Devil's Food Cake

I am a student at UCSD. I get my hair cut in La Jolla. How does that work? I'm supposed to be a starving student and La Jolla is home to many a manicured housewives with husbands who finance their monthly hair style changes, nail polish, Range Rover (if children are in the scene) or BMW convertible (if rugrats are not present), etc. I live in Del Mar, again, not fitting for the broke college student.

Let me explain, I live with 4 other roommates in a 2 bedroom house. We live a block from the beach, but the 2 bedroom beach shack, as I've come to call it, is inhabited by 5 people. I'd say it is unbearable if I wanted to be over dramatic, but it's not. It is bearable enough. Yes, there is sand all over the front door walkway, there are ALWAYS dishes in the sink, we did have rats over the winter, the house flooded in January and there is limited fridge space. Beyond that, it's quite cozy. There is always someone to talk to. It's saving grace is that it's temporary. I can get through the filthy kitchen and unswept linoleum "wood" floors knowing that it is temporary. Furthermore, I've had drilled into me that I must live in some sort of uncomfortable situation in my early twenties so that later when I actually have a "good job" and a "nice place" I'll appreciate it.

That's a bit of a problem, because as a freshman at UCSD, I lived in a 3 year old dorm, with an ocean view veranda, we had a house keeper, or maid, whatever you choose to call it, once a week. The walls were stark white, the carpets impeccably clean. We would joke that we would never again live in a place that nice. What is sad is that it's true.

So here I am, sitting in my front living room. In the beach shack we had 2 living rooms, until Matt moved in. He didn't want to share a room with a girl, or anyone for that matter, so he converted the back living room into his quarters. So now we have 1 living room, in the front of the house. The lighting in here is great and in the winter it was perfect because the heater is in here, we would turn it on and curl up to read, study, eat, or just hang out. I sit here now, drinking my jasmine iced tea, spiked with amaretto, I'm waiting for my hair appointment.

Devil's Food Cake.

This recipe is for a baby cake. I made it as a gift and did not want to make a huge cake. I had a glass pyrex tupperware that I used to bake it in and it was perfect.

for cake:

1/4 cup unsalted butter

2 oz unsweetened chocolate

1 egg

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup warm water

1 cup + 2 tbsp. all purpose flour

3/4 tsp baking soda

1/8 tsp salt

2 tbsp. milk

1/2 tsp. white vinegar

for frosting

1/4 cup unsalted butter

3 tbsp. unsweetened cocoa powder

1 1/4 cup powdered sugar

3 tbsp milk

5 oz. bittersweet chocolate

Preheat oven to 350˚F. Grease and flour a cake tin, either one 9" tin or a deeper pyrex glass bowl will do.

Melt butter and chocolate in a saucepan together, until just melted. Be careful so as to not burn the chocolate or butter. Remove from heat and let cool completely.

Meanwhile, beat egg and sugar together until light in color and a slightly fluffy, so it's aerated. Add cooled chocolate mixture to the egg mixture. Mix well. Add warm water. It is important not to add the chocolate mixture while it's hot or the water too hot as this will cook the raw egg and result in an eggy taste in your cake, which is undesirable.

In a separate bowl mix flour, baking soda and salt together. Add to the chocolate mixture and incorporate well.

Mix the milk and vinegar in a cup and then add to the mixture.

Once the batter is ready, pour into prepared pan. Bake for 30 mins if in a shallow pan or up to 45 minutes or until inserted toothpick comes out clean in a deeper pan.

While cake bakes, make frosting.

Melt butter in a small saucepan, add cocoa powder to melted butter and mix well until smooth. Add powdered sugar and milk alternating between the two.

Melt the chocolate in a double boiler and add to the powdered sugar mixture.

Frost cake as desired, either just on top and sides or cut in half, horizontally and frost. It is much cleaner to do a crumb coat, that is one thin coat with a butter knife, that is different knife than the one you will use for the top coat so as to not have cake crumbs visible in the top coat of frosting of the cake.

Russian River

So I come up to my aunt’s late husbands ex-sister-in-laws cabin about once a year.

We, my aunt and I, usually come up in the summer. The sun sets late, we sleep on the deck, under the stars and usually fall asleep at about 9:00. This is after a long hard day of doing nothing. Nothing on the cabin means waking up as soon as the sky is that blue-creamy-white with light. Our hair is cold and wet with the night’s perspiration and it takes some convincing to pry ourselves out of our sleeping bags. It ends up being equal, some nights my aunt is up first, and has the water on to boil for tea. Sometimes it’s me who will endure the cold for a hot cup of tea and a warm flax pillow, heated in the microwave for heat at the bottom of my sleeping bag.We always end up curled in our sleeping bags in chairs and with a big soup bowl mug of tea. I can never recall how the tea was made or how I ended up in a chair and no longer on my mat, but nevertheless, there I am, warm and happy. We proceed to talk for hours and watch the river wake up. The deck faces west and overlooks the river, so it usually takes a little while for the sun to make its way over the redwoods and the cabin onto the deck and the river. As soon as it does, we again, find the will power to get into our bathing suits and over-sized sweaters and before we know it, we’re paddling up the river in the river kayaks. We learned our lesson the hard way one summer. We could either soar down the river and paddle our way up on an empty stomach; or we could paddle our way up the river and float in the sun back home for lunch. Our decision is made for us. So we set off, awaiting whatever river creatures we may find along the way. Actually it's more accurate to say they find us. We have seen schools of salmon, cows (not in the river, but on it's banks), ducks floating down the river wiggling their tail feathers self-righteously and river otters chomping away at breakfast. After exhausting our arm muscles paddling up stream, we hop out of the kayaks at a swimming hole to cool off, or not. We then turn the kayaks around, by this point we’ve stripped down to our bikinis, sun hats and sunglasses and have thrown our legs onto the front end of the kayak. The paddle is strategically inserted into the side of the kayak so as to not produce a shadow that might block the sun or cause a tan line. This is one of the 5742 times a year I stock up on vitamin D; it’s necessary for my health. We find ourselves back at the cabin. The petite dock welcomes us and the now sun-light patio beckons. We fix lunch. At this point, chilled white wine must be had. By the time we complete lunch, we are ready for a nap in the sun. The afternoon is a flurry of reading, napping, sun bathing and sweet jasmine iced tea. The blackberry bushes summon our inner bear and we pick berries from the backyard down the road to the campground and all the way down to the general store. Our sun-kissed skin is stained with blackberry juice. Our arms scraped by the thorns of the bushes. A small price to pay for blackberries. For every one berry deposited in the tupperwares and pails we’ve lugged with us, we eat about 7 or 8. How could you not? A warm, blackberry, exploding with juice from the suns rays. It’s only fair. We make our way home, light a fire in the barbeque, grill up some chicken or just feast on berries, cheese and red wine.By now the sun is setting. In the distance there are vultures circling, ducks quacking and Cutie and Sweetie, snorting and barking, they are the neighbors’ obese pugