Chocolate Marmalade Mini-cupcakes

Perspective.

I have been thinking long and hard about this word. Stop a second and actually think about it. Let it roll of your tongue. Try saying it fast so that you swallow the “s.” Then say it a little slower. Roll that “r”, and then ramp up as at the “s.” Then notice that you just spent the last minute not thinking about anything but sounds. You were putting the concept of that word into practice. You just found a moment where everything was in perspective.



I can’t say it is something I myself put into practice with any particular frequency. For the majority of the last two months, I have almost lost sight of a concept so noble as perspective. Work has consumed me, eaten me from the inside, and left me wholly unsatiated. In some meager response to the pressure, I have cocooned myself in even more work hoping the mountain of papers would somehow inure and protect my soul. If only at some moment in that month, I had realized that my soul needs no more protection than perspective. That one day off, one evening away from the labors of the office, would mean nothing more than my own sanity. Or, that taking the snow day to make a small batch of cupcakes with your girls is so much more cathartic and so much more real than anything work has to offer.



But sometimes when you are standing at the edge, you can’t find your bearings. It is when you step back, way back, when you see the wide vista of possibilities ahead, that the lines of perspective become so obvious. You can see your present in your peripheral vision but in front, small but nonetheless there, your future reassuringly beacons you forward.

Chocolate Marmalade Mini-cupcakes:
adapted from a recipe from the Cookie Shop

Combine:
1/4 cup flour
3 T chestnut flour
Pinch baking soda
Pinch baking powder
salt
4 T cocoa power
¼ sugar
2 T brown sugar

Add:
4 tbsp buttermilk
1 egg
Couple drops espresso
½ tsp vanilla extract
4 T olive oil
1 T marmalade

Bake in mini-cupcake tins (buttered and floured) for about 8 minutes. Top with chocolate ganache.

Egg-less Chocolate cake

There were times when I was pregnant with Belle, when I was alone in the house and all was still outside. I would lie down on the couch hands cupped around my hard belly. I would breathe in and out as purposeful as possible. I would wait and attempt patience. And, I would wonder who this little person would be.

Then with a wallop, Belle would kick with all her might at anything in her way with an impressive lack of rhythm. Then, she would gurgle and swim casually brushing her hands across my belly in broad gestures.


Four years later, I wished I had written down who I thought that little person was. I am fairly certain whatever I thought was nothing like the true Belle. She has a finely attuned design sense. She would have you know, stripes work well with hearts but not polka dots, and not all pinks match. She loves all things dolly—prams, changing tables, and bottles. But at the same time she can build a mean tower. Mostly, she reminds me every day how important observation and curiosity are in feeding the human soul. She smells everything from food to scarves. She wonders about clouds, snow, heaven and God.

Every day is an investigation for her. Dessert is one of her particular specialties. Why is it that some cakes aren’t chocolate? Why is it that some cakes are deficient in frosting? Why are some cakes only one layer?

Belle’s love of chocolate is something that I anticipated bodily during pregnancy. I was not much of a sweet person until Belle resided within me. During my pregnancy, I would fanaticize about decadent chocolate cupcakes. Now, Belle is a woman who relishes the idea of visiting her grandparents, in the magical land of Cincinnati, where cupcakes are alright for breakfast.

This summer we experimented with the ideal chocolate cake. While I have more experience tasting chocolate cake, I think Belle has a natural insight. We make an ideal team. We tasted cakes. I talked, perhaps idly, about the required a balance between sweetness and bitterness; moistness and denseness. Though, Belle really summed it up, “it has to be super chocolate and good.”



Our first try at this cake was one that was basically a large brownie. When topped with cocoa butter cream, Belle was very satisfied.

When birthday time came around yesterday, I turned to this cake. Parenting is something that is harder when you pay attention to what you are doing. I probably should have just made the cake that she liked, but instead I decided to increase the buttermilk so that I would have a moister cake-like result. After all, sometimes a mother has to make decisions for their children.

I also decided to use three frostings, because sometimes a mother gets to break the rules. First I separated the two layers with marshmallow butter cream , added a crumb coat and then some with vanilla butter cream, and then frosted with cocoa-cream cheese butter cream. The result was a cake that would make your dentist call you to set up an appointment.


As we cut the cake, I waited to hear her observations. She sat down to her slice with almost religious fervor. She eschewed the paper napkin so that she might lick the frosting from her fingers. She then requested seconds and thirds (though both requests were denied.) And, then she played.

