Pick Yourself Up, Dust Yourself Off, etc etc.

Yesterday's Fail has been preying on my mind.
It really pisses me off to waste expensive ingredients on something
that turns out to be inedible (almost typed indelible--here's a trick--stare at both words
long enough and your eyes will spaz out completely) and
still not even know the whys and wherefores of the problem.

So I did what I always do when faced with culinary roadblocks:

I called my mom.

I know how blessed I am to have reached this age and still have my mom
standing in, if not the wings, then at least within cell-phone range.
She has had over 62 years of cooking and baking for a family of five and
lived to tell the tales. Mom is the only one to still go through the time-honored
process of making kolache every Christmas--and she's not even Czech.
It's a family recipe from my father's side, and she learned at my
grandma's elbow how to make them.
Side note: none of my aunts ever did the kolache thing, but they loved my mom's!

I know that nearly everyone thinks that their mom is the best cook/baker
in the world--and poor, deluded souls they are, too--only I know that through
some accident of birth, some cosmic shake-and-shimmy, I am descended
from She Who Rules The Kitchen. If Mary Lou has had any Epic Fails in the
kitchen, I've never heard about it (but that would make a good post, wouldn't it?)

So I regaled her with my latest Red Velvet exploits. And, oddly enough, she had
absolutely no idea, no inkling (as she puts it) of why it happened.
We concluded that it probably wasn't my subbing in canola oil for the
vegetable oil written in the recipe, or the non-stick spray I used, since
both of us have used those things before with normal results.
As we talked it over, a vague olfactory deja vu hit me--

Yes, cats and kittens, I'd passed this way before (Note: see Seals and Crofts).
That--that--smell had assaulted my schnozz about a year ago. The memory is still
fuzzy as I write this, but then I've always been big on blotting out unpleasant
not to say traumatic experiences.

And the culprit?

Those bloody mini-Bundt pans!

Mom suggested that maybe some weirdo chemical reaction happened to
the non-stick coating of the pans when sprayed with the non-stick spray.
Sounds reasonable.
Of course, to be sure, I'd have to redo the entire thing exactly as before, including
forgetting to add the vanilla until after I added the eggs like I did the first time--
a non-crucial step, I'm pretty sure.

But a closer look at the recipe also revealed something Fourth-of-July gasp-worthy:

this recipe included a nutritional run-down--

In each normal-sized cupcake?

59.7 grams of fat!!!!!

I would be shrieking but this is not an auditory medium.

I will be plunging into the depths of my recipe files to locate a Red Velvet
three-layer cake recipe shared by a neighbor eons ago which I have
successfully made (in cake form, mind you) and try to modify it for cupcakes.

Stay tuned!

FAIL!

Okay, okay, I know that we all mess up sometimes. Every one of us
has had those less-than-stellar performances at
something we considered ourselves to be good at.
If I am honest, I will admit I am somewhat of
a perfectionist--a perfectionist with an asterisk qualifying
a small quirk: I can give myself a break on the gotta-be-perfect
thing as long as I did my best.

But--sometimes I find myself in the midst of a
failure SO BIG that even I can't rationalize it away
by knowing I gave it the ol' college try.

This cake recipe was such an experience.

Oh, it sounded innocent enough: chocolate cake.
Anybody can manage that, right?
A chocolate stout cake, to use up another bottle
of that six-pack I had to buy for the Guinness stew I posted
about some time ago.

As a disappointed student told my first husband (a high school
teacher) after
receiving a dismal test score, "I failed HARD."
Now I know what you meant, Jamie.




The cake was dry as a fart. Three layers of this crap, no less.

The second problem with the cake was the frosting.

(Time out for a homey little anecdote that almost earned
my husband The Pillow and Blanket On the Sofa award)
My daughter is a fearless cook.
She doesn't need a recipe and can just look
at the fridge contents and come up with something
wonderful that leaves her younger brothers (and apparently
her stepfather) cheering. My mother is the same way.

