Walnut Spice Cupcakes

Now aren’t we glad I got all of that off my chest? Thank you for allowing me to vent and offering such kind words in return. From comments to private messages to hugs, I feel loved. And this is one of many reasons I am thankful to be living with you.

Last week, I shared a batch of carrot cake scones that received quite a welcome reception. Many people like recipes that reinvent old classics–and I can’t help but agree that it’s fun to see something you never thought possible. But then again, I find myself returning to the recipes that we all know and love. The ones we grew up eating and sharing with family.

When fall begins its gentle descent ( I live in Texas, remember), my family turns to warmer fare. Soups and casseroles. Pot pies and spiced desserts. The months of September and October were some of my favorites growing up. A return to school meant new friends and a whole stack of books I had to hole away and read.

My Grammy made the most wonderful spiced cakes when I was growing up. They were moist and filled with good things such as cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice. Topped with a creamy frosting, they were a nice antitode to a brisk afternoon outside. And of course the crunch of toasted walnuts made the cake feel a bit more healthy.

Another fall tradition? The debut of my coffee cups. Each September (or October here in Texas) my tall brown mugs begin to make a daily appearance in my house. I brew tea. I make coffee. I greet guests with offers of mulled apple cider or a cup of coffee made from the darket beans I can find.

A few weeks ago, I visited one of my oldest friends–we met in Mr. Stephan’s 8th grade Algebra class when we were both shy and 13–and her sweet husband, Brian, treated Ryan and me to cups of coffee from beans he had roasted and ground himself.

I was duly impressed.

Thankfully, I am lucky enough to have a few friends who specialize in all things coffee–Ms. Mallory Allison of Vintage Heart Coffee being my premier source of good brew in Austin. And what I’ve learned from her and Brian is that good coffee requires freshly ground beans. So maybe this fall, a kitchen fairy will drop a coffee grinder like this in my kitchen. Lovely isn’t it?

Because when I’m not emotionally unloading, I will be serving spiced cupcakes at my house, and in my humble opinion, nothing washes down a cupcake better than a cup of brewed coffee.

Walnut Spice Cupcakes

2 1/2 cups (12 1/2 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour

1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 1/4 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 cups shredded carrots or shredded zucchini

1 1/2 cups (10 1/2 ounces) granulated sugar

1/2 cup (3 1/2 ounces) packed light brown sugar

4 large eggs

1 1/2 cups safflower, canola, or vegetable oil

1 cup chopped walnuts

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position; heat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease or line two 12-cup muffin pans.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and salt. Set aside.

3. In the bowl of your stand mixer, cream sugars and eggs until frothy and thoroughly combined, about 20 seconds. While still mixing, add oil in a slow, steady stream. Cream until the is light in color and well emulsified, about 20 seconds longer. Fold in carrots (or zucchini), walnuts, and dry ingredients until just incorporated. Using an ice cream scoop or a 1/3 cup measure, divide batter into muffin pans and bake until toothpick or skewer inserted into center of cupcake comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes, rotating pans halfway through baking time. Allow cupcakes to cool for 15 minutes before removing to a wire rack. Allow to cool completely before frosting.

4. Make my very favorite buttercream to go on top! (Just omit the chocolate)

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Almond Apricot Shortbread

Is it okay to say there are days I feel discouraged? Disillusioned? Because to be honest, I’m not in good place right now.

From wedding cake drama to infertility to memories of my sister’s last week in a hospital bed, these past few weeks have drained my already limited emotional reserve.

Sometimes, I think I make cakes and cookies–ubiquitous tokens of celebration–because they contrast with the harshness and bitterness of my inner thoughts.

Silly, I know.

For many people, God is the answer. And I’ll readily admit I have found some healing in spiritual practice.

But I still feel broken. And for this, I feel judgment. Because the God I seek is supposed to heal, to mend, and to put back together.

Instead, he or she has left me entirely undone.

And so I’m left questioning faith. I end up drinking too much coffee with too much soy milk. I carry around strips of undeveloped film in my purse–frames of my sister when she was only 9 or 10 years old–and I stare at them (those vague representations) instead of real photographs, because it is all I can handle…even 18 months after we lost her.

I am coping–often badly–and I credit any good to the constant support of family and friends. As for the rest? I apologize sincerely for my failed attempts at balance and health.

So about these cookies? They are pretty. And taste exactly like an almond apricot shortbread should: sweet and salty, chewy and crunchy. They also take well to a cookie-cutter, barely rising or spreading in the oven. And if you happen to have friends who deserve cookies (believe me, we all do), then you can package them up in a small mason jar and tie a bow just beneath the rim.

Yes. I realize I emotionally unloaded in this post. Yes, I understand I bake in order to cope. And right now, that’s all okay. Because I have a feeling I’m not the only one.

Almond Apricot Shortbread

1/2 cup butter (1 stick)

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 cup finely chopped almonds (food processor is best for this task)

1/2 cup finely chopped dried apricots (plus more for decorating)*

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar until light and creamy, about 3 minutes. Add egg. Mix until incorporated. Stir in almond extract and salt.

