gradually whisk in the eggs and stir until smooth. The batter will be thin. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans. Drop the pan onto the counter from a height of 3 inches a couple of times to release any air bubbles that may have formed. Bake in the upper third of the oven for 25 to 30 minutes, until the cakes spring back from the touch and just pull away from the edges of the pan. An inserted toothpick should come out clean. Cool the cakes completely on a wire rack before unmolding them from the pan and peeling off the parchment paper. To serve, place one layer down on a cake plate. Spread 1 cup Vanilla Cream in the center of the cake and gently place the second layer atop it. Spread

CHRISTMAS IN BARBADOS I miss being in Barbados in December, That is a time I always remember. The smell of varnish on the wooden floors and the smell of paint on the wooden doors. The smell of cloves as the ham was baked and the smell of the rum, in my mudda fruit cakes. The smell of coconut as she baked de sweetbread and the smell of the cloth as she made up de bed. The sounds of "Moussa" as he played "Nat King Cole" The sounds of "Lassie" as he played…"Coming in from de cold". The hustling and the bustling of the Bajans buying Christmas gifts, The sights of Taxis, giving Bajan Yankees a lift. The barrels on top of the lorries and the vans, The cases of sweet drinks and the baking pans The young people in town buying a new Christmas dress, The smell of hair that yuh mudda just press. The crowds in de Supermarket buying up the rum, And the music blasting, “Puh Rup a Pum Pum”. I am usually glad when de New Year begins,. A month later, "Courts and Manning come back fuh the things.

5USE THE APPROPRIATE SIZE COOKWARE Make sure to use the cookware and bakeware noted in the recipe. If you pour cake batter into a 9-inch pan when the recipe says 8 inch, you will end up with thinner cake layers that cook more quickly. If you try to cook four chicken cutlets in a 10-inch skillet, rather than in the 12-inch skillet called for in the recipe, the chicken will steam rather than brown because the pan is too crowded.

Are you waiting for the other shoe to drop?” I ask. There’s a term for this irrational fear of joy: cherophobia (chero is the Greek word for “rejoice”). People with cherophobia are like Teflon pans in terms of pleasure—it doesn’t stick (though pain cakes on them as if to an ungreased surface). It’s common for people with traumatic histories to expect disaster just around the corner. Instead of leaning into the goodness that comes their way, they become hypervigilant, always waiting for something to go wrong. That might be why Rita still fumbled for tissues in her purse even though she knew a fresh box was beside her on the table. Better not to get used to a full box of tissues, or a surrogate family next door, or people purchasing your art, or the man you’re dreaming about giving you a big fat kiss in the parking lot. Don’t delude yourself, sister! The second you get too comfortable—whoosh!—it will all go away. For Rita, joy isn’t pleasure; it’s anticipatory pain.

Dough 4 egg yolks 2/3 cup white sugar 1 stick of butter (1/2 cup) 1/3 cup of sour cream 1 1/2 cup flour 1 tsp baking powder 1 pinch of salt 1 Tbsp vanilla extract Zest of 1 lemon Filling 3-4 large Granny Smith or other baking apples 1 tsp of cinnamon 1 pinch of flour Meringue: 4 egg whites 2/3 cup white sugar Equipment a mixer springform pan Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a springform pan. I used 2 6-inch ones, because smaller cakes are easier to store, but one 9 or 10 inch springform pan would work as well. Separate egg yolks from egg whites. Refrigerate egg whites. Grate zest from 1 lemon. Peel apples, slice them into 1/2 inch thick slices, add cinnamon and flour. Mix thoroughly. If the apples are on the sweeter side, add a bit of lemon juice. Set aside. Cream 2/3 cups sugar with room temperature butter with a hand mixer. Add egg yolks one by one, mix thoroughly. Add sour cream, vanilla, and lemon zest. Mix. In a separate bowl combine flour, baking powder, and salt. Mix. Add to the wet ingredients and pour into the springform pan. Layer the apples on top. Bake for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, removed the pan from the oven. Whip egg whites until stiff peaks form. Add sugar a little at a time and continue whipping until meringue forms and the entire 2/3 cup of sugar is gone. Layer meringue on top of the apples. Bake for additional 20 minutes. Meringue should be blush and pretty. Remove from oven and let cool to room temperature. Gently run a knife along the edge of the pan just like Dina did, to cut meringue, otherwise when you release the pan, half of it will come off. Release the pan and lift straight up. Enjoy with tea or your favorite beverage. ALSO BY ILONA ANDREWS Kate Daniels World BLOOD HEIR Kate Daniels Series MAGIC BITES MAGIC BLEEDS MAGIC BURNS MAGIC

