Every baker should have an ace in the hole. For me, that never-failing treasure is my Drunk Blonde, a whiskey-soaked butterscotch blondie. Blondies can be pretty bland, but these guys pack a punch: you better eat your share before putting them out on a a platter, because people act like hawks around these things. There’s a whole lot to like about the Drunk Blonde, but what wins me over is the lack of leavening. So many blondies aren’t much more than glorified chocolate chip cookies, and have a fluffy, cakey texture. These bare-bones blondies, lacking any leavening at all, are gooey to the point of being almost fudge-like, with the alcohol adding an extra richness. I’ve made this recipe several times, and it’s impossible to mess up. Each result has been more delicious than the last.
Let’s face it: it’s hard to mess up blueberries. It’s even harder to mess up blueberries with a crumb coating. It’s no wonder this blueberry crumble bar is so good. I had made this recipe on a whim: there were blueberries in the house, along with the rest of the ingredients. I wasn’t particularly excited about it — it was just another thing to try out. My lack of enthusiasm was a mistake, however. These bars are crunchy, crumbly, buttery, and sweet. I halved the amount of sugar in the original recipe to let the sweetness and tartness of the blueberries shine (and so I could pretend this bar is healthier than it really is). It’s probably even tastier with all the sugar. I have a bad sweet tooth, after all.
First of all, you’ll have to pardon the bad photography of these scrumptious lemon bars — in my hurry to get them into my mouth, I didn’t much bother with taking a nice photo or two. Trust me when I say that these have the potential to look much more beautiful than they do.
Full disclosure: if I have to choose between a brownie or a lemon bar, I’m going to pick the brownie every time. But it’s summer, and today something heavy and chocolatey just didn’t sound right. While taking my dog outside this morning, I noticed our Meyer lemon tree had two lemons left. I knew instantly what baking I wanted to do.
This recipe is really easy; I barely glanced at the recipe as I threw it all together, because the steps are really that simple. The end result is much more than the sum of its parts: for something seemingly so basic, the flavor is robust, sweet, and only a little bit tart. Not to brag, but both my father and the guy I’m dating (okay, admittedly not the most objective audience) said they were the best lemon bars they’d ever eaten. Even the brownie lover in me has to admit: this was just the right dessert for such a hot summer day.
As much as I try to keep a smile on my face, it just isn’t realistic to be happy all the time. Some days are sad days, and there’s virtually nothing you can do beyond hope for a brighter tomorrow. That’s not to say that you can’t ease your pain a little bit, though. When I was in a dark mood last week, there was only one thing I could think of to comfort myself: chocolate.
These truffles are no frills, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The chocolate taste is so intense that one truffle is more than enough — even in my sourpuss mood, I was totally satisfied with one bite. (Not that there’d be anything wrong with eating a bunch at once. I certainly couldn’t fault someone for enjoying their chocolate.) While the recipe calls for balsamic vinegar, it doesn’t add any bitterness or tartness, but only serves to make the chocolate flavor deeper.
Truth be told, these truffles didn’t clear away my depression instantaneously, but then again, nothing has that power. They did, however, make my misery a little more bearable. I look forward to making them again when I’m in a much more buoyant mood — if they tasted delicious when I’m feeling bad, I can only imagine how yum they are when I’m feeling good.
I’m almost tempted to simply say, “Presented without comment: Sables Korova.” Some things are just so good that words will never be enough, and if any cookie is that outstanding, it’s these.
I’m not much of a fan of sugar cookies. I don’t think most people lose their minds over sugar cookies, really. And at a glance, these look like your standard sugar cookies, but with chocolate. When I had wrapped some up to give to a friend, she looked at them in their cellophane bag and thought I was handing her dry, mediocre store-boughts. I don’t think she was all too thrilled about eating them. That is until she took her first bite.
These cookies are alternately known around the Internet as World Peace Cookies, because if everybody could just eat them, we’d all chill out and war would be a thing of the past. Sound like a stretch? I also call these the Crack Cookies, after giving them to another friend and seeing him wander down the hall in a daze, wondering out loud to no one in particular, “What is in these cookies? Crack?” If you don’t like making light of drug use, these can just as fairly be called the Headache Cookies, since my dad once ate so many in one sitting that he gave himself a migraine.
These sandy, buttery little morsels are sitting next to me as I type, and I’m nearly getting a high from just their smell. There’s little that is more irresistible in this world than double chocolate — I’m having a very hard time not shoveling these things in my mouth by the fistful.
Now that I think about it, I’m reticent to call these World Peace Cookies. I’m pretty sure a war could break out over them.
Speaking again as someone in recovery from anorexia, for me there are few worse bodily sensations than that of low blood sugar. If I haven’t eaten anything for a couple of hours, it’ll hit me out of nowhere: suddenly I’m shaking and lightheaded and famished. Naturally, my regular bouts of hypoglycemia were concerning not just to me, but to my dietitian as well. Since I eat off of a meal plan (it’s flexible and I choose what I eat, but the meal plan dictates how much of what macronutrients I need to consume throughout the day), my dietitian changed it to be protein heavy in order to stave off the hunger and blood sugar crashes.
Ever since starting my recovery, I’ve been a big fan of energy bars. Luna Bars, Clif Bars, Mojo Bars, you name it, I’ve eaten it and probably enjoyed it. I had experimented with making my own in the past, but without success, so since then I have leaned on the bar-making professionals for my high protein snacking needs. My dietitian, however, changed the game when she gave me this recipe.
