December evenings were made up of the type of nights that creep in, slowly dousing the world in darkness. No one notices the gradual shift in lighting until suddenly, windows no longer frame the outside world but reflect the life inside instead. White walls become stark and clinical under harsh fluorescent lighting, and edges and angles become more pronounced without natural light to soften their outlines.

New Year’s eve arrived in much the same fashion, catching me unawares. I was sitting by the fire when I decided that the year had fizzled out almost as quickly as the spilled champagne at the dinner table, and was left saddened by the realization that I could do nothing to rein it in.

But today, already living my first day of the new year, I realized that I’ll forever remember 2011. It was a recipe book of tea green frosting sandwiched between pepper biscuits, of giant cookies in celebration of a blogoversary, of yeast-raised doughs, and of ice cream. I’ve documented my year in recipes.

2012, in turn, starts with gingerbread, pumpkin, orange, and the marriage of flavors.

I baked this cake for Thanksgiving, and upon giving away the last piece and discovering what a success it had been, I made another one a few weeks later to photograph and post.

The cake is a combination of actual cake, cheesecake, and cream cheese frosting.
The middle layer of cheesecake is less dense than normal cheesecake, with a consistency more similar to frosting. The cake itself becomes dense after being refrigerated, and tastes predominantly of molasses, though the orange zest lends it a delightfully floral undertone. Paired with orange cream cheese frosting, it was the best cake I had made last year.

From Recently Updated

Pumpkin Cheesecake
From the Joy of Cooking
2/3 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated or ground nutmeg
1 pound cream cheese
2 large eggs
2 large egg yolks
1 cup pumpkin puree

Have all ingredients at room temperature, and preheat the oven to 350 F. Place a loaf pan or cake pan filled with hot water in the oven to moisten the air. Line a 6-inch pan with parchment paper.
Combine the sugar and spices in a medium bowl. In a large bowl, beat the cream cheese just until smooth, 30 to 60 seconds. Scrape the sides of the bowl and beaters well. Gradually add the sugar mixture and beat until smooth and creamy, 1 to 2 minutes. Beat in the eggs and egg yolks one at a time until well blended, and scraping the sides of the bowl and the beaters after each addition.  Add the pumpkin puree and beat until mixed.
Scrape the batter into the pan and smooth the top. Bake for 30 minutes at 350 F, reduce the oven to 325 F and bake for 10 minutes longer, or until the edges of the cheesecake are puffed but the center still looks moist and jiggles when the pan is tapped.

Gingerbread Cake
From Form V Artisan
Makes one cake (double recipe to make two)

1 ½ cup all-purpose flour
¾ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
1 ½ tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp each ground nutmeg and ground clove
7 tbsp room temperature butter
½ cup packed light brown sugar
1 tsp orange zest
1 large egg
⅓ cup molasses
¾ cups milk

Preheat oven to 350 ° F.  Line a 6-inch round cake pan with parchment paper. Butter and flour. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, salt, and spices.

In a large bowl, beat butter with sugar and orange zest on medium speed until well blended, about 20 seconds. Add egg and molasses and beat until smooth and somewhat fluffy. With mixer on low, add one third of the dry ingredients followed by half of the milk. Add half of the remaining dry ingredients and the rest of the milk. Continue to beat on low speed until just incorporated – do not over mix. Gently fold in the remainder of the dry ingredients.

Pour batter into the prepared pan. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about thirty minutes.

Cream Cheese Frosting

I used this recipe for the cream cheese frosting, and mixed in two tablespoons of orange zest at the end.

From Recently Updated

Assembly

Use a cake leveler or serrated knife to level the tops of the gingerbread cakes. Gently flip the cheesecake onto the cake, and then place the second cake on top.
Use about a third of the cream cheese frosting to cover the whole cake with a crumb coat. Refrigerate the cake for half an hour, or until the crumb coat is no longer soft.
Frost the cake with the remainder of the cream cheese frosting.
Store the cake in the fridge. It can stand at room temperature about half an hour before serving, if necessary.

Late into the summer, Jana from Zuckerbaeckerei emailed me asking if I’d be interested in guest posting for her in preparation for Christmas. I didn’t hesitate in writing back right away to accept.  Because she blogs in German, she explained that she would translate my post for her readers. You can read my post in German on the 19th here!

I knew that I wanted to make a recipe of my own to share (though I haven’t had much practice doing so), and that I wanted the recipe to embody wintertime. I wanted it to emulate the sharp spiciness of gingerbread and the frigidity that blankets the world come December.

Though winter has made its presence clear with its bitter wind nipping color into my cheeks and forcing me into thick sweaters, my insatiable craving for ice cream has remained as strong as it was last summer.  It was with that realization that I found myself trying to replicate the exact taste of gingerbread in hopes of transforming it into ice cream. And my experimentation worked.

The resulting ice cream was complete with the juxtaposing warmth of the spices and the chill of the ice cream. It couldn’t have painted winter onto my palate any better.  Ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and the full-bodied flavor of molasses are the wool blankets I find myself enveloped in every evening. The iciness is the cold world outside. Together, they are winter.

From Adriana Baking

Thank you so much for having me guest post, Jana!

Gingerbread Ice Cream
A Bittersweet Baker original
1 ½ c milk
1 ½ c cream
2/3 c sugar
Pinch of salt
5 egg yolks
1 cinnamon stick
¼ t cloves
1/8 t nutmeg
½ t ginger
½ c molasses

Warm the milk, ½ a cup of cream, the sugar, salt, and spices in a medium saucepan, and heat on low until steaming. Remove from heat and allow to infuse for 1 hour.

Combine the remaining cream and molasses in a large bowl, and set a strainer on top.  Whisk the egg yolks together, and slowly temper them into the hot milk mixture. Continue to cook slowly on medium heat, until the custard thickens ad coats the back of a spoon.

Remove from heat and pour through the strainer into the cream and molasses. Mix to combine, and let cool to room temperature, stirring occasionally, then place in the refrigerator at least one hour.

Once cold, churn in ice cream maker to manufacturer’s directions.

It was the beginning of August when I was contact by the Girl’s Life magazine. There the email lay, nestled on either side by various food blog updates left unread from the weeks I’d spent on vacation. I eyed the email warily – I’d never been contacted by a magazine editor before, and it seemed unlikely that one would do so at a time my blog was relatively inactive. But to my surprise, they were planning on featuring a few teen food bloggers and their signature recipes, and were wondering whether I was interested in being interviewed. I accepted immediately, overjoyed at the prospect of being featured, no matter how minimally, in a magazine.

I spent the next few days tweaking my favorite cookie recipe, experimenting with fall flavors but still dreaming of summer. It was so that I found myself churning ice cream to remedy the evident lack of summer in my cookie recipe. Now, the sandwiches belong to fall, but still embody the zesty clarity of summer. Fiery blazes of heat in the form of crystallized ginger chunks are mellowed out by the cool lick of ice cream, and the pumpkin isn’t masquerading as pumpkin pie spice – it is pure and entirely itself.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t include the entire interview in the magazine, so I’m posting it here, along with the recipe for pumpkin-orange ice cream sandwiches.

