vanilla is so....vanilla

This is not the first time I have gotten all geeky over photographing cupcakes. (Remember these?) I don't know what my thing is? Maybe I shoulda been a food stylist, or one of those photographers that goes on assignment to capture a picnic/party/bbq for some Martha Stewart Living feature. 

But no, I'd pass on taking the pictures of the bbq'd chicken or the paella. Not interested in the protein dishes. Must be the frosting I am drawn to?

We had just finished a birthday dinner for my "nephew" and while the real dessert was being organized these two little cupcakes sat and waited for my "niece". She is the vanilla-cupcake-with-vanilla-frosting girl. She favors it because she does not like chocolate. Like she spits it out if she accidentally finds it in her mouth. Spits. I've seen her do it. (My mouth dropped in horror.)

There were two little cupcakes set aside for her because her brother, the sane one, was celebrating his birthday and had requested this...

Soft, moist chocolate cake with a thick layer of dense, rich, chocolate fudge frosting. 

People.

People, people, people. I ate my slice and then the other half of my husband's. I did that thing where you scrape the crumbs and frosting off the plate with your fork. Those two little vanilla things were nothing to me. Nothing.

There is no space in my head, no corner, no ounce of understanding as to how someone could not like chocolate. I try hard to understand, but really I can't.

Maybe it has something to do with some recessive gene that pops up without warning, like when you birth a red headed baby and no one in your family is a red head. It's a little shocking.

My little niece's mother was my roommate for four years in our younger days. I know her taste buds favor a good red wine and chocolate in any form. We always go for the chocolate dessert option when dining out together and I know my chocolate chip cookies were her drug of choice in our college days. 

And I know my niece's father as well. Many times over the years I have piled many scoops of ice cream on a fudge brownie for him. I know he loves seconds, would even eat my uneaten portions. (People who like chocolate do that.)

In other words, my niece came from a very thick chocolate gene pool and came out holding the vanilla bean instead of the cocoa one. A fluke? 

A mutation? JK.

But seriously. Why on earth would you eat two cute vanilla cupcakes when you could have a thick slice of chocolate birthday cake?

I can't even stand it!

Excuse me please while I totally gush...

This face is just the most adorable face I have ever seen (not including my kids and the other really cute babies out there). She was little Miss Happy and little Miss Wiggly and totally into the ceiling fan and her diaper.

She also has the cutest little bum that I did take some modest pictures of so mama could remember just how cute it was. Her crawling skills have not quite developed but she is practicing the "get up on all fours from the belly position" which, if you have had any baby experience, you know this is the runner up move to the crawl. (Bean would do this in her sleep at night. I would check in on her before I went to bed and she would be up on all fours rocking back and forth, pacifier in her mouth, totally asleep.) 

I spent an hour with this little miss and her mama and so I have many more photos to share, which I will once I go through them, but for now I would like to gush about my second most favorite part of the day...

Lord have mercy. I can't even stand it. Sweet Pea's mama is an amazing baker and has begun a little side business that, with my constant gushing, will soon be bigger than Martha Stewart. Seriously folks, there are not enough words in my vocabulary to describe how incredible these were. She had these waiting for me when I showed up this morning and I could not believe that she had made my most favorite cupcakes in the entire universe: black bottom cupcakes. Super moist, rich (yet not overly sweet) chocolate cupcakes filled with a chocolate chip/cream cheese center, topped with chocolate ganache. I ate one on the way home in the car (almost caused an accident swerving off the road in a b.b.c. induced high). I ate one after dinner. And just now walked into the kitchen to ask my hubby if he was going to eat his, to which he asked, "Do you want to split it?"

I love that man.

I loved these cupcakes so much I had to photograph them. My friend had packed them in a cute brown Baby Gap box.  And little did she know,  the cup cakes matched perfectly with the box interior. It was all meant to be! 

