They Say It's Your Birthday

GYM is a lucky guy. He has an avid baker for a girlfriend. However, he wanted Smitten Kitchen's Espresso Chiffon Cake with Fudge Frosting. And I had never made a layer cake before. Here's how it went down:

Espresso Chiffon Cake
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen.

Coffee. Chocolate. Rum. Deliciousness.
Despite how it might sound, this cake is not overly sweet. The chocolate is unsweetened and the coffee balances the rum and confectioner's sugar. The layers are nearly soggy, but in a good way--no dryness to be found in this cake.

Makes an 8- or 9-inch triple-layer cake

1/4 cup neutral oil, such as grapeseed.
6 eggs, separated
6 tablespoons freshly brewed espresso, cooled to room temperature (All hail Carrmat's espresso maker!)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/3 cups cake flour (I used pastry flour)
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Apparently you should own three cake pans and have them lined with parchment paper but not greased. I, not having money nor storage space, picked up a cheap Sur la Table 9 inch pan and buttered it up. However, I will state that it is very difficult to pour out 1/3 of the batter, so if you want even layers, go with the three pans.

In a medium bowl, combine the oil, egg yolks, espresso and vanilla; whisk lightly to blend. In a large mixing bowl, sift together the flour, 1 cup of the sugar, the baking powder, cinnamon, and salt. Set the dry ingredients aside.

In a large mixer bowl with an electric mixture, whip the egg whites with the cream of tartar on medium-low speed until frothy. Raising the mixer speed to medium-high and gradually add the remaining half cup of sugar. Continue to beat until soft peaks form; do not whip until stiff or the cake will shirk excessively upon cooling.

Add the espresso-egg yolk mixture to the dry ingredients and fold together just enough to combine. Add one-fourth of the beaten egg whites and fold them in to lighten the batter. Fold in the remainder of the whites just until no streaks remain. Divide the batter among the three prepared pans.

Bake the cakes for about 18 minutes each, or until a cake tester or wooden toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Allow to cool enough that you can get the layer on to a wire rack, then grease up your pan again. Repeat twice.

To assemble the cake, place one layer, flat side up, on a cake stand or serving plate. Soak the cake with 1/3 cup of the Espresso Syrup (below).



Spread about 1 1/3 cups of the Instant Fudge Frosting (below) evenly over the top of the layer.


Repeat with the next layer, more syrup and more frosting. Finally, top with the third layer. Soak it with the remaining syrup and frost the tops and sides with the remaining frosting.










Espresso Syrup
Makes one cup

1/3 cup hot, freshly brewed espresso (I'm sure decaf would work as well)
1/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup dark rum, such as Meyer’s or whichever type you take off Carrmat's shevles.

In a bowl, stir together the espresso and sugar until the sugar dissolves. Add the rum and let cool to room temperature.

Instant Fudge Frosting

Makes about 5 cups

6 ounces unsweetened chocolate, melted and cooled--I used the microwave and kept an eye on it
4 1/2 cups confectioners’ sugar (no need to sift)
3 sticks (12 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature
6 tablespoons half-and-half or whole milk (I actually forgot this step and it was still yummy)
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Place all of the ingredients in the Kitchen Aid and whip up til it's fluffy. Then hand the beater to the birthday boy.


If you want to write on the cake, modify the frosting by adding all ingredients to the Kitchen Aid except the chocolate. Whip it up and then stuff a frosting tube with the white (or add food coloring if you're the type that owns it). Add the chocolate, then frost the cake with the dark stuff and write a sweet happy birthday message with the tube of the white.

And your feet going nowhere

Another year begins. This one much closer to my thirties than before, a scary number, one that says grown up and houses and families and children and settled and grounded and grown up.

And what have we learned from this, another year in the life of being gracefullypunk? I feel that, most of all, the year of 27 has been one of me learning that roots are not necessarily bad. After all, cut off the roots and the plant is dead, right? There is still a part of me--a large part--that wants to explore, to see the world, to take flight. But I've realized that what I've fought for so long has come back to me. I have found a place I fit. You can't put down roots just anywhere. Living back in the Northwest gives me history, it gives me fresh air, a culture I relate to, and most of all family.

I still struggle, sometimes, with the concept of normality, and groundedness, but I've come to realize that I'll always be putting my individual spin on things. I don't need to keep running away or planning exotic trips or trying to write a novel or aiming for a perfect job because I don't have to prove anything.

So that, my friends, is what my 27th year has taught me. In a nutshell. It wasn't so easy. It hurt a lot. There was heartbreak and leaving and surgeries and unemployment and fear and more heartbreak. But when I look back, I see that this is the year that helped me put down my roots.

What will 28 bring? I don't think I want to know. But I hope it will involve new recipes, a flourishing garden, a deeper relationship, a steady circle of friends, getting to celebrate with my family, plenty of baseball, new beers to taste, and new restaurants to visit.

Gonna Make You Sweat, Gonna Make You Groove

Actually, I guess this goes the other way.

