So, they apparently sell frosting, icing and ganache in TUBS at Costco (a warehouse-type store in the US). They’re unrefrigerated, by the way. What sort of things are in it to keep it edible? This brings out the haughty baker in me! I’m sorry, but I will make my own frosting myself, thank you! Real sugar, real butter, real milk! Hmph!

…to bring you the world’s funniest mom.

J: So, what did you do today?

Mama: Your brother took me to a movie! It was nice.

J: Really? Which one?

Mama: Dungeons and Dragons.

J: Oh, so you saw it at home? Like on the sci-fi channel?

Mama: No, in the theater. Tom Hanks has a weird hairdo in it.

J: Tom Hanks? Did you mean Angels & Demons?

Mama: Oh! (Guffaws.) Hahahahahahaha. Yes. They sound alike, don’t they?

J: Uhm, mother, NO.

LOL. I love my mom.

Shown below from R to L: The Girl With A Curl before her curls took over her head, The World’s Funniest Mother and The Brother Who Took Her To “Dungeons & Dragons!”

Growing up, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with women who all loved to tell stories. I often just sat there, watching and listening (and eating!) as they flitted about stirring pots, kneading dough, shaping candy. The memory of being in the thick of a busy kitchen, the heat from the oven coaxing anything from Gospel truth to gossip from the mouths of those cooks, is one of my most comforting ones.

It was when their hands were busy when my first cooking teachers found time to spin stories about all their greatest culinary exploits. For my grandma, it was when she made mayonnaise from scratch as a new bride. For my grandaunt, it was making seashell shapes from dough with nothing but the back of a fork and an expert flick of the wrist. But in between tales of baking the most tender-crumbed cake and making the best bunuelos were the inevitable kitchen myths. The foreboding ones, told over and over again so that they started taking a life of their own, transforming from fiction into fact.

One of the more ominous ones is from my nanny, who had taken baking courses at a local school in Victorias, the town in the Visayas region of the Philippines where I grew up. Nanay Manet’s favorite cooking story was about the unattainable, lofty ideal that is Angel Food Cake. In the humidity of the province, this cake wasn’t the easiest thing to make. Nanay Manet would recount how she often lost the battle of haranguing meringue into submission, all because of that one teeny tiny speck of egg yolk that found its way into the whites. She’d look at me, narrow her eyes and warn, “One drop. One drop! That’s all it takes to ruin the whoooolllleee thing.” And when you DID get yolk-free whites and WERE successful in whipping them into meringue, you had to fold the flour in quickly, quickly, quickly! But yet gently, gently, gently! All in the upper arm! No wrist, just arm! Or the egg whites may deflate! Nooo! Horrors!

Which is why in my 15+ years of baking, I couldn’t bring myself to make an Angel Food Cake. It seemed larger than life for me to do. It was made of whispery clouds and delicate whorls of sweet stuff—something too divine for even me to cobble together.

I bought a tube pan about five years ago but never used it for its intended purpose. But last weekend, I had to come up with a dessert that would go well with strawberries grown on a local farm. We were celebrating Mother’s Day in Redlands, Calif., at E.’s parents’, and their house is very close to a strawberry farm that sold these huge, sweet berries when they’re in season. Angel Food Cake would be perfect, so it was time to grow up, and grow out, of my eggwhite-ophobia. I HAD to do it.

As I went through the nerve-wracking process of breaking eggs carefully and separating the whites from the yolks, I could hear my heart hammering in my rib cage. I know for some of you this will seem a bit much. But for someone who feels like desserts are an expression of her self, this was a huge, big deal! I wanted everything to be perfect!

I was thinking of Nanay Manet the entire time. Unexpectedly, instead of being hampered by my memories of her cooking myths, I was spurned on by them. Maybe this kind of kitchen confidence comes with age. When I was younger, my movements were more calculated and yet less sure. But that time, with a challenge in front of me, I simply went with my gut, little speck of egg yolk and all.

And this is what happened.

After cooling, I dressed the cake in a fresh strawberry sauce made from equal parts sugar, water and mashed fresh berries cooked until thick. Garnished with some halved white berries that were drizzled with white chocolate, topped off with slivers of fresh lemon rind and little bunches of mint. Happy Mother’s Day, indeed!

I guess I’m waxing poetic about this cake because I’m so proud of myself for making it. More so than usual, since this was a project over 10 years in the making. I had to work up the courage to do it, and finally did. It made me remember what I love most about baking: how it’s part science, part myth and mostly plain old courage.

