My Friend's Bad Day

A friend of mine recently started making cakes out of her home.  I'm a little visa commercial kind of jealous, I'll admit.  Rent on a commercial kitchen-$2000, taxes and fees owed to the state and county and city governments-$1000, electricity-$500 - cost of owning your own business-priceless( or a lot of freakin' cookies)!  And maybe it's legal in Ohio-even if you have two dogs.  Who's to say?! 


But I don't have to deal with some of the little problems she has to.  Take for instance the fact that she has to do everything herself.  She is her own dishwasher, baker, and finisher.  I do all of these myself, too. But I have a HUGE three compartment sink to be my own dishwasher in and all she gets is a little 'mom' automatic dishwasher.


She has to get five 10 lb. bags of sugar at the store.  I can get one 50 lb. bag of sugar and carry it to the bin all in one shot, flour too. 


Since she works out of her house, she also has to be doing the laundry and cleaning at the SAME time she is baking. When I am baking, that's all I have to do.  I get to wait until I get home at night or for my day off to do the laundry and cleaning.


She only gets paid in cash AND she doesn't even have a bank account.  Poor her.  It must be a real nightmare for her come tax time.  With my business account and my financial records, tax time for me is a breeze.  The government knows exactly how much to tax me.


And I have never had a bad day like she had a bad day the other day.  She had to deliver a two tier shower cake about 30 minutes away from her.  She used to work for a very busy bakery.  So even though she works out of her house, she has transported a lot of cakes.  I would be more scared of finding a dog hair in one of her cakes than of her not safely getting a cake to its destination. But this time when she got to the house and opened up the cooler !!!! two pieces of cake laid where there once was one. This has never happened to me.  Only because I am lucky. Like I said about her-dog hair.  What did you do I asked her.  She cried she said.  It was the only thing she could do-the break was so broken.  We all carry repair kits, but for small rips, not pothole size gashes.  You did NOT let the client see you crying I asked.  Annoyed, she answered me that this was no speeding ticket that she was trying to get herself out of or something to make her husband forget the $500 pair of shoes she just got 'on sale.'  No, these were real tears, big crocodile ones that wouldn't stop.  And again I am lucky here because I probably don't have feelings that run that deep.  And then, I asked, trying to keep my phrases limited so as not to annoy.  The client took the cake. They wanted to eat it (nobody is passing up broken cake!) even if looking at the cake was not that pleasant.  My friend offered a refund as there was no time to make another a cake.  The client told her to refund everything except for the cost of the ingredients.  What?  Did I just hear you right I said.  Even though I'm all Visa kind of jealous of my friend I was a little taken aback.  I would rather offer the whole refund than just the cost of the ingredients.  If I go to a restaurant and I get a flaming disaster of an entree they would comp it, right?  They wouldn't tell me I have to pay for 4 oz of chicken, 1/2 of a potato, 6 oz of butter(just checking to see if you were still paying attention), etc...And if I told you the ingredients cost 25% of what I just charged you, would you believe me?  Probably not, so it's best if you just take everything back. I told all of this to my friend.  What happened?  My friend told her how much the ingredients cost and yes, the client said she would pay it but no she couldn't believe that's how much the ingredients were. My friend sent her a check for the whole cake.  It's a win-win for my friend.  She said that way at least when she's telling all of her friends what happened they know she got all of her money back and that my friend uses really good ingredients!  So no matter what kind of jealous I get at her that is why she will always be my friend.

Travel Coffee Mugs and Other Things

I do not like travel mugs.  I don't like the way coffee tastes out of them.  It takes on a very uncoffee like flavor that takes away half of the reason for drinking it.  But I really like the way my husband looks at me as I walk out every morning, 3 bags loaded down with far too much crap, a purse, car keys dangling, and a coffee cup filled to the brim covered in saran wrap.


I do not like gummy candy.  I don't like the way it gets all stuck in your teeth.  I just like to watch other people eat it, especially kids.  They're smiling away, whole bears stuck between their teeth.  Oh, to be innocent.


