Hello cooks, craftsters, eaters and friends!

I’ll be taking a blogging break for about three weeks or so. I know, that’s a long time! But there’s A LOT of batter in my mixing bowl, so to speak, so just let me get through the next weeks, and I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.

In the meantime, I leave you with pictures of birthday cakes I’ve made pre-GWAC (Girl With A Curl). Back then, I kept thinking I needed a place to share these. I now have this blog, and you! Hope these have you (virtually) happily munching away ‘till my next post.

Here we go!

Simeen’s Starburst Cake (Pound Cake With Pink Fondant)

The Story: My friend Simeen is a Starburst candy addict. A peculiar habit of hers is picking out all the pink ones and keeping those for herself; she shares the rest! I thought it would be great to surprise her with big pink cake that looked like an actual pink-wrapped Starburst. This was my first (and so far only) time with fondant. (YES, the fondant was pre-made. Teehee.)

Jen’s Piggy Cake (Traditional White Birthday Cake With Buttercream)

The Story: Jen loves pigs. She is known to harbor a preponderance of porcine bric-a-brac in her apartment. She has a pig wallet. A pig apron.  A pig small vacuum cleaner, even. So fine, she can have a cake shaped like a pig on her birthday, too! This was a basic round cake (Magnolia Bakery’s recipe) and two cupcakes for the ears and nose (ears were two halves of a cupcake). I used different candy to finish off the piggy face. Oink, oink!

Connie’s Birthday Cake (Carrot Cake With Cream Cheese Frosting)

The Story: This was one of the trickiest cakes I’ve had to make, because Connie’s birthday is at the height of summer, and cream cheese frosting melts easily. I remember having to stick this in the fridge a couple of times before it set properly, all the time cursing the heat in the apartment. The baby carrots were made from store-bought (at least I admit it!) marzipan that I tinted orange and shaped by hand. The green “leaves” were from snipped parsley stalks!

Sara’s Birthday Cake (German Chocolate Cake)

The Story: Sometimes, I use covert tactics to find out what my friends’ favorite types of cakes are. I ask them casually months before, and file the answer away so I can surprise them with it on their birthday. I sometimes think they know that I’ll ask, and they pretend to not know why when I do, haha! But for her birthday, my friend Sara came right up to me and said, “Look, let’s not beat around the bush. I would love a German Chocolate Cake on my birthday.” And a German Chocolate Cake, art-directed by my brother and executed by me, was exactly what she got.

Jaxon’s 1st Birthday Cake (Yellow Cake With Buttercream)

The Story: Jaxon is my godchild. I love him. That’s the story! (Waves were made with buttercream through a star tip, figures were from a baking supply store, and sand was crushed Nilla wafers.)

Whew!

The cakes you see above were all first-time attempts, inspired by ideas on the net, from my cookbooks, and the spirit of the people I made them for. (I’ve never been to culinary school, save for a very basic Wilton cake-decorating class.) I hope you enjoyed taking virtual bites of these, and that they inspire your attempts as well.

See you in three weeks, all. Stay curly!

Oh. My. Gulay.

How cute are these? Gah! Pure crocheted genius.

I came across these via a Cinematical.com post sent to me by my brother. I mean, my Dark Knight anticipation is already reaching a fever pitch, and then this! Deadcraft’s creativity almost made me keel over.

She has even more fascinating dolls on her Etsy shop. Please go there, so you can gawk the way I did. And, AND, she’s from Manila!

My favorites:

Edward Cullen, from Twilight

Mr. Darcy, from Pride and Prejudice

Yoda, from The Greatest Movies Of All Time (ok, getting carried away now…)

Dead, if you ever read this, isa kang henyo.

Lumping all these together in a mishmashy, hodgepdogey post, because they’re all bits ‘n pieces of good things that I’ve kept in a virtual pile. Time to weed out the good ones and share!

1)    Lotta Prints
My brother’s been on my case forever about going to a basic printmaking class because of my fascination with fabric patterns and design. I’ve decided to see if I like doing prints myself by taking baby steps with this book! I love Lotta Jansdotter and can’t wait for this to come in the mail.

