Fat Girl Gone Thin

I’m not sure what it is that makes neurotic animals cute but neurotic people annoying.

Case in point: My mother’s cocker spaniel, Katie, has what can only be clinically defined as a “licking issue.” Often after a long nap, or simply while sitting on the couch, she will begin to lick the roof of her mouth, while simultaneously lifting her head, in an effort to remove some unforeseen food particle or perhaps merely to draw attention to herself.

This will continue for ten or fifteen minutes, at which point she will fall back asleep – only to wake up and begin the roof-of-mouth licking again.

In an effort to characterize this obsessive behavior, I have taken to calling this the “peanut butter syndrome” in relation to the human tongue-thrusting movement that often occurs after one has over-filled their PB sandwich and mouth-to-tongue gluing action has resulted.

This, of course, is not Katie’s only special attribute, as she is also prone to stealing socks from the laundry then running around the house, tossing them in the air with her nose, then pouncing on them like a cheetah. She also likes to wiggle across the carpet like a worm.

But because she is a dog, this is cute. Not weird.

Needless to say, when I decided to make a chocolate cake for my grandfather this weekend, and decided to use a peanut butter frosting, the result made me think of Katie and name this item the Rooftop Peanut Butter Cake.

In order to add some dramatic flare, I used four 6-inch cake pans to make this – with the result of a petite-sized high stacked cake. For some crunch, and the salty-sweet mix, I added crushed peanuts to the edges and drizzled chocolate down the sides.

Making the Cake:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 cups white sugar
• 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 eggs
• 1 cup cold coffee
• 1 cup milk
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil
• 2 teaspoons vinegar

Preheat oven to 350°.

Combine the flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Add the eggs, coffee, milk, oil and vinegar. Mix until smooth and creamy. Pour into four 6-inch pans (make sure these are greased heavily).

Bake about 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

The Frosting:

• 1 cup peanut butter (crunchy kind is the best)
• 1 cup powdered sugar
• 1/3 cup half-and-half
• 4 tablespoons of soft butter

Cream all ingredients together in your mixer and set aside. Keep at room temperature.

Putting it all together:

When the cakes have finished cooking, remove them from the pans and wrap in plastic wrap. Pop them in the freezer for two hours. When the cakes are almost completely frozen, remove them from the freezer and take off the plastic wrap. Place paper towels on the four corners of your cake plate and set one of the cakes in the center, making sure that no part of the plate is showing on the bottom (you will pull these sheets out after you have frosted the cake and added the peanuts, so you don’t have to worry about making a mess).

Place a large scoop of frosting in the center of the first cake and use a knife to spread it evenly across the top. Add another cake and repeat the process till all four cakes have been stacked. Now begin to SLOWLY spread the frosting over the top and sides of the cake tower. Because the cakes are partially frozen, you don’t have to worry about them crumbling as easily, but still be gentle. Don’t worry about appearances though, the peanuts will cover all of that up.

Using a rolling pin or food processor, crush a 12-oz. can of salted cocktail peanuts. Press these into the side and top of the cake, using your hand to press them firmly into the frosting so that they take hold.

Using a double boiler or a bowl over the top of a pan of simmering water, melt 1/2 cup of dark chocolate chips. When melted, pour the chocolate into a sandwich-size Ziploc bag and use scissors to cut one corner of the bag. Make sure to keep this cut small. Gently tip the cake to the side and drizzle the chocolate down the sides, going in a circle, until you have gone around the cake.

Allow another hour for the cake to defrost completely – then serve it up with a big ‘ole glass of milk. Enjoy!

There is a coffee company near my house, Batdorf & Bronson. The place is as iconic as the city itself in many ways – like the fish throwers at Pike Place Market – anybody who’s worth their snuff in these parts has been to this place.

Outside their orginal cafe, affixed to the windows, is an image of a dancing goat. Easily two feet tall, the picture is a throw back to the company’s roasting division which goes by the name (you guessed it) Dancing Goats.

Why goats? And more importantly, why are they dancing? Good question. Millions of people drink cup after cup of coffee each day and I would venture to guess that all but a handful are unaware of the origin of coffee – a.k.a. the legend of the dancing goats.

Coffee has been around for nearly 900 years now. It was first brewed in open pits with crushed beans and boiling water in the area that is now Ethiopia. In the high mountain regions, a goat herder by the name of Kaldi discovered that his wandering animals had returned from the fields with an extra spring in their step. When Kaldi searched the area he found his herd feasting on red berries from a patch of bushes and gathered some for himself to try. Later, he dried and ground the berries and made a tea of sorts. The result was the first cup of coffee … and presumably, the first recorded caffeine high.

Now you know about the goats, but are wondering why are they wearing grass skirts -right?

The answer to that has to do with pizza. Confused yet? Hehe, I’m getting there.

Something about the idea of Hawaiian pizza being Hawaiian simply because it has pineapple on it has always struck me as funny. Same with those yummy little chocolate covered macadamia nut things. If you go to Hawaii, people always ask you to bring those back, like you can’t go to Walgreens and buy a box yourself there. Something about the macadamia nut and the pineapple seems exotic to people.

So when the urge for a strong cup of coffee and a cookie hit me in the late hours last night, I decided to pull out some coconut, macadamia nuts, dried mango, almaretto and make biscotti instead. Then I decided to call it Hawaiian biscotti because it seemed like the appropriate cliche at the moment.