In the last four years, one of the few things I have learned about parenting is that often it is the quiet off-minutes, when socks are being pulled up or blocks being picked up that your children share. Today, when the house was quiet, and Belle and I were cleaning up her room, she said to me, “There was much more frosting on that cake. I am glad.”




Recipe:
Chocolate Cake:
Cream together:
4 oz cream cheese, softened
4 T butter, softened
1 3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar

In the microwave, melt 1/4 cup chocolate chips (or a little more)

Into the bowl of the stand mixer, add:
1 cup buttermilk
1 T instant coffee granules
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tsp cider vinger
melted chocolate chips

In a bowl, combine:
1 3/4 cup flour
3/4 cup cocoa
1 1/2 t baking powder
1 1/2 t baking soda
1 tsp salt

Add dry ingredients to wet, in 1/2 cup intervals, blending as you go.

Bake in 2-9 inch pans that have been greased and floured (or cocoaed) at 350 for 25-30 minutes.

Frostings:
I got a little mystical/ alchemistry-like with the frostings, so no recipes here…all I can say is that for the cream cheese frosting, I used 4 oz butter (soften), 4 oz cream cheese (softened), splash of coffee, and then added cocoa and powdered sugar with wild abandon. The others were a little of a blur.

Cheddar Cheese Apple Mini Pies

Belle seems to dislike the number 14. I am not quite sure what it did to her. She is plenty enamored with 4. And, that 10 is a good round number is something upon which we can all agree. But, 14 is turning into a bit of a bother. Fifteen through twenty are really a breeze. And, anything up to 13 are so easy they aren’t worth discussing.

What does a mother do? Well, honestly, first there is a little worry. If you don’t, more power to you. Worry, then admitting to it, and then moving on is what makes me human (that and a couple of other things including the fact that I bore children.) The next step for some of my parenting woes usually springs from some strange “call in the troops” mentality. Strange because I barely remember what ROTC stands for and look terrible in khaki; but more importantly because metaphorically screaming “charge” is really the worst sentiment when it comes to dealing with your children. In this case, I attacked with colorful books and rote memorization. This tact was actually quite fruitful—it saved me from my gung-ho tendencies for a little while. Belle must have been relieved when I gave the whole number thing a rest. For a little while I suggested she just count to ten, and then go back to one. I went back to being my less crazy self.

Life ramped up. I made 300 mini-pies for a wedding reception. When we stood at the counter packing up my cheddar cheese apple pies, my Belle told me “Mommy, you already have four-teen pies in the box. Can I eat one?”

“Sure,” I said, in a voice that was just below a cheer.

“Well, now that I put another pie in the box, can you count them?” I asked.

“Now I only get to fourteen.”


for the apple cheddar pie recipe go to epicurious--but add chinese 5 spice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ground star anise

Daring Bakers Sugar Cookies

I am all out of the words tonight, so lets leave it with dancings bootss and baby chicks....









The September 2010 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Mandy of “What the Fruitcake?!” Mandy challenged everyone to make Decorated Sugar Cookies based on recipes from Peggy Porschen and The Joy of Baking.

For more words, go to my #pfb2010 entry Silk Route Feast. You could even give me an early Arbor day gift and vote for me.

Ricecooker Tibetan Rice Pudding

Apparently, Tibet is a fairly sunny place. It is the top of the world after all. That has to make it a little closer to the sun. Per capita, Tibet is said to be much sunnier than say Buffalo. But, in your mind, what is Tibet like? Here is how it resides in my mind’s eye:

You are quietly nestled into a silken quilt. Your toes are tracing the embroidery, while at the same time, dipping into the yak fur rug underneath. The cold of the ground is close enough, but in your quiet repose, you are safe. There is a faint hint of earthiness on your lips. You mindlessly lick the last unctuous, salty remnants of the yak butter tea from the crease of your mouth. The wind rustles outside your portable home. It whips and churns, picking up speed in every rocky crag, returning with renewed vengeance. The sound of wind and rock and wind resonate. In your quiet bed, you look over to the small red lacquer stand, with its one cup, spoon, prayer scroll. Your mind follows the curlicues marked on its surface in time with the wind. And, slowly, you fall asleep, as if you are alone on the moon.

(Also, I joined a contest called Project Food Blog 2010. Find my entry here, and begin voting on September 20. If you plan to vote for someone else, the voting starts September 30.)