I do not like fake salt or fake cheese or fake people.  Fake meat I can do.  Fake animals are good if you are going on vacation and you don't have anyone to watch them.


I do not like all those quizzes people take on Facebook.  Can't we make just a seperate quiz page for all of the quiz takers?  That way they can discuss amongst themselves the truth to the fact that yes, purple is the exact color they thought they were all along.  Or yes, they always had fashioned themselves a Charlie's Angel even if everyone else was thinking Ninja Turtle.


I do like some things.
I like cake scraps.  Sometimes I make cakes just to eat the scraps.
I like puma sneakers.  They make me feel cool yet comfortable.
I like to barbeque.  I like the way it smells.  It reminds me of families.
I like to watch The Office.  It makes me feel like a way better boss.
I like to make cakes.  They make people happy.
I like to puppysit and babysit and housesit.  It makes me appreciate what I have.
And I like to blog.  It makes people laugh and smile.  But mostly it makes me a little less crazy inside.

If My Fingers Were Cakes....

This was one crazy week.  And seriously, if my fingers were cakes, I would have mousse and buttercream dripping all over my pretty Sunday dress.  Lucky for me it's Monday.  

I made ten cakes this week.  Granted, as I write it now, it doesn't sound like much.  But if you were in my movie...  Saturday of the week previous to my craze, I had only three cakes scheduled.  One wedding cake on Thursday, one crazy Hawaiian themed cake for Saturday, and one baby shower cake for Sunday.  By Saturday evening, I had added three more cakes to my repertoire and by Tuesday, the final four fell into place.  

I delivered my first cake on Wednesday.  It was a  pretty cool cake because it had the face of the person's birthday on it.  Depending on your feelings about your own beauty, this may not work for you.  He was a pretty dapper fellow, though.  And if his looks didn't impress you, his layers of chocolate cake with cream cheese and raspberries would've had you begging for more.

My second cake was the Thursday wedding cake.  Hey, I got married on a Monday afternoon, so I thought it sounded like a brilliant idea.  This cake was for a couple of tattoo artists.  Really cool couple with great business cards and loads of tattoos.  I got to see them on their wedding day.  Her dress was so beautiful and showed off lots of tattoos-super cool.  Anyway, I was totally stressing this cake because of their artistic level.  Seriously, their tattoos are crazy.  I'm not talking tweety bird and mickey mouse here.  And hey, wouldn't it be cool if I got a crazy cake tattoo?  I did ask them that.  They might have left my place and said - 'okay, did we really just give that tool our money?'  But not to worry, the cake made it to the wedding on time, in one piece.  Every chocolate and cream cheese bit of it.  Odd though, I still have not heard from them.  Hope it wasn't anything they ate.  

Now you see what's happening here-I have eight cakes to go and we are already to Friday.  I delivered four chocolate mousse cakes (that sounded breezy, right?) and then moved on to my biggest project for the week.  This was a Hawaiian themed birthday cake.  It would be covered in blue buttercream, surrounded by waves, fishes, palm trees, a lei, have a hula girl and a sandy beach with shells.  I had been making the decorations over the previous weeks for the cake.  This timing always works out better in my head than when I actually execute it of course.  This cake was a pretty big deal for me.  The gentleman who purchased it was a very nice man and trusted my judgement. Yes, I was a little miffed myself!  He was excited about the cake and every time he told someone about the cake, they couldn't believe he had paid me in full, he hadn't tasted the cake, he didn't know me, etc.   Were these 'friends' of mine he was talking to?  And they would offer up suggestions for cake flavors.  We did end up with a quite a tribute to the Aloha state.  The bottom layer was lemon cake with vanilla cream and pineapple confit.  The top layer was chocolate with toasted coconut buttercream and macadamia nuts.  I have since heard from this gentleman and he and all of his friends were quite pleased.  Didn't have to lay a golden egg after all. Although it might have felt better than a whole cake, hmmm.