Gonna Make You Groove.
Saturday was my birthday party. I was so excited to have eleven friends show up at La Macarena to celebrate with me. Everyone seemed to enjoy their pupusas, flautas, enchiladas and plantains. Yes, it was a Central American restaurant. My birthday, my loves win. But it was a good atmosphere and everything was delicious so I think people were ok with it.
After dinner, about six of us headed down to Frenchman Street to try the hooka bar. Apparently I seem like someone who would be down for a hooka bar. Anyway, the bar had an hour wait, so we headed down the street to where a brass band was playing and proceeded to dance in the street. Yes, the band was playing in the street, not in another bar. This is one of the reasons I cannot leave this town. Where else do people dance in the streets with complete abandon? It amazes me every time, and I was actually a little sad that our table came up early and we had to leave the band. But we had a nice round of strawberry, vanilla and mango flavored hooka-ing, and it would have been nice and mellow had the band not added a strange member in the form of a rapper. They were just a chill jazzy trio until this guy got up and started belting it out. Other than that it was an awesome night, and I fell asleep thinking just how lucky I am to have made so many friends in this town.

Gonna Make You Sweat.
I got up this morning to flier for the co-op. We headed into the L9, to the Holy Cross Neighborhood. If you think that New Orleans is fine, that it's been rebuilt and all is grand, well, the Lower Ninth will certainly disabuse you of that notion. I snapped a few photos with my phone to show you what I mean.

I'd say about 85% of houses in this neighborhood are already being worked on, or they are being lived in. This is one of the 15% that no one really knows what is happening with.

Gutted elements laying in the sidewalk and street. Look in the background--you'll see a FEMA trailer, still being lived in. You can also see a car. Notice how high the weeds are compared to the car? That's an empty lot.

The last one I took because the bright flowers really stood out on the downtrodden street. They showed me that there is hope. And there is. Holy Cross wasn't devastated in the same way that the other side of St Claude was--the place where the levy breached and the barge burst through, causing flood waters to rise so rapidly that people needed to break out of their attics and leaving eight feet of standing water for days. Holy Cross is rebuilding and they are proud--and we were there to talk to them about what the NOLA Food Co-op is doing to also rebuild the city.
Unfortunately, the weather was ridiculous today. It was 88 degrees with 67% humidity. Yes, it could get worse, and it will, but walking around for two hours in the heat was more than enough.

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Now playing: Anberlin - Dismantle. Repair

We ask to look past life as it goes by

May 21st. By all accounts, this should be birthday week.

I am known for loving my birthday. Maybe it's only child syndrome or something, but I think that birthdays should be celebrated intensely, that the person who did nothing more than come into the world but yet managed to make it this far should be treated like royalty for a few days.

But for some reason I can't bring myself to get excited about this birthday. Once again, Memorial Day weekend has thwarted me, and many will be out of town. I'm not going anywhere, which is strange for birthday weekend. And I'm not really in want of anything, so for once in my life, presents are of no significance.

I think what it is even more than these things, though, is that I'm just tired of celebrating myself. This year has been rough, both emotionally and physically, and I've had to rely on people more than ever. I haven't had the strength to reach out and to give to others, to celebrate them, to help them when they needed it. As much as I like it when people pay attention to me, and I definitely appreciate all that everyone has done to help me, I think I've finally reached a point where I can say that I just don't want it to be about me anymore.

So, in all likelihood, it won't be. I'm having a small get-together at the Central American restaurant I like. That's a nod to ME because of my love for Centro. But Saturday is Farmer's Market gig and co-op stuff at the Bayou Bugaloo and then Sunday is church and potluck and Monday I'll probably just sleep and cook.

27...I hope that this feeling is just an oddity and that I really won't end up sounding so tired and so resigned to being more of an adult than a child.

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Now playing: Our Lady Peace - Will The Future Blame Us
via FoxyTunes

Let go of your fear, let's grow old together

It's my last day of being 25. It feels a little weird. I don't know why, but I'm not eager to turn 26. 25 sounds nice and round and fun and able to take on the world.

26 sounds like I should have things a bit more together than I do. Not sure I can fix that in the next 13.6 hours.

And suddenly I have much less time left of being 25, because five hours have passed since I started this blog. What have I done today? I awoke before 6 am, unfortunately, but, fortunately, I had excellent coffee from the french press. Whole Foods has bulk bins of coffee which they roast on the premises and then label with the date of roasting, so I know that this coffee was roasted on Monday.

I read from Galatians today. I know that my read the bible in a year idea should really start with Genesis, but I feel as though I've read Genesis over and over and never pushed on, so I thought since I felt pulled to Galatians I may as well start there and then see where it leads me. And this is the part that stuck with me today:

Galatians 25-26: Since this is the kind of life we have chosen, the life of the Spirit, let us make sure that we do not just hold it as an idea in our heads or a sentiment in our hearts, but work out its implications in every detail of our lives.

I think that's the hardest part about being committed to living a godly life: being sure that you reflect your belief in everything that you do, not just bits and pieces that you pick and choose.

So that was the start of my early morning, great coffee and finally sitting down with my Message. It went downhill from there. I spent way too much time updating my shuffle, only to forget it at the house. Bus was late and packed and filled with cell talkers, making me really wish I had the shuffle. Work has been one struggle after another, with no way for me to get on top of what I already am behind on (hmm, maybe not blog, but this is my sanity break since my lunch was fast). I had to take extra time out of my day to go to a pointless training. My weekend plans are still not firm and that makes me feel out of control. Oh, and it's a complete bad hair day. And eyebrow day. I firmly believe the worst part of moving is having to find a new waxing specialist.

I'm just trying to make it through the last couple hours of my day. Leftovers await me from the meal I made on Monday, along with homemade tortillas from last night. I plan on a bath with a facemask and a session with the nail polish. And I'm making dark chocolate chip cookies and bran muffins (not to go together). So I guess what I'm doing is making sure I'm ready to take on 26.

8 hours, 8 minutes.