These bars (also good eaten rolled up into balls) are sweet like a dessert but filled with ingredients that are effective at stabilizing one’s energy levels and blood sugar. I eat these both as a treat and as a tool for keeping my body feeling good throughout the day. While it should be obvious that they aren’t a diet food, I’d hope that the ingredients list makes it equally as obvious they are absolutely a health food, and should be enjoyed as such.
I just recently decided to quit my job. I didn’t come to this conclusion easily; it was only after some soul-searching that I realized I had gotten all that I could out of my employment, and it was time to move on. I wanted to leave on a sweet note, however, and couldn’t think of anything sweeter than my number one go-to cookie recipe. I’m not good at saying goodbye, so I let the baking do the talking for me, and gifted my bosses with farewell cookies.
These oatmeal cookies have been my favorite cookie recipe since middle school, and that’s saying something, as I’ve tried a lot of cookie recipes since then. They are the best with chocolate chips, but it’s no loss to make them with raisins either, if that’s your thing. Cookie preferences are highly personal, but these match my cookie ideal to a T. They are soft and chewy in the middle, with a nice crunch along their golden outside. These aren’t your puffy, cake-like cookies; they are lean and gooey and meant to be shoveled in your mouth one after the other.
A little secret? These cookies are even better frozen than they are straight out of the oven. Everyone in my family prefers to eat them pulled out of a ziplock baggie in the freezer.
So needless to say, these bad boys are dangerous. One is never enough. I’ve watched many a friend fall prey to these guys. Bake at your own risk.
When I made the decision to move from LA to San Francisco, it was not without some serious regrets. Most of all, it was leaving my friends behind that got to me. I also knew I’d miss the beaches, the movie premieres, and the lingering Hollywood dream I’d been harboring.
I also knew I’d really, really miss Sprinkles Cupcakes. The progenitor of the cupcake bakery mania, Sprinkles began as a Beverly Hills gourmet cupcake business and has since spread out to locations around the country, carrying with it a whiff of Madagascar bourbon vanilla extract and winning over hungry hearts. I think the cupcake craze is more than a little silly, but I’m the first person to say Sprinkles is very serious business: without a doubt, they have the best cupcakes I’ve ever tasted (that chocolate chip peanut butter cupcake–it has no competition in this world).
San Francisco has no Sprinkles. Nor does Sacramento, my current city. It’s a lonely existence.
Fortunately for us Sprinkles addicts spread out across creation, there’s always the option of making knock-off Sprinkles at home. With fresh strawberries stuffing up my refrigerator, it made perfect sense to make strawberry cupcakes to start the week with. What better recipe to use than the one for the Sprinkles cake batter?
This Wayne Thiebaud-like are the summer dessert: moist, dense, but with a crisp, light, and very, very sweet flavor. With their cream cheese frosting, they remind me of the tart strawberry cupcakes at the bakery I worked at in high school. But it’s not just memory lane that makes them dear to me. This recipe has won over thousands of fans at Sprinkles. I’m just one of many strawberry cupcake devotees, paying honor to her cupcake idol.
I spend a lot of time looking at food blogs, oohing and aahing over recipes that I could never even dream up, let alone successfully make. Sometimes, the cooking creations I see are so amazing that I experience the same feeling that I would were I to watch the Victoria’s Secret runway show: not jealousy, but simply amusement at how far from reality it all is.
However, the truth is that just like how I can be a sexy lady without strutting down a catwalk wearing a pair of angel wings that weighs almost as much as a model’s underfed, lingerie-clad body does, I can whip up something scrumptious that requires absolutely no kitchen magic.
And that’s what coconut macaroons are for. All the necessary ingredients are already in the house, they only take a couple minutes to throw together, they can look as sloppy or neat as you allow them to be, and they still taste great. For extra flash, dip them in melted chocolate. Just because they’re a beginner’s dessert doesn’t make them any less delicious.
I spent two months at a treatment center for anorexia nervosa. A huge part of my treatment was exposure therapy, meaning meal upon meal upon meal. The daily routine was breakfast-snack-lunch-snack-dinner-snack. At the height of it, my snacks were all averaging 500 calories, and the meals were even larger. Of course, I needed it. I was dangerously underweight and completely unwilling to feed myself.
In treatment, I had two choices: eat my meal plan, or drink Ensure Pluses. While many of my peers chose the caloric supplement drinks, the foodie in me balked at the idea of skipping actual food to slurp down some grainy, protein-heavy mystery concoction. If I was gonna gain weight, I was gonna gain weight on something that tasted good. After all, having subsisted off of sweet potatoes and mustard for so long, I did miss real food. A lot.
The cook would try to bake a treat every day so that those who were feeling extra daring could have something fresh and homemade to eat at snack time. There was no nutritional information for them, no calorie counts to guide us. We simply had to eat what the staff deemed was an appropriate amount. It was terrifying. I was nearly done with the program before I had built up the courage to eat one of her special-made snacks.
I had picked her caramel oat bars. They were gooey, salty, crunchy, and chewy, all in one. Even though they are simple, they pack a lot of punch. All that sweetness, topped off with a hearty dash of sea salt, makes them all too easy to devour. When it was time for me to advance out of the intensive level of treatment, I asked the cook for the recipe.
And in case it isn’t obvious, I’ll spell it out: it says a lot when an anorexic loves eating something.