The last three cakes went by so fast after all the other ones I hope I delivered the right ones to the right places.  Actually, still haven't heard from any of those people either.  So either they did eat cake like the lovely wedding couple.  Or the guy celebrating his 50th was having just a little too much fun to notice a 'lovely baby bump' on top of his pink cake.

You can check out all of these cakes on our facebook fan page. And add your fan photos if you have them!  If you are interested in ordering a cake, contact us now!  

Neighbors

Neighbors are a dying breed, don't you think?  Yeah, you say, if I live in a neighborhood I have neighbors.  No, that just means you have people living next door to you, around you.  I am talking about people that you actually like, that you don't mind knocking on your door for a cup of sugar, or brandy.  Someone that can see you at 6 pm on a Sunday, in your pajamas, still hungover and not judge you.  And will still have no problem with you watching their kids!  Those are the ones I am talking about.  
Haven't we all lived in apartment buildings where we had no idea what the people living around us looked like?  Unless they knocked on the door and asked us to turn the music down?  In one building, I knew the dog's name, but could never remember the owner's name.  I saw them every day, always together. I was too embarassed to admit I thought the dog of more consequence than his owner.  Or developments where you see the people living next to you and you wave and you say quietly to yourself please don't come and talk to me today.  Although in those same developments I sure could put together stories about those people I wished away. 
But I have to say, I am neighboring in a couple of 'hoods now.  You see in one of them I have made myself an honorary neighbor.  It's okay. It didn't have to go before a board or anything.  You know, I really don't feel it necessary to discuss it with them at all.  I am totally sure they are fine with it.  They're all so cool and there are so many couples hanging out.  They probably don't even know it's not my 'hood.  I think they are all just like who's that, she's so cool, she must be from right down the street.
And then there is my real neighborhood.  Where I thankfully do not get in quite so much trouble!  For once in my life, I have real cup of sugar neighbors.   Wonderful people that are just like family, in a good way!   Who else can I borrow raccoon catching dog food from and catch a opossum instead?  And yeah, they did laugh at me when I told them, but I didn't have the heart to tell them it was their defective food.  And who else's dog will run into our yard to do his business?  Hey, perhaps more than I know, right?  And there was that little incident with the squirrels hiding the peanuts.  Let's just keep that one in court where it belongs.  But they love the treats I make!  And everytime their daughter comes in the house she always says-'what's cooking? It smells great in here.'  And sometimes, there's a knock at the door and waiting on the other side are all of their smiling faces with homemade pasta and sauce, a salad(with dressing on the side!), and bread and butter-and all my worries fade away!  Until of course I hear them calling for the dog again to get out of my yard!

Blog Block

I have been trying for a month to write. I was doing so well. Every week I was blogging (and yes I still don't like that word!) And then it stopped. You know I was even thinking of doing another blog where I could spew off even more random stuff than here. And then it stopped, too. So I have been trying to think of what happened. Brainstorming if you will.

Could it be from the stress of a gorilla sized raccoon relieving himself in our pool? How do I know? Because it ain't #1! Totally dissing the trap full of food that we have graciously laid out for him? Trust me it has to be a him. Probably not.

Could it be the stress of having to trade in my mac daddy car for one more suitable for work, not quite as mac? I could totally ride that one, but I don't think that is it.

Maybe the stress of chopping my hair off and now resembling my brother. Not as stressful as I would like to admit-I slept with barettes in my hair last night so I guess I really don't mind.

How about the fact that a certain someone I know is watching the carbs, and everything else he eats, and not drinking? Totally stressful and worthy of blog blocking status. However it does wonders for my muffin top and sausage legs so I can't complain.

You know what I think I need? A little stress relief. A night of trapping raccoons while I'm drunk on wine and full of pasta. I'll be wearing one of those hats with a fake ponytail coming down the back (blond because I have always wanted to try it) and talking about those fatty black rims I would so love to have. And that just might bring me back!