Recipe:
Tibetan Rice Pudding
Adapted from Beyond the Great Wall by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid
In a rice cooker set to make white rice, add:
¾ cup brown broken rice/ rose matta
1 cup evaporate milk
1 cup whole milk
1 cup water
1 T brown sugar (or less)
½ tsp cardamom
¼ cup golden raisins
¼ cup dried apples
¼ cup unsulfured apricots

Top with pistachios that have been browned in ghee

Oven Roasted Mango Hummingbird Cake

I always thought it was strange that I got an ice cream cake for my birthday. I wasn’t a big fan of ice cream. And, my birthday is dead in the middle of the coldest part of the Northeast Ohio winter. I kind of imagine it started with my pleas. I must have had ice cream cake at some warm sunny summer party and then begged my mother for the cake through the dog days of summer. My mom must have held onto my desire, waiting patiently, until she could make good. This was the tradition my mother had chosen for me. I probably could have stopped this train, but why?

Then there was the tradition I chose. When I became school age, I learned of the expression “birthday treat.” Girls were allowed to bring their favorite dessert on their birthday. (It’s not as if boys were fed bread and water—it was a girl’s school.) Most of these mothers stayed home, or worked in a more social sense. So, the desserts were handmade. There were cupcakes with tiny pink flowers, brownies with nuts, and even baklava. With my birthday almost halfway through the school year, I had taken a mental tally of what would be the most prized dessert. These were the sorts of things upon which first grade reputations are made. It needed to have mass appeal. Chocolate was in order—obviously. But, chocolate cupcakes could be so, well, simple. There needed to be more. I wouldn’t say nuts. That was the sort of thing that divides an audience. There are those for whom the nuts are a welcome surprise, and then there are the other half who feel put out to have their teeth accosted by the change in texture. And, I wouldn’t say anything with fruit. Noone, I mean no one, brought fruit desserts for their birthday—they had the vague ring of nutritional soundness. Really the goal was to up the sugar content of the dessert. In the end, I went with chocolate cupcakes filled with marshmallow fluff and topped with chocolate frosting. I can still taste those cupcakes after all these years. If you asked me tastes like my birthday, what was my birthday tradition, well, I can almost hear the clink of the butter knife against the empty glass jar of fluff.

So, this week with Tigerlily’s birthday, I have been thinking what will be her tradition? Born in the dead heat of the summer, with fruit at its best, I decided to make a sort of Hummingbird cake. I used roasted banana, peaches and mangos—all oven-roasted until their skins blackened. Mango is delicious in all forms, but roasting them in the oven, turns them into a rich jam. Tiger loves mango. She storms around mouth open clucking loudly like an irate chick when she sees you cutting into one. It seemed a fitting choice; a good way to start a tradition. If fifteen years from now, we have Humminbird cake, and she asks me why, will I remember this? Who knows? She will probably say to her from friends, I have no idea why my crazy mom makes this cake.

So, next year at this time, will I be slicing into six layers of heaven again? Considering the scores of January ice cream cakes I have eaten, maybe.


Recipe:
Roasted Mango Hummingbird Cake
based on a recipe from Saveur magazine
In a 400 degree oven, roast:
2 white peaches
2 large mangos
2 small bananas
Peel the fruit, deseed peaches and bananas, and combine in a blender. Should make about 4 cups fruit pulp. The combination should be mostly mango, so pick your fruit accordingly, or add aam ras/ mango pulp if necessary.

In a stand mixer, combine:
3 cups flour, plus more for dusting
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground cardamom
1 tsp saffron, crushed
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1 cup sugar
1 cup packed light brown sugar
3 eggs, beaten (or Ener-G equivalent)
1 cup pineapple, dicely finely
2 cups fruit puree
1 cup canola oil
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp almond extract

Pour the mixture into two 9-inch round springform pans lined with parchment paper and then greased and floured. Bake the cakes for 1 hr at 350.

Then make another round of batter:
4 cups flour, plus more for dusting
1 1/3 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 1/3 tsp ground cardamom
1 tsp saffron, crushed
1 1/3 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
scant 1 1/3 cup sugar
scant 1 1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
3 eggs, beaten (or Ener-G equivalent)
1 T flaxseed
1 1/3 cup pineapple, dicely finely
2 2/3 cups fruit puree
1 1/3 cup canola oil
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp almond extract

This time pour the batter into 3 pans. Bake the cakes for 1 hr at 350.

Cool the cakes for 2 hours. Then cut each layer in half. Frost each middle layer. You will use ½ of the frosting for the interiors, and ½ for the exterior. Chill after the crumb coat and then finish with the decorations.