Recipe Hello from Honey Hollow! Lottie here! I hope you’re in the mood for something devilishly delicious. My famous, or rather infamous devil’s food cake is well—to die for. If you have a serious hankering for chocolate, you will not regret this. But be warned, your entire home will hold the scent of warm, tempting chocolate. It is rather hard to resist. Happy baking! From the kitchen of the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery Devil’s Food Cake 1½ cup of softened butter ¾ cup unsweetened baking coco 2 cups sugar 3 eggs 3 cups sifted all-purpose flour ¼ tsp salt 1 ½ tsp baking soda ¾ cup milk 1 cup hot water 1 tsp white distilled vinegar 1 tablespoon vanilla extract Instructions Preheat oven 350° Grease and dust with coco powder or flour, two 9 inch round pans or a 9x13 pan. *I prefer to use a stand mixer. Although mixing by hand works well, too. Mix and cream together coco, sugar, butter, milk and eggs. Slowly mix in one cup of hot water. Add flour, salt, baking soda, vinegar and vanilla extract. Pour into two pans evenly, or a single prepared pan. Bake at 350° for 30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the middle, comes out clean. Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery’s Go-to Chocolate Frosting Recipe 6 tablespoons softened butter ¾ cup unsweetened baking coco Pinch of salt 3 tablespoons hot water 1 ¾ cup of powdered sugar In a mixing bowl, cream butter, coco, salt, and water. Stir until it reaches a smooth finish. Slowly add in powdered sugar. Make sure it reaches your desired consistency. If it’s too thick, add a touch more water. If it’s too thin, add in a touch more powdered sugar. Frost your cooled devil’s food cake and enjoy!

Maman’s Apple Tart YIELD: 4 TO 6 SERVINGS THIS APPLE TART was a staple at Le Pélican, and my mother would prepare two or three every day. For Roland’s wedding, she must have made one dozen. Most of the guests preferred her tarts to the elaborate croquembouche wedding cake, a tower of caramel-glazed cream puffs covered with spun sugar. Maman’s method of making dough breaks all the rules that I learned professionally. Using hot milk? Stirring the dough with a spoon? Smearing it into the pie plate? Yet it comes out tender, crumbly, and light in texture, with a delicate taste. DOUGH 1¼ cups all-purpose flour 1 large egg, broken into a small bowl and beaten with a fork 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened 3 tablespoons vegetable shortening (such as Crisco) Pinch salt 1 tablespoon sugar 1 teaspoon baking powder 2 tablespoons hot milk FILLING 4 large Golden Delicious apples (about 2 pounds) 3 tablespoons sugar 2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, broken into pieces FOR THE DOUGH: Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Put all the dough ingredients except the hot milk into a bowl. Stir well with a wooden spoon until the mixture starts to combine. Add the hot milk, and stir until well mixed. Do not overwork. The dough will be very soft. Place it in a 9-inch pie plate (my mother used a fluted metal quiche pan) and, using your fingers and a little extra flour to keep them from sticking, press the dough into the pan until it covers the bottom and the sides. FOR THE FILLING: Peel, core, and halve the apples. Cut each half into 1½-inch wedges. Arrange the wedges on the dough like the spokes of a wheel. Sprinkle with the sugar, and top with the butter, broken into pieces. Bake the tart for approximately 1 hour, or until the crust is golden. Serve it lukewarm.

Cream 1 cup butter and 3/4 cup sugar in a mixer. Add 4 eggs, beating well after each addition. With mixer on low speed, blend in 1 1/2 cups creamed corn, 1/4 cup crushed pineapple, 1 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese, 1 cup flour, 1 cup cornmeal, 2 tablespoons baking powder, and 1 teaspoon salt. Pour into a buttered 9-inch-square cake pan and bake at 325° for about an hour, or until golden brown. Serves eight.

Poppy smiled. “I remember never being able to find the cake pan, because Beatrix was forever making it into a bed for her pets.” Amelia gave an unladylike snort of laughter. “What about the time one of the chickens was so frightened by the neighbor’s dog, it lost all its feathers? And Bea got Mother to knit a little sweater for it.” Poppy spluttered in her tea. “I was mortified. Everyone in the village came to see our bald chicken strutting around in a sweater.” “As far as I know,” Amelia said with a grin, “Leo’s never eaten poultry since. He says he can’t have something for dinner if there’s a chance it once wore clothes.