Vacationing Moving Syndrome

My husband and I have an affliction. I am sure there is a name for it somewhere as every ailment these days has some sort of conjured up name. Let's just call it - vacationing moving syndrome. (Hey I am counting on my readers to come up with something catchier-a contest if you will) Here's the deal-everytime my husband and I travel somewhere we become star struck. Oh, this is the most beautiful place we have ever been we exclaim. Oh, pick up the real estate guide. Oh, look there is a storefront for lease. Oh, the cute little shops. Oh, the cute little restaurants. Totally sick we are. The only known cure for our disease is either unlimited funds so we could purchase a little pied a terre in each of our little crush towns or no traveling. And given our current economic state-the no traveling option seems to fit our bill.

But there is a hitch in our plans. We have wonderful friends who have wonderful jobs who know wonderful people who ask us to come to these wonderful places and work. Take the Berkshires for instance. We just returned from there. We went up to cook for the Food and Wine Festival at Tanglewood. If you haven't been there-go! Tanglewood is incredilble. We had lunch on the lawn listening to the Boston Pops rehearse-not so bad. Especially when you remember we were working! And we served dinner from a beautiful home with a gorgeous view of the mountains and a crazy bear looking for leftovers. And there was the beautiful couple who had the most incredible garden you have ever seen. We asked if we could live with them and they said yes. They must know cool people when they see them.

So we got the real estate flyer, and we took a little drive, and we commented on the empty storefront for lease. And in the end we left. On our flight home we experienced the most horrible see your life flashing ride we had ever been on. Once we landed we decided we didn't need to go anywhere for awhile. We were fine with being at home. Are we cured? No, we are sick, sick people. And we have a car.

Recipe Etiquette

Recently there is all of this talk about recipes. People have been asking me if the recipes I use are "mine" or if they have been passed down to me. And I have this ziplock bag that houses different spiral bound notebooks full of my penmanship and my life and am met with disbelief when I say that yes indeed these are my go to recipe books. Or I have been in a restaurant kitchen and been asked-do you have a recipe for this? Answering their own question, they whip out a cookbook straight off of their shelves and flip right to the recipe they are using, all of the recipes they are using straight from the books. Right, so what the hell am I talking about?

The etiquette of using recipes, how you obtain and attain them, and my ziplock bag. Not in that order!

I worked under a french pastry chef for many years. All of his recipes were handwritten in notebooks and they were kept in a plastic sleeve. The recipes came and went with him everyday. No one except him ever went into his books. You wouldn't have been able to decipher them once opened anyway. But most importantly, it was out of respect for him. He worked so hard and for many years to get all of those recipes. For someone just to open that book and start copying his recipes would have been the ultimate betrayal but it would also show right away just how stupid and disrespectful that person was. That was how he judged people-he knew the ones that only wanted his recipes. Then he would just watch what he showed them, after all method is just as important as the ingredients. You can't do one without the other. Or he would just scream at you everyday until you found a new job. I have carried this with me. Definitely the ziplock full of notebooks, but also the eye for recipe hawkers. What? Okay-so it is not as covert, secret service as that, but just understand this. When someone comes to work for you and they have been there just a week and they start asking for your recipes for everything and saying how good everything is-I am not flattered! The first thing I start to do is look at how they work. You can't keep your area clean or get your station ready for service but you want my recipes? How about this-liken it to the karate kid. Ralph Macchio was not allowed to start learning the moves until he learned basic discipline. Karate baby-now it's clear, right? It is all about respect and oddly enough the food network doesn't teach that.

Now, about this little ziplock bag of recipes I have. And trust me on this, most kitchens I go into, the pastry chefs have a binder with all of their recipes in little plastic sleeves, with them all typed up for 1x, 5x, 10x. Me? Not so much, no. Well I do have recipes typed up all housed in their little plastic sleeves in their binders on their shelf in their place. But they don't like to come out so much really for me. They are for the cooks. You see, I don't know where to find the recipes in those books. In my notebooks, I know in which book I will find the recipe and where in the book it will be. It's sentimental for sure. Getting into those books is recalling all of the time spent doing this. It's like constant flashbacks but in a good way.

