Cakes Come Crumbling Down!

Posted on March 5, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

I got sidetracked preparing a skit for my French class.

C'est La VieThere was a potluck, too.  Rather than chancing it with a new cake recipe, I stuck with a cake I can bake with my eyes closed.

The Dibble Dabble.

To cakes!

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Lodge a Complaint!

Posted on March 2, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Although I’m not a big movie goer, there are a handful that I’ve watched many times as well as a select group I’ve watched so many times, I know all of the dialogue.  All About Eve comes to mind and also (cough) Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion.

There are few situations in life that can’t be turned on their heads with the simple recollection or repetition of a line or two of dialogue from Romy White, Michele Weinberger, Heather Mooney, or Sandy Frink, aka “the Frink-a-zoid.”  They’re dumb funny and if you share one with someone who also knows the dialogue, well…they’re hilarious.  It’s always just a teeny tiny bit disappointing to meet someone who is not familiar with the movie’s dialogue.  Elaborate explanations sometimes fall flat in explaining things like Lady Fair cigarettes (with the quick burning paper for the gal on the go), inventing Post-its, and folding scarves.

On Sunday, I had the good fortune to spend a few hours with my best friend since second grade.  That’s practically a “best friend forever,” and we’ve had a few “Romy & Michele” type of adventures in our lives, including going to high school reunions.  (She’s the Mary, I’m the Rhoda.)

We met in Biddeford for breakfast at Biscuits & Company.  Biddeford is an exciting city in transition, just as my brother said it was in his Boston Globe article.

We had a tasty meal and then embarked on a very adolescent adventure.  Let’s just say we decided to drive by “Billy Christiansen’s” old house in Biddeford Pool and see if he still lived there.  We must have driven down 100 narrow snow jammed roads along the ocean before our inner adult materialized and reminded us that “Billy Christiansen” had lived in Camp Ellis and not Biddeford Pool.

“What a waste of a tank of gas.”

We headed our separate ways and I checked my e-mails before I steered the wheels due north.

Newly arrived was a complaint from someone who had participated in one of my volunteer projects.  It was confrontational and a little bit …threatening.  Considering it was about something I volunteered to do in my free time, I was at a loss as to how to best respond.  I’d never anticipated being threatened while doing volunteer work.  I ran through a few potential rebuttals, like the professional response:

Dear Madame X,

Thank you for your recent complaint about gummy bears, jelly beans, and candy corns.

Unfortunately, your complaint is outside the scope of my volunteer efforts.  Please take up your matter with the Commission for Candy Disputes.

Have a Romy & Michele Day,

Warmest Regards,

Julie-Ann Baumer  

Then there were numerous snarky responses I ran through my head and I’d rather not put into writing.  The whole situation was upsetting because as I stated earlier, it was confrontational and I couldn’t believe Madame X had sent it.  There’s a perfect line from All About Eve that would work well to describe it, but I don’t want to mix movie metaphors.

Fortunately, there’s dialogue from Romy & Michele’s High School Reunion.  Romy & Michele are looking at their high school yearbook before going to the reunion.  Romy says “remember what a big controversy it was for us to have our picture taken together?”

Michele says “Yeah, because Danny Weller like, lodged a complaint.  Because alphabetically, he was supposed to be between us.”

That line perfectly summed up the disturbance floating around in my Sunday punch bowl.

What could I do?  I was upset and it’s never a good idea to respond to “lodged complaints” when one is under the influence of “emotions in motion.”  That’s like getting into a certain type of contest with a skunk.  I took a detour on my way home and ended up at my “happy place,” Cabot Mill Antiques in Brunswick.

Antique ShopAh…the return of my peace and tranquility.

Clear cut glass punch bowls, Fiesta ware of at least three mid-century colors, and a stunning reproduction Sheridan sideboard some lucky woman had just snagged.  No lodged complaints, no skunks.  Like Michele Weinberger watching Pretty Woman for the 36th time, “I just get really happy when they finally let her shop.”

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The Beautiful Music of Cakes

Posted on February 27, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Not all cakes are round or rectangular.  Sometimes, they’re square.

(I suppose the whole notion of making cakes from “scratch” is kind of “square” but that would be a different blog post.)

