'Tis the season

For cookies! (And cake pops...and gooey butter cake...and pumpkin pancakes with homemade whipped cream...) Mmmmmm!

It started snowing last night, thankfully after I made it home from work.  But by the time the Russian walked in, he had a light covering of snow on his jacket.

Today we awoke to more of the white powder.  It's been coming down, sometimes lazily, sometimes with determination, all day.  It's the quintessential winter afternoon for me.

And I just can't help myself.

I want - no, scratch that - I need cookies.  The ultimate comfort food in my book.  Ooey, gooey, scrumptious, warm cookies (maybe with a side of hot chocolate).  Yes, this is what today calls for.  I even ventured to the store for the eggs we ran out of.

The main problem is this - cake batter.  It somehow finds its way onto beaters and fingers.  My first inclination is to lick it off like I have for years.  (Would you expect anything less from the queen of sweets?)  But about halfway to my mouth, I remember I'm pregnant and the raw egg is a big no-no.

With a sad sigh, I keep washing fingers off in the sink, bidding farewell to small bits of deliciousness.  But now I finally have this:

Oops.  Looks like I broke one...or is that two?  Quality control time!  I'll settle for a side of regular milk for taste testing.  Maybe the hot chocolate will come out when the Russian gets home.

(The other problem with cookies and pregnancy...I grab one and walk away, forgetting to put the next sheet of cookies into the oven. It might take me a while to actually bake them all.)

(And before someone gives me a lecture on how I should be healthier during pregnancy, well, these are whole wheat cookies, so that's something, right?)

An irresistible urge

I woke up with an urge on Sunday.

It's been tickling my brain for the past several months.

I couldn't help myself.

There was no cake on hand, and edible luster dust has been prying it's way into my life, though not quite my kitchen. Thus, a trip to the store was in order. But while waiting for the store to open (Sunday hours, you know), the first step began: chocolate feathers.

A few hours, a cake, and some help from a friend later, and the first peacocks began to emerge.

Soon the one became a muster. (Look it up.)

Pretty cute, no? They don't taste too bad, either.

(The eyes never quite got finished, as a frantic phone call regarding honeymoon requests arrived and I ended up on my computer eyeing tropical destinations.)

How you know you've trained a man (part 2)

(Almost) breakfast in bed.

Rub those bleary eyes open, stretch a little, and realize you smell food.

Within minutes, someone crouches next to you: "Please come eat."

As I write this, the dishes are being washed. It's going to be a good day.

Oh chocolate, welcome to my hips

Please excuse the not-so-perfectly dripped glaze.  I was hasty.

Schools are notorious for potlucks. Alright, maybe it's more teachers than schools.  We educators love our food.  Celebration?  Food.  Birthday?  Food.  Working late?  Food.  Random event happening?  Food.  It's Wednesday?  Food.

We celebrated para educators again this week (after the stress of conferences, ya' know, gotta get through it with food). It was also a coworker's birthday.  Count 'em...two reasons to eat.

Aka we had several potlucks this week. For some odd reason, I always get elected to bring desserts. This time I headed to the man friend to help with my inspiration: double chocolate torte, peanut butter cream torte, or chocolate peanut butter cake. (Leftovers always seem to make their quick way to him.)

Cake is the ultimate choice.

However, chocolate peanut butter cake is a lot of work...relatively.  It's a lot more work than just buying a pre-made dessert.  Therefore, the ever-caring manfriend talked me out of spending the time and effort for the time being...

(Strawberry shortcake was perfect for work:  whip up homemade whipped cream, slice a few strawberries, melt some fudge icing that needed to be used...voila!)

That is how chocolate peanut butter cake became a gift for the upcoming spring break. (Someone convinced me that they deserve it, even if my coworkers don't.)  A very tasty gift, I might add.

Someone needs to come take this cake away from me.

I licked the frosting bowl clean.  Literally.

(I might have done the same with the chocolate peanut butter glaze, too...but there was definitely no sampling of the actual final product... I swear...)

It might kill me to wait 24 hours to cut into this.

Three layers of chocolatey, peanut buttery goodness

Latin American cooking

The long sought-after achiote (annatto)

I've been craving ecuadorian food lately.  Fortunately, I have a few cookbooks of amazing ecuadorian recipes.  Locro de papas (drool), empanadas de viento (slobber), llapingachos (aaaah)...

The mood was upon me.  I began my quest to sooth my palate.  Unfortunately, although I have the cookbooks, I lack a few ingredients.  Specifically, I lack achiote.  Achiote, or annatto, as it is called in English, has a slight taste and a lot of color.  Locro de papas and llapingachos just aren't the same without their reddish orange color.  Trust me.  I made them both.

No matter.  I can find it, right?  I googled.  Yup.  This should be easily solvable.  Most people say look in the mexican section of the stores.  Mexican section?  Well, that should be easy.  So, I went to the store.

Nope.  Not there.  Store number 2... not there.

Store 573...still no annatto.  Does this even exist on the continent?  Did I make it up?

Well, apparently it's a staple in mexican cooking as well as in ecuadorian cooking.  I have my trusty mexican friends, I can ask them!  Brilliant!

So off I go to ask my friends.  Finally, I'll have a breakthrough!  Mexican friend number one:

Me:  Hey, have you heard of achiote?

Friend:  Uhm, what?

Me:  Achiote.

Friend:  What's that?

Me:  They use it in mexican and ecuadorian cooking...it's red.

Friend:  Oh.

Me:  Do you know where to buy it?  Maybe...?  Probably not...?

Friend:  No, not really...

Alright.  She doesn't know.  Strike out one.  This shouldn't be that hard.  Really.  I decide to email a friend in Ecuador.

Me:  (summarized because I wrote in Spanish)  I'm looking for choice to make llapingachos and loco de papas.  But I can't find it anywhere!  Maybe online?  I dunno.  Can you help me out?

The response:  Well, it comes from such and such a plant.  We usually buy it in powder or paste.  Maybe you can look at the grocery store?

Gaaaah!  This isn't helping.

Fast forward a month and I'm in a specialty and organic store, perusing loose leaf tea.  Side note:  Tropical Breeze and Sunset in Seattle are well worth their price.  So is Market Spice.  Back on track, I happen to notice they have bulk spices.  Hmmm....the wheels in my head start turning. Maybe, just maybe, since they specialize in the hard to find, they have what I'm looking for.

I edge my way down the aisle.  I scan the rows.  No achiote.  My eyes almost miss the Annatto Seed label.  Boom!  Yes!  Sold!

Two days later, at work, I finally see Friend 2 who's been sick on the days she typically comes to help me.  Does she know what achiote is?

Me:   Have you heard of achote?

Friend:  Achote, si, it's a green plant...

Me:  Uh, this stuff (showing the seeds)

Friend:  Oh!  Achiote.  Si, si, lo usamos to cook.

Me:  Where do you find it?

Friend:  Just at the store, by the sauces.  But it usually comes as a little block of paste.

Gah.  I still haven't seen it at the store.  At least she knew what it was and where to find it.  If I luck out, she can just buy the next installment of it for me.