And onto cookbooks and those recipes being "mine." First to the cookbooks-they are wonderful sources of reference. They have beautiful pictures, they inspire, professional ones can teach new techniques. Do they belong on your shelf in your professional kitchen? I will hear cries about this one I am sure and I am prepared. I say no. These books are for reference and should remain in your home library. Why? Liken it to this- original artwork is more valuable than a reproduction, okay. The original has the soul, the heart. God bless you if you can open books and make exactly what is in them because it makes life a lot easier. You don't have to figure anything out. Everything is done for you. And again I may hear cries of there is nothing original left, everything has already been done. And some of that is true, but when you see something, don't you want to put your heart in it? I believe people know the difference. Which leads me to are these recipes "mine?" Well I don't know if I can own them. The recipes I use are all based on something I have been taught or I have found in books. Blasphemy you cry! Liar! Hold on! Some of the ones (not all) I have been taught, I have changed over time as I have changed. I can honestly tell you I don't use anything verbatim out of a book. I do take the original recipe and try it and then I change it based on what I would like to achieve. I don't say I want to make a chocolate cake, let's start with 7 eggs, 500 g sugar. Hell no! Do people do that? You can because everything is based on a ratio so let's go ahead and God bless all of those people, too because that is one heck of a job.

But in the end these are all just my beliefs and musings and I am the last one to tell you this is the way because I oftentimes can't remember which is my left and which is my right. But guess what? This is my blog!

I've Got Cakes Coming Out My....

I think one of the first things people ask you when they find out you are a chef, or even a cook, is "What is your speciality?" "Speciality!" I used to exclaim. "Well I can drink two sailors under the table and be back to the boat before them in the morning!" After receiving one too many sideways glances it finally occurred to me people were referring to pastry specifically not life in general. At the time I was obviously much more versed in the latter. So in answering their queries, I could not. I was really, truly stumped. There was no speciality. And they were asking a mere cook. Did they think perhaps I worked in an Italian restaurant where I could have been say the zabaglione queen. But this question to me also meant I had to love my "speciality." So zabaglione queen or not, was there something I saw myself in love with. My alarm clock goes off at 5 am (or I have just gotten in after a night with the sailors) and I jump out of bed singing "zabaglione I must whip you, my day is not complete without you." No. I really just couldn't see anything like that. Nothing that I had ever made at that point or for many years after elicited small cries of excitement or longing looks. I do love and have always loved what I do but I'm not a banker or mortgage broker or another job with titles. A job where I can tell you what my speciality is because it says it on my business card. Probably a more fair question is "What's not your speciality?" How long do you have, we'll see what's left after I'm done kind of thing. But alas, love is in the air!

Let's speak of this love shall we? Cakes. That's it. Carrot cake, red velvet, lemon pound you ask. No, simply cakes. It's not the flavor I am in love with. I love them all already. To me there is nothing finer than a really good cake. I don't mean the mousse filled glazed affairs, either. Those are beautiful and complicated and I do enjoy making them. But if I am eating a cake, I want a cake. A toothsome one like the ones I grew up on (except the ones I grew up on were filled with funfetti and artificial strawberry flavoring!). It doesn't even have to be a 3-layer cake. Just cake and buttercream or chocolate frosting or cream cheese or curd. It's about the layers of goodness not so much as what comprises them. I just want every layer of it to be delicious. No syrup dredged cake for me. If a cake is dry, it's dry. Syrup won't make it moist. It will make it a wet dry cake and maybe some people like to believe that is a good contrast, but I am not one of them. One of my strong beliefs is that if you don't like cake it's because you have never had a good one.