2)    Panda Bear Skillet
This reminds me of Ross, because she has a panda trash basket, and I think this will be happy in a kitchen with a trash bin like hers! It’s adorable. I can see myself making scrambled eggs with chives in it for breakfast.  Interested? Get it from Fred Flare.

3)    Childhood In A Bottle
There’s a European deli called Sainsbury across the street from my office. Oddly, it has all these confections and such that I grew up with. Stuff like Smarties chocolate candy, Violet Crumble, and Horlicks, which I discovered last week. Oh joy! I had to stop myself from eating it all, straight from the bottle with a spoon!(By the way, I don’t remember it ever being marketed as a sleep aid when I was a kid.)

I also discovered that the malt-candy version is still alive and is available online. Lord help me.

4)    Ticonderoga Sensematic Pencil
It looks like it’s the standard-issue yellow-barrel kind, but it’s actually made of plastic. And, get this, it has something called a Sensematic tip, which is just like a mechanical pencil’s tip except it’s “intelligent” and always stays sharp, with no need for the whole clickity-click action at the other end (they call it an “automatic-feed” pencil). I love this review of it by “malfouka” on Amazon:

I don’t know where these people get off calling this a pencil! A pencil has to be SHARPENED. This so-called “pencil” can’t be sharpened, the “lead” just comes out automatically. I don’t what this world is coming to, first you have computers and now THIS!

5)    And The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon
I want this for the office because I eat cereal for breakfast at my desk (sad, I know) and I hate wasting the disposable paper bowls that the office supplies. Thanks to Nina D’ Lizard for introducing the Uncommon Goods store to me. (Ms. Nina, the summer sale on the site is on, but you probably already knew that!)

If you can, head over to the Uncommon Goods site for other goodies like this awesome Udon Bowl.

Have a curly rest of the week, folks!

Well, now that you’ve probably seen the melee that was our Fourth Of July Lunch (see post below), it’s time to show you my battle scars. Well, battle SCAR. Just one, but it’s a beauty.

It used to be a pretty coral hue (which I heard is the summer’s hottest—pun intended—color trend), but has now mottled into a dull, pink-and-brown-speckled, 2-inch monstrosity on the underside of my left arm. (Sorry for the gross factor!)

In all my years of cooking, I’ve had many mishaps in the kitchen. Case in point: I’ve actually burned my FOOT baking. I know that sounds strange, and it happened because I took out a heated rack from the oven, placed it on the floor thinking I’d be quick about it removing it, wasn’t wearing slippers, and of course, as Murphy dictates, promptly stepped on the hot metal. That wasn’t too bad, but I’d have to say, this recent one is the winner.

And I’m sheepish when I tell people about how I got the burn because it’s pure vanity! I was peeking at the Peach Pie in the oven about halfway through its cooking time, and it was browning beautifully. There I was, crouching in front of the open oven with a stupid grin on my face, saying to myself, “Hello Pie, you are so pretty. You are coming along so…WHOOPS, did I just lean on the inside of the hot oven door?!?”

Yes, I did. Duh.

And did I have burn cream ready for the rescue in a handy spot? Of course not. Never have, but really SHOULD! Or at least have aloe vera in a pot. Because I am, after all, not just a nurse’s daughter, but the daughter of a mom who gardens like it’s a Olympic sport. But well, because my curls make it doubly hard for instructions to seep into my brain, I didn’t have a cream with lidocaine in it that would work, and the closest thing to aloe vera in the house is a mini cactus ornamental plant (which would’ve been a BAD idea).

And so, sighing in resignation (and trying not to cry), I went through the standard list of things I do whenever I burn myself. Depending on the severity, one of these usually does the trick. This past weekend, numbers 1 and 2 worked, but I’m sharing all of them with you, in case you’re also a student of the Guerilla Cooking School: Yes, you have all the pots, pans and utensils imaginable, but you don’t have burn cream ANYWHERE. (But really, you should!)

