Apologies. I have been on a serious pumpkin kick. And even though there may or may not be a pumpkin shortage on, it did not stop me from grabbing up cans of pumpkin at the store greedily and then putting it in these pancakes. You are probably sitting at your computer yawning as I suggest you make yet another pumpkin item. Oh great, now I’m yawning. It’s contagious you know. These pancakes, though, are anything but a yawn. I mean they are pretty orange. They are totally worth the urge to hoard canned pumpkin and wake up early in the bright sunshine to make them for the people who dig you and your pancakes (also known as your pumpkin hungry significant other or your family). Trust me, they’ll thank you.
I’ve been holding out on you. You see, I’ve made this cake before. I know, not a big deal. But you know what is a big deal. A few weeks ago, me and the lady who told me all about this cake were in the same room together. For a WHOLE HOUR. Yes, Deb Perelman of Smitten Kitchen stood on the third floor of the West 14th St. Apple store and radiated the most beautiful tales of warm kitchen loveliness at me and a fellow admirer from my apartment. Because these few words can’t really describe the intense escalation my fondness for her that occurred as I listened to her tell me how and why she wanted to share the best of her kitchen with the universe, I decided to make this cake. Twice. You should make it, too. Because it’s warm, delicious, chocolate, and it leaves you a bottle of wine.
New things are happening. After a lifetime of sloth, I started jogging. It’s weird. I try not to think about how weird it is. I especially try not to think about the weirdest part: that I actually sort of like it. Crisp morning air. Excellent dog watching opportunities. Perfect time to distract oneself with the Joy the Baker podcast. Giggles are great for jogging. Because you are mainly giggling and not really paying attention to the fact that you are exercising (though you should pay some attention to where your feet are going otherwise you might trip and fall on your face or into one of those dogs I mentioned). If it weren’t for this lovely podcast, I never would have found the equally lovely Shutterbean. It was on her blog that I found this lovely recipe and discovered a newfound love for squash.
My father traditionally requests a lemon cake for his birthday but after a father’s day breakfast that included this butter loaded confection and lemon pound cake with sticks upon sticks of butter, my father claims he finally caught on to my mother’s wicked plan to do him in via atherosclerosis. Hence, no lemon cake. Enter Chef Roommate with a Save-The-Birthday-Cake that included just a single stick of butter and cough*5 cups of powdered sugar*cough. But who’s counting? This cake is super tasty, super dense, and super peanut-buttery. The cake is vaguely reminiscent in texture of previously featured and worshiped Guinness Chocolate cake, only, you know, without the beer. Strangely enough, I pilfered both recipes from the same place, the Smitten Kitchen, where fabulous photography, desserts, and side dishes abound. Continue reading
Nothing says Texas like frito pie. Indeed, this dish was the subject of much curiosity some months back when a birthday outing to the garishly themed Cowgirl restaurant had us all eating it right out of the bag. My suitemates who had the misfortune to grow up outside of the former Republic of Texas were awed by its savory, salty complexity. I merely reveled in the ability to eat this delicacy outside of my native land.
This brings us to our next recipe friends, Frito Pie! Brought to us by that most marvelous of Texas transplants, The Homesick Texan. Trapped in Manhattan, she makes all the food people outside of Texas have no idea that they’re missing. Fools.
I’m a criminal. I admit. I stalk unsuspecting, beautiful, innocent, sumptuous recipes (not sure where I was going with that were you) on the blogosphere. And then I make them. And then I EAT THEM. And sometimes I serve this food to other people, and they compliment me on this food like it was all my idea. LIKE I CAME UP WITH IT ON MY OWN. LIKE I SPENT HOURS SCOURING COOKBOOKS AND TWEAKING SPICES TO GET EVERYTHING PERFECT. I just smile and nod, but in my heart I know I am nothing more than a despicable FOOD PLAGIARIZER. A quick google search, and here I am with perfect recipe blogger approved, often tested by dozens of commenters. OH MY SLOTH ABOUNDS.
Just when I think I can sink no lower. I come across this.