And I like the decorating. Probably because they are all different. A little bit of me, a little bit of the recipient in each one. I like the fact the cakes are for celebrations. My favorite part is when I deliver them and the box is opened and I see a big smile. And sometimes a hint of happy tears. Those are maybe the real reasons for my love of cakes. The old memories of them and the new ones they are making, I may be on my way to answering one very complicated question.

Millions of Peaches

OMG! Okay, I have been waiting MONTHS to be able to use that in something more than texting with my teenage sister! Or my husband LOL! But seriously the peaches this year are a little bit of that. I just got some. I was a little scared I admit. And before I go on, I am not trying to offend any peach growers. I am simply speaking from my own peach experiences the last couple of years. The peaches just were not what I remembered. They looked beautiful but yes, their beauty was skin deep. The ones I encountered were either ripe feeling but dry and tasteless or knock your ex-boyfriend out hard as a rock acidic. When choosing between the two, I always picked the latter for two reasons. You could always cook or quickly poach them and bring out some peachy flavor. And just the thought of knocking out your boyfriend with a rock hard peach was enough to bring a smile to your face and make you forget about the lack of peachiness for a second. I was a little more like doubled over in laughter but that seems a little boastful. Those poor dry guys, there was just no helping them. And to be honest with you, I didn't want to. I mean if I you are soooo bad I have to dress you up just to take you out and once we get out everyone is just like 'oh, he's here?' then I don't want to take the time to dress you up. Make sense?

But this year-I haven't seen those problems. Even the firmer peaches I have gotten still have a beautiful perfume to them. You can see from their little blushing cheeks and sweet peach flesh they are only going to get better. And the ripe ones should be labled candy, truly. I just hope everyone else is having a great peach experience. Oh please let the rest of the season yield such delights.

What can I do with them you cry! Whatever you would like of course. Summer is not complete without peach pie or cobbler or crisp or ice cream! Sauté them with a little sugar, vanilla and butter. Finish with a little Sauternes, over ice cream, beautiful! Poach them in a white wine syrup. Dress them up with fresh herbs like thyme. You can even serve them with pork or chicken. In a salad you say? Why not! Just eat them and enjoy them now in their season.

I was recently asked to make a video tape (stop!) and demonstrate a summer dessert I like to make. There is a peach tart I like to make that is so simple and delicious. It is a little more sophisticated than serving a pie and it is even easier. The recipe and directions follow. You can watch me make the tart on www.palmbeachfoodandwinefestival.com and read about the event taking place in December.

Peach Tart

Frozen Puff Pastry - this tart takes 1/2 package of the Pepperidge Farms brand

3-4 peaches-firm but not hard

1/3 recipe almond cream-recipe follows

One rectangle tart pan w/removeable bottom (4"x 13.5")

1/2 stick of butter, melted for brushing the tart just before baking

2 T sugar for sprinkling on the tart just before baking

Thaw one piece of the puff pastry and roll out until it is about 14.5" in length. This doesn't have to be exact, but the puff should be just longer than the pan so it covers the ends and drapes well over the long sides. Dock the pastry with a fork or dough docker and place in the sprayed tart pan. Press gently on the bottom and up the sides. Do not trim. Reserve in the freezer until ready to use.

Almond cream:

4 oz butter, room temp

4 oz sugar

4 oz almond flour

3 ea eggs, room temp

Combine butter, sugar, and flour in a mixer fitted with a paddle attachment. Mix just until the ingredients start to stick to the sides. Add the eggs one at a time, scraping between each addition. Mix until everything is combined. The mixture should be all one color. The left over almond cream may be frozen in an airtight container.

To assemble:

Preheat oven to 350℉. Remove the tart shell from the freezer. Trim the long sides, leaving about 1/4" on each side. Spoon about 1/3 of the almond cream into the shell and spread out evenly along the bottom. Slice the peaches about 1/8" thick and shingle onto the almond cream. Fold in the long sides of the puff and place the tart back in the freezer. Melt 1/2 stick of butter, brush over the tart and sprinkle with a little sugar. Bake the tart for 30-40 minutes. The puff will be golden brown and the almond cream will be starting to color. Serve warm or room temperature with pistachio ice cream and a summer fruit salad or out of a picnic basket with a nice glass of sauternes.