To make a square cake, you can use a rectangular pan and lop off a chunk, or you make it in a square cake pan, like the one I recently purchased at a little kitchen goods store in Freeport.  The green labeling caught my eye.  It was “natural commercial bakeware” and best of all it was “Made in the U.S.A” by some Minnesota Vikings.

Probably what sold me on the cake pan, besides the fact that I did not own one, was the cake picture on the label.  A yellow cake with icing drizzled over it and topped with a paper-thin slice of lemon.  The recipe was on the back of the label.

I studied the recipe for a few days, comparing it to ones in my bedside cake bible, 250 Classic Cake Recipes.  The recipe called for only 2 eggs and consisted of a single layer.  Cakes like that were classified as “Budget Cakes” in the cake bible.  It’s a good thing I’m not announcing these cake salons on Facebook; can you imagine the comments from non-cake baking types when I posted a picture and said it was a budget cake?

It was a firm and moist cake, not crumbly at all.  It was easy to make and I could imagine it being part of a summer citrus trifle or even speared for fondue dipping.  The lemon icing couldn’t have been sunnier, with a wispy promise of spring in its tang.  I’ll make it again, with a few adjustments to make the recipe my own.  But I’m going to call it an “every day cake,” or as Helen called it “Le Gâteau de Citron.”

(I got the Motel Four stamp of approval when I delivered a Lenten-sized portion.)

The Beautiful Music of CakesIt’s a little cake that sings a tart and sweet song.  The picture doesn’t do it justice, really, and yes, that’s probably my finger print on the cake plate for those of you who examine these images closely.

Speaking of music and songs, MPBN’s morning classical music hostess Robin Rilette announced a number of interesting musical performances happening around the local area this week.  Tonight at the Olin Arts Center Concert Hall at Bates College in Lewiston, the Dutch Baroque ensemble Musica ad Rhenum will perform an all-Bach concert.

This concert will be a good warm-up for Sunday afternoon’s Bach birthday celebration in Brunswick at St. John’s church.

And next week, the LARK Society will present their wonderfully engaging “What is Chamber Music” class at select locations.  I’m so happy to see this class still being presented; I took it at the turn of the century and it enhanced my love and appreciation of chamber music.

I’m not sure if they’ll be serving “Le Gâteau de Citron” after any of these performances, but the music will be feast enough.

Get out and go!  Tweeting is for birds!

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New Square

Posted on February 26, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

New square cake pan, that is.

Square PanI’ve got my doubts about the recipe; only 5 tablespoons of butter?  That can’t be right.

Results tomorrow.

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An Inside Joke

Posted on February 23, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Monday again? Sometimes things just aren’t what they seem.  It looks like a mere dusting on my driveway; why did the sand truck just go by my house?

Last week was such a “vigorous” week; I shoveled my driveway four times.  I snowshoed every day.  Somewhere between scooping up, stomping on, and pushing snow, I discovered a teeny tiny discolored spot on my bedroom ceiling.

Ice dam.

I’ve watched my neighbor Breezy rake his roof each and every time he shovels, but I haven’t been so diligent myself.  Roof raking is not as easy as it looks and sometimes after pushing 50 or so scoops of snow up and over the banking, I shrug my shoulders and say “eh.”

I won’t do that again.

After I discovered the teeny tiny discolored spot, damp to the touch, I sent an alarmed text with pictures to Mr. DeeHan.  He was fighting a cold.  It wasn’t his week.  But like the bon homme he is, he texted marching orders.  Go to the hardware store and buy a hundred pounds of ice melting pellets.  He’d be here with a ladder within the hour.  Maybe it wasn’t what it seemed.

I won’t go into laborious and painstaking detail except to say sometimes a smooth white blanket of snow is more than a pretty picture.  Things aren’t always what they seem; the ice dam was melting within an hour and Mr. DeeHan left the ladder up against the roof for regular inspections.

Winter in Maine.  Ayuh.