From Adriana Baking

1. How would you describe your personal style?
My personal style is fairly original– I’m unaware of trends in fashion and dress simply – I’m most comfortable being myself.

2. How would you describe your food?
I always try to use the freshest produce available. One of my favorite things about baking is that I have control over the use of premade or packaged foods in recipes.

3. How is the food you enjoy making representative of your personal style?
I think it’s original. I don’t follow trends in real life, and rarely do so with my baking. I like to experiment with ingredients and enjoy coming up with unusual flavor pairings, and prefer simple, clean designs when it comes to decoration. I believe that simplicity often breeds beauty.

4. Why did you start a food blog?
I started a food blog to document my journey in the kitchen via recipes and the occasional photograph. I had taken up baking only a few months before, and the absurd number of food blogs I followed pushed me to become a part of the food blogging community.

5. How has your blog changed since you started it?
I started my blog with no intention other than saving the recipes I made. But as I started to bake more and take an interest in photography, I realized that I had stories to share. My photography has since improved and my blog has helped me discover my love for the written word. I’m now comfortable experimenting with new ingredients and adapting recipes. My blog has become a place where I share my photography alongside recipes, and intertwine my stories into each post. It is my kitchen diary. Though it has gone through changes over the months, it has in turn changed me by exposing me to writing and photography.

6. When it comes to food, what is the most important thing?
Though aesthetic appeal and taste are one of the most important aspects of food, I believe bonding over the dinner table to be important as well. Food brings people together and often gives birth to fond memories. It’s enjoyable and aids in forming new connections.

7. What’s your signature dish? What does it say about your personal style? What is its history (inspired by a family recipe, recipe in progress, story behind its creation, etc.)?
I rarely make a recipe more than once. I love trying out new baking techniques and using new ingredients. The only recipe I continuously go back to is my favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe, though I can’t help but continue to adapt the recipe further with each new batch. Over the months I’ve tweaked and adjusted the recipe, making it entirely my own. On a whim a few months ago, I added malt powder to the dough, lending the cookies both extra chew and a deep caramel flavor. Most recently, I’ve substituted the chocolate chips with crystallized ginger chunks. Paired with a pumpkin orange ice cream, these ice cream sandwiches have become perfect for fall.

8. What’s your favorite thing to eat?
I’m partial to sweets. Ice cream is definitely one of my favorite treats. No matter the weather, I’ll almost always choose ice cream over any other option. And when made at home, it is especially appealing.

9. When did you start baking? What’s your first memory of baking/cooking, or being in the kitchen?
It’s hard for me to pinpoint when exactly baking piqued my interest, as I’ve been helping in my mother in the kitchen for as long as I can remember. I was almost always by her side as she cut scones into triangles or whisked eggs, and was there to help scoop cookie dough onto baking sheets. I started baking independently only two years ago, at thirteen, and haven’t looked back since.

10. Who is your favorite chef/celebrity chef? What’s your favorite cookbook?
I love David Lebovitz’s recipes. His ice cream book “The Perfect Scoop” is the most used cookbook on my shelf. In addition to delicious ice cream and sorbet recipes, whole sections of the book are devoted to ice cream “vessels”, sauces, and mix-ins. Its pages are already stained and it smells of sugar, though I’ve had it for only a year.

11. What does baking mean to you?
I always turn to the kitchen after a stressful day. Baking puts me at ease through its familiarity and whets my creativity through the endless possible outcomes of a recipe. I bake to clear my mind.

12. What else do you do, aside from baking?
By keeping a food blog I’ve become exposed to photography and writing. Though I originally perceived both as a necessity to blogging, my interest in them has slowly evolved to the point where I enjoy both just as much as I enjoy baking. Apart from blogging related hobbies, I’ve been playing the clarinet for about five years.

13. Do you want to bake professionally?
No. Baking for the fun of it is much more appealing to me than baking for a living. Though I’d love to spend my days in the kitchen, the stress that comes with professional baking is sure to prevent me from turning to the kitchen for relaxation. By baking professionally, the kitchen would cease to serve as a diversion from stress.

14. How can other girls express their personal style through baking/cooking?
I think the best way to express your personal style is by staying true to yourself. Instead of following baking trends, bake what you want to bake. The outcome will surely be more interesting, and you’ll have more fun being original.

15. Why is it important for tweens and teens to get in the kitchen?
I find that baking is a great confidence booster. Being able to step into the kitchen and produce something that tastes good is rewarding. What’s more, baking has polished not only my culinary skills, but has provided me with ample opportunities to practice math and to learn more about the science behind what goes on in the kitchen. It also comes with the added benefit of being a creative outlet. Whether it be coming up with original recipes or as simple as decorating cupcakes, baking is also a form of art!

Pumpkin Orange Ice Cream
Makes about 1 quart
A Bittersweet Baker original

1 ½ cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup pumpkin puree
5 egg yolks
Zest of half an orange
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2/3 cup sugar
Pinch of salt

Heat the milk, salt, orange zest, and sugar in a medium saucepan until steam is visible. Pour the cream into a large bowl and whisk in the pumpkin puree and ground cinnamon. Set a mesh strainer on top of the bowl.

In another bowl, whisk the egg yolks together. Gradually pour the milk into the eggs yolks, constantly whisking to prevent the eggs from cooking. Once the yolks are warmed, scrape the mixture back into the saucepan and cook, over medium heat, until it has thickened enough to coat the back of the spatula.

Strain the custard into the heavy cream and pumpkin and let cool. Chill the mixture overnight, then churn in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s directions.

Ginger Malt Cookies
Makes about 20 5-inch cookies
A Bittersweet Baker original

Ingredients:

3 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup malt powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup cool (not room temp, not cold) unsalted butter
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 cup tightly packed light brown sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs, at room temperature, lightly beaten
2/3 cup crystallized ginger chunks, cut into ¼ inch pieces

Sift together the flour, baking soda, malt powder, and salt into a medium bowl and set aside.

Using a standing mixer fitted with a paddle attachment or a hand mixer, cream the butter and sugars on low speed until it is smooth and lump free, about 3 minutes. Stop the mixer and scrape down the sides of the bowl and the paddle.

Add the vanilla and eggs, beating on low speed after each addition. Do not overbeat. Stop the machine and scrape down the sides of the bowl and the paddle.

Add the flour mixture on low speed. Beat until just incorporated. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the crystallized ginger and mix in with a wooden spoon. Refrigerate dough for at least an hour.

Preheat oven to 350. Adjust racks to lower and upper thirds of the oven. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Spoon the dough using a cookie scooper 2 inches apart onto the prepared baking sheets.

Bake for 11-13 or until cracks have formed and the edges are golden brown and the center is still soft and almost underdone-looking. Turn the sheets front to back and switch racks halfway through.

