It is Spring, May 2, 2013. I am 47 years old, and I live in Garner, North Carolina. My parents live in Indian Trail, North Carolina. We just celebrated Auntie Leenie’s amazing 93 year run on this earth this Tuesday.

Sammy is 14 years old, and we’re not sure how much longer we will have him with us, although he is happy and healthy. We cherish every day we have with him. The rest of the “kids” are four (except for wee, gray, scrappy Lester, who is two).

This morning, I went berry picking with a friend and her twin two-year-old boys. We knelt to pluck ripe strawberries—only the red ones; not green ones, not white ones, not orange ones. We fed carrots to horses named Bacall and Cooper.

I tell you all these things to fix this moment in time, so I remember exactly what I was doing and where I was living and who I was with when The Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan launched. This is the genesis of a project that will take years to complete, and it may not ever be completed.

And that’s okay. It is exciting.

Last night, I baked a very special cake for a very special person. I baked it in the swirly pan. Or rather, I baked it in The Swirly Pan. The Heritage Bundt Swirl Pan by NordicWare. Dorothy. This is but the first of many cakes that Dorothy will shape with her nine magnificent swirls over the course of who knows how many years. Mine are the first set of hands to have made a batter specifically for her.

Now that I have baked my cake, I will make sure that Dorothy is shiny and clean. I will write down my recipe in the journal and pack up Dorothy (and Toto, too) to send to the next pair of hands, to the next heart, to the next member of the Peoplehood.

As I write, we are 186 strong. We live all over the United States and Canada. Dorothy even has a sister pan, Matilda, who will swirl around Australia.

Peoplehood member, graphic designer and soon-to-be bakery owner/operator Suzi designed our logo.

We are a Peoplehood, The Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan, and we will each have our turn to bake in Dorothy and to journal our experience. We will share with each other on twitter, on facebook, on Google +. And yes, there will be a website soon. We will even have a theme song. No, I am not kidding.

Maybe some of us will blog about how it was when it was our turn to bake, our turn to add to Dorothy’s story. Hopefully many of us will meet to hand deliver the pan, to share a cup of coffee or some lunch. Maybe some of us will even bake together.

Through this project, the Peoplehood will be a community united by shared experience, by fun, by food and by sharing.

All of our cakes will be special.  All will have special, magical stories attached to them. When we bake together, even one at a time and with miles and miles between us, we are connected. Each cake will add to the Peoplehood’s Story.

I am overwhelmed by the response that this project has gotten so far. I invite you to join us and to add your own story to the ongoing narrative of the Peoplehood. It is never too late to join; Dorothy will be happy to swirl indefinitely. I see her as a needle who stitches all the Peoplehood together into a beautiful, riotously colorful quilt, one unique patch at a time.

And my special cake? The one that I baked last night? I will mail it to my friend in New England, because she is a gem, and her hands made for a group of us what our own hands could not so that we could show yet another friend how much we love her.

Here is my special cake; I’m sharing it with you so you can make one too.

Please, if you would like to join the Adventures of Dorothy and Toto through the Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan, fill out this form on the Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan website and I’ll make sure you’re on the map.

I look forward to the Voyage.

If you’re already in the Peoplehood or are seriously thinking about joining, please leave a comment. I’d love to hear what you think of the project so far. I’m open to questions, suggestions and even an Attagirl or two!

Thanks for reading, and have a lovely day.

Then yesterday, I went to a Big Girl Meetup in North Raleigh at the Earth Fare grocery store. They have a meeting room; we didn’t just hang out in the chip aisle or anything. Anyway, after the meeting, I checked out their beer selection. It was excellent. I felt like Robin Williams’s character in Moscow on the Hudson discovering the coffee aisle for the first time.

I’m sure the people who saw me were Perplexed by my behavior. I’d grab a Likely Selection, put it in my basket and keep looking. Then, I’d grab a different one, put the first one back and keep looking. Then, I grabbed two of one, put the second one back and kept looking. Finally, I put one of the two back and grabbed a different bottle. The reason I was so indecisive is that I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to make.

I knew I wanted to make a stout cake, but as far as the topping/icing/glaze? I had no idea. So, as I shopped, an idea grew into a math problem: Young’s Double Chocolate Stout + Breckenridge Vanilla Porter = Double Chocolate Stout Cake with Vanilla Porter Toffee

Perfect!