If there’s that one thing you’ve always wanted to cook or make, grab that wooden spoon, take out those tongs, wield that whisk with confidence and just make it. A little bravery goes a long way!

Here’s the recipe I used, I hope you use it celebrate your mothers and the baker in you.

Mother’s Day Angel Food Cake

1 cup cake flour

1 1/2 cups white sugar

12 egg whites

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 1/2 teaspoons cream of tartar

1/2 teaspoon salt

I expected this package to come later in the week, so when I got it yesterday I was beside myself. See, all these are free! Well, sort of. They were bought with a gift rewards certificate from Amazon, from points accrued over several cookbook etc. etc. purchases. So I kind of feel that they’re free, haha.

The loot:

Sarah’s Key by Tatiana de Rosnay for this month’s book club

Lost In Austen, a TV series from the UK about a modern-day girl who’s transported right into the pages of Pride & Prejudice. Saw 20 minutes of it before sleeping last night and thoroughly enjoyed the costumes, sets and everything being spoken in that accent. (“Mistah Dahhhsee…”)

And best of all, Vickie Howell’s Pop Goes Crochet book!

I love this book, and not just because I’m a fan of Vickie. I like how it takes something as old-school as crochet and places it into the context of present-day craft/art influences. It has really fun crochet projects inspired by icons from popular culture, like this couture scarf channeling Heidi Klum (I know the model’s half-naked, but isn’t the scarf so pretty?)…

…a vintage-y purse that something Dita Von Teese might have in her closet….

…a Marc Jacobs-inspired meanswear jacket…

…and my favorite, a L.A.M.B.-inspired shrug ala Gwen Stefani.

Now don’t ask me when I’ll have the time to make all these. Between reading up on the Holocaust for book club, finding my way around the Bennett household through my new DVD, crafting for two creative swaps and cooking for friends, family and anybody in-between, who knows when I’ll have the time (or hands) to do any other projects! But all in all, it’s really quite ok. My curls and I love this crazy, creative whirl!

Isn’t this Mother’s Day spread just scrumptious? Before you think I did all of this, let me just say right now that I was nowhere in the kitchen when this magical culinary chaos happened. This is all my friend Simeen’s doing. And why am I blogging about it? Because I’m so proud of her!

See, when people saw the food she’d bring to work for lunch, they’d ask, “Did you make that?” And she would say dramatically, “Phst, please people, NO. I’m not J.!” But then, last week, she mentioned she was in placed in charge of Mother’s Day activities for her family. And instead of making reservations…she made dinner! And lovingly so!

The feast you see above included a colorful Cajun Corn Salad, a tangy-savory Salad Olivier (her mom’s awesome recipe), juicy steaks cooked with salt, pepper and garlic and comforting, home-y pasta. That is a Herculean effort, even for me. I heard she started cooking the night before. Proud as she was, she made sure to take pictures to show me. (Don’t you just love the one of her nephew with his face in a cupcake? And those smiles from her beautiful family?)

She said she thought about me the whole time she was cooking. Hearing that made me want to do cartwheels (except I can’t, so I just squealed and hugged her instead.) I just never thought that my own cooking could encourage other people to try it themselves. I don’t consider myself the best cook in the world—that distinction is reserved for my Grandma. I used to think instead of being the best, I was just the bravest cook. But after this weekend, I’m passing the wooden spoon on to Simeen. Her bravery now inspires me.

Beautifully designed poster.

And a trailer that made me cry! (I’m such a sap. Especially for food flicks!)

Its release date is August 7, on the month of my birthday. I can’t wait.

Be back in a few, folks! Just getting caught in the curly crosshairs of life. And what was it that Julia Child said?

“Life itself is the proper binge!”

See you very, very soon.

The word “fond” is French for “bottom” or “base.” In cooking, the term refers to the browned and caramelized bits of meat stuck to the bottom of a skillet after cooking/searing. It serves as the base for many pan sauces. After the meat is removed and the excess fat is poured off, garlic or herbs are cooked in with the fond and a liquid such as stock or wine is poured into the pan for deglazing.

The funny thing is, this term actually has a counterpart in Tagalog. I think it would be “tutong.” In Ilonggo, it would be “kaging!” Haha.

Want to learn how this word is pronounced? Hear it HERE!

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Eat My Words is an once-weekly post on The Girl With A Curl on interesting, obscure terms from the culinary world. From French stewing techniques to Middle Eastern spices, here are curious words from cooking lore to whet the mind’s appetite. Because words are yummy!

See all other Eat My Words posts HERE.