Remove the sheet from the oven and carefully slide the parchment directly onto a work surface. When cookies are set, remove them to a cooling rack. Wait at least 5 minutes before serving or 20 minutes before storing in an airtight container for up to 3 days at room temperature.

As my school life resumes, I’ve finally fallen back into routine, and life has picked up its pace once again. Gone are the days when the only recurring structure to my day was waking up and falling asleep. I can’t plan my activities on a whim any longer, nor can I decide to change the course of my day well after it has started. I’m now bound to schedules and after school activities, to homework and long hours spent in the confines of a classroom. But surprisingly, I quite like it.

Around the end of August, I fell into sad resignation at the realization of how quickly the days were passing by. As the first day of school crept closer, each fleeting night became a rerun of the last. Just like every evening before, I found myself snuggling my face into my pillow, breathing away the melancholia and trying to suppress my anxiety at the thought of starting my sophomore year of high school.

I had grown comfortable with my leisurely days, and by no means did I want them to end.  I tried desperately to soak up the last drops of vacation, to capture the summer air and all it carried with it and bottle it up in ludicrous hopes of saving it for later enjoyment, but to no avail.

From Summer

It was only as I was walking back home after the first day of school, fall already making itself apparent, that I realized I’d been wrong for wanting summer to last forever. Though at the time I couldn’t imagine anything better than waking to a room bathed in the golden sunshine of August, I’d completely overlooked the reasons I adore fall.

I’d missed the way the whole earth seems to transform itself right around September 21^st.  Concentrated sunlight becomes slightly more diffuse, and in the morning, light breezes carry the sweet scent of the previous night’s rainfall. Outside, dry leaves crunch quietly underfoot, and fallen flowers form a vibrant yellow carpet beneath the aging sycamore tree. The sun no longer takes its time setting. Instead, it douses the whole world in darkness minutes after it begins its descent.  Fall is a time when the entire world is alive and breathing in its new autumnal décor, giving life to an array of squashes, tiny beaded cranberries, and plum-colored figs.

From Summer

And along with these seasonal changes comes school. School, which I had deemed the bane of my existence just a few months back, is definitely not the prison I’d made it out to be.

On the contrary, high school is just as exciting as it was last year. But this year I’m treading charted waters. So far, my sophomore year is shaping up to be the best one yet. I’m enrolled in clubs I’m passionate about: the Go Green campaign, the afterschool orchestra. I’ve been forced to pick up my momentum once again as my schedule has rapidly become inundated with assignments and tests to study for, but I know to make the most of it, because soon enough, it’ll be summer vacation once again.

From Summer

I made this tart soon after the first week of school. Despite feeling confident about high school, I was still in need of familiar territory.

I’d like to tell you that the slight tartness of the filling was the perfect contrast to the honey-sweetened figs and that the pistachio crust complimented the citrus-scented yogurt in every respect. But I found the flavors to be too different from each other to pair well, the crust too lacking in sweetness.

Despite not being perfect, the tart was so beautiful it didn’t really matter.  Slices were cut and passed around the table as we sat outside, the soft sound of the forks clinking against the plates drifting into the quiet autumn evening.

I’ll definitely be making this tart again soon, while figs are still in season. But the next time around, I’ll substitute the pistachios with almonds and skip the orange zest in the filling entirely as to make the taste of the figs more pronounced.

The original recipe called for mascarpone cheese in the filling, but I substituted it with strained yogurt in favor of a lighter tart.

Fig Tart
adapted from Desserts for Breakfast
makes one 9″ tart, or six 4.5″ tart, or ~32 mini tartlettes

Crust:
240 gr (2 cups) AP flour
65 gr shelled raw pistachios
50 gr (1/4 cup) sugar
7 Tbspn butter, cold
1 egg yolk
3-4 Tbspn water, cold

In a food processor, combine the flour, pistachios, and sugar and process until the pistachios are finely ground.Using the food processor or a pastry cutter, cut the cold butter into the flour mixture until the size of small peas.
Add the egg yolk and gradually add the water just until a dough begins to form when you press it between two fingers. Do not overmix.
Form the pastry into a ball and refrigerate for at least one hour. (or stick it in the freezer for a shorter amount of time.)
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.
Remove the pastry dough from the fridge and press the dough into the tart pan. Prick the bottom of the dough all over with a fork, cover with parchment paper, and weigh down using dry beans or pie weights. Return to freezer for a few minutes if the dough has softened.
Bake for ~13-15 minutes until the edges just begin to turn golden. Remove the beans and parchment paper and continue to bake for 3-5 minutes more, until the crust has completely turned golden brown. Remove from oven and let cool.

Filling:
450 gr strained yogurt
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 tspn vanilla extract
freshly grated zest of 1 lemon

In a mixer bowl with the whisk attachment, whip the yogurt, brown sugar, and heavy cream on medium high until soft peaks.
Add the vanilla extract and lemon zest and continue to whip just until stiff peaks. Do not overmix.
Spoon the filling into the cooled tart shell, and smooth with a spatula.

Topping:
2 punnets figs
2 Tbspn honey
2 Tbspn raspberry jam (or fig or apricot, or any mixture thereof)

Cut the figs into quarters and arrange on top of the mascarpone tart filling.
Warm the honey and jam together, either over the stove or in the microwave. Brush over the arranged figs.

(filling recipe adapted from Donna Hay.)

From Recently Updated

Time and again, I find myself sifting through memories of last summer, subconsciously comparing it to this past one. I’m reminded of the hours I’d spend in the kitchen, taking advantage of the long summer days to undertake lengthy baking projects. With no school to cut short the hours of the day, baking and decorating a layer cake became one-day processes, and cooking custard for an ice cream base was quickly followed by stirring batter for homemade cones.

As school approaches, I’m suddenly aware of the collection of memories that make up this present summer. While I was caught up in the whirlwind of living my vacation, I’d paid no attention to the zeitgeist that was forming around these passing months. But now, so close to the end of summer vacation, I’m able to look back to June, already seeped in nostalgia, and see my life for what it was at the time.

From Summer

Our vacation started at the end of June, a couple of days after school let out. We were en route to Paris.

We toured the city on foot, walking for hours on end. Though our visit was one of the many times we’d visited Paris, I couldn’t help myself from drinking in every sight the bustling city had to offer.

I’ll forever remember how the endless rows of boutiques snaked around each Parisian block. How we were so captivated with what was right before us that the streets seemed to unravel beneath our feet and the rest of the city was painted to life only when our attention was finally drawn to it.

People in Paris were dressed fashionably, and they walked with purpose fueling their stride. Old and young couples alike sat at the cafes dotting the neighborhood, the conversation flowing from their mouths a cadence of French. A pair of tourists sipped coffee at an outdoor table while watching the passersby with curiosity lighting their eyes.  A lone American seated a table over asked the waiter in broken French where he might find the bathroom.