And I’m here to tell you that it Kind of Was. Perfect. The cake bakes up beautifully in the swirly pan without any adjustments whatsoever. The toffee I pretty much just winged, because I’m Like That. It is so good that it deserves to be made into a chocolate-dipped candy. I’ll do that at some point. But for now, let me present to you my entry for #BeerMonthBloggers! Happy Beer Month, all!

Please check out the other fabulous #BeerMonthBloggers headed up by the Intrepid Sophia from NY Foodgasm.

• Porter Chocolate Mousse (yes, please!) from Croque Camille.
• Beer Cheese Soup (oh, my) from Hall Nesting.
• Bluepoint Blueberry Muffins (and Fat Free?! Are you kidding me?!) from NY Foodgasm
• Whiskey, Guinness, Bailey’s Oh My Bundt Cake (Yowza) also from Hall Nesting.
• Root Beer Float Cupcakes (cute and awesome!) from Jessiker Bakes
• Torpedo IPA Cupcakes (!!) from Alex Tries it Out

And there you have it, friends. Whatever you do, please eat beer cake responsibly.

Thanks for reading, and have a lovely day.

When I was about seven or eight, I went for a bike ride in our neighborhood with my dad. I rode my younger brother’s bike which was tomato orange, built like a ten speed but with coaster breaks and no gears.

Our neighborhood was a good sledding neighborhood, with gentle to not quite so gentle hills. My dad told me, “Whatever happens, keep pedaling. If you feel yourself losing your balance, just keep pedaling.” In retrospect, this was not the best advice I’ve ever received.

We set out, getting started on the relatively flat Yorktowne Dr, turning left to go up the Sledding hill on Queensberry and then making a right past John Brooks’s house to tackle the down-the-hill-up-the-hill combo on Foxworth.

And that’s when it happened. I had been repeating “keep pedaling” to myself like a mantra, and my little legs vainly attempted to keep up with the whickering pedals. Until they didn’t. Once I began to wobble, it was all over. Face, shoulder, hip, leg met and slid along the rough pavement.

I can remember sitting up and looking around after the accident, and everything seemed somehow unreal, surreal. Like I was no longer in my neighborhood but in a replica of our neighborhood built on a sound stage somewhere.

In 1996, The Beloved and I were hanging out in the living room of the duplex I was renting at the time. He still lived in Florida and had come up to spend some time with me.  The phone rang, and I answered it. It was my father, and he said three words to me. “Greg has leukemia,” to which I responded, “Fuck!” I managed to hang on as he said some other words that I couldn’t hear, and as soon as the call ended, I began crying in a way that I had never cried before. My very soul was sobbing, and I could not catch my breath.

When I finally calmed down enough to say what was happening, I felt an otherness. A life-will-never-be-the-same-ness. At that point, I who had never expected the worst, who had always been positive and upbeat, for better or worse internalized the harsh lesson that begins “Just when you least expect it…” Who I was even as I answered the phone and who I was in the next second were two very different people.

Page break.

Two and a half years to the day from that phone call, I made a series of phone calls from the phone at the nurse’s station, letting family, church friends and loved ones know that Greg was gone. Even as I spoke the words, over and over, to people who didn’t know him nearly as well as I did, I felt somewhat removed. I guess I had to be to keep saying words that we had all been adamantly denying we would ever have to say.

I felt like an actor. Like someone reciting a monologue. As my mouth spoke the words, part of my brain was holding the cue cards while another part was standing back saying, “Wait. What is she saying?” You have to set part of yourself aside to make phone calls like that.

I remember calling to tell my boss that “Things were winding down.” That meant that machines had been turned off, and all that was left was goodbye and a long rest of my life as an only child.

Green Day was Greg’s favorite band. This song always reminds me of him.

On September 11, 2001, as I drove west down state road 50 through the heart of Orlando, Florida, I listened to an opinion piece on NPR by a humorist who was gently making fun of President Bush’s accent. She kept mentioning “Bush and his friend Puddin’.” That’s Vladimir Puddin’ to you and me. I remember giggling as I drove through the predawn darkness.