Dry Heat My A#*.....

Take a seat because I am back already! It's a miracle. Or maybe my life is just too darn exciting to keep it to myself. Yeah, I vote for miracle, too.

So, I just returned from Arizona. Just to clear one detail up-that dry heat thing is a LIE! Yes, I already was a true believer of the lie, but after soaking up the 105℉(yes the F is extremely important here!!) heat at 10PM(!!!)-okay that may be a lie-but point being it is HOT. Sweaty, pants sticking to you, gum melting, business card ruining, hot. I am still trying to figure out why one of the restaurants has ginormous torches lighting(heating) their outside seating. Or I guess why for that matter I took part in their al fresco dining? Florida ocean breeze I love you!

ANYWAY..., I was there for the world pastry forum. I went to attend a class on wedding cakes and watch National Pastry Team Championship. The winner of the competition goes on to compete in the World Pastry Championship. The competition was 2 days and the teams had to complete a chocolate showpiece, sugar showpiece, entremet, plated dessert, bonbons, petit gateau, entremet glace, presentation piece for their bonbons, as well as being judged on cleanliness, teamwork, organization. It all sounds easy, right? I mean the 2 days it's like 12 whole hours. That's like a crazy amount of time. And you have 3 people on your team except for the one team that only had 2+one broken finger. Oh, and did I mention that you have specific times to present your entremet, petit gateau, etc., throughout the competition. You just don't hit a bell and say done. They tell you. Yeah, hats off to all of the competitors. You prepare for months, mostly on your own dime. Oh, and the whole time you are working, the judges can come over and talk to you about what you are doing. No, seriously, kudos to them all. Just the months of practice takes so much discipline. They should all be winners right? You can check out www.pastrychampionship.com to see the winners and to see pictures.

Now about the wedding cakes. I never really did any wedding cakes. I made gumpaste flowers for a wedding cake. And I made a figurine, not for a wedding cake. He would be more like for some crazy tripped out party cake. Do people have many of those? But I met some great new friends and saw a lot of cool stuff. I actually brought my whole crazy cake man home (he got checked with the luggage) and he sits here with me now. Well in the office and he scares me everytime I go in. But not bad enough that you wouldn't want him for your crazy tripped out party!

Jambon or Jamon?

As I have mentioned-I am no blogger. But I am a traveler. I just got back from the most amazing European vacation (if I may!). My husband and I went to France and Spain. I had never been to Europe before. What? And you call yourself a pastry chef-this cannot be true. But yes my dear friends-it is. Do I feel like a fraud? No, just a sneaky girl from Ohio. We spent a week in Paris, which was not enough time AT ALL. I had only just begun to find my favorites. And we didn't even have time to see any museums. We did manage to sneak in the sewer tour. Yes, the sewer does run right under you in the tour and yes it is rank. All of the outdoor markets are incredible. We went to a different one each day. Just the sight of those chickens on the rotisserie with all of those beautiful little potatoes roasting underneath makes me want to cry. The fragrance of the peaches, strawberries, apricots is so much finer than any Chanel no.5. So after Paris, we went to Barcelona. Praise be to the Iberico ham gods. If I was down to my last bill, I would spend it on Jamon Iberico. And I would probably beg for just a little bit more! The market in Barcelona is incredible, too. I loved the fact that you could eat at the little stalls in the market. And the cake on the stick-sick! I could have used way more time in Barcelona, too. Just too much to eat, too much architecture to be awed by. Then it was off to Majorca for a little paella on the beach and to see old friends. Great friends to have moved to Majorca, really. Then on to Aix-en-Provence-to the markets and mountains. I know what you are thinking-"You Jennifer are a wild European traveler. You do get around!" Go ahead, be jealous, be very, very jealous. I would be!