Amma’s Cola Cake Ingredients Cake: 2 cups flour 2 cups sugar ½ pound (2 sticks) butter 3 tablespoons baking cocoa 1 cup Coca-Cola ½ cup buttermilk 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 1½ cups mini marshmallows 2 eggs Icing: ¼ pound (1 stick) butter 3 tablespoons baking cocoa 6 tablespoons Coca-Cola 4 cups confectioners’ sugar 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 1 cup chopped pecans Directions Cake: 1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. 2. In a mixing bowl, sift together the flour and sugar. Set it aside. 3. Melt the butter in a saucepan. Stir in the cocoa and Coca-Cola, and bring to a boil. Remove from heat. 4. Pour the liquid mixture over the flour and sugar. Add the buttermilk, baking soda, vanilla, marshmallows, and eggs. Stir well. 5. Pour the mixture into a greased 9 x 13-inch pan. Bake for 30 minutes. Remove from oven and ice while hot. Icing: 6. Melt the butter. Stir in the cocoa and Coca-Cola. Remove from heat. 7. Add the confectioners’ sugar, vanilla, and pecans. Stir well. 8. Pour icing over hot

soda in the milk and water. Add the butter or margarine and syrup or treacle and mix slowly but well. Sieve the flour, cocoa, salt, and baking powder into a mixing bowl. Add the mixed ingredients from the saucepan and mix well, again slowly. Pour into two cake tins and bake for 20 to 25 minutes. When cooked, leave the cakes in their pans until cool. Next, make the icing. Melt the butter or margarine, then mix with the cocoa powder, milk powder, sugar, and vanilla essence until soft and shiny.

2½ cups all-purpose flour 1½ teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon ground ginger ½ teaspoon ground cloves ½ teaspoon salt ½ cup (1 stick) butter, melted and slightly cooled ½ cup sugar 1 large egg 1 cup dark unsulphured molasses 1 cup hot (not boiling) water 1. Adjust the oven rack to the middle position. Spray an 8-by 8-inch pan with nonstick cooking spray. Preheat the oven to 350ºF for a metal pan or 325ºF if using an ovenproof glass pan. 2. In a medium bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and salt with a wooden spoon. In a large bowl, whisk together the melted butter, sugar, and egg. In a small bowl or glass measure, stir the molasses into the hot water until completely blended. 3. Add about one-third of the flour mixture to the butter-sugar-egg mixture and whisk together just to moisten the ingredients. Then whisk in about half of the molasses mixture. Continue by adding another third of the flour mixture, then the other half of the molasses mixture, then the final third of the flour mixture. Whisk just until all the patches of white disappear. Do not overmix. 4. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 50 to 55 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean and the cake has pulled away somewhat from the sides of the pan. Cool in the pan for 5 minutes. 5. Serve warm from the pan, or turn the cake out onto a rack to cool. This is a good keeper and will stay fresh for several days, covered, at room temperature. MAKES 9 TO 12 SERVINGS

3 large cooking apples, chopped. You can also use chopped peaches, pears, berries, or a combination of cookable fruit. ¼ cup unsweetened coconut flakes (optional) ¼ cup chopped almonds or walnuts (optional) ½ cup raisins (optional) 1 Tablespoon real vanilla extract ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon 1 Tablespoon honey (optional. If you use pears, omit) Pastry for one pie crust Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place chopped fruit in Pyrex or glass 13” x 9” cake pan. Sprinkle with nuts, coconut flakes, and cinnamon. Drizzle with honey. Break/cut pie crust into small pieces and sprinkle over top. Bake for 30 minutes or until fruit is soft and pie crust is slightly browned.

It will be flavored with honey and orange zest. And I'm planning a sculptural element that I hope Betsy will love." I avoid making eye contact with Archie, working on pouring my batter into a variety of cake pans. "It sounds gorgeous," he says, smiling. I look away. "Hard to resist a pretty thing, isn't it?