As we were walking our classes to specials, this is the first news I heard, courtesy of a friend’s whisper. “They have flown planes into the twin towers and now they are bombing  the White House.”

Since we taught at an elementary school and some of our kids were as young as three, we didn’t stay glued to the television like many middle and high schools did. We didn’t turn on any televisions at all, attempting to give the kids a completely normal day, even as a nation’s normal was irrevocably changed.

Page break.

At lunch, we took turns going out to our cars to listen to the news and report back to the other teachers.. I was listening when the second tower fell. I can remember walking back to our trailer after lunch and feeling as if I had a target on my back. We lived in the vacation capital of the country. Would Disney be next?

I didn’t experience the trauma first hand as so many in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania did. But as an American, I was rocked to my core. It was almost impossible to believe what had happened. We are so used movie magicians painting pictures of devastation framed by our magic screens. The excessive Michael Bay slow-motion explosion. The grand, balletic Tarantino bloodbath. The operatic Spielburg slaughter on the sands of Normandy.

When scenes of devastation, anguish and terror bleed past our screens and into our lives, they affect us. They change us. They change us all.

Thank God for helpers.

We have recently begun watching some BBC series on Netflix. MI-5 is an action drama about a group of FBI-type agents charged with keeping England safe from domestic and international Bad Guys.

We have watched British comedies aplenty. They are generally randy and raucous and rude and rollicking. But this was the first long-running dramatic series we’ve ever tuned into.

As an American, I like my happy endings. I like my main characters to come a hair’s breadth away from death on multiple occasions only to live to star another day. I don’t even mind the fact that I give an eye roll now and then along with a “There’s no way s/he would have survived that!” I want the actors who starred in the pilot to take a collective bow at the finale.

That’s apparently not how British television works.

The first of many summary offings occurred thusly.

Tom and young blonde agent, posing as a young married couple, get found out and are cornered by a Very Bad Man in the back of a restaurant.  Very Bad Man grabs young blonde agent and screeches as Tom to tell him what he knows. Tom says nothing. I expect the cavalry to ride in at any moment.

Very Bad Man plunges young blonde agent’s right hand into a deep fryer full of boiling oil. I expect the cavalry to ride in at any moment and hope that she is left-handed, assuming she will be relegated to desk duty.

Very Bad Man grabs young blonde agent by the hair and screeches at Tom to tell him what he knows. Tom says nothing. Very Bad Man plunges young blonde agent’s head into the boiling oil. I expect the cavalry to come riding in and hope that the burn unit is ready. And then, Very Bad Man shoots egregiously burned young blonde agent in the head, thus making the cavalry, when they did eventually arrive, too damned late.

Obviously, the cavalry is not big in British television.

As I was working on Monday afternoon, April 15, I checked yahoo as I do throughout the day and I saw a small yellow banner that shared some breaking news about explosions happening at the Boston Marathon. I assumed it was an accident, hoped that people were okay and then went back to work.

Awhile later, I checked again. And then again a bit later. I started reading words like “dismemberment,” “bombs,” “pressure cookers,” and “ball bearings.” I saw a photograph of a man whose legs appeared to stop just below the knee. Wait. What?

I felt like I was no longer in my country but in a replica of our country built on a sound stage somewhere.

Then I read the stories of the people who helped. Thank God for Mr. Rogers and his admonishment that we look for the helpers. Thank God for American television that is structured in such a way to allow us to remain hopeful in the face of grim circumstances.

I read a firsthand story on facebook from a girl who had not finished the race as she was still a few miles off when the bombs exploded. A man who had finished the race earlier gave her his Heatsheet and his medal.

The world snapped back into focus. My world. Our world.

We are all changed by our experiences. Our thoughts, feelings and attitudes are informed by both nature and nurture. Years ago, I very nearly succumbed to the worst case scenario disease. But I have been fighting back ever since, reaffirming to myself that there is good. That it outweighs the bad. That in looking for the good, we are more apt to find it, both in ourselves and in others.

Through all the page breaks in our lives as individuals and as a nation, we become who we are.

I have no answers. Like most Americans, I am still processing. Still trying to reconcile what I now know to what I knew. I mourn the loss of life, the horrific injuries, the shock and trauma to witnesses.

I am grateful for the helpers. For people who approach rather than flee. For people who think more of others than of themselves.