—–

The Girl With A Curl’s “BURN, BE GONE!” List

1) Run/submerge burn area under very cold water for several minutes.

2) Follow-up with ice pack (or frozen pack of peas, or frozen anything. Yes, I’ve gone the bacon route in times of desperation.)

3) Take an egg from the fridge and break open, spread egg white on burned part (do not listen to the voice in your head screaming “Salmonella! Salmonella!”). This is actually very soothing.

4) Mix baking soda with very cold water and form into a grainy paste, spread on affected area. (Thanks to my Lola Luz, who believed baking soda could cure everything.)

5) If you burn a finger, stick it into a halved cold tomato. (Again, do not listen to the “Salmonella!” screams. For those of you reading this outside the US, we currently have a salmonella scare from fresh tomatoes.)

6) If the area is un-stickable into a tomato, spread toothpaste on it. Aaah, minty fresh!

7) For a large burn area, after cooling it substantially, follow with religious applications of antibiotic cream, Neosporin recommended, to prevent scarring.

—–

I scar easily and will probably have to deal with this for a long time. Which is kind of ok, considering the delightful looks of horror I see on people’s faces when I hold up my arm. And well, the scar has a story to tell; that was the best pie I’ve made in my life. Besides, doesn’t Padma Lakshmi from Top Chef say her scar makes her sexy? Heehee.

Do you have any burn remedies?

It’s been four days since the burn happened, and it isn’t painful anymore, just unbelievably itchy. Like “I-think-evil-caterpillars-from-Hades-are-swarming-it” itchy.

The moral of this post is: In the kitchen, you can crash, but try not to burn. And as my mom always likes to say: “Saaaafe behavioooorrr!”

Take care out there!

Yummy images from a great Fourth Of July weekend with friends.

*Turkey Chili with Golden Buttermilk Cornbread

Chili was slow-cooked over nine hours, in a hearty stew with kidney, black and white beans. I mixed fresh corn into the cornbread and the small pat of butter you see is Honey Butter, made by whipping, well, honey into butter. Ha!

* Eggplant And Zucchini Casserole

A happy mix of these versatile summer vegetables, onions and tomatoes, layered with seasoned bread stuffing and a blend of four Italian cheeses.

* Black-Bottom Cupcakes

Moist chocolate cupcakes, with a creamy surprise in the middle (made from cream cheese and mini choocolate chips).

* Peach Pie

The queen of the entire feast, made with an embellished top crust. I cut out peach shapes with a mini cookie cutter into the dough. I was nervous the entire time! Crust can be so finicky, but this one was everything I hoped it would be: fork-flaky and a perfect complement to the sweet, fruity treat inside.

More pictures of the epic odyssey entitled, “And She Made Crust.” On hindsight, I should have used star shapes because of the holiday! This was served with a dollop of whipped cream, which I prefer to make myself, and a dusting of cinnamon.

All these were consumed with a great big salad and red and white sangria made by other friends. We all went into a food coma after lunch. Whew!

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my love affair with vanilla.

Sugar is my first love. You know the kind: It happens when you’re young and wide-eyed and the world is still sweet. You never forget it. It stays with you for many years, even after other loves, and the experience of having known it’s enough to make you friends for life.

But oh, vanilla.

Vanilla was my first (culinary) affair. I say this because after sugar, which is like an old friend, it was the one other ingredient—with its dark, dangerous, sweet smell—that seduced me into baking bliss.

For many years, all I knew and loved was the imitation vanilla I grew up with back home in the Philippines. It came in a tiny, short necked, amber bottle with what looked like hand-drawn fruit on a paper label on the front. I wonder if it’s still being sold. I remember it being unsophisticatedly thick and gloopy, but I didn’t think it was made of anything but delicious things that grew in lush, exotic forests.

I fell under its spell, the way its fragrance rounded out the flavors of my baked goods. Nothing smelled half as good as a cake baking in the oven after a scented swath of vanilla had been stirred into its batter, and the heat was coaxing the heavenly steam out of it. Later, mouthwateringly warm, a perfect slice of it would whisper that flavor to your taste buds. The flavor will quietly fight for your tongue’s affection alongside the cake’s sweetness, its texture, all the other complex flavors that give the cake its personality. And in the food wars of my mouth, it was the familiar flavor of vanilla that always won.

