Notes from the Field: To my nephew on his birthday...

"We ate well and cheaply

and drank well and cheaply

and slept warm and well together

and loved each other"

- Ernest Hemingway

To my little cookie monster on his third birthday, 

The older I get, the more I realize that life is far too short and sweet to worry about the little things. What we take out of life truly is what we put into it. You'll figure these things out over time, but in the meantime...

Allow the world around you awaken your senses. Be open with your tastes. Try something new at least once, but don't put yourself in danger. Stay curious and seek truth. Read the classics so that you have something to compare all those new theories with. Indulge yourself, but put your values in the basic necessities. Share what you find with others, and listen to their discoveries. Do this with everyone. I've learned that when you put out enough kindness in the universe, it will come back to you and surprise you when you need it most.  

Let music move you. Revel in it when you ache and let if fill you up until there's nowhere for it to go but out of your dancing limbs. Fly down the Garden State Parkway blasting Bruce Springsteen; search for The Beatles in Liverpool. Keep your eyes open. There's so much to see in this big world of ours, but sometimes the most beautiful things are right under your nose. These are the treasures you can give yourself, experience is of the greatest of riches in life.

Everything, they say, is relative, but we all hurt the same. Feel, but understand when to let go of the feelings. Treat people well, treat yourself the same. Learn to balance these two things well and set boundaries. Know when enough is enough. Not everything was meant to be yours forever; not everyone was meant to be yours forever. On the other hand, when you know it's right, fireproof your relationship and build walls around your fortress to protect it. Cherish it.

Spend time with your family. This is not an issue now, but we're all getting older, so really spend time with them. Learn the stories of your grandparents, learn the lives of your parents. They are your living history. They are why you are here. Have hope, have grace, have faith. These are the things that will help see you through when you are up against yourself. Give to get, mind your manners, and please, sweet thing, love.

Happy birthday little one. To many many more.     

Notes from the Field: On Grace.

Grace.Origin: 1125-75; Middle English, from Anglo-French; Latin gratia favor, charm, thanks, from gratus pleasing, grateful; akin to Sanskrit gṛṇāti he praises.

Thanking the oven gods' good graces(Origin: 1125-75; Middle English, from Anglo-French. Favor or goodwill)that my third batch of cupcakes in a row did not burn. It is endlessly gra·ti·fy·ing(Origin: 1605–15; Giving satisfaction, pleasing)to know that when the heart is aflutter, kitchen results can follow suit.

Times have been a bit trying around these here parts lately, but that doesn't mean that I can allow myself to forget about the important things. 

Showing grat·i·tude(Origin: 1400–50; late Middle English, Medieval Latin grātitūdin. The quality of being grateful or thankful) for the wonderful things and people that one has is a start. Being gra·cious (Origin: 1250-1300; Middle English; Latin: grātiōsus, Characterized by or showing kindness)can give you the gift of knowing that there are things out there much greater than what you currently see. 

Third time's a charm, and I am so very grate·ful (Origin: 1545–55; obsolete grate, pleasing. Warmly or deeply appreciative of kindness or benefits received) that these sweet banana cupcakes with peanut butter and honey buttercream turned out just right. To be honest, there are so many things to be grateful for.


This is a reminder of the times I've acted with grace. This is a reminder to always act with grace.

Case Study 113: "The Easter Nest"

"And all the season of snows and sins; 

The days dividing lover and lover,

The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,

And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins."
 
- Algernon Charles Swinburne 
 

 

A few months ago, my love, amidst an amazingly positive turn of life events, had proclaimed that Easter had come early this year. As we plow through April, my outlook is just so bright, that I now completely know what he meant by it.  

 

This spring has given many gifts so far. In a few months of hard work, I've been given a new awareness about my strengths and limits. Another nephew is arriving soon, and I'm completely consumed by the idea that my family could grow even more full with this new addition of wonder and awe. And honestly, has this not been the most gloriously warm spring? That has been a gift in itself.

 
And so we're celebrating it all with these caramel coconut-y nests, reminiscent of Easter themed Samoas. Vanilla cupcakes in chocolate cookie crusts, topped with melted chocolate, caramel buttercream, toasted coconuts and peanut M&M eggs.

Happy holiday and happy spring. However you celebrate, I hope the season brings you an abundance of newness and life. 

Case Study 112: "The Key Lime Crunch"

Hold up now. Whoever said that March comes in like "lion" and goes out like a "lamb" was surely mistaken.  The golden sunsets I've been watching from high atop my Wall Street office tower every evening have quickly become a memory, as the temperatures plummeted to thirty, and the daffodils are shivering in their stems on this dark and damp day. 

If I haven't made this clear already, I am extremely excited for warm weather. Excited in a way that I've started hiding all of my wool socks and tights and building up my summer skin. Excited in a way that my mind is clouded with daydreams ten o'clock-in-the-morning piña coladas on vacation and my radio is filled with the the likes of UB40 and Inner Circle on irrationally repetitive levels. This dreary weather feels like someone threw has thrown a wrench in the axle of my one-way party bus towards the fairest of solstice, and I do not like one bit at all.