I, alas, am not like that. The first time I try a recipe,
I want the comfort of knowing that I am following something
tried and true. After a couple of times around the block with
a certain dish, I feel confident enough to take liberties.
My husband complimented my daughter one day by saying
that she was excellent at improvising dishes--then he
must have seen me with the Death Ray glow coming out
of my eyes because he hastily added, "and you're really a
good cook with recipes, honey!"

What would you have done? In my head, I realized he was
trying to give my daughter an honest compliment and that's cool.
He tried his best to compliment me too, when he saw the thin ice
he was on. What pissed me off was that he was
right: she's terrific ad libbing in the kitchen, and I'm not.
I'm afraid to take chances. Maybe it's because I hate
to feel that I have to eat something bad that just
didn't work out as planned.
It may have been a pride issue, too. Maybe.
Oh, shut up. Who asked you?!

Back to the chocolate stout cake.
I took a chance with the recipe for frosting--it was supposed
to be a chocolate ganache that would drape
gracefully down the sides of the three layered cake.



As you can see, the result was less than...less than...there just
aren't words to express this frosting except to say that
it was STIFF. And the more I tried to fix it, the worse it got.

So my days of taking liberties with recipes are over for
the time being, until the stench of failure is gone and
my cheeks are done burning with shame.
Shit.

Channeling Sandra Lee with Oreos

Have I mentioned yet that I have a split personality?

No?
I have a traditional self, the one that loves homemaking, cooking,
baking, gardening, making the house a home.
That's my Jane side. Jane loves her children and her home
and would rather stay in on a Saturday night watching
videos and cuddling with hubby on the sofa.

Then the flip side of the coin: Amy,
The Wild One. She's the one that calls her husband during
his work day to tell him all the naughty things she's
going to do to him that night when he gets home. She has
a whiskey voice, low and sultry. She likes the
nightlife and has a real weakness for vodka and
cranberry juice.

Jane is adamant about the superiority of cooking
and baking from scratch. The slow food movement holds
a lot of appeal for her.

But---

The crazy-busy wifemomemployee Amy
finds relief in short cuts. Anything to get drudgery done fast so she can
get on with the fun stuff. The Sandra Lee side,
if you will.

My third-born recently celebrated his twenty-first birthday
and, given the choice, requested white cake ('because everything you
bake is chocolate') of some kind. I offered him an Oreo cake. Had
to get some chocolate in there somehow.

I had two Oreo cookie cake recipes: one that required
crushed Oreos to be distributed throughout the cake
batter. It was a Bundt cake with only powdered sugar sprinkled
over it in place of frosting or glaze. It had a nice glaze instead of typical frosting.
It was easy and light and didn't make you feel
guilty after you ate it.

The second one was the one I chose this past week.
I don't remember where in cyberspace I 'appropriated' this recipe,
but there was a note that the blogger got it from
Pampered Chef Delightful Desserts.
It sounded a little richer and actually had frosting, one of
my personal priorities in baked goods.

Cookies and Creme Cake

Cake:

12 creme-filled chocolate sandwich cookies, coarsely chopped
1 pkg. white cake mix
3/4 cup water
1/2 cup sour cream
3 egg whites
2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Icing:

6 creme-filled chocolate sandwich cookies, coarsely chopped
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1/4 cup sour cream
3 tablespoons butter, softened


Method:

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Spray fluted cake pan with nonstick cooking spray. For cake, coarsely chop cookies, set aside. Combine cake mix, water, sour cream, egg whites and oil; mix according to package directions.

Pour half of the batter into pan. sprinkle chopped cookies evenly over top of batter but not touching sides of pan. Spoon remaining batter over cookies.

Bake 50-55 minutes or until toothpick inserted in cake comes out clean. Cool in pan 10 minutes. Loosen cake from sides and center tube of pan. Invert onto cooking rack; remove pan. Cool completely.

For icing, coarsely chop remaining cookies and set aside. Combine powdered sugar, sour cream and butter; beat until smooth. Ice top of cake, allowing some to flow down the sides.*** Sprinkle top of cake with cookie crumbs. Let stand until icing is set. Cut into slices. Store leftover cake, covered, in refrigerator.

Yield: 16 servings.


***I found I needed to add a few drops of milk to mixing bowl when beating the frosting to make it thin enough to do any 'flow down the sides.'

And below is the first Oreo cake I made, for the sake of comparison.
If you decide to make either of them, I'd love to hear from you, and
hear what you think. They're both good, everyday-type cakes,
quick to throw together and lighter than many of the cakes I
have in my repertoire. But they're not really anything that special.
Which is not to say 'don't make them'; it's just that I like to fuss a
little more and create something really memorable. Someday
I'll try to come up with something more worthy of the
Oreo name.



Second Oreo Cookie Cake

Ingredients:

1 pkg. white cake mix
16 Oreos, coarsely crushed
1 pkg. (3 oz) cream cheese, softened
2 teaspoons milk
2 cups heavy whipping cream
3/4 cup powdered sugar

Method:

Prepare cake batter according to package directions; stir in crushed cookies. Spoon into a greased and floured bundt pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 33-38 minutes, then test with a toothpick to determine doneness. Cool for 10 minutes before removing from pan to a wire rack to cool completely.

In a small mixing bowl, beat cream cheese and milk until smooth. Beat in cream until mixture begins to thicken. Add powdered sugar; beat until stiff peaks form. Frost cake. Garnish with additional Oreos. Refrigerate leftovers.

Yield: 12-16 servings.

The Daring and Delicious Experiment

I'm back.

And this time, I've got pictures! That is, if I can get all my ducks in a row, photograph-wise. I've spent several hours today perusing the software manual of my camera and what the heck! Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? I'm going to give it a go, throw it against the wall and see if it sticks, kick the tires and take it out for a spin, stick a fork in it and see if it's done, etc.

If I can't get the pictures to show up in the blog, well, I'll be the one curled up in the corner rocking back and forth as I bang my head on the wall.

Food Talk

This is one of my favorite recipes from the family archives. I come from a long line of incredible bakers and cooks, as many of you do, and I treasure the recipes I've cajoled out of my relatives over the years. Except for most of my mother's, that is, since she's one of those cooks that, when asked for a recipe, laughs and says, "Oh, I just threw this together. There really is no recipe." It's the answer that always makes me grind my teeth and growl. Then I tell her the next time she makes the coveted cake, cookie, etc. she'd better write down the ingredients and amounts so I don't tear out my hair. And she laughs again, but she complies, and that's the great thing.

This recipe, however, came from my second cousin in Illinois, so it's aptly named---



Lou Ann's Apple Cake

Ingredients:

1 1/2 C. vegetable or canola oil ***
2 C. sugar
2 teasp. vanilla
2 eggs
3 C. diced apples
3 C. sifted flour
1 teasp. cinnamon
1 teasp. baking soda
1 teasp. salt

Method:

Pour oil and sugar into a large mixing bowl and beat well.
Add the vanilla and eggs and beat well again.
Add the apples. Do not beat again after adding them.


Combine the flour, cinnamon, flour, baking soda, and salt; whisk together and stir into apple/oil/sugar mixture. It will be very thick. Pour or scoop it into a greased 9x13 " pan (you can sprinkle additional sugar on the top of the batter if you like) and bake for 1 hour.


***I know, I know, I had a mild heart attack when I saw the amount of oil used, too. But if ever a cake was justified by such a godawful amount of something so bad for you, this cake is it. I've always thought that someday I'd like to try substituting applesauce or something else in place of at least part of that oil, but have yet to try it. Probably because I would feel obliged to eat it even if the results were sub-par.

This cake works very well as a coffee cake, eaten at breakfast. Or at least that's how I rationalize it in JaneWorld.

Enjoy!