Gluttony Primer: Emerald-of-the-Apocalypse Cake

I meant to say "herald." As in, "this cake is the herald of the apocalypse." But I said "emerald" instead. This happens when you don't eat vegetables as a kid.

Well, why thus named? Because every time someone makes this cake, the sinfulness darkens the heavens and brings the apocalypse a little closer—that's why. Also, "emerald" is funnier.

My holy cooking bible is Smitten Kitchen, and this cake is a combination/modification of two different recipes:

The Cake: Hazelnut Brown Butter Cake
The Frosting and Glaze: Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake

By themselves, each of these cakes can make grown men cry, but only when you combine them both do you hasten the entire incredible destruction of humankind.

WARNING: THIS CAKE WILL HASTEN THE ENTIRE INCREDIBLE DESTRUCTION OF HUMANKIND

Emerald-of-the-Apocalypse Cake

- Make Hazelnut Brown Butter Cake. I doubled the recipe for two 9 inch round pans. Mandrew used vanilla extract instead of acutal vanilla beans, and the cake turned out fine. Also, DO NOT BE AFRAID OF 1 POUND OF BUTTER! SACRIFICES MUST BE MADE

- Make Peanut Butter Frosting, substituting Nutella for peanut butter.
- Make Chocolate-Peanut Butter Glaze, once again substituting Nutella for peanut butter.
- Buy chocolate covered waffers (optional).

1. Once the cake has cooled, place the first layer on your decorative plate (I made mine by wrapping tin foil around a circle cardboard cut out).
2. Pour about a 1/3 of the glaze on the first layer.
3. Crumble a thick layer of chocolate waffers on top of that and cover with more glaze (Honestly, this might be the step that puts this cake over the top. If I was more pious, I might have foregone this part).
4. Place the second layer of cake on top of your chocolate glaze & waffer filling.
5. Frost the entire cake and decorate with the remaining glaze.

Finally, board up your windows and google the nearest bomb shelter.

Pioneer Craft Hour: Blackbird, Fly

(Photo: phobus)

Mandrew gifted me the most amazing camera for my collection, the Blackbird, Fly, a plastic Japanese toy camera that arrived in the States in late November. We read about it separately in the metro paper. He decided it would make a good Christmas present. I decided I needed it immediately, or I would die.

We were in NY that November weekend, and we stopped by the International Center of Photography which was selling them. Mandrew purchased the Blackbird, Fly and handed me the bag. The MOMENT I touched it, I burst into a thousand pieces of childhood excitement.

As expected, I spend the entire weekend looking out the view finder of this sweet piece of plastic magnificence. I have no photos developed yet, but I'm taking the camera along for our Christmas trip. Whoo!

This is what Blackbird Frequent Flyers have done so far [cue drooling]:

(Photos: phobus, d!zzy and AndyWilson)

Remember: That one time your eyebrows spread like wildfire

My eyebrows are apparently consuming my entire face. With the spirit of manifest destiny, they’re supposedly annexing every uncovered patch of skin. How it came to this, I’m not sure. I had a normal childhood, but sometime between thanksgiving weekend and yesterday, the offending brows proliferated into regions reserved for eyeglasses and forehead wrinkles. I swear I’m not growing grizzly bears on my forehead, but people are starting to make me worry.

At a brunch Mandrew and I host, a certain guest and I gossip about how frigid Mother Nature is being this time of year (a.k.a. polite/eye-rolling weather chit chat). When the conversation runs its course, this guest leans in and says, “I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t pluck your eyebrows. Good for you! Manscaping is overrated.” With a pat on the back, he walks away. I cower over to the bathroom to make sure my eyebrows haven’t suddenly joined in hairy matrimony.

A week later I’m once again staring in a mirror, having my hair cut. The stylist is on a mission to sell me a year supply of hair product. She’s getting nowhere by using lines like, “Is your hair always this frizzy? Well I recommend…,” and “If you’d only use a flat iron, this hair gloss…”

She brings me over to the sink and shampoos my hair. The spray nozzle grazes my nose and splashes my eyeglasses. She’s slightly more gifted than a 3 yr old icing a gingerbread house. She pulls the towel over my hair and pauses to tilt her head. “Hmm…Do you need me to wax your eyebrows? Cause I can do that,” she nods with an encouraging smirk.

I sigh internally, and for a half second, I consider the possibility. Does she see something I don’t? But then the image of David Bowie’s brows comes to mind, and I’m cured. I’ll take my chances with the grizzlies.

Water drips down my face, but nothing gets in my eyes as I tell her, “No, I don’t believe in waxing my eyebrows, but thanks for offering.”

(Photo: trapac)

Gemini: Inauguration Will Be Boring

It's never easy to hear that you're going blind, especially since it also means that you're going deaf.

(Photo: loborroso)

Life is a Mix Tape: More Cowbell - The Christmas Kind

I'm not gonna stand here and lie to you...


(Pedro the Lion - I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day)

I've been listening to Christmas music since July. And yes, I'm a little ashamed, but at least I waited until December to put up the Christmas tree - the office Christmas tree.


(Sufjan Stevens - Put the Lights on the Tree)

Yup, a big fat douglas fir the size of the financial bailout (FINE! the auto bailout). And since my office works on agricultural issues, I hung our potato, carrot and pistachio ornaments all over it. It looks like the Farm Bill vomited on a national park.

And it's beautiful,
The most beautiful I've ever seen.

Gemini: Totz Preggers*

A turkey baster, some trusty twine, and a can of cranberry sauce will figure heavily in the weeks to come. Although it's artificial insemination and not Thanksgiving you should prepare for. (Photo: Oℓivia)

*(Totally Pregnant) Male pregnancy is apparently spreading. I'm blaming this miracle on Oprah.

Life is a Mix Tape: Off the Deep End of Indie

During Red Without Blue an incredible documentary, which EVERYONE should go see, about identical twins, one of which transitions from male to female, I heard a song that was pretty much the best thing ever. It's the kind of song I absolutely must have IMMEDIATELY, and the kind I listen to on repeat until I can't get any more miles out of it.






You can barely hear the song "Long Distances" at the end of the movie's trailer. Anyway, this song and "Lucky Me," both by the artist Timothy Rabbit are APOCALYPTICALLY AWESOME (in a good way, no gnashing of teeth).

However, they're SO indie, they're not available on iTunes! [begin gnashing of teeth], only MySpace! So, I have been forced to return to that old forum I left long ago. On this occasion of visiting my old internet friend, I have composed a poem:

In Loving Memory of the MySpace

This used to be my playground,

but alas.

Oh how the years pass,

until you get old

and die

(WHY won't you just let me

post your STUPID music application

to my blog)