In a move that sounds very jet-sett-y and interesting, I am reporting to you from a flight home from New York. Five minutes ago I realized that superstar pastry chef Sherry Yard is seated two rows behind me and I’m trying not to freak out about it. It’s probably a good thing that I’ve lost my voice and sound like a raptor when I try to speak, because it’s the only thing that’s keeping me from flapping back to 7D and stuttering my undying love for her like a crazy person.
I have high hopes for this week, people. High hopes!
I’m reporting to you live from that blessed window of time in which my lovely husband takes the toddler (who will be two next month–!!) along for the walk to school with our big girl. It’s during this window that I normally caffeinate and sort of stare at the wall and scroll Facebook, bracing for the day ahead. But not today.
So I hear there’s a football game happening around here this weekend? Terrific. Can someone come get me when all the sports-ing stops interrupting the Katy Perry Show? Thanks.
I realize it makes me totally un-American and very unpopular, but I really don’t understand the excitement of the Super Bowl, no matter how hard I try. But I can get behind the thrill of Big Game Day snacks. Particularly snacks that involve cheese, are terrific with booze, and offer something beyond a bag of chips.
Like I said a couple weeks ago, I think it’s high time we all put a few new zingers into our bags of culinary tricks. Let’s delve further into making 2015 the year we discover the inner Heloise in all of us, with a few more a-ha! moments this week.
Can I get a little deep with you for a brief moment? Because I feel like I need to talk about a fear I’ve been having. My fear is that we’ve forgotten about the beauty of simplicity when it comes to dessert. I feel like we’re getting taken over by the new, the now, the Pin-worthy. A world where a baked good is deemed a bore unless it’s a Frankenstein hybrid of three other desserts, or has, like, four candy bars shoved into it (ahem, I’ve totally done it), or has a racy name that should probably come with a Parental Warning.
Although there’s rarely a time when I’m not unnaturally interested in Bundt cakes, my love for this effortless, humble comfort food has reached a fever pitch in recent weeks. Maybe it’s the comedown from the flurry of fussy, frosted, and sprinkled holiday baking, or maybe, too, it’s because we signed off on the final-final edits for Real Sweet just a few weeks back and I’m no longer (technically) allowed to obsess over the recipes in that book (although there’s a lovely Bundt coming your way in those pages, too). At any rate, the no-frills, no-frosting-required beauty of a Bundt has been high on the list of things that excite me these days. (I know, you should see when I really get down to party. Woot, woot!)
I have a new Bundt recipe from a baking legend coming for you very soon, but in the meantime, if you Like Big Bundts and You Cannot Lie, I thought maybe the following might be as inspiring for you as it is for me.
When it comes to writing cookbooks, one thing I’ve learned from those who have come before me is NEVER READ THE ONLINE REVIEWS. Nine times out of ten, I resist the urge to peek. Nine-and-a-half times out of ten, when I do peek, the reviews are relatively positive and thoughtful and an affirmation that at least I sort of know what I’m doing and throwing my creative self out to the wolves isn’t all bad. Nine times out of ten, naturally I will obsess about that half a time in which a review is less than glowing. And within about half of those, I can find the constructive criticism that might actually improve my work. I feel like this is a pretty good record overall, considering that readers and reviewers are humans with all kinds of expectations and thoughts and feelings and so am I.
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