I have now gushed all over my friend's facebook page like a total stalker. I begged her to strike a deal with me: I will be her personal food stylist and cupcake photographer if she will simply give me a life time supply of these cupcakes. I am so distraught that I cannot simply run to Trader Joes and buy some more. Is it too much to drive the 45 minute trek up to her house every day? Will she think me crazy to be standing out side in my bathrobe and slippers and 6am, knocking on her bedroom window asking for more? 

Topped with chocolate ganache...killin' me...

a little creative license

Recipes were made to be broken, according to McBean. Because after rolling your millionth snowball you get tired and need to take a little creative action to mix things up, break up the monotony.

Other treats we've been making? Chocolate covered peanut butter balls. If I showed you a picture of them I would have to have you sign a contract that you would not show up on my doorstep asking for some. They are that yummy.

Tomorrow Zach and I make our famous chocolate/white chocolate peppermint bark. It is way better than any store bought kind. My friends swear by my old Bon Appetite recipe that I got from another friend many years ago. I have people threaten my life if I do not make it during the holidays. Again, if I showed you a picture of it I would have to have you sign a contract...

sugar no more?

Any body else feel like their diet for the last month has consisted of a daily sugar intake equivalent to a mountain sized pile of donuts?

Every since my kids have been able to trick or treat, the days between Halloween and Thanksgiving are one long sugar-fest...sugar-feast.

By the time I get to Thanksgiving I am so d.o.n.e. with junk, I am ready to go on some major cold turkey type of diet where I only eat raw veggies and drink water, with not a gram of sugar or carb in sight. This is how I felt today.

But then I forget that the view towards the December holidays is so very close so I shrug it all off and tell myself that I can wait till December 26th to go on my sugar fast. 

Oh, but then I remember that New Year's is a week after Christmas and that I usually partake in the gorging of sugar and fat laden treats in the hours leading up to midnight on New Year's Eve--enjoying every calorie.

So it doesn't really pay to go cold turkey today.

Oh phooey.  Someone come please do an intervention.

Raspberry Girl

It is the only way to eat raspberries.

Oh, and you have to partake while wearing a coordinating shirt.

It feels like I should be breaking out in song...

"Ten little raspberries sitting atop her hand,

One plopped into her mouth,

And then there were nine.

Nine little raspberries sitting atop her hand..."

Harvest Time

Harvest time at Solis Winery. I arrived at 7am with some members of my local photography club. (A beautiful morning, but I seriously need to invest in some of those cold weathered gloves especially made for photographers. It was chilly.) 

Just plucked from the vine, waiting to be crushed.

Vineyard at dawn.

Triplets.

Perfect clusters waiting to be harvested. 

An hour later they were snipped and tossed into the crate to await "the crusher."

I loved finding the old tendrils of vine, their search for something to clasp onto now long gone.

One of the harvesters. His partner is on the other side of the vine snipping from that side. They quickly made their way down the row, chit chatting along the way.

What a great way to start my week.

Help, I need an intervention

Here's why I have a problem:

As I'm pulling out my quick boxed cake mix to whip up cupcakes for M's bday party my friend, Kelley, (who happens to have come over at the perfect time and who happens to be the Queen of the cupcake bakers) looks at me with "a look" and says...

"You're not going to just use that box mix for Michaela's cupcakes are you?"

"Ummmm...yes. Is that not okay?" 

"Oh no no no," she says, "You can't just do the box mix, it's not good enough. If you must (said with an air of disgust), then you have to tweak it."

"Please," I say, "just tell me what to do and I will obey. I bow to your cupcake skills."

To the box mix she has me add:

1 cup sour cream

3 eggs

1/2 cup oil

3/4 cup water

1 tsp vanilla

(she tells me to add chocolate chips but I decline because M has requested vanilla only)

Bake at 350 for twenty minutes.

When I ask her if it's okay that we are altering the water/egg/oil ratio and adding other stuff (because I'm afraid it will alter the chemistry of the ingredients or something horrible like that) she firmly defends her recipe. 

"I promise you. You will never make the simple box mix again."