In an effort to remedy this, I decided to take action. And so this evening, tucked in a warm Philadelphia apartment, we'll watch the raddest of 80s and 90s beach movies, and indulge in a Jamaican jerk feast, rum punch and these vanilla cupcakes in a macadamia - graham cracker crust topped with Key Lime buttercream and sugared lime shavings. 
  
Because I am a firm believer that if summer cannot come to me now, I then, must create summer for myself, even if it means dancing to reggae-versions of "Baby, I Love Your Way" in wool socks. 


Summer, I am coming for you!

Case Study 111: "The Luck of the Irish"

 

I will never ever be even the tiniest bit Irish. Today I'm wearing red pants, black heels and a silver sequined top.  And instead of throwing back pints at McSorley's this afternoon, my boyfriend and I will be taking in a film screening somewhere down in Soho. 

But sometimes, everyone, and I mean everyone, could use the luck o' the Irish.  For whatever it means to you, Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Case Study 110: "The Banana Cream Pie"

I come to you on the eighth night of the third month of the two thousand and twelfth year anno domini, exhausted after far too many hard and long work nights, existing only on trail mix,  fluorescent lighting, occasional champagne overloads and filled-up-with-love weekends, standing in a kitchen with bare feet and one spilled glass of Cabernet Sauvignon that hit the floor before my lips, to say that my life right now is utterly bananas.

And so, all I've got for you, to hold you over until God knows when, are these scrumptious little banana cream pie cupcakes.  Because when the going gets tough, you batten down the hatches, top a Nilla wafer crust with banana cake, fill it with vanilla pudding and top it with vanilla buttercream, more wafers and banana slices, and keep moving onward to Friday.   

Here's hoping you've all made it along too.

  

Notes from the Field: Happy Texas Independence Day!

  
As life continues turning out in the most serendipitously magical ways, these sweet little Texan flag cupcakes sort of happened in a both planned and 'by accident' manner. 

But today just so happens to be Texas Independence Day, and I can't think of any better way to celebrate than with some good authentic Texas bbq, a tall strapping seventh generation Texan man and about two-dozen vanilla cupcakes stuffed with pecan-pie filling and topped with a bourbon whiskey buttercream and fondant Lone Star flag. 

So happy 176th year of Independence, Texas.  They say everything is bigger in your state, so tonight we're going to celebrate you in a major way!

 

Case Study 109: "The Mardi Party Cake"

 

  
I was about three days into an all chocolate, coffee and cheese diet this week, tired from long nights at the office and missed dates with the gym, when I realized that all hope of health was not lost.  In fact, it was quite the opposite, as I counted backwards from Easter (just kidding, I consulted Google) and landed on the realization that the end of all my dirty vices is nigh: next Tuesday is Mardi Gras. 

Now one could ask just how in the devil I, lover of all the good dirty vices, could lose such sight of time? Well, this week has gotten away from me, and to be honest, so had the last.  Afterall, the past few weekends have so divinely made up for quiet weekdays of putting my head down and getting stuff done.     

Next Tuesday, not only will I get to commemorate the pending month and a half of penance and almsgiving...but I also get to toast the upcoming twenty-ninth year of one tall, brilliant and very handsome man in my life.  Now, I could party my way out of a paper bag. I could raise a glass at a rain cloud or  light a sparkler on any ordinary Thursday.  But give me two actual and marvelous reasons to celebrate a day, and I'm going all in. 

"The Mardi Party Cake" is a vanilla oreo cupcake topped with cookies and cream buttercream and gummi bears.  When planning my recipe attack, I chose to stick to my cardinal rule of Fat Tuesday baking, which is to make it trashy.  Side note: to somebody who grew up thinking sugar cereal was junk food, there is nothing more trashy than a big fat double stuffed Oreo and some Red Dye #5.  

It's been a good year of decadence, by cookie nights and fleur del sel caramel dreams, but I'm looking forward to finding much solace in my time away from these vices.  And even more so, I am excited to be part of someone special's next trip around the sun.  So go forth my friends, whether in Lenten sacrifice or purple beads, and enjoy your Mardi Gras in the fattest way possible.  If nothing else, it's the perfect excuse to celebrate.   

Case Study 108: "The Chocolate Valentine"

what's wholly
marvellous my

Darling

is that you &
i are more than you

& i(be

ca
us

e It's we)

-ee cummings

 Dark chocolate cupcakes with dark chocolate buttercream and dark chocolate shavings on top.

Happy Valentines Day!

Case Study 107: "The Big Blue"

Dear Dad,

On this Superbowl Sunday, after your big successful sixtieth birthday bash, as your beloved New York Giants get ready to take on the Patriots, I would tell you one more thing...
  

I promise that I will never, ever, do this to you again. 

 

Twenty-one years later, I hope you'll accept my apologies and remember that even though you are a New Yorker through and through, we did spend a few solid years in Maryland, so you might have done this to yourself.  As a token of forgiveness, please accept these chocolate chip cupcakes with vanilla bean buttercream, red sugar coating and a very bright royal blue fondant star. 

To the G-men and beyond, 

Jessica

Notes from the Field: On Sixty Years

"I'm sixty years of age. That's 16 Celsius."