This is why I should not be left alone in the kitchen. With a coconut. And Jimmy Buffett CDs.

Anywho, I threw the basic of the thing together -the flour, butter, egg stuffs – then went to town with every Hawaiian-inspired ingredient I could think of along with some white chocolate chips … because those just sounded good.

The result was a lightly sweet, entirely delicious biscottini* (that means oops, I made the biscotti too short so I changed the name to something small and cute sounding).

I hope you will enjoy them as much as I did along with a fresh cup of java. The recipe is over in the sidebar.

There was a recipe that ran in the New York Times in the mid-1880s. It was for a recipe known simply as Chocolate Caramel.

“Take of grated chocolate, milk, molasses and sugar, each one cupful, and piece of butter the size of an egg …”

Hardly New York Times material these days, but at the time the recipe was a novelty. Like a 21st century duck confit, the use of chocolate in this dish was something that the ordinary housewife would have made a special trip to the store for – perhaps even ordered specially from the grocer.

Fast forward a century or two and the presence of chocolate has become a mainstay in our daily diet (well, at least in mine). Valentine’s Day, Halloween, Christmas. Take a trip to Costco this week and you can find an isle devoted entirely to chocolate – five pound heart-shaped boxes of the stuff to be exact.

Like a metaphor for love itself, chocolate is both bitter and sweet. And for me, when I want it sweet, I want it artificially-flavored mouth numbingly sweet and when I want it dark, I want it as bitter as an unripened lemon.

Tonight I will be attending a fundraising dinner for the Chamber of Commerce in my hometown. As with most small towns, Friday night gatherings are more like family reunions and the food plays second-fiddle to the people. Conversation will be hearty, pictures of children and grandchildren will surely emerge from many purses and most of all a sense of community will be fostered during an economic time when extra shoulders need to be leaned on.

Everyone was asked to bring a treat for the bake sale table in hopes that enough money will be raised to replace the city’s aging Christmas decorations – and with Cupid’s big day just hours away, it seemed only fitting to break out the chocolate and the red food dye.

Something about this holiday causes a gravitational shift in the universe that seems to draw Hershey’s Kisses to my mouth like a chain-smoking European, so it seemed only right to make sure whatever I made had a heavy dose of cocoa.

You can find the recipe for the brownie topped velvet cupcakes with buttercream frosting to the right under the recipe section. I hope it makes your Valentine’s day as sugar-induced as mine.

Sometimes at the end of a horrible no-good very bad day it helps to come home, throw down your briefcase and start things over (preferably with a glass of wine).  Sometimes this means pretending the day never started, hiding your head under your covers and going straight to bed. But sometimes it means tying on the apron strings and whipping up a big ole’ plate of comfort food.

On days such as this, I like to cook breakfast for dinner. And then make extra for the next morning. It’s like a little gift from today-me to tomorrow-me…  A little pep talk in gastronomic terms that says things are on the up from here.

I’ve never been much of a cold cereal girl, except for a mixing bowl-sized serving of Honey Nut Cheerios every once in awhile, when my sweet tooth kicks in during the wee hours.

What really gets me going during the A.M. drudgery is a bowl of hot oatmeal, along with a multitude of tiny dishes filled with any and every topping option. Raisins, brown sugar, toasted coconut, almonds… and the list goes on and on.

What usually ends up in my stomach though is an apple and a double-tall cappuccino. And sometimes a few gummy bears from the candy dish at the front desk.

In the dead of winter, especially this time of year when the dark, wet days seem to linger into infinity, I start to crave some of spring’s early offerings – a bowl of fresh snap beans, cherries…. somehow the frozen reserve of garden-goodies in my fridge seems like more of an insult to my senses than a welcome reprieve from the stagnant February grocery store isles. As if the frost-bitten Ziploc bags are just a reminder that this is as close as you can get to the real deal for another four months. Or as close as you can get if you prefer to refrain from the scientific wonders of a winter-time red tomato.

But given my day, my stubborn reluctance fell short and I found myself diving head first into the freezer in search of my stow away of blueberries. It’s funny how we complain about the time it takes to harvest these creatures - standing out in the heat , picking one berry at a time until our hands are full and our stomachs are filled. This time of year, I would give anything to be faced with just such a problem. Instead it’s 5:30, dark outside and I’m digging past frozen turkey and ice cubes in search of the taste of lost summer.

Berries finally in hand, I fell back on a trusted childhood recipe – a take on the Malt-O-Meal magic muffin. The cereal’s been around since the turn of the century and the recipe has been on the side of box as far back as I can remember. It’s simple – Malt-O-Meal, flour, sugar, an egg, some baking powder and oil. The ingredients are so utterly adaptable that it’s nearly impossible to add something that will mess it up. Depending on how healthy (or guilty) you want to feel, the batter is an open battlefield for your tastebuds’ desires.

Last night I went the healthy route and added my blueberries and canned plums, used whole wheat flour, bran flakes, some fresh-ground flax seeds and eggs from my grandfather’s farm. The result was a delightful evening, curled up in a comfy chair - book in one hand, muffin in the other, with memories of summer evidenced on my blueberry stained tongue.