Three days later I am still stuffing my face with the left over cupcakes.  As I make my way towards the kitchen I hear myself say, "This is the last one. After this one, no more." But yet, a day later (ok, sometimes hours later) I am back for "just one more".  

Seriously folks, this qualifies as an addiction right? I have a problem.

My name is Tracey and I am addicted to yummy cupcakes.

p.s. As I write this I realize that I've written about another cupcake. See, it's a pattern. I need some serious help.

Slushy Special

It's not every day we go to the Aquatics Center. And it's especially not everyday that when we do that they get their very own slushy. Today they were treated to one by Miss Kathy. M was thrilled, mainly because every time we go there she begs me for one and I tell her I have brought an empty wallet. (Such a mean mom.)

Today, however, she did not even ask me once. You should have seen her face when she came up out of the pool and I told her to get her feet in gear over to the snack shack because Miss Kathy was buying all the kids slushies. Have never seen her move faster. Hey, all that blue flavored, blue colored ice swimming in that blue cup (or is it a bowl?) is indeed a special treat. You do not want to miss out!

How someone serves her Daddy...

For the past two mornings my hubby has come downstairs to be greeted by some "breakfast love" served up by Michaela. If you can tell by the picture...she has served up a left over pancake topped with chopped bananas, walnuts and a bit of honey, or maple syrup. The dollop on top? Butter. (Because her brother told her after the fact that Daddy liked butter on his pancakes.)

Aren't you lovin' it?! These kinds of moments make me smile. One, because I like to envision her waking up with the excitement of making her Daddy breakfast, being alone down in the kitchen, chopping up the banana, adding the pat of butter, like a snow cap, to top it off. And two, because it is the ultimate example of serving someone out of love and being joyful while doing so. Puts me to shame to think how little I serve others like this. Praying for a heart more like my daughter's...

Breakfast Blueberries

My favorite breakfast: plain yogurt (no compromises), walnuts, flaxmeal, honey drizzle, and some sort of fruit. First choice would be pomegranate seeds, second is blueberries, third is chopped banana. This morning I settled for my second choice seeing as TJoes has been seriously failing me these days on the pom seeds.

As I was stabbing my blueberries I noticed how they stacked up on my fork. I know, sooooo weird. But I thought it would make a fun picture. 

Can I tell you just how lame it was trying to actually capture a good blueberry picture?! Many takes later and this is what I've got. Sooooo exciting. 

Aren't you glad I wasn't eating almond butter toast this morning? 

Ribbit

Went wine tasting today...in Hollister. (What?! You did not know that Hollister was one of the key wine regions in California? Come on!) Please, I ask, do not so quickly dismiss this cow-poke town from your list of possible wine regions you would like to visit. I mean, it cannot compete with Napa in regards to its yuppie atmosphere, with its quaint down town, BnB's on every corner, or five star restaurants with their celebrity chefs. But if you do decide to put those need for extravagances aside and just focus on tasting some darn good wine then you will actually discover that a dusty little city with its rambling hills and roads can actually proudly boast of several great wineries. Of the many, we went here and here.

My Life Lessons learned today? 

1. When you are having a fun day out with friends, sans kids, you really do not give a hoot as to where you are. 
   
2. You can laugh at the fact that you are in a silly little place called Hollister, driving down old streets lined with weathered houses, used car lots, Burger Kings, and laundry mats, but once you hit the outskirts of town and find yourself meandering along the country roads and winding through the gentle hills (spotted with my favorite ancient oaks), you realize that peace and quiet (and good wine) can be found anywhere, if you are willing to explore...and, what's the cliche...don't judge a book by its cover, or a wine by its name, or a wine region by its locale. You get my drift. 
3. Good fruit (literally and figuratively) can be produced in the unlikeliest of places...as long as the conditions are right. How many times have I limited my expectations because of my inability to believe in the possibilities?! Or, failed to see that the conditions of the soil or the weather patterns were just right for fostering growth?

