Sweet Irony . . . and Cupcakes

So irony rears its sweet head. After a little exchange on my blog about red velvet, I end up at my wife’s friend’s cupcake shop, Dot’s, in Pasadena, www.dotscupcakes.com and the best picture of the lot has a big Red Velvet sign on it . . . and my one year old Nicholas being spirited around the shop by the owner, Hyo.

We stopped by to pick up dessert for my mom’s square dancing gang. She wanted something special to thank all the wives for lending her their husbands to teach her how to dance. She not only ordered two dozen for their post-dance dessert, but she went ahead and gave out a four-pack of minis to each couple as a thank you gift . . . what a sweetie.

Let’s see, we left with such wonderful flavors as mint-chip, maple-bacon, apple pie, fleur de sel, chocolate toffee, strawberry shortcake . . . but no red velvet . . . commenter marlync.

Thanks Hyo for the wonderful treats . . . now my mom’s dance gang is worried that their desserts simply aren’t up to scratch . . .

Want Some Fake Egg?

For some reason we call Real Egg from Costco 'fake egg' even though on the carton it says Real Egg and is made with real egg. It is not a real egg in a shell; obviously that is the reason we call it fake—it’s something blended up in a carton. So now for breakfast we have ‘fake egg’ and ‘fake sausage’, Morningstar sausage patties not made with any beef or pork or offal of any type but with grains, and Trop50 the orange liquid that is not orange juice but an 'orange juice beverage' and now is 'fake juice.' So the conversation is:

"Do you want some fake egg?"

"Sure."

"Fake sausage?"

"Yeah."

Hold up the bottle. "Fake juice?"

"Okay."

Not really an inspiring morning. It might be the most important meal of the day but it is starting to feel a bit disingenuous, and I don’t know if that is the best way to start a confident, uncompromising, take no prisoners, be the best you can be, authentic day . . .

Well, at least for the scramble the onion, garlic, bell peppers, jalapeno peppers, cilantro, tomatoes, mushrooms, spinach, and whatever else is in the crisper is real . . .

Let’s start this blog again. Nick, my one year old, is giving me ten minute to ninety minute naps and what the heck, it is time to talk turkey. I roasted two of them last Thanksgiving and they both came out . . . edible. Isn’t that the barometer of cooking. It is like flying . . . any flight you can walk away from is successful and any meal you can keep in your stomach . . . the same.

This is the year of family, friends, and food . . . to hell with the elections and dragons and women in skinny jeans that make their asses look anything butt! Oh and Dance Central 2, my ten year old cannot get enough. When he comes in on a Sunday morning before seven and asks if he can go “work out” with the Xbox, yeah it is the year of the Rodeo, the Zombie, and the Club Can’t Handle what he’ll be steppin’.

My wife and I gave as Christmas presents the following: An invitation to Jim’s Kitchen at Cafe 7000. We gave out one of a kind aprons to about twenty people so I guess they are twenty of a kind, and bottle of wine and oregano – seems like oregano is going in all my cooking these days—but the best thing is we have invited friends and family to pick a meal and come over for calories and conviviality.

So not only am I working with Weight Watchers’ recipes a few times a week, since Christine is on the program, and I am in a Gourmet group that meets about once every four months to try things beautiful and bizarre, but I am cooking for others every few weekends and giving is what it is all about, whether it be home cooked meals, one of twenty of a kind of aprons, new under ten dollar Trader Joe’s wines, unsolicited advice, botulism . . .

Hopefully this blog will show what a forty-three year old nestcock can cook while hangin’ with a one year old, a ten year old, and a twenty-nine year old.