Frosting:
Combine in a stand mixer: (you might need to do this in 2 batches.)
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
6- 8-oz. packages cream cheese,
cut into 1" cubes, chilled
2 tsp. vanilla extract
½ tsp saffron soaked in 1 T milk
5 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted

I am submitting this to Weekend Herb Blogging with Mango as the highlighted ingredient. I came to cooked mango later in life. As a kid I thought it was criminal to mess with the firm sweetness. But, I really appreciate the complicated flavor of cooking or even roasting mango.

This week WHB is hosted by Lynne from Cafe Lynnylu and run by Haalo of Cook Almost Anything

Vietnamese Coffee Cheesecake Bars

Last year at this time, I was very hungry.

I was near the end of a difficult pregnancy. In over 8 months, there was not a single day when the nausea did not overwhelm every other feeling. Eating only meant that I would get sick. I basically lived on IVs, iron infusions, and potato chips.

My husband was in the midst of a busy season at work, so my Dad or Mom would drop me off for my two weeks of iron infusions. Since I didn’t leave the house much, I tried to make the most of this daily outing. I used to try to think of it as a Sunday drive, but with needles and weigh-ins.


In general, the experience made me very hopeful. I would sit alongside chemo patients waiting for my treatment. As it went, I was damn lucky. My body doesn’t enjoy pregnancy particularly, but I still did end up with babies. The people sitting alongside me had tumors. Really—no comparison.

Thinking about food would send me to the restroom. That is except Vietnamese iced coffee.

I would say in general I enjoy VIC quite a lot. I wouldn’t go so far as to use the term love. For hot chai, I might use the terms love, need, life blood. So, some sort of strange desire overtook me. I would sit in the chair, chewing on ice chips, fantasizing about iced coffee. In a strange way, it became a sort of benchmark. Someday I would get to consume iced coffee again; one day my body wouldn’t fight food.

And like all good stories, there was a happy ending. I had Tigerlily then like that my body was fine. I wasn’t sick ever. I could eat anything. I could drink Vietnamese iced coffee.

Recipe:
Vietnamese Iced Coffee Bars
Based on a recipe by Smitten Kitchen
Cheesecake:
Line an 8 inch square baking pan with parchment paper.

In a food processor or in a Ziploc bag with a rolling pin crush:
graham crackers and wafer cookies to get about 1 cup

Combine cookies in a bowl with 3 tablespoons olive oil. Pack evenly at the bottom of the baking pan.

Bake at 350 for 10 minutes.

In a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, blend:
12 ozs softened cream cheese
3 eggs
2 T corn starch
1 can condensed milk
2 tsp cinnamon
3/8 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla

Brew some Vietnamese coffee very strong. (Vietnamese coffee can be bought at Asian grocery stores.)

Put 2 tsps of gelatin into ¼ cup coffee.

Once the coffee is gelled add to the mixer. Mix for 5 minutes.

Pour mixture over the crust. Bake for 40 minutes at 350 degrees.

Chill 6 hrs.

Glaze:
When the cheesecake is chilling, make the glaze by heating a second can of condensed milk until simmer. Then add 1 tsp gelatin, and let sit for 2 minutes. Pour glaze over the cheesecake. Chill again for 2-3 hrs.

I am sending this over to Sugar High Fridays hosted by The Well-Seasoned Cook and created by Jennifer of The Domestic Goddess.

Daring Bakers make Orange Tian

Or wherein I turned the fancy Orange Tian into a good ole Icebox Creamscicle Pie.



The Tian was a breezy late winter dessert. All the components of the dessert were old standards in our kitchen—homemade marmalade, supremes of orange, pate sable, and of course whipped cream. I made all the components late in the night, the general baking season for the working mom. It wasn’t until I plated the dessert up that I realized my error. The result looked fairly appealing, but something was off. In the sample photo, the orange slices were plump and lovely. Those that topped my tart had were, well, frozen solid.




The source of the confusion was quite clear. I read the recipe as carefully as someone can when they are hearing the hokey pokey sung sotto voce, though persistently, in their ear. Somehow I missed the line that said, “Freeze 10 minutes to set.” With a little spin, the folly with the said of some meringues became a nostalgia fueled success.

The 2010 March Daring Baker’s challenge was hosted by Jennifer of Chocolate Shavings. She chose Orange Tian as the challenge for this month, a dessert based on a recipe from Alain Ducasse’s Cooking School in Paris.