I believe that there are more helpers in this world than those who would do us harm. While the bombings at the Boston Marathon are another page break in the story of America and Americans, I know that we are not defined by tragedy but by our reaction to tragedy. Right now, that is all I know. I hope it is enough.

Here’s how it will work:

1. Sign up to participate by filling out this form on the Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan website.
2. I will put you in the schedule so that hopefully nobody will have to send the pan too far to keep shipping costs down.
3. When you get the pan (and accompanying journal), bake something amazing in it. You can then blog about it if you have a blog. Take pictures and post them to the Pastry Chef Online fan page or over on Google+. Use the journal to record your recipe and write any message that you’d like. Scan your journal entry so that we can read it, too!
   
4. Send the pan to the next person on the list, and email me when you’ve shipped so I can alert the next person.
5. Like the Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan facebook page (so you’ll be able to meet everyone else).
6. Follow @SwirlyPan on twitter!
7. Circle the Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan on G+, and ask to join the private Google Plus Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan Community.
8. Hover eagerly around the Peoplehood website and explore all the features, such as the Peoplehood Tracker and the Peoplehood Roll Call.

And that’s it. But it can also be so much more. We can have Google + Hangouts on Air to show people our creations. We can tweet with the hashtag #SwirlyPan. At the end, we can even compile all the recipes into a cookbook for all the participants. If you live close enough to hand deliver the swirly pan to the next person on the list, please do it. I love the idea that one swirly pan can bring so many people together virtually and sometimes literally.

Since I don’t want shipping costs to be an issue for anybody, this particular Peoplehood is open only to US and Canadian residents. If you live in another country and want to start your own Peoplehood, please let me know and we can coordinate our efforts!

I floated this idea out on the Pastry Chef Online fan page and Google+ a couple of days ago, and there are already 60 people signed up! Update as of May 7, 2013: we are currently 210 people strong in the US and Canada! This is an ongoing project, so please sign up whenever you can. I will make sure that you know who is sending you the pan and  who you’ll be sending it to, along with their email addresses for Coordination!

Please, even if you leave a comment on this post expressing interest (which I would love), also fill out the form on the site so I’ll have all your info in one place.

If you are worried about participating because you don’t have a blog, stop worrying. You absolutely do not have to be a blogger to be in the Peoplehood. Everyone is welcome.  If you are a blogger, I’ll probably set up a linky or a special page at my place where I’ll link to your post. Update: We now have a site, so I will add your blog to the Peoplehood Roll Call. Even if you are a blogger, blogging about this is not mandatory. I ask only that you write in the journal, post some pictures and bake something that you will love.

Australian friends, there’s a Peoplehood there, too, headed up by Rachel of The Untamed Cook. Here’s her post about the Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan, Down Under edition!

It looks like there will soon be a Filipino Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan as well. I’ll update with that information when it happens.

So, who’s in? Who is ready to be a part of The Peoplehood of the Traveling Swirly Pan?!

My dessert “grilled cheese:” stewed Fuji apples and applesauce over broiled vanilla cream cheese on a pancake with apple syrup and chopped spicy caramelized honey walnuts

I have always been very uncomfortable eating alone in public. I feel awkward and ungainly, like everyone is looking at me and wondering why I couldn’t find anyone else to eat with.  I can feel my face start to burn, and the back of my neck gets prickly. I generally end up spilling some ketchup or grease down the front of my shirt as well, instantly turning whatever moderately pleasant ensemble I’m wearing into a Badge of Shame and Clumsiness.

Maybe my discomfort comes from eating in school cafeterias where the Lone Diner was always a target.  I usually ate with a small group of Cafeteria Friends, but I could see what befell the folks who ate alone.

48 oz of apple juice reduced on the stove to 7.5 oz. Pure, simple and intensely apple-y.

After I graduated from college and was living on my own, I decided to face this borderline phobia of Single Dining head on. Sort of. I went to the mall to eat. Not at the food court, though. I don’t think there even was a food court at that mall back then. Anyway, I went to the Woolworth Drug Store. They had an attached diner called Harvest House Cafeteria that you could enter either through the store or from the mall. I entered via the store and sat down at a table in the corner after considering and then discarding the idea of sitting at the counter on a maroon pleather-covered chrome swivel stool.