It snowed again Saturday night and I got my shoveling done early on Sunday morning.  Even though I had been out and about a few times during the week, all the snow and the dull routine of moving it left me feeling trapped in my own winter wonderland.  I texted Mr. DeeHan, suggesting a run to Lucy & Edna’s in Pownal.  The weekly French music program was on when he got here and he listened for a minute then asked what the singer was saying.  It was a French language version of Simon & Garfunkel’s The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feeling Groovy).  Except in French, there is no word for “groovy” and the Franco refrain was “Vive la vie que c’est bon la vie.”

Living the life that’s the good life.

I hadn’t listened carefully and the singing was pretty fast and I told Mr. DeeHan I didn’t know what they were saying.

“It sounds like they’re saying ‘feeling larry.’”

He laughed and we headed out in the Jeep.  Sprung from my own surroundings, I was impressed by the beauty of the snow on the trees.  Someone else’s snow was lovely.  I suggested this to Mr. DeeHan but he declined the bait.

“You’re not going to get me to say the snow is beautiful.”

Edna & Lucy’s did not disappoint with fresh donuts and grilled egg & sausage on rosemary focaccia.  There was some sun and it wasn’t yet crowded in the restaurant.

Vive la vieWe were living the good life…feeling larry.

Vive la vie!

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Let All Cupcakes Keep Silence

Posted on February 20, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Over the past few weeks, I’ve spent a few winter hours considering things like “focus” and “distraction.”  This has been a wonderful winter for pondering anything deeper than “liking” a post on Facebook.  In fact, a Facebook post about shoveling snow may have been the genesis for my deep winter thoughts.

A local citizen, occasionally noted for getting up on his “soapbox” on a certain town Facebook page, was lathering up the people about throwing snow in the road.  Living here on my somewhat quiet street, I’d not noticed this particular crime against humanity.  Before I got the snow scoop, I might have thrown an occasional shovel of the stuff into the downwind of the plow, since I’m the last house on this street and it will just be spread along the edge of my yard.  But in general, I’ve been able to keep the snow within my own boundaries.

As the “story developed” other citizens chimed in with epithets of indignation like “that’s awful” and “someone should call the police.”  Another citizen reminded Facebook readers that throwing snow in the road is “against the law.”

What would happen next?  Would there be citizen vigilante teams roaming the streets of the old hometown, looking for errant flakes of snow?  Would these vigilantes be deputized by Chief Brooks and given the power to arrest snowflake scofflaws?

Finally, a young citizen challenged the soapbox strutter with something like “why don’t you go and talk to the people who are doing it?  Posting about it on Facebook doesn’t accomplish anything.”

Indeed.

A few months ago, I accidentally deleted the Facebook application on my phone.  I decided not to download it again and as a result, I go to Facebook less.  I started relying on Twitter for information, but after the Valentine’s Blizzard that blizzled out and all the foolish weather mea culpas, even Twitter felt like sound and fury signifying nothing.  Nothing more than the shallow consumption of information, cultural croutons, and binary bits.  I’m really not sure anymore if social media has the power to transform our world.

It certainly isn’t a call to action.

After a number of daily meditations while moving my mountains of snow and keeping them within the boundaries of my property, I’ve reached a conclusion.  I am giving up Facebook, Twitter, and one blog I read religiously.  I’m giving these things up “for Lent.”  It may not change my life but it will eliminate three sources of distraction for a specific period of time.

Some more snow fell overnight and I see the place where the plow left its mark.  It’s time for my daily snow meditation and mortification.

CupcakeOh, and Carol…I made some mocha cupcakes with a grenadine-tinted butter cream frosting.

Stop by any time.

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Le Carême

Posted on February 19, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Early morning, Ash Wednesday.

Ash Wednesday 2015Brighter than last year.

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Saint Helentine’s Day

Posted on February 16, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

What a weekend it was in Maine!  Fear and anxiety built all week as the weather puppets predicted a Valentine’s blizzard starting Saturday evening and churning its way through Monday morning.  Another two feet of snow?  Where would it go?

Blizzard or no, on Friday (“Galentine’s Day”) I picked up a chuck roast at Bisson’s Meat Market on the Meadow Road in Topsham.  Sunday dinner for my parents; I told them if the going got bad, I would drive over to pick them up.  On Saturday, when I left my French singing gig at La Basilique in Lewiston, the flakes had started.