Clementines in Syrup

Let me tell you a tale of stupidity, hubris, exhaustion, redemption and success. Let me tell you about my clementines in syrup.

It all began with a plan. Not a good plan, but a plan nonetheless.

I had a good deed to repay. My friend mentioned something about cutting down on baked goods. I wasn’t thwarted. I am much more than a creamed sugar and fancy meringues. What that was remained to be seen.

My most brilliant ideas seem to form in locations where I can’t readily write anything down—when driving the car, in the shower, and on the cusp of sleep. This experience has made me rethink the brilliance of these fleeting ideas.


So back to that unfortunate plan. I had a bag of clementines and a slow cooker. And, my late-night brain was convinced that two were destined for a naughty meet up. Homey in a hip homemaker rather than hodge podge lodge, clementines in syrup were clearly perfection.
A quick search found a recipe from Vegan Yum Yum. The woman was on Martha, so no problem there. I am going to plead exhaustion. After all I haven’t had a full night’s since the Bush Administration. I decided not to read the Vegan Yum Yum recipe. Apparently Martha’s staffers might have seen brilliance there but I was too proud to read the recipe.


Instead, I did my own thing. Yes, I did get “doesn’t follow direction well” on my report cards every marking period. I got out the trusty slow cooker. Put in 3 cups hot water, 3 cups white sugar, ¾ cup brown sugar, 12 pink peppercorns, 6 Sichuan peppercorns, 4 cardamom pods, 4 stars of anise, 4 cloves, a cinnamon stick and my faith; turned the puppy on; and walked away.
It was then that I sat down to read the recipe. Backwards am I. Clearly. There is when I saw my mistake. I went back to the cooker to see the clementines. They bobbed happily in the spicy dark liquid to taunt me. Obviously, the slowcooker would never get hot enough to create a syrup from the sugar and water.
At this point, there were two hungry kids, a senile dog, and a husband under foot grabbing at things. So, with the full force of my frustration, I repeated stabbed the little buggers (the citrus fruit, I mean) with a skewer, as Vegan Yum Yum instructed. And, I left the concoction in the slowcooker.

Finally, as the calm of naptime fell upon the house, I went back to see what had become of my ill-fated fruit. The once jaunty fruit seemed soggy, deflated, even defeated. I poured the oranges and the liquid into a pot only to find all of the sugar congealed into one solid mass. I should have save the sugar. But after chiseling and coaxing that cake out of my slowcooker, I felt wronged by the sweetener and there was nothing it was going to do to win me back. It promptly went into the trash.

At which point, rather than partake in the restorative nap that my children were enjoying, I began the project again. Those oranges went into the freezer (and might become gelato.) New oranges were punctured and set aside. To the original liquid, new sugar was added, and then the mixture was heated on a stovetop and once gloriously redolent and viscous the syrup was placed back into the slowcooker. The next morning, choirs sang (itsy bitsy spider, mind you) and clementines in syrup were had.


Recipe:
Spiced Clementines in Sugar Syrup
Based though not as closely as I should have on Vegan Yum Yum

Heat until the sugar dissolves (do not boil)
3 cups hot water,
3 cups white sugar,
¾ cup brown sugar,
6 Sichuan peppers,
4 cardamom pods,
4 stars of anise,
4 cloves,
a cinnamon stick

Carefully, put the liquid into a slowcooker, add 10 clementines that have been punctured with a skewer. Weigh down with a plate (the edges of the plate should not touch the edge of the slowcooker.)

Cook on low for 8 hrs.

Cannolis

Canolis were made and eaten last week in accordance with the Daring Bakers edict. (Life has thrown me a little right now, so very little post today.) Lets be official about this: The November 2009 Daring Bakers Challenge was chosen and hosted by Lisa Michele of Parsley, Sage, Desserts and Line Drives. She chose the Italian Pastry, Cannolo (Cannoli is plural), using the cookbooks Lidia’s Italian-American Kitchen by Lidia Matticchio Bastianich and The Sopranos Family Cookbook by Allen Rucker; recipes by Michelle Scicolone, as ingredient/direction guides. She added her own modifications/changes, so the recipe is not 100% verbatim from either book.




But, I did want to thank everyone for commenting about Michael Symon’s book. The drawing was held with much ceremony and drawn from our fanciest hat. The winner was chosen at random by a girl who only knows half the alphabet (which should make the drawing half random.)



And the winner is:


More importantly, I will send a check for $44 to the Cleveland Foodbank. Thanks to all.