3. Fold in almonds and dried apricots. Add in flour and stir until a dough forms. Allow to chill in refrigerator for one hour. Roll out on a slightly floured surface to 1/2 inch thickness. Cut dough into shapes with a sharp cookie cutter. Place 1 to 2 inches apart on cookie sheet* and bake in preheated oven for 15-20 minutes, or until just a hint of golden brown.

*If you’d like, you can arrange a fingerful of dried apricot on top of your almond apricot shortbread before baking. It looks lovely.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Lunchbox Brownies

I spoke about four sentences during the entirety of my seventh grade year. Which is surprising considering my days as elementary school diva. In elementary school, I directed plays, I bossed around the neighborhood kids, and I proudly wore my mom’s hot-glued bows.

But as many of us know, middle school does strange (and often terrible) things to the psyche. Like many pubescent girls I fell prey to insecurity and depression. And so I learned to keep quiet because it felt safer than making a wrong move in front of a hostile crowd.

As I told you last week, I was asked to make a last-minute wedding cake for a tearful bride. I spent all Friday baking. By Saturday morning, frosting coated a few strands of my hair. I pulled away from my house at 11:30 AM and arrived at the Marriott with a 4-layer cake by noon. Relieved and exhausted, I found the wedding coordinator (a younger sister or friend, really) and displayed my hard work.

Imagine my surprise when out from her mouth came this: YOUR CAKE IS NOT BIG ENOUGH. THERE’S NO WAY I’M PAYING WHAT YOU’RE ASKING (in a very huffy tone).

“Excuse me,” I replied, “But that price is not what I’m asking, it’s what we agreed upon. I sent you the exact width and height dimensions after your bride called me crying…less than 40 hours ago!”

What ensued in the next sixty minutes was nothing less than a battle. I stood, with a spatula in one hand and a piping bag in the other, while this very presumptuous woman attempted to haggle me.

FYI BRIDES: don’t haggle your vendors when they try to deliver your food. It doesn’t work like that, and it makes them very very mad.

I stood firm and eventually won (although I learned why both the cake vendor AND the catering vendor backed out of this wedding last minute).

As I returned to my car, I thought back to my 7th grade self. Would she have believed this was possible? That one day the awkwardness would morph into confidence? That one day I’d stand up for myself and for what I knew was right?

Unlikely. I had a hard time imagining that life would ever get better.

And then, naturally, I thought forward. To my 35-year-old self. My 45-year-old self. Would I, in a similar fashion, look back to this season–my twenties– and wonder if I had any inkling that my insecurities would one day be quieted and that my secret fears would lose their strength?

I smiled because I knew I could say yes. I knew that despite my current anxiety and bouts of depression, these failings would also pass. Because if I’ve learned anything, it is that I will always grow. And each new season will bring different challenges as well as new ways to demonstrate all the good things I’ve become.

So these lunchbox brownies are in honor of younger ones and our younger selves. As school begins, let’s look back and see how far we’ve come and remind those we love that there is so much good ahead.

Lunchbox Brownies

1 1/4 cups (5 ounces) cake flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
6 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped fine
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into six 1-inch pieces
2 1/4 cups (15 3/4 ounces) sugar
4 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position; heat oven to 325 degrees. Cut 18-inch length foil and fold lengthwise to 8-inch width. Fit foil into length of 13 by 9-inch baking dish, pushing it into corners and up sides of pan; allow excess to overhand pan edges. Cut 14-inch length foil and, if using extra-wide foil, fold lengthwise to 12-inch width; fit into width of baking pan in same manner, perpendicular to first sheet. Spray foil-lined pan with nonstick cooking spray.

2. Whisk to combine flour, salt, and baking powder in medium bowl; set aside.

3. Melt chocolate and butter in large heatproof bowl set over saucepan of almost-simmering water, stirring occasionally, until smooth. (Alternatively, in microwave, heat butter and chocolate in large microwave-safe bowl on high for 45 seconds, then stir and heat for 30 seconds more. Stir again, and, if necessary, repeat in 15-second increments; do not let chocolate burn.) When chocolate mixture is completely smooth, remove bowl from saucepan and gradually whisk in sugar. Add eggs on at a time, whisking after each addition until thoroughly combined.

4. Whisk in vanilla. Add flour mixture in three additions, folding with rubber spatula until batter is completely smooth and homogeneous.
Transfer batter to prepared pan; using spatula, spread batter into corners of pan and smooth surface. Bake until toothpick or wooden skewer inserted into center of brownies comes out with few moist crumbs attached, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool on wire rack to room temperature, about 2 hours, then remove brownies from pan by lifting foil overhang. Cut brownies into 2-inch squares and serve.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Carrot Cake Scones

I have a lovely friend who enjoys carrots and hummus. On hot summer days, I share a bag with her. We sit outside of her coffeeshop or on a plush couch with a fan nearby. We dip carrot sticks or chips into a tub of creamy hummus. I just now finished talking to her on the phone. We laughed, while also lamenting the tiny annoyances that make up our lives.