In my youth . . . my sacred youth . . . in eaves sole sparowe sat not more alone than I . . . in my youth, my saucer-deep youth, when I possessed a mirror and both a morning and an evening comb . . . in my youth, my pimpled, shame-faced, sugared youth, when I dreamed myself a fornicator and a poet; when life seemed to be ahead somewhere like a land o’ lakes vacation cottage, and I was pure tumescence, all seed, afloat like fuzz among the butterflies and bees; when I was the bursting pod of a fall weed; when I was the hum of sperm in the autumn air, the blue of it like watered silk, vellum to which I came in a soft cloud; O minstrel galleons of Carib fire, I sang then, knowing naught, clinging to the tall slim wheatweed which lay in a purple haze along the highway like a cotton star . . . in my fumbling, lubricious, my uticated youth, when a full bosom and a fine round line of Keats, Hart Crane, or Yeats produced in me the same effect—a moan throughout my molecules—in my limeade time, my uncorked innocence, my jellybelly days, when I repeated Olio de Oliva like a tenor; then I would touch the page in wonder as though it were a woman, as though I were blind in my bed, in the black backseat, behind the dark barn, the dim weekend tent, last dance, date's door, reaching the knee by the second feature, possibly the thigh, my finger an urgent emissary from my penis, alas as far away as Peking or Bangkok, so I took my heart in my hand, O my love, O my love, I sighed, O Christina, Italian rose; my inflated flesh yearning to press against that flesh becoming Word—a word—words which were wet and warm and responsive as a roaming tongue; and her hair was red, long, in ringlets, kiss me, love me up, she said in my anxious oral ear; I read: Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour; for I had oodles of needs, if England didn't; I was nothing but skin, pulp, and pit, in my grapevine time, during the hard-on priesthood of the poet; because then—in my unclean, foreskinned, and prurient youth—I devoutly believed in Later Life, in Passion, in Poetry, the way I thought only fools felt about God, prayer, heaven, foreknowledge, sin; for what was a poem if not a divine petition, a holy plea, a prophecy: [...] a stranger among strangers, myself the strangest because I could never bring myself to enter adolescence, but kept it about like a bit of lunch you think you may eat later, and later come upon at the bottom of a bag, dry as dust, at the back of the refrigerator, bearded with mold, or caked like sperm in the sock you've fucked, so that gingerly, then, you throw the mess out, averting your eyes, just as Rainer complained he never had a childhood—what luck!—never to have suffered birthpang, nightfear, cradlecap, lake in your lung; never to have practiced scales or sat numb before the dentist's hum or picked your mother up from the floor she's bled and wept and puked on; never to have been invaded by a tick, sucked by a leech, bitten by a spider, stung by a bee, slimed on by a slug, seared by a hot pan, or by paper or acquaintance cut, by father cuffed; never to have been lost in a crowd or store or parking lot or left by a lover without a word or arrogantly lied to or outrageously betrayed—really what luck!—never to have had a nickel roll with slow deliberation down a grate, a balloon burst, toy break; never to have skinned a knee, bruised a friendship, broken trust; never to have had to conjugate, keep quiet, tidy, bathe; to have lost the chance to be hollered at, bullied, beat up (being nothing, indeed, to have no death), and not to have had an earache, life's lessons to learn, or sums to add reluctantly right up to their bitter miscalculated end—what sublime good fortune, the Greek poet suggested—because Nature is not accustomed to life yet; it is too new, too incidental, this shiver in the stone, never altogether, and would just as soon (as Culp prefers to say) cancer it; erase, strike, stamp it out— [...]

Are you waiting for the other shoe to drop?” I ask. There’s a term for this irrational fear of joy: cherophobia (chero is the Greek word for “rejoice”). People with cherophobia are like Teflon pans in terms of pleasure—it doesn’t stick (though pain cakes on them as if to an ungreased surface). It’s common for people with traumatic histories to expect disaster just around the corner. Instead of leaning into the goodness that comes their way, they become hypervigilant, always waiting for something to go wrong.