Vegan Pumpkin Pie

Thankfully, I know the secret to a good marriage. Learn something new about your spouse everyday, a ladies magazine extolled.

Putting this into practice has proven slightly difficult. My husband and I spend a great deal of time together. We share a room. (I realize that most couples do that.) We eat most meals together (Still not ahead on the togetherness scale, you say?) We carpool. (So?) We work together--our desks are side by side. Given all this quality time, it can be hard to learn something new everyday.



So, those days when I learn something new about J are red letter ones indeed.
When I was on maternity leave, I would lie in wait for him. I ached to speak to an adult and to wash away the banalities of the day with conversation. My husband on the other hand wanted quiet after spending the greater part of the day attempting to engage others, often teenagers. Our conversations would have a sort of jetlag quality. After the girls went to bed, I would start fast sharing all about my day,interesting tidbits from NPR, things I read here or there, ideas for recipes. When I was well into the second or third topic, J would finally pick on on the first.



It was on one of these nights that we had our strangest argument to date. I started with an interesting way to make a whole thanksgiving dinner in one oven at once, vegan pies for my daughter’s friend with food allergies, and then something from NPR about the election issues. At the last point, J looked up from his magazine. He eyes widened. The charming green of his eyes looked uncharacteristically cold. He wasn’t smiling. I rarely speak about politics. Casual conversation about political issues only serves to disquiet me. So, I braced myself for a rant about whatever issue. But, instead, J began to discuss pies with a strange earnestness.



Apparently, that evening we would be fighting about pumpkin pie. Like a high school debater, I took up the con only to improve my skills. Sacred tradition, silly obsession with lilliputian proportions, hocus pocus and weird ingredients were all uttered; I finally countered with the lowest blow—but the poor little boy has never had pumpkin pie. And, like all good marital arguments, this one ended with laughter. J had somehow missed why I wanted to make allergy-free pies. And, he wasn’t interested in denying a boy his pie.

Later I asked J why he had been so belligerent. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about pumpkin pie, I said. Neither did I, he replied.

Vegan Pumpkin Pielets or Pies if you prefer

Macaron Macaron Macaron Macaron Macaron .....

I thought about writing a post about the feeling of utter failure I felt late one Thursday night when 2 egg whites mingled with powdered sugar only to become dry cracked lumps in my oven—feetless lumps.


I thought about writing a post about the strange feeling of drive that was then fostered in my brain to tame this darn recipe.

I thought about writing a post about how I went on to have two more failures.

I thought about writing a post about how success finally occurred and that I have no idea how.

I thought about describing that moment when I anxiously turned on the oven light to see those tiny feet; about how I danced right there in the dark of the night kitchen; about the shriek of glee I let out; about my husband’s surprise.

I thought about writing about how by using Helen of Tartelette’s recipe for macarons from Desserts Magazine that I finally found joy in making these French delicacies.

I thought about writing about getting so at ease with the prospect that I made them with a 2 year old (soon to be three she would like me to inform you.)

I thought about telling you how fun blanching almonds can be (a pinch of the thumb and pointer finger makes them into projectiles.)


I thought about giving you the rundown of my flavors:
Pumpkin Spice with Pumpkin/Pale ale cream cheese frosting (I follow Helen's advice of drying pumpkin in the oven (oh if i had a dehydrator) and then making a powder of it. These smelled heavenly when baking.)
Green Tea with Ganache
Mint Tea with Pumpkin/ pale ale cream cheese frosting
Pink Peppercorn spice with ganache
Nanami Togarashi spice with ganache
Roibos with Ganache
Rose Hip tea with guess what ganache

I thought about telling you that shifting sugar with a child under 4 is messy business (and that you shouldn’t laugh when they climb down to the floor to lick the lost powdered sugar.) I thought about telling you that in that instance you accept a lumpy shell.


I thought about telling you how I got a little punchy with my flavors and made cinnamon with almond pumpkin butter macarons as well as smores--cinnamon with a charred marshmallow and then dipped in chocolate.




I thought about telling you how I turned them into Halloween cookies and how my husband said I turned the delicacy and beauty of France into something kinda wrong but right at the same time.

But, what’s the point in telling you any of this when I have pictures.

And for those of you who are wondering what the heck I am not talking about, it is Daring Baker day of course. The 2009 October Daring Bakers’ challenge was brought to us by Ami S. She chose macarons from Claudia Fleming’s The Last Course: The Desserts of Gramercy Tavern as the challenge recipe.