And then I have another friend. One I’ve known since I was thirteen. She has chickens! And she’s about to have her first baby. Ryan and I drove to Dallas to visit her and her husband last weekend. We ate grilled peaches with scoops of bluebell icecream and then we talked about our old friends-where they are and what they do now.

Do you see that beautiful blossom in the first picture? An old friend from college makes those gorgeous blooms. We’ve been chatting about our mutual involvement in the wedding world (her blossoms, my cakes) and I couldn’t have been more impressed by her product. You should visit her. Whether you’re the marrying sort or not.

And then I have this person–my partner–and we find ways to love each other more everyday. I think, at times, I make him crazy. With my insecurities. My weaknesses. And my constant opinions. But he still takes me on hikes and buys me vegan cornbread. He speaks of my beauty with gentleness, and it’s he I sit with, late at night, when I’m most scared of the world.

When we got married, Ryan and I ate carrot cake at our reception. I just got a call from a bride a few hours ago. A bride in need of a wedding cake in less than 48 hours. Bless her tears. And so I’ll make her one tomorrow because I can still taste my own wedding cake if I close my eyes. It was spicy and moist and sweet. And I shared it with the person I most deeply love.

So these carrot cake scones are in honor of friends and lovers. Of brides and new babies. Of carrots and chickens. They are just slightly sweet and packed with shredded carrots and plump raisins. Sprinkled with cinnamon sugar, these carrot cake scones go well with a morning cup of coffee or tea. Enjoy them. Share them.

Carrot Cake Scones

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 TBSP baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 stick butter, cut into 16 pieces and chilled
1 egg, beaten
1/4 cup milk
1/3 cup raisins
1/3 cup packed and drained shredded carrots*

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees Farenheit. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. In a deep bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Add the cut and chilled butter pieces and toss until coated with flour.

3. Using two forks, or a pastry cutter, or your fingers, cut the butter into the flour until the butter is size of very small peas.

4. Mix together the milk and egg. Pour over the flour mixture and stir just slightly. Add carrots and raisins. Stir until the mass holds together. Don’t overmix. Dough will be sticky.

5. Gently pat the dough into an 8 or 10 inch circle on your prepared baking sheet. With a large knife, cut this circle into eight wedges (don’t seperate).

6. Place baking sheet into preheated oven and cook for 10 minutes. Remove from oven and cut through the wedges, separating them by an inch. Return to oven and continue baking until golden brown. Sprinkle with a mixture of cinnamon and sugar once removed from the oven.

*Press and drain carrots as much as possible. Makes for a firmer scone.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Apple Almond Granola

Time to go traipsing. Through forests covered in thick layers of moss. At least this is how I feel after the rainy weekend we’ve had in Austin. My longing for outdoor days is awakening. We’ve had such heat these past months, and with the promise of a cooler season, I’m rummaging my house for outdoor gear.

This is what I want to be doing. Wearing a white dress with a classic pair of wellies. There are ample creeks and rivers within miles of our home, and I know they’d welcome me. I’d bring myself, long legged and still pitifully pale. Run, walk, splash. This is how fall is meant to be done.

And to make a day even better, I’d find an apple orchard somewhere in Austin. I don’t think these exist here (much to my dismay) but in my dream world, they do. I’d pick a pound or two, and then cut them into paper thin slices, which would later rest on the racks of a dehydrator until they were ready to be chopped and added to this apple almond granola.

Because outdoor weather calls for outdoor fare, I can think of nothing better than a bag of granola to keep me satiated as I explore. This apple almond granola is full of the good stuff–flaxseeds, oats, sunflower seeds, honey, dried apples, and a heap of almond butter. Simple, satisfying, and sure to keep your body strong.

Not only is this apple almond granola perfect for outdoor hiking, but for school and work too. I keep a bag with me wherever I go, and you can often find me with a few granola crumbs on my shirt (embarrassing but true).

So while I order this season’s pair of Hunter wellies. You make this granola. I have a glass jar in my kitchen that I keep stocked year round, and I’m happy to be moving into more fall-inspired granola recipes. What I like most about this apple almond granola is how well it clumps together (a granola making win thanks to an ample helping of almond butter!). And then, of course, anything with apples makes me smile. And it will make you, your little ones, and your friends smile too.

Apple Almond Granola

1 cup chopped almonds
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (or pecans)
4 cups old fashioned rolled oats
3/4 cup finely shredded unsweetened coconut flakes
1 cup dried apples
1/4 cup ground flax seeds
1/4 cup raw, organic honey
1/4 cup pure maple syrup
1/2 cup almond butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon Mediterranean sea salt

1. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees Farenheit. Set aside two large cookie sheets.

2. In a large bowl, mix together almond, walnuts, rolled oats, coconut flakes, and flax seeds. Set aside. In a medium bowl, whisk together honey, maple syrup, almond butter, vanilla, cinnamon, and sea salt. Pour wet ingredients over oat mixture. Stir with a large wooden spoon or spatula. Divide between two cookie sheets, spreading into a thin layer.

3. Bake in oven for 30-50 minutes (this is a matter of granola preference…the longer you leave it in, the crisper it becomes). Once removed from oven, add in chopped dried apples. Allow to cool completely before storing in a glass container.