I had come armed with a book, reasoning that eating and reading alone is Less Awkward than just plain eating alone.

Fuji applesauce: unpeeled Fuji apples, salt and baking spice, cooked down and run through a food mill. I also reduced the cooking juices to a syrup and added them back in at the end. I stirred some of this sauce together with the stewed apples for the tartine.

I ordered The Harvest House Grilled Cheese Sandwich. It was assembled from American cheese on thick-ish white bread cut on the diagonal and was served with a pickle spear and fries. The time between my ordering and when my be-aproned waitress swooshed it to me from the large brown cork-bottomed tray she carried seemed an eternity. But I doggedly kept my nose in my book, taking the occasional sip from my Coca Cola and trying to appear Nonchalant while attempting to ignore the prickling at the back of my neck.

I cut the pancake with a cutter so it would be perfectly round. The vanilla cream cheese is just softened cream cheese, powdered sugar, a pinch of salt and vanilla. I piped this onto the pancake and broiled it until the cream cheese was lightly browned. I stewed the apples in a bit of apple juice, honey, butter, salt and baking spice.

The grilled cheese sandwich from Harvest House attached to the Woolworth Drug Store was a miracle of contrasts.  A thin layer of deeply golden brown crispiness—uniform from crust to crust on both sides of the sandwich—gave way to a bit of chew in the bread and then the oozing, mellow smoothness of the cheese, and it tasted like salvation. My book was just a prop, the sandwich was the reason. Eating it, in all its warm, comforting glory justified my being in that restaurant. It gave me something to do. A task. With the book, I probably read the same sentence over and over again. With the sandwich, I couldn’t repeat the same bite, so I marched my way through every crisp, buttery mouthful until all that was left to do was lick my fingers.

Walnut halves cooked in a skillet with honey, a touch of butter, salt and cayenne until the honey was thick and caramelized. Let cool on Silpat and then chop. Or leave whole as a treat.

If grilled cheese hadn’t been my comfort food before my pilgrimage to Harvest House, it certainly was from that moment on. I even seasoned a new cast iron skillet—my very first—by making a grilled cheese sandwich every day until the pan was black and slick. I highly recommend this course of action.

The drizzle of apple syrup brings the whole dish together.

To all of you who enjoy dining alone, I salute you. Know that, if I see you eating alone at a restaurant, diner or food truck, I’m looking at you with admiration, not with contempt.

Happy Grilled Cheese Month to you all, and thank you so much for spending some time with me today.

You may have noticed that there is no official recipe for this dish. You will find descriptions of how I made the different components in the photo captions, so I leave it to you to make your own or to put your own spin on it. Enjoy, and remember: #Fearlessin2013.

This is the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is the honey that wakened the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is the milk that combined with the honey that wakened the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is the flour, all powdered and white that formed the gluten when combined with the milk that mixed with the honey that wakened the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is the oil, golden and pure that anointed the flour all powdered and white that formed the gluten when combined with the milk that mixed with the honey that wakened the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is the salt, briny and sharp that seasoned the oil, golden and pure that anointed the flour all powdered and white that formed the gluten when combined with the milk that mixed with the honey that wakened the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is the stone, all seasoned and worn that supported the salt, briny and sharp that seasoned the oil, golden and pure that anointed the flour all powdered and white that formed the gluten when combined with the milk that mixed with the honey that wakened the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is the oven, warm and waiting, that heated the stone all seasoned and worn that supported the salt, briny and sharp that seasoned the oil, golden and pure that anointed the flour all powdered and white that formed the gluten when combined with the milk that mixed with the honey that wakened the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is the church that receives the bread from the oven, warm and waiting that heated the stone all seasoned and worn that supported the salt, briny and sharp that seasoned the oil, golden and pure that anointed the flour all powdered and white that formed the gluten when combined with the milk that mixed with the honey that wakened the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is my friend whose flock is the church that receives the bread from the oven, warm and waiting that heated the stone all seasoned and worn that supported the salt, briny and sharp that seasoned the oil, golden and pure that anointed the flour all powdered and white that formed the gluten when combined with the milk that mixed with the honey that wakened the yeast that raised the bread that I kneaded and made for communion.

This is the bread that I made for communion.