A DEVOTEE: “Suppose a man has obtained the Knowledge of Brahman in samādhi. Doesn’t he speak any more?” MASTER: “Śankarāchārya2 retained the ‘ego of Knowledge’ in order to teach others. After the vision of Brahman a man becomes silent. He reasons about It as long as he has not realized It. If you heat butter in a pan on the stove, it makes a sizzling sound as long as the water it contains has not dried up. But when no trace of water is left the clarified butter makes no sound. If you put an uncooked cake of flour in that butter it sizzles again. But after the cake is cooked all sound stops. Just so, a man established in samādhi comes down to the relative plane of consciousness in order to teach others, and then he talks about God. “The bee buzzes as long as it is not sitting on a flower. It becomes silent when it begins to sip the honey. But sometimes, intoxicated with the honey, it buzzes again. “An empty pitcher makes a gurgling sound when it is dipped in water. When it fills up it becomes silent. (All laugh.) But if the water is poured

Pan haggerty wasn't dissimilar to a gratin dauphinoise (she could almost hear Freddie crowing that the English had got there first), but was fried in a pan in hot dripping. Singing hinnies were griddle cakes, it transpired, enriched with lard, flavored with currants and eaten spread with butter. "They sizzle and sing on the girdle," Mrs. Birtley explained and smiled. There was much use of potatoes in these recipes, Stella noticed, as she turned the pages, lots of dumplings, leeks, dried peas and oats, and a wholesome sense of economy. These recipes suggested that the region had always been thrifty, but Stella heard pride, not complaint, in Mrs. Birtley's voice, a care and a particularity.

Apple Kuchen In the story, Jace and Grant both love sweets. This apple kuchen is something Cora Lee would have made that they both enjoyed. Happy baking! Apple Kuchen Cake 1 cup flour 2 tablespoons sugar 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup butter, softened Blend together with a fork, or pastry blender, until crumbly and well mixed. Pat into a greased 9” x 9” or 8” x 8” square pan. Set aside. Filling 4 cups apples, peeled and sliced (Granny Smith works great) 1/2 cup sugar 1 teaspoon cinnamon Mix apples with sugar and cinnamon. Layer over cake batter. Topping 1/3 cup flour 1/2 cup sugar 1/4 cup butter, softened 1 teaspoon cinnamon Use a fork to combine. Sprinkle on top of apples. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Bake for 45-50 minutes, until edges are lightly browned. Serve with lightly sweetened whipped cream or ice cream. Refrigerate leftovers – if you have any!

Here are some simple household applications for baking soda; don’t be surprised when I mention it throughout the book! Carpets: Sprinkle on carpets and let sit for 30 minutes to absorb odors and lift out dirt, then vacuum it up. Trash cans/recycling bins: Sprinkle some in the can or bin if it smells, leave for 20 minutes, then wipe clean with a wet cloth. Kitchen: For caked-on food on pots, pans, the oven door, or cooktop, create a paste of equal parts dish soap and baking soda, then add a few sprinkles of water until it’s got a nice, pudding-like consistency. Apply with a damp, soft sponge and let sit on the surface for about 20 minutes, then wipe off (easily!) with a wet sponge. Rinse well and buff dry with a cloth. Walls: Sprinkle a little on a cloth slightly dampened with water, and use it to erase marks on the wall (yep, an eraser-style sponge substitute). Wipe the wall clean with a dry cloth. Sinks: Works great to remove stains from sinks—sprinkle it in and scrub well with a soapy sponge and hot water. Buff with a dry cloth to achieve that high-polish shine. The results are amazing!

Chicago deep dish takes forever to cook and costs as much as four New York–style pizzas. Chicago deep dish is a commitment. You arrive at Uno’s, Giordano’s, Gino’s East, or Lou Malnati’s and place your order, and then you wait and wait for what seems like a lifetime. At times it feels like they are purposely tormenting you to make the deep-dish pizza seem all the more appealing. I actually make a point of not showing up hungry when I go out for a Chicago deep-dish pizza. It would be torture. To kill time, you eat a salad with provolone, salami, and pepperoncini in it and drink a pitcher of beer like you are preparing yourself for some kind of long, difficult journey of waiting. Finally your pizza arrives in a pan carried by your server with some kind of clamp contraption that I’m pretty sure is the same one they use to shape molten glass. After the first slice you are full, and you should be. You’ve eaten roughly three pounds of food that is baked on top of a crispy, cake-like crust. There is never a reason to eat more than one slice of deep dish, but you forge on. The wait has built an enthusiasm and excitement in you that can’t be quelled by just one slice. Most humans stop after two slices, but I like to think of myself as a superhuman.

The scent of lemon, fresh, clean, and faint when Georgia had first entered the kitchen, had grown stronger as they spoke, and it now filled the room. Georgia walked the oven, flipped on the light, and peered through the glass door. A golden cake ballooned from a circle pan. "Delizia di Sorrento," Claudia said. "I make it with Meyer lemons and eat it like its bread. Another craving.