We walked into pastry shops and chocolatiers, and ate an assortment of tiny macarons with rich ganache and sweet fruit jams ensconced between their shells. There were rainbows of éclairs and square lemon tarts. There was Fauchon with its neon pink decor, temporarily dousing the world in pink before the sliding doors parted to reveal the world outside alive with the remainder of the color palette.

And then we were in Oregon.

From Summer

There’s nothing quite like that sudden change of atmosphere. I still get the same initial shock clicking through photographs of our vacation in Paris, momentarily transported there again, before happening across a photo of Oregon and feeling all at once displaced and unhinged.

I went from walking the streets of Paris, melodious with the French language floating through the air, to being plopped down in the US, with only the international haven of the airport to ease the transition.  But at the same time, I’d forgotten how effortlessly I could familiarize myself again to the slightly nasal twang of American speech cutting through the air.  How when cobblestone streets and linden trees were quickly replaced by white picket fences and rolling hills of evergreens, Paris seemed to become a place from a faraway time almost instantly as we continued our vacation in the US.

There, the weather was considerably cooler, and rain often frequented our parts. But on days when the clouds dissipated under the warmth of the sun and rainbows formed arcs in the sky, we spent them outside.

From Summer

At the Oregon coast, we picnicked in an alcove surrounded by trees while seagulls flew overhead. Water lapped at the rocks lining the trees, and seaweed grew in the shallow waters by the runoff.  Another day, we visited my parents’ college. Ducks swam in a pond at the center of the park, the trees overhead casting green reflections onto the water. Though this summer definitely had a different feel than the last, certain things remained the same. One of which is my infatuation with ice cream.

I’ve been planning on making this ice cream ever since I saw it on a food blog last summer. But it got pushed to the very bottom of my list as the year wore on. I’m glad I didn’t wait any longer. The ice cream’s texture is smooth as a sheet of silk. It’s rich and laced throughout with the sweet taste of burnt sugar.

It was my first time making ice cream cones as well. I was pleasantly surprised. They’re a little sweeter than store bought ones, and even when the ice cream melts and soaks into the cone, they retain their crispness. It’s rather hard to roll piping hot cookies into cone shapes, so I had to dip the ends of my cones in melted chocolate to seal the gaping hole at their bottom. Chocolate and caramel? It’s a classic pairing.

I didn’t have an ice cream cone mold, so I fashioned one out of layers of foil myself. To make your own, cut a couple of six-inch diameter semicircles out of foil, tape them together, and roll them into a cone shape.

From Pictures

Salted Butter Caramel Ice Cream

2 cups (500 ml) whole milk, divided
1½ cups (300 gr) sugar
4 tablespoons (60 gr) salted butter
scant ½ teaspoon sea salt
1 cups (250 ml) heavy cream
5 large egg yolks
¾ teaspoon vanilla extract

To make the ice cream, make an ice bath by filling a large bowl about a third full with ice cubes and adding a cup or so of water so they’re floating. Nest a smaller metal bowl (at least 2 quarts/liters) over the ice, pour 1 cup (250 ml) of the milk into the inner bowl, and rest a mesh strainer on top of it.

Spread 1½ cups (300 gr) sugar in the saucepan in an even layer. Cook over moderate heat, until caramelized, using the same method described in Step #2.

Once caramelized, remove from heat and stir in the butter and salt, until butter is melted, then gradually whisk in the cream, stirring as you go.

The caramel may harden and seize, but return it to the heat and continue to stir over low heat until any hard caramel is melted. Stir in 1 cup (250 ml) of the milk.

Whisk the yolks in a small bowl and gradually pour some of the warm caramel mixture over the yolks, stirring constantly. Scrape the warmed yolks back into the saucepan and cook the custard using a heatproof utensil, stirring constantly (scraping the bottom as you stir) until the mixture thickens. If using an instant-read thermometer, it should read 160-170 F (71-77 C).

Pour the custard through the strainer into the milk set over the ice bath, add the vanilla, then stir frequently until the mixture is cooled down. Refrigerate at least 8 hours or until thoroughly chilled.

Freeze the mixture in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

Chocolate Cones
Adapted from David Lebovitz’s The Perfect Scoop
Makes eight 6” cones

1/4 cup (60 ml) egg whites (about 2 large egg whites)
7 tablespoons + 1 teaspoon (90 g) sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons cocoa powder
2/3 cup (90 g) flour
2 tablespoons (30 g) unsalted butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Combine the egg whites, sugar, and vanilla in a small bowl. Stir in the salt, cocoa powder, and half of the flour. Mix in the melted butter, then stir in the rest of the flour until smooth.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Use a small offset spatula to spread 2 level tablespoons of batter into a circle with a diameter of 6″ (15 cm). Tracing circles onto the underside of the parchment will give you more even cones.

Bake one sheet (two cones) at a time. Start checking after 10 minutes, but depending on your oven, the baking time will be 10-15 minutes. The cookies will be golden brown throughout, with some lighter and darker spots.

Pull the sheet out of the oven and run a thin metal spatula under a circle to loosen the edges. Quickly flip it over and roll it around the cone shaped mold. Press the seam firmly against the counter to close the sides of the cone, and press the bottom together to pinch the point at the bottom. Let the cone cool slightly on the mold until it keeps its shape, then let it cool completely in a tall glass. Roll the other cone (if the cookie has cooled too much to roll, return the sheet to the oven for a minute.)

Continue to bake and roll cones with the remaining batter.

From Pictures

It takes physically returning to the world that has been strumming on your heartstrings, playing out a melancholy melody peppered with notes of longing, to remember why you miss that world as dearly as you do.

We’ve visited my grandparents in Oregon every summer for as long as I can remember, growing attached, over the course of one month, to the life they welcome us into. In early June, before school lets out, my sister and I begin to plan our vacation to Oregon, excitement fueling our lists of places to visit. We mark the restaurants and shops we want to revisit, unwilling to let go of the traditions established over the years. The plans made so early on are born out of eagerness for the summer to start, though they also serve to prepare myself for the awe sure to come at the realization that after so many months away, we’re finally going back. But despite my preparations, the awe never lessens.

From Crumble

Summers there have always cultured fond memories, each unique, but each stamped with the same seal of continuity. This year was no different. The town my grandparents live in appeared unchanged by our time away, a replica of my memories from previous years. Apart from a wooden patio replacing their aging brick one, their neighborhood remained the same. The trees in the distance were just as I remembered – like strata in sediment. The nearest strips were a mosaic of green, the ones after fading into lighter and lighter shades of laurel, the outline of the pointed treetops blurring against the cloudy sky. And the smell that causes me to bury my face, once back home, into the clothes on which the scent still lingers, was there to greet me as I stepped into the door, inhaling a lungful of air in anticipation. It’s a blend of their laundry detergent, of wood, of the earth after rainfall, and of a smell that is uniquely theirs. Because Proust memories have such a strong effect on me, my mind directly associated the scent with their house, reminding me of the previous summers spent there, and of what was to come.

Sitting at their dining room table with the calendar opened to the month of July, I smiled as I took in the notes scribbled on the tiny squares that represented our days there. We would be attending concerts almost daily for the first two weeks, before taking advantage of Oregon’s far encompassing beauty by driving east, where we would stay with some friends.

S- and I have known each other ever since she was born, and my parents have known hers for far longer. Because they live so relatively close to my grandparents, we’ve made it a habit to visit them every summer in Central Oregon, where we always end up hiking. Together, we walked on trails of packed dirt, stepping over the gnarly tree roots that occasionally broke through the earth’s surface. After an afternoon spent hiking to the roar of the nearby water cascading over rocks, we made plans to go white water rafting the next year. The urge to jump into the river was tempting that day. We ached for the cool relief of water, sweating under the clothes we wore to protect our skin from swarming hordes of mosquitos. Mosquitos I found myself still swatting in my sleep, as their high-pitched drones invaded my dreams.

From Crumble

But now, back home, I realize that we had been spoiled by the cool summers of the Pacific Northwest. That day in Central Oregon had been the single warm day throughout the length of our trip. I’ve finally donned my shorts after weeks of hiding from the cold of the Northwest, in an attempt to escape the unbearable heat here. In Oregon, shirts peeked out from under jackets, and the skirts I had brought along stayed folded neatly within the confines of my suitcase. The tiny green buds forming on blueberry bushes were still unrecognizable. Cherries were just beginning to ripen, blushes of pink spreading across their pale bodies. Summer had arrived later than usual this year in Oregon, and as a result, we returned to my grandparents’ with cartons of marionberries in place of the usual blueberries after a day out picking berries.

The marionberry bushes at the farm weren’t yet sagging with the weight of their ebony jewels, like they would, come August. Though the thorny branches were obviously thriving, spilling into the dirt at our feet, the majority of the berries beaded onto the vines still had prominent patches of red. But this made the process all the more enjoyable. Having to search for the perfect sun-kissed berry to pluck off the bushes had a sort of deep satisfaction rooted to it. Even fewer of the berries would willingly fall of their perch with the slightest touch of my fingertips. But those that did had seemed to absorb the few rays of sunshine that had come with the end of July, the sunshine nearly tangible when eaten right off the bush.

From Crumble

With punnets of marionberries taking up all the counter space in my grandparent’s kitchen, and a crate of tiny, sparkling strawberries and vibrant red stalks of rhubarb in the fridge, making crumbles seemed like the most natural thing to do. The crumble topping came together easily, and the filling even more so. Because the crumbles were so easy to put together, I  spent more time making the ice cream. I made both marionberry cumbles with orange blossom ice cream and mango sorbet, and strawberry rhubarb crumbles with honey ice cream.

The tartness of the rhubarb was perfectly mellowed by the sweetness of the honey ice cream, and the strawberries’ texture once cooked was similar to that of jam. The marionberry crumbles had a less textured filling, but the combination of crisp topping and smooth ice cream was contrast enough. Eaten right out of the oven, the ice cream melts between the crevices of the topping, pooling into sweet orange blossom perfumed cream. The mango sorbet lent the crumbles a lighter, more refreshing taste, and paired with aromatic berries, they were the perfect summer dessert.

From Crumble

Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble
Slightly adapted from Desserts for Breakfast

for filling:
9 oz. rhubarb, peeled and chopped into small, 1/2″ chunks
12 oz. strawberries, hulled and halved (or quartered, if you have bigger strawberries)
freshly grated zest of 1/2 a large orange
1 Tbspn freshly squeezed orange juice
1/2 cup sugar
4 Tbspn corn starch

for crumb topping:
1 cup flour
3/4 tspn salt
1/2 tspn baking powder
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup light brown sugar
freshly grated zest of 1/2 an orange
1 stick butter, cold
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Make the filling first.  Toss and combine all of the filling ingredients in a bowl.  Spoon into the baking ramekins and set aside.

Make the crumb topping. Combine all of the ingredients except the butter in a bowl. Using a pastry cutter or fork, cut the butter into the flour mixture.  Continue until the butter is the size of small peas and evenly distributed throughout the mixture.Top the prepared ramekins generously with the crumb topping, patting it down if you need to pile on more.

Bake for 30-40 minutes, until bubbly and the tops are golden brown. Consider putting a thin cookie sheet or piece of aluminum foil on the oven rack underneath the one the crumbles are baking on to catch any spills if the juices bubble over. It makes it much easier to clean up.

Remove and let cool briefly before serving. Serve with ice cream or a splash of sweetened cream.  You can reheat the crumbles if you don’t plan to eat them right away: 375 degrees F oven for 8-10 minutes.

From Crumble

Honey Ice Cream
makes one quart

Adapted from David Lebovitz

6 tablespoons (120 gr) honey
1 cup (250 ml) heavy cream
1 cup (250 ml) whole milk
4 large egg yolks

In a small saucepan warm the honey, then set aside. In a medium saucepan, warm the milk.

Pour the cream into a large bowl and set a mesh strainer on top.

Whisk together the egg yolks in a separate bowl. Slowly pour the warm milk into the egg yolks, whisking constantly. Scrape the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

Over medium heat, stir the mixture constantly with a wooden spoon or heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spoon.

Pour the custard through the strainer into the bowl with the cream, then stir in the honey.Chill custard thoroughly, then freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

Boysenberry Crumble 

To make the boysenberry filling, substitute the rhubarb and strawberries with 21 oz. of boysenberries. Leave out the ground cinnamon from the crumble topping, leaving the remainder of the recipe as is.

Mango Sorbet

Adapted from The Perfect Scoop, by David Lebovitz
Makes 1 pint, serves 3-4

2 ripe Champagne mangoes {about 9 ounces prepared}, peeled & chopped
1/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup water
2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lime juice
pinch of kosher salt
1 teaspoon tequila

Add the chopped mango, sugar, water, lime juice, salt & tequila to the bowl of a food processor or blender. Puree until smooth. If you have difficultly getting all the bits of mango to puree, try pulsing instead.
Add the mixture to a previously frozen bowl of your ice cream maker & run for 20-25 minutes, or until it’s thickened to the consistency of soft serve ice cream. Transfer to a storage container, freeze until firm & serve.

From Crumble

Fleur de Lait Orange Blossom Ice Cream
Adapted from The Perfect Scoop, by David Lebovitz
Makes about about 3 cups

2 cups whole milk
3/4 cup sugar
pinch of salt
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 cup heavy cream
4 tablespoons orange blossom water

Put the milk,  sugar and salt in a heavy saucepan, and warm over low heat. Whisk the cold heavy cream and cornstarch together in a measuring cup until the cornstarch is dissolved, then stir this into the milk. (To avoid lumps of cornstarch, I usually mix a little of the cream into the cornstarch to make a smooth paste, then gradually add the rest of the cream).