Fun Fact: I found that bread recipe through a search for Milk and Honey Bread, and lo and behold, it is the lovely Kristen Wogan Doyle’s recipe. She wrote it in her pre-Dine&Dish days. How fun is that? Thanks, Kristen!

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day.

Oh, swirly pan, you make such a festive-looking cake!

Friends, it’s true. I love you. I love knowing that there is a group of people Out There who read what I write, who try (and succeed with) some of my recipe suggestions, who are inspired to make new foods and attempt new-to-them techniques.

Espresso Spice? Very nice!

If it weren’t for you, clicking on the Publish button would be the electronic equivalent of dropping pebbles down into a well. Because of you though, publishing a post feels more like starting—or continuing—a conversation.

Thank you for that.

To show just the merest fraction of my appreciation for you, I am giving away my new favorite pan. Not mine, of course. That I’m keeping. But my winner will receive a brand new NordicWare Heritage Bundt Swirl Pan.

I have not called up the NordicWare folks, or any other folks for that matter, and asked them to donate a pan for me to give away. No. Whoever wins, I’m buying it for you. As a gift.

Perhaps a lemon pound cake…?

The Swirly Pan holds 10 cups of batter. My Van Halen Pound Cake recipe requires a 12 cup pan. So, since I’ve been baking in the swirly pan, not only am I rewarded with an absolutely gorgeous cake, but I also get an extra small cake just for me.  Now, you can be the one with the extra small cake.

This giveaway is now closed.

Who Can Enter
Anyone who lives anywhere in the world, as long as Amazon Global will deliver to your country. If you care enough to read and participate, I care enough to cover your shipping. If there are any charges on your end, I’m afraid they’ll be up to you to pay, though. Here is Amazon’s Customs, Duties and Tax Policy.

How to Enter–Now, Wednesday April 3, 2013 through Sunday, April 14, 2013 at 7pm Eastern Time

• Just leave a comment here stating a)what you enjoy about the site or the fan page or the baking demonstrations or whatever, b)what you’d like to see/read/learn going forward, and then tell me c)what cake you’re going to make to break in your new pan.  This is a part of the entry, so if you just leave a comment saying “pick me” or “I like cake,” it won’t count. Please make sure there is a valid email address associated with your commenting profile. If you’re not sure, please leave your email address in your comment.

For extra chances to win–completely optional:

• Donate any amount to my fundraiser for Johnston County Animal Protection League (there’s a donation widget in the sidebar under the newsletter subscription as well as another at the very bottom of each page).
  • Please email me at onlinepastrychef at yahoo dot com to let me know that you donated.
  • For each $5 you donate, you’ll get another entry, so if you donate $20, you’ll get 4 extra entries. None of this money goes to me. The fundraiser page is connected directly to the JCAPL PayPal account, and all monies go directly to them.

And that’s it.

Thank you again so very much for reading, for commenting, for participating here and on facebook, Google+ and wherever else I pop up.

Best of luck in the giveaway!

French is the language of late night romantic whispers. English is the language of yelled conversations over the ambient din of a Starbucks.

Observe:

So far, my Thesis holds. Except for that whole cat tongue thing. At least it sounds better in French. And then, along come the Doigts de Dames. Digits of Dames. Fingers of Ladies. Lady Fingers.

I mean, seriously French people. It’s cute to liken wee poufs of crisp dough to tiny cabbages. But to liken finger-shaped sponge cake to actual fingers? I cry Foul and Foul again. And even in French, the name hardly rolls off the tongue: Doigts de Dames. Too many stop consonants. Blech.

But I find myself ranting, and you’re not really here for that, are you?

Alright, let’s put the Unfortunate Moniker aside and get down to Brass Tacks, shall we?

I did a lady finger/tiramisu demonstration on Google + last evening. I’ve embedded it here for your Viewing Pleasure, and afterwards you’ll find a General Roundup of what we covered as well as the recipes for the sponge and the mascarpone cream.

A lady finger is nothing more than a sponge cake batter piped into a finger shape. So, while their shape may set them apart, their ingredient list does not.

To build a lady finger, you need 3 basic items plus some flavorings: eggs (separated), sugar and flour.