Oh, and all these lessons were equally applied as we drove up to the restaurant at which we had made dinner reservations. Many had recommended it so we gave it a try (with a spirit of adventure I might add). Upon arrival, it was no posh style eatery--from the looks of it. Sooooo glad we stayed. Dang. It was G.O.O.D.  Ribbit!

Berry Pickin'

Today we took a trip to the "pick your own" berry farm. 

(Glad there was a lifeguard on duty.)

An abundance of strawberries and ollalaberries awaited us. 

The big kids picked from the tops 

and the short cake, Colettey Cakes, picked down below.

Here's Zach, the number one berry picker. We just got finished making a strawberry pie with his flat of strawberries and he was really into it. I mentioned that he could also make a strawberry shake (his fave) so he's eager to do that. With the ollala's I'm making mini pies and freezing some for future use.

Some of wanted to eat more than pick. 

And some of those somebodies discovered from another somebody 

that you could squish the berries between 

your fingers and paint your hands with them. 

All I can say is--thank God for wipes. 

Off to go make more pie crusts and cobbler crunch toppings. 

I'm wishing right about now that I knew how to make jam. 

"Bill"rritos

(Apology first: so sorry if this post works your gag reflex.)

So I announced to the kids a few days ago that this summer I wanted them to pick one night of the week to plan and make dinner and I would take them shopping for the ingredients. For Zach, I knew he would love the entire process of list making, shopping, bagging up the food, chopping, cooking and serving. When I asked him what he would like to make for his first meal he immediately told me about a "special"  burrito his friend's dad, our friend Bill, had made one evening when Zach was over at their place. Of course my eye brows raised with anticipation at what "special" meant. Zach explained the ingredients: tortillas, refried beans, cheddar cheese, hotdogs, and hot sauce. 

Huh. Sounds...ummmmm...interesting.

But Zach was very eager and thus I made one special call to good 'ol Bill and with a chuckle he walked me through the recipe, confirming, yes, the hotdog ingredient, and the specific hot sauce: Crystal. He also detailed how to use the hotsauce (best squirted on each bite) and shared that Zach had totally loved the meal. Yes, I got that.

So this afternoon Zach and I entered Safeway. A place I rarely enter being the Trader Joes (and Whole Foods when I can get there) girl that I am. I am now reminded why I rarely take my kids into that store--the rows of high fructose corn syrup laden foods and the pre-packaged, processed, dyed, modified, food galore. Don't get me wrong, I actually would eat most of that food and love it (mini chocolate donuts, Cocoa Crispies, Doritos...) but being the self-taught geeky nutritionist that I am, I am aware of the bad bad, but oh so good, evils of such food and do my best to limit them to "special" times.  

And tonight was "special"--Zach was cooking. Plus I couldn't buy Crystal hot sauce at Traders.

We came home and Zach threw himself into the process of cooking up dinner and getting everything ready. He made a salad and also set out some peaches (at the encouragement of his mother who was also trying to teach some nutritional squareness in regards to a meal). And then he demonstrated how to make the special burrito---no, the Billritto. We assembled ours and rolled them up and...and...they weren't that bad. Really. I would eat another one. As I break out in familiar verse...

"Say! I do like green eggs and ham! Sam I am! I would eat them on a boat and I would eat them with a goat. I would eat them in a box and I would eat them with a fox!"

The wheels of my mind are working on how I can spin a healthy version of this new fave of Zach's but somehow I think it wouldn't fly. And I do agree, it's the hotdogs and the hot sauce that make it work. (I can't believe I just said that.) Gonna send a call off to Bill and tell him about how he will forever be a legend in our house, how he will always be remembered every time we sit down to Billrittos.

p.s. I'll have to pass on  to him Scott's favorite childhood recipe that his dad would make for him: hotdogs sliced down the middle, piled with fake mashed potatoes, and topped with a slice of american cheese--all baked to a fattening, sodium-laced perfection. (I'm noticing a hotdog theme here.)