Heat the mixture, stirring frequently, until it begins to bubble up. Remove from the heat and stir for two minutes, then pour into a large bowl. Add the 4 tablespoons of orange blossom water, or to taste. Stir frequently for 5 minutes more, to release the steam and cool it down, then refrigerate the mixture for several hours or overnight. Once chilled, freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturers’ instructions.

I find it difficult to believe that my freshman year of high school is officially over. With every passing year time seems to hurry by faster, and this year was no exception. Memories of specific events from the beginning of this year are hazy and the details are just out of my grasp, but my thoughts and opinions from the start of high school remain clear.

Along the course of the year I would often try to remember my first impressions of high school to compare them to the reality I was living. My impressions weren’t too far off – I thought I had a set of teachers that fit me perfectly, but the precise mix of personalities in my class painted a rowdy picture of raucous teenagers with no patience for learning. Unfortunately,  this painting burst to life almost every class, leaving our teachers exhausted, and I with a growing desire to switch classes. Such strong personalities often tend to imprint themselves onto their classmates’ minds, and in my case, their constant chatter and tireless energy fortunately grew on me and have left me with fond memories.

I’ll miss the sweet sense of familiarity as I walk into first period class each morning at the sight of S- and Su- hunched together over their desk, arguing about their vastly different views on music. Or R- and G-’s notoriety for tardiness and sauntering into class well into the hour, often disrupting an ongoing lecture as they slump into their seats. The endless teasing, affectionate and good-natured, tugs my lips into a smile, even now I’m tired and over-due for bed.  My class was probably best known for its spontaneous outburst into song when T- and G- became uncomfortable with the infrequent, long stretches of much needed silence. Maybe the  group of very sociable students helped us build a tight bond as a class and fostered a sense of family, or maybe it was the fact that we all started off the year as mere acquaintances, and were pulled into befriending our classmates. Our baffled agreement at the unnecessary difficulty of our biology final exam last week only served to strengthen this connection, knowing we’d lived through the same hardships and fought the same battles. These moments shared between us helped make my freshman year both socially and educationally successful, and makes me grateful for sticking through with my class until the end of the year, no matter how frustrated I sometimes became.

From Adriana Baking

Now, I’m on summer vacation. As much as I look forward to churning ice cream at whatever time suits me now that I’m not at school, I’ve lived through enough transitions from school life to summer vacation to know that my mind will take time to part with the habits that have become implanted in me as a part of school. Around seven o’clock each morning my subconscious will continue to respond to the nagging suspicion that it is time for school, turning every fleeting moment of sleep more precious behind closed lids with the knowledge that it will soon be gone. I know it will be weeks before the habit of jotting down my class section after writing my name wears off, just as I won’t associate the title of high school sophomore with me until the first month of tenth grade has passed. It will take a summer to break into the next school year.

My emotions are currently in turmoil on the battlegrounds of my heart. Nostalgia is in heated combat against excitement for the future, and their brawl is leaving me in emotional confusion. I’m waiting for salvation to come in the form of clarity, but I know it won’t arrive until I’m well into summer vacation, too absorbed in the present to dwell on the past or fret about the future. Only then will both of my emotional opponents be put at bay.

From Adriana Cooking

I always find myself in awe towards the end of each year by how quickly a year can pass yet how much can be learned and discovered about the world and oneself in that same period of time. I think of myself back at the beginning of this year, so unsure of where I stood. My friends’ confidence in what they wanted to study later on developed in me a growing sense of urgency to find my calling, and I couldn’t suppress it. I tried to imagine myself in various fields, but I couldn’t picture myself in as an adult just yet, or even as a college student. Towards the middle of the year, I ruled out science and math, being unable to relate to them and finding them too detached from human emotions. Now, there’s no doubt about it – writing has become second nature to me. The flame of passion that couldn’t kindle itself within my heart at the thought of uncreative work springs to life when I put on paper the words that lurk in my mind.

My high school year has been a collection of tightly coiled nerves calmed by slathers of music with cool notes of citrus, and of sweet, tender moments cultivated by friendships kneaded until pliable and familiar. In a metaphorical sense, it’s been a little like this coffeecake.

From Adriana Cooking

Rich Coffeecake with Sweet Cheese Filling

(From Baking Illustrated, via The Curvy Carrot)

Serves 8-10 (makes 2 coffeecakes, you can half the ingredients if you only want one).

Ingredients:

For the coffeecake dough:

2 envelopes instant yeast (about 4 and 1/2 teaspoons)
1/4 warm water (about 110 degrees)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
4 large eggs
2 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 and 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 and 1/2 teaspoons salt
16 tablespoons (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces and softened but still cool

For the sweet cheese filling:

8 ounces cream cheese, softened but still cool
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 and 1/2 tablespoons unbleached all-purpose flour
Pinch salt
2 teaspoons finely grated zest from 1 lemon1 large egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the streusel topping:

1/3 cup packed light or dark brown sugar
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/2 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt5 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 8 pieces

For the icing:

3/4 cup confectioners’ sugar, sifted
3 and 1/2 teaspoons milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the egg wash:

1 large egg
1 teaspoon heavy cream

Instructions:

1. For the dough: Sprinkle the yeast over the warm water in the bowl of a standing mixer; stir to dissolve.

2. Add the sugar, eggs, milk and vanilla; attach the paddle and mix at the lowest speed until well combined.

3. Add 3 and 1/4 cups of the flour and the salt, mixing at low speed until the flour is incorporated, about 1 minute.

4. Increase the speed to medium-low and add the butter pieces 1 at a time, beating until incorporated, about 20 seconds after each addition (total mixing time should be about 5 minutes.)

5. Replace the paddle with the dough hook and add the remaining 1 cup flour; knead at medium-low speed until soft and smooth, about 5 minutes longer.

6. Increase the speed to medium and knead until the dough tightens up slightly, about 2 minutes longer.

7. Scrape the dough into a lightly oiled bowl and cover tightly with plastic wrap.

8. Let the dough rise at warm room temperature until doubled in size, 3 to 4 hours.

9. Press down the dough, replace the plastic and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled, at least 4 or up to 24 hours (overnight). If you are in a rush, you can spread the dough about 1 inch thick on a baking sheet, cover with plastic, and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled, about 2 hours.

10. For the filling: Beat the cream cheese, sugar, flour, and salt in the bowl of a standing mixer at high speed until smooth, 2 to 4 minutes.

11. Add the lemon zest, egg and vanilla.

12. Reduce the speed to medium and continue beating, scraping down the sides of the bowl at least once, until incorporated, about 1 minute.

13. Scrape the mixture into a small bowl and chill thoroughly before using.

14. For the streusel: Mix the brown sugar and granulated sugars, flour, cinnamon, and salt in a small bowl.

15. Add the butter and toss to coat.

16. Pinch the butter chunks and dry mixture between your fingertips until the mixture is crumbly.

17. Chill thoroughly before using.

18. For the icing: Whisk all the ingredients in a medium bowl until smooth.

19. When you are ready to shape the coffeecake, remove the chilled dough from the refrigerator and turn it out onto a lightly floured work surface. Divide the dough in half.