- George Carlin

As a disclaimer, I must say that if there is anybody that supports the phrase "age is but a number," it is my parents.  They have somehow managed to dodge that fateful bullet of aging and get better with time like bottles of wine.  So, I'm still a bit in shock to think that today is my father's 60th birthday.

 

When I was a child, I wanted to grow up to be my father.  Of course at the time, this was based on his ability to work from home, his lengthy list of world traveling and the fact that he still had a full head of dark hair. It wasn't until I grew up and actually landed in the exact same profession as him that it hit home: I would be unbelievably fortunate to find such a fate.  

I could write novels on the places my father traveled alone.  I remember searching for the smell of his cologne and crispness of his suit during the days, the weeks, the months at a time he spent on business in Venezuela, Brussels, Toronto, and India.  The returns were welcomed by our rugby games and swim meets, the nights watching the Yankees, the Saturday trips to fly fish on the Housatonic, and the fall evenings when he picked me up from swim practice with the top down in the convertible, the heat blasting, and Van Morrison's Moondance on the radio.  

Years later, when he started working from home, I thought, who has it better than this guy?  He could play golf and guitar whenever he wants! But he wasn't content to keep it at that.  He embraced his Italian instincts, and took over as head house chef, learning first from recipes, then taking flight on his own culinary adventures.  A martini in one hand, a plated feast in the other, and a cheeky quip on the tip of his tongue, he paints the portrait of a true man of style and grace, with a little kick of inappropriateness.  

My father went to school to be a teacher and came out a businessman.  Sometimes I chuckle at the idea of him teaching something like gym class.  But I don't have to think long and hard to realize that all those educational skills have actually paid off.  He is our greatest coach: in little league and in life. He has been looked to, by colleagues and friends, as the most trusted of mentors, guiding others through their careers not only to find their next move but also discover their truest potentials. And in his greatest role yet, he is a "Pop Pop" - one that doles out important lessons on how to make gorilla monster noises, play guitar and truly experience the beauty of life.

He is the only guy I know that made their child dance the "Hustle" at a Father/Daughter dance; he is the only one that showed up to Catholic School cross country practice in metallic royal blue spandex running tights.  He is the only businessman I've met that had books of his sayings compiled by his colleagues because they were just too good to let go.  He is the only man I know who would nearly put a tool through his hand just to open an oyster on the Cape or put together a baby carriage.  And he is the only man I know that would enthusiastically sing and dance to KC and the Sunshine Band with a handful of sugar packets to entertain his grandson at lunch.  These are some of the reasons we love him.    

My father was the first born son of a Staten Island Ferry boat captain and a saint.  He idolized his uncles, named both of his brothers and received an apple cake by his little Napoletana grandma for his birthday every year.  And so we celebrate his 60th birthday today with family, with friends and with apple pecan cupcakes topped with vanilla bean and nutmeg buttercream.

To my big Dadoo.  You are the first man I ever loved, a beacon of knowing light and the greatest model of a husband, father, grandfather and friend that anyone could ever have.  Happy 60th Birthday.  You are love; you are loved.

Case Study 106: "The Salted Caramel Touch"

"Lady, i will touch you with my mind.
Touch you and touch and touch
until you give
me suddenly a smile,shyly obscene

(lady i will
touch you with my mind.)Touch
you,that is all,

lightly and you utterly will become
with infinite care

the poem which i do not write.” ― E.E. Cummings

 

Valentines Day is less than three weeks away.  

This year, I suggest we do away with all the fluff: the lace heart-toting stuffed animals, the drug store box of chocolates and those baby's breath stifled long stem roses.   Let's do away with the expectations.

You see, to me, what is most sensual is that which evokes the greatest of senses, and clearly I choose the runner-up to the obvious "touch": taste.  

Vanilla bean cupcakes topped with caramel buttercream, drizzled, slowly, with warm caramel and sprinkled with Maldon salt, chilled in the fridge, and ready for indulgence in any manner you prefer.


A little bit salty and a little bit sweet. Just like all the greatest love affairs always are. 

Case Study 105: "The Winter Pecan Pie"

 By this point, it should be of no new surprise to you 
that I really really love whiskey...

...and that I love to bake with it. Specifically, Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey. Even more specifically, Maker's Mark, which is my go-to in the kitchen. And if we're being honest here, nothing pairs better with this good old spirit than pecans. So in an effort to update my standard combination on a snowy winter's evening, I decided I might improve my recipe and go all in.

So I chopped some pecans, and tossed them over the stove with brown sugar, corn starch, egg yolks, bourbon whiskey, sea salt, vanilla and butter. A little stirring and reducing later, I had a damn good pecan pie filling, and it was like Thanksgiving in my kitchen all over again.

Except it's January, so I had to hide the goods.

Brown sugar cupcakes with a bourbon pecan filling topped with a whiskey vanilla bean buttercream. The cake is light and fluffy against the sweet and nutty filling. And that buttercream? It finishes with a boozy kick in the pants every damn time. 

Bake these suckers up and combine them with straight up Manhattans, your lov-ah and a good dose of the bluesy jazz.  What you'll get is romance, shaken or stirred, on a cold winter's night.