I quickly shoveled up the inch or two of snow that had fallen and hunkered down for the evening.  I set my alarm clock for 4:00 a.m., to start the roast and give the driveway the first clearing.  If we were going to get as much snow as predicted, I’d need to monitor the accumulation carefully.

I slept fitfully.

When the alarm went off, I jumped out of bed and peered out the dining room window.  Barely an inch or two of snow had fallen.  I scanned Twitter for updates, but the weather personalities I follow were either sleeping or hiding.  Finally, I found a picture of the weather map.  The storm had changed course for our part of Maine!  Life would go on!

I went back to bed for a brief cat nap and when the sun came up, I was dusting off the driveway.  Relieved, I even did a little snow shoeing.

HeartsIt’s not quite as impressive as last year’s heart, but a good workout nevertheless.

The roast was just what was required as the zephyr winds picked up by mid-afternoon.  There was a chocolate parfait, too.  And a photo opportunity.

Valentine's SundayAfter my parents left, I snow shoed down to the river and watched as the sun started sinking in the west. Little snow cyclones danced over the frozen water and I could hardly make out the Cedar Pond Road in Durham. I hustled back home and looked at my watch. 5:30 p.m.  Snow or wind or chuck roast, we are gaining daylight.

Happy Saint Helentine’s Day!

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Fuel It Up

Posted on February 13, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

As readers of this blog know, the song I sing is sometimes tinged with a plaintive tone of world-weariness.  The regular sight of pajama-clad shoppers slurping artificial yogurt through plastic tubes brings a dull note of mourning to my lips.  The demise of high-quality domestic cotton towels and man’s discomfort with cloth napkins strikes the B flat in my repertoire.  Lastly and most discouraging, I have been unable to hire a high school lad known to my family to shovel for me, in spite of offering him TWENTY DOLLARS AN HOUR.  As the Pretenders once sang in one of their lesser light songs, “that gets me down, it really gets me down.” (2:48)

I apologize for the long first world lament.

In an attempt to stem the tide of social malaise, I’ve embarked on the “cake a week” project.  I make cakes and write about them.  I invite friends to stop by and have a slice.  I load up the atomic stainless steel cake carrier from another time and bring cake to the people!  (Remind me to bring a couple of slices to Dot and Breezy.)

Cake.  Remember?  A baked good once made in home kitchens with flour, eggs, and sugar?  Flour-covered hands wiped on aprons?

This week’s offering was a Buttermilk Spice Cake, taken from my mother’s old Betty Crocker cookbook.  It’s simple to assemble and can be made in one bowl.  I didn’t use any exotic spices like the ever-trendy cardamom.  Just cinnamon and cloves.

This was the first cake I remember making “on my own” as a teenager.  Maybe I made it for my father’s birthday.

I consulted my “Classic Cake” brochure for ideas on fillings and frosting.

Simple!  Combine a jar of marmalade with a cup of mixed nuts for the filling and frost the whole darn thing with an orange butter cream concoction.

I delivered some to my parents and asked them for their opinion.

“Excellent,” said Herman.

“Yummy,” said Helen.  “Scrumptious!”

“It’s really a party cake,” she added.

Mr. DeeHan stopped by for a slice.  I don’t know if I’ve told readers this, but in addition to possessing a fix-it gene, Mr. DeeHan once ran a restaurant and is a foodie of sorts.  His opinion on food matters!

He said the cake was a “delightful combination of orange, butter cream, and spice.  Add a few more layers to create a memorable wedding cake.”

Wow!

There’s still some cake left for those who might need to gird up their loins for this weekend’s Valentine Blizzard.  For me, it’s the breakfast of shoveling champions.

Breakfast of ChampionsIt’s almost the weekend, Snow Meister, and I accept your challenge.  Bring it!  I’ve got nothing to do this weekend but shovel.  It doesn’t bring me down.

I am fueled by cake.

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Cake for the Battle

Posted on February 12, 2015 by Julie-Ann Baumer

Life is tough.  Whether you’re Charlie Baker, marshaling the full force of the United States government to dig out fire hydrants, or someone’s Uncle Timothy, there is always a battle.  The battle of life, ego, love.  You get the idea.

You might as well have some cake for the battle.

Cake for the BattleThe door is always open.

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