20. Shape the dough into a log about 8 inches long and 2 inches in diameter.

21. Roll the dough evenly into a 40-inch rope about 1 inch in diameter.

22. With your fingers together, gently press the log to flatten slightly into a 1 and 1/2-inch-wide strip.

23. Using both hands, twist the rope.

24. Loosely coil the rope in a spiral pattern, leaving a 1/4-inch space between the coils.

25. Tuck the end under and pinch to secure.

26. Place the coil on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet and cover with plastic wrap.

27. Proof until slightly puffed, 1 and 1/2 to 2 hours. See step #31 if you are going to make this now, so you can get the oven pre-heated while you do the next steps.

28. For the egg wash: In a small bowl, whisk the egg and heavy cream together.

29. Brush with the egg wash and place the filling over the center of the top, leaving a 1 and 1/2-inch border around the perimeter.

30. Sprinkle the top with streusel.

31. Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 350 degrees.

32. Working with and baking one coffeecake at a time, bake until deep golden brown, 25 to 30 minutes.

33. Slide the parchment with the coffeecake onto a wire rack and cool at least 20 minutes.

34. Drizzle the icing over the cooled cake and serve.

Much has happened these past months, from celebrating my fifteenth birthday to reacquainting myself with the familiar process of spending time baking each day.  Seemingly, I’ve put my blog on hold, left it to rest on the back-burner for almost two months. But sitting patiently behind the backdrop of my blog, this post has been in the works for weeks.  I visited it time and again, trying in vain to put my thoughts into words. With its stitched up sentences and half-formed ideas, it was a constant source of despair to me, a reminder of how long it had been since I last posted. I got caught up in believing that it was too late to write, and the thought dragged me in, a vacuum growing with each week that flew by.

I’ve returned in hopes of waking my dormant blog and fueling it with my words and thoughts once again. I’d like to tell you that the reason to my absence is due to a lack of time, and that I’m squeezing this post in between piles of unfinished work waiting to be completed, but that would be inaccurate: as time wore on and my work load receded, I feared that my will to write had as well. Because the truth is, I was just feeling lost. I tried getting to the heart of the matter to understand why I’ve kept my distance, but even now, back and typing out a post, the true reason eludes me.

From Adriana Baking

It didn’t help that my writing sessions had become short blocks of time spurting forth a few sentences at most. They consisted of trains of thought constantly being cut off by other distractions. I told myself that when I felt ready to write, sentences would come naturally; sitting down at the computer and racking my brain for words seemed too forced. Because when I’m ready, I wouldn’t be so easily distracted. Trying to piece together a tumult of phrases and thoughts into coherent passages was no way to write – it didn’t allow me to develop my thoughts and produce writing with any substance or depth. But I knew that any writing was better than none, and that it is much harder to pick it up again than it is to continue. So here I find myself again, biding goodbye to my neglectful ways in an attempt to take up writing where I’ve last left off.

During the hiatus I took from blogging, I found myself wishing time would slow its pace and allow me to live life to its fullest. I worried that managing a full schedule would squander valuable moments of simplicity I had believed to exist only in a quiet lifestyle. I wanted to fall asleep at night with a mind satiated from simple pleasures.  Basking in the freedom of spring vacation last month, I took in the abundance of sunshine on my promenades walking the neighbors’ dogs in a near replica of last summer. But that was the extent of the time I spent busying myself.  I thought that by allowing myself such amounts of free time I’d be able to sort through my thoughts, but I’ve realized, arguably too late, that this is the very reason I love to write. Writing allows me to organize my thoughts and relive my day at my leisure, but through words. It allows me to lead a busy life without worrying about cupping my hands in a futile attempt to keep the sands of time from slipping through my fingers. I’ve made a mistake, abandoning this blog, but it has led me to understand the hidden power of the written word and why I  find myself drawn to it.  Everyone writes for their own reason; I write to feel my emotions amplified through words, and to absorb every iota of life I didn’t manage to fully appreciate through the course of the day. I talk about being unable to savor life because time passes at a speed much too fast for my liking, but writing about my days organizes my thoughts. It allows me to parse my emotions and the day’s pleasures and woes, and leaves me in complete understanding of feelings I hadn’t understood at the time.

From Adriana Baking

Like I’ve been meaning to post for weeks, this chocolate loaf recipe was repeatedly put off making, though it was one of the first recipes I bookmarked when I received Baked Explorations last Christmas. I’ve now learned my lesson when it comes to going through with something, because the end result is so rewarding. In this case, I was met with chocolate euphoria upon taking my first bite of cake. It’s incredibly moist, and has a richness and texture I haven’t been able to acquire in other chocolate cakes.

Double Chocolate Loaf

From Baked Explorations

Makes one 9 x 5 inch loaf

Ingredients

3/4 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar

1 cup dark unsweetened cocoa powder, sifted

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

3/4 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

2 large eggs

1 large egg yolk

3/4 cup buttermilk

1/2 cup vegetable oil

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

8 ounces good-quality dark chocolate (60-72%), coarsely chopped

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and position the rack in the center.  Butter a 9 by 5 inch loaf pan, dust it with flour, and knock out the excess flour. Place the brown sugar in the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment.  Press out any lumps with the back of a large spoon.  Add the cocoa, flour, granulated sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.  Scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl.

In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs and egg yolk until blended, then add the buttermilk,oil, and vanilla; whisk until combined. Turn the mixer to low and slowly stream the wet ingredients into the dry ones, mixing just until combined.  Stir in the dark chocolate chunks by hand.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 1 hour to 1 hour and 10 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the loaf comes out clean. Let the cake cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then turn it out onto a wire rack to cool completely.

Amidst the chaos of the past month, days melded into weeks as my blog posts petered out. It wasn’t until a few days before February 20th that I realized that that day marked the beginning of my blog and unleashed my passion for both writing and baking.

Like a sailor quenching his thirst with swallows of crystal pure water, soothing his dry, cracked throat, I have been quelling my desire for the written word by reading. With every free ounce of time granted to me, I buried myself in the earth of faraway times, convincing myself, like every captivated reader come upon great historical fiction, that I was born a couple of centuries too late. It was recently that I discovered my love for historical fiction. Around the time of my last post, I started reading a book about World War I, and ever since, I’ve been transported further and further back in time by way of books to the fourteenth century. Instead of writing, I’ve been reading for hours on end, a pleasure I haven’t indulged in since winter vacation.

From Adriana Baking

Now, my blog’s absence is tugging at my sleeve, a neglected child requesting my attention.