  

The first of many

We went to the beach today--this being the first of many this summer. By noon the sun came out but the kids never noticed. They were just happy to be there. 

The girls ran and danced. Then they joined the boys who discovered that underneath all that bubbling wet sand were families of sand crabs. The mega-sized mamas were easier to spot, slower to tunnel down into the wet sand, and thus found a new home in the yellow sand bucket for three hours. (I always wonder what tales they tell when they are released to dig home and describe their capture, their yellow prison, and the others they met there...)

I love the smooth untouched sand and the imprint of my presence I leave behind before any others add to it. Here's M using the canvas to write her name.

We cleaned up and piled in the car, making a stop at one of my favorite places. From right to left: vanilla cupcake thoroughly licked clean of frosting before eaten; another v. cupcake eaten from top to bottom; fudgey chocolatey brownie; scooter pie--vanilla frosting and chocolate fudge sandwiched between two chocolate cookies and half dipped in chocolate--yes, a lot of chocolate and he downed it!

Sometimes you just gotta save some frosting for later...just tuck a little up in a nostril and you're good to go! (She's always been the Colettey Cakes but now...I think she's earned the title Colettey Cupcakes.)

We went back to Aunt Lara's house and rested and then headed out to Pizza My Heart. Tuesday's $5 kid's special: make your own pizza and a drink. A big hit.

Needless to say, I was too pooped to bring my camera to PMH. And I'm barely makin' it through this post. And it's only the first of many days like this. Eight more weeks to go!

Somethin' about that little flag...

...proudly waving from the fragile chocolate tip just says "eat me". Being oh so simple and tasty, I cannot eat just one. I made a suggestion to Michaela that she glue some on to the birthday card poster she is making for a friend. But secretly I hoped that she would use the colorful foiled ones left over from Easter--not the plain, silver, simple ones.  Because let's face it: nothing can top the original. I don't care if it's filled with almonds, carmel, white chocolate, dark chocolate, peanut butter, fudge, or my favorite, mint. Or if it's wrapped in a shiny pink, aqua, gold, or zebra striped wrapper to attract my attention. Whatever. Only the original keeps me coming back for more. So I'm thinkin' I better go hide the rest, lest they be wasted on some 4 year old birthday boy who really does not give a hoot about what's inside the wrapper, just as long as its candy. Such immature taste buds...

Totally worth it. Totally.

If you are not a chocolate lover just stop reading now.  (You completely baffle me and I stand astounded at the lameness of your taste buds, but whatever.)

Saturday my girlfriend and I ended our one day early Mother's Day outing  at Icing on the Cake in Los Gatos. Bad news was that we were both craving anything chocolate, cakey, fattening, caloric, bad for you, evil.

I walked away with 5 different cupcakes nestled in my pink little bakery box. Yes, $17.25 worth of cupcakes sitting in that little pink bakery box: peanut butter and fudge, two chocolate swirlies with butter cream centers, caramel delight, and chocolate with vanilla cheese cake. (No not all for me! Please, I have some restraint!)

After dinner I split them all (except for one) into quarters and my family indulged in the goodness of each.

Enter Monday lunch time...home from a good walk/run and then a carb-light lunch. I was feeling good about myself yet quite set on ruining it by chasing it all down with the lone cupcake that was beckoning from the fridge. A little smooshed by travel but alas, ever so tempting. Because if I've never shared this before, I'm telling you now, I can never say no to cold, (yes cold is the X factor here) chocolate cake. Dense, moist, bitter sweet, cold, chocolate cake. And this one had been marinating in the fridge for 36 hours. It was simply a matter of time. 

But calories eaten while doing a blog post don't count right? 

BTW, the best chocolate cake ever was from a now defunct restaurant in downtown San Jose called Blakes. A mile high cake made with bitter sweet batter, with a tinge of saltiness to it. They served it, yes cold, in a fat wedge on a plain white plate. Impossible to eat it all at once so you brought it home and ate the rest the next day. Does anyone remember Blakes? I've never had a slice like it since.