The procedure is fairly straightforward:

1. Whip your yolks with some of the sugar until Crazily thick.
2. Whip the whites with the rest of the sugar to medium peaks.
3. Sift flour over both, gently but thoroughly fold together.
4. Pipe/spread and bake.
5. The End.

What you’ll end up with is a very light, airy, dry little cake. And that by itself does not seem like a Worthy Achievement. Until you bring some added moisture to the party. Booze, simple syrup, coffee, fruit juice—whatever sounds good. Liberally sprinkle/brush/spray your sponge with the liquid so it soaks it all up. You want it moistened all the way through but not dripping.

And then, you can do whatever you want to with it.

Technically, you should probably figure out what you want to do with it before you start dipping it in syrup or splashing it with booze.

Tiramisu, that Italian “pick me up,” is arguably one of the best-known uses for lady fingers. And what’s not to love? Airy sponge cake dipped in espresso and layered with rich mascarpone cream, maybe some grated chocolate and some cocoa powder? Pretty darn delicious.

If you’re leery of ingesting raw eggs, you might want to skip the classic mascarpone cream and make this version instead. It doesn’t have any yolks in it at all but is plenty rich and flavorful without them.

Now that you have lady fingers (or sponge cake) and some mascarpone cream, why not whip up a Tiramisu-type dessert? Or throw caution to the wind and make something else yummy. Remember, it doesn’t have to be traditional to be tasty.

My motto for this year is #Fearlessin2013, and I hope to share some of that with you guys. Thanks for hanging out, and have a lovely day.

And now guess what? Sophia of NY Foodgasm asked me to join her and a group of other fun bloggers to celebrate Beer Month in April! Funnest!

I’m pretty sure it was Ye Olde Stout Cake that got me invited to participate. Thanks, stout cake!

So here’s how it works. Everyone is introducing beer week today, April 1. And then, on either April 12, April 26 (or both, if we are feeling Super Intrepid), we’ll be posting recipes featuring beer. Nice! I of course will try to cover the Sweet Side of Beer, although I am looking forward to seeing how the other bloggers incorporate beer into savories.

Here’s the line up of Intrepid Beer Month Bloggers:

Sophia of NY Foodgasm

Jessica of Jessiker Bakes

Minerva of Much Ado About Fooding

Lauren of Hall Nesting

Alex of Alex Tries It Out

Cathi of The Brooklyn Ragazza

and Moi, of Pastry Chef Online

Please do stop in and say Howdy to these wonderful folks who are all working hard to bring you Beer Month Goodness!

I am really looking forward to getting to know these ladies better and to having some fun in the kitchen with beer!

Do you guys ever cook or bake with beer? If anyone feels like tossing down a Beer Gauntlet and challenging me to come up with something in particular, let me know.

Thanks so much for spending a bit of time here today. Have a lovely day.

And while I could wish that the symbol was a nice broad circle so I could use icing with abandon, it is just not so.

Still, I rather enjoy a sweet bread, so rather than appearing irreverent by completely frosting my hot cross buns, I decided to sweeten them up in other ways.

I had been searching for a likely recipe with which to tinker, and I came across this recipe for Hot Cross Buns, New England Style from Gesine from G Bakes! and shared by the lovely Red Star Yeast folks on their facebook page. Maple and cranberry? And turbinado sugar? Yes, please.

I made a few changes to the recipe, most notably subbing cream cheese for half of the butter called for. I find that shoving some cream cheese in a yeast dough imparts a rich, mellowness that is quite nice, especially if rich mellowness is your thing.

Since this dough has a relatively high sugar and fat content—both tenderizers that inhibit gluten formation—it is by no means a chewy bread. I gave my guys two rises, one relatively short (about 45 minutes) and another about 1.5 hours. The resulting buns were almost cake-like in texture.

For a more bread-like, brioche-type dough, giving the dough an initial long rise and then wrapping and refrigerating overnight before shaping and giving it another long rise will result in a much more “feathery” crumb. Either way, I highly recommend these.

The buns are quite sweet, so if you want to cut down some on the sugar, feel free. I, however, am a Fan just the way they are.

I do hope these buns bring a bit of extra sweetness to your Easter table. After Easter is over, feel free to make these into whatever shape you want and glaze the whole roll, too.

Take care, and thank you so much for spending some time here today.

Have a lovely day.