It seems unlikely that I should abandon my blog for such a period of time, and I must admit to being unsure of the true reason for my hesitance to write. For a while, I told myself that I was too late. I hadn’t blogged for weeks, and getting back on track seemed impossible. The mere thought of sitting down to write a post and finding fault in every sentence I typed sent dread pulsing through my veins. There is nothing that frustrates me more than searching in vain for a word  set on eluding me, or desperately trying to form my thoughts into coherent, eloquent sentences. But I should have known that my passion for writing would eventually overrule my stubborn desire for perfection.  I lack a better analogy, but I submitted to my need to write today like a little girl finally relieving herself after a long car ride. I couldn’t contain the words threatening to spill out into my current events history essay; I gave in, and I am ever so glad. With a half written essay and a half written post before me, I am more certain than ever that it is typing the first few sentences of my blog posts that is hardest.

From Adriana Bakin

I’ve been helping my mother in the kitchen since I was a toddler.

My blogoversary was on February 20th, exactly a month ago. Though my posts have been sporadic, I’ve been blogging for one year. This past year has been measured in blog posts, and it has made me realize how quickly a year can pass by. My blog has grown so much more than I could have imagined. Writing my first post, I never would have dreamed that my posts would become centered around my life with food woven into them towards the end. My blog has become a sort of diary, and reading each one of my posts, I get a sense of what I was living through at the time. I am increasingly awed at how much my baking skills have improved, and how writing has become one of my most pleasurable pastimes. I’ll link you to my first post, if you’re curious about the change.

To celebrate, I made a cookie. It is possibly the simplest baked good I have posted yet, but it is within the boundaries of ease that would have determined my baking projects a year ago. It is as big as a basketball, but only half an inch thick. Chunks of melted chocolate stud its gooey interior, and its edges are crisp. I’ve made this recipe countless times before to share with neighbors, or as dessert in the evenings.  Now, I’ve made it for you, to thank you for your unfaltering support.

Giant Cookie

From Mel’s Kitchen Cafe

Makes 1 giant cookie

1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup butter, melted and cooled
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a medium bowl, cream together the sugars and butter. Add the egg and vanilla and mix. Add the dry ingredients and mix well. Fold in the chocolate chips.

Line a large (11X17-inch) baking pan with foil and press the cookie into a circle. I press my cookie into a 9-inch circle, about 1/4 to 3/8-inch thick. When it bakes, it spreads to about 11 inches, which fits perfectly onto a 12-inch round cardboard circle you can find at most craft stores.

If desired, top the cookie with M&M’s or any other garnishes. Bake for 13-16 minutes until the cookie is lightly golden brown. Let the cookie cool completely on the baking pan – this helps the cookie stabilize and set so it can be easily lifted off the pan. Once cool, gently use the foil to lift the cookie off the pan.

As a child, I went through phases of short-lived obsessions.

In my early years of elementary school, I spent every minute of free time playing with my sister and our neighbor, inventing fantastical adventures for our dolls. Most days we played outside, building for them houses out of rocks and leaves while they sat a safe distance away, sheltered from our dirty messes. The next morning, after a night of rainfall, our handiwork palaces would be washed away. But we would start over again, relentlessly gathering smooth twigs and perfectly round pebbles to stash away.

I picked up one of my dolls last week and ran my fingers through her tangled hair. Looking into her painted eyes, memories of my ten year old self came dislodged from the back of my head – I had forgotten they were there.

From Adriana Baking

My first year into middle school, I spent all of my time outside. With a group of my neighbors, I invented a language that only we could understand, based on our favorite song. We built forts and spoke in our secret lexicon, delighted when passersby gave us questioning looks.  Throughout the years, various computer games piqued my interest, and as I grew older, books by favorite authors that I would inevitably read over and over again.

And now, catching a similar sounding word to our made up code in people’s conversations floods my mind with memories of our days scribbling down secret phrases in our little notebook. Key words, sounds, and smells manage to trigger my memory and bring forth vivid recollections of moments I never want to lose, from childhood obsessions to best friends and favorite flavors.

I’ve written about my friend G-’s move before, but with her bags packed and ready to leave this evening, I wanted to remember her cheerful presence once again. We said goodbye yesterday night, after making our favorite chocolate chip cookies a last time together. She sprayed her perfume inside my sweater’s hood as her parents waited nearby, a sweet blend of freesia and plum. It embodies her personality perfectly, and I now carry a lingering piece of G- with every step I take.

From Adriana Baking

Of course, baking is one of my dearest, longest-lasting obsessions. But never before have I fallen so much in love with a flavor. A mere whiff of my favorite soft green powder leaves me aching for long lasting hours of soft summer light on my grandparents’ patio, and bygone warm days when ice cream consumption was frequent. Matcha has the power to overwhelm me with a cascade of memories that I long to live through again. It leaves me nostalgic and homesick for a time that has since past, but in the best possible way.

I first discovered green tea powder as I discover most anything related to baking – on food blogs. Though I don’t like green tea as a beverage, the powder intrigued me. It was a beautiful shade of green -one that is quickly becoming my favorite. And when I finally got hold of a container last summer and instantly became infatuated with its full-bodied, slightly bitter taste, I used it sparingly, only in desserts that were well worth its use.

From Adriana Baking

This pound cake is one of the few desserts I’m willing to render tea green. It has the finest, tightest crumb I have yet had in a cake, and a sweet sugary crust if you let it rest for a couple of days. I’ve made it twice already, and both times, we could hardly bear the wait.

Be careful not to overbake it, or you will end up with a slightly fluffier cake, as opposed to the delightful density it has the potential to be. Also, butter and flour your pan very well. I didn’t, and parts of the cake stuck to the inside.

[It's been a long time since my last post, and I'm terribly sorry. I have been taking exams all month, and with a sudden bout of sickness, I couldn't find the time to post. I hope that this never happens again, as I love to blog].

Cruze Farm Buttermilk Pound Cake
Slightly adapted from the New York Times via 17 and Baking
Makes a 9″ bundt cake

1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted room temperature butter, plus more for greasing the pan
3 1⁄2 cups sifted all-purpose flour, plus more for flouring the pan
1 tablespoon of green tea powder (optional)
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
1⁄2 teaspoon baking soda
2 1⁄2 cups granulated sugar
4 large eggs, room temperature
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup cultured buttermilk (see above to make your own)
Juice of 1 lemon, strained

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F. Butter and flour a bundt pan. Mine wasn’t floured enough, and didn’t come out cleanly.

Sift together the flour, salt, and baking soda. In a stand mixer, beat the butter and pour in the sugar gradually, creaming it well. Add the eggs one at a time. Beat in the vanilla extract, scraping down the sides. On low speed, add a third of the flour mixture until just combined. Then add a third of the buttermilk mixture until just combined. Repeat with the remaining flour and buttermilk. Stir in the lemon juice.

Smooth the batter into the prepared pan. Bake until a toothpick or thin knife comes out clean, about 75 minutes. The cake should be browned and the edges should be starting to pull away. Cool for 20 minutes in the pan, then invert onto a rack and cool completely. At this point, you can wrap in up in plastic wrap or in an air tight container (under a cake dome), and let it age overnight or up to a couple days.

From Adriana Baking