When I came to the States around five years ago, my baking habits migrated with me. My first trips to the grocery were to pick up big bottles of imitation, generic, store-brand vanilla. I thought I had hit the gold mine. Here, imitation vanilla is smooth, easy to pour and measure. It dropped elegantly in a dark river into my measuring spoon. None of that silly plopping-out-of-the-bottle business, the way imitation vanilla did back home because it was temperamentally thick.

Even more than any of these qualities, the imitation vanilla here…it smelled like dreams.

About a year into baking in the States, I decided to splurge on a small bottle of pure, premium vanilla with my first salary. I bought it at a chef’s supply store and I felt wicked doing so. It was expensive—around $10 for a 4 fl. oz. bottle. I kept it unopened for several months, saving it for a special dessert.

And then my Lola Luz passed away.

Lola had lived with us for all of my life in the Philippines. She was my spinster grandaunt, my favorite feisty old crone (sorry, Lola!) who took care of me all those years when Mama was here in the States. She went to PTA meetings, taught me to use lampunaya (nightshade) leaves for bruises, made sure my school uniforms were pressed. I loved her for taking care of me and, because I was young, hated her for the same. We squabbled about everything because I inherited her feisty gene, from the proper way to hold a crochet needle (like a pencil, not like you’re going to stab someone with it) to the best way to work on fractions (she was a retired teacher and had her old-school ways of solving problems both mathematical and figurative). But for all the arguing we did, I can say she was as organic to my childhood as playing with mud pies, hide-and-seek under a merciless provincial sun, learning how to roller-skate and ballet lessons.

She died a little over a year after I first came to the States. I couldn’t go home for her funeral because I had just started a new job. I was devastated. I wanted so desperately to go home—for closure. I’m the sort of person who needs rituals to bookend events in my life. I was faced with the possibility of never grieving properly, as much as someone like me needed to.

And so, I went through my favorite ritual. Taking out the bottle of premium vanilla from its hiding place in the cupboard, I picked the most complicated recipe in one of my oldest cookbooks and started measuring. And sifting. And beating.

It took me six hours total to bake and decorate that White Chocolate Mousse Cake With Strawberries—my very first made with pure vanilla.

Alone in the kitchen, save for my ingredients and tools, I found a way to grieve my grandaunt’s passing in the best way I knew how: through motions that were so familiar they brought me the kind of quiescence necessary to deal with her death. Not only that, but I discovered how pure vanilla was so remarkably different from the imitation kind, so much that I haven’t looked back since. Just the smell of it—strong, clear and uncompromising—as I opened that bottle was enough to lift that cloud of flour and grieving that hung over my kitchen.

Then, I knew: If imitation vanilla smelled like dreams, the pure kind smelled like waking up.

I smile to myself as I write this now, because those descriptions of how my first bottle of pure vanilla smelled is like painting, with words, a picture of the unique character that was Lola Luz. It’s just like her to come back to me, after all these years, to teach me a lesson. Baking that cake taught me this: Never settle. Be courageous in choosing the pure and the good, in baking as much as in life. Look for, seek out, wait for that one premium, prime ingredient. The real thing, one that makes your guests say, as they bite into the gifts your hands made, “I’ve been asleep all this time, and the waking up is so sweet.”

Here’s wishing you a week full of waking up to sweet, pure, real things.

* Thank you to my brother W. for designing the vanilla pods that started off this post. I owe you cookies, Manong. With real vanilla, of course.

** Here are pictures of that White Chocolate Mousse Cake With Strawberries, which I’ve re-created countless times for many other celebrations (like Bona’s birthday) since that night. And if you’re interested, my favorite brand of vanilla is Nielsen-Massey’s Madagascar Bourbon Pure Vanilla. Costco also sells a Kirkland Signature one that’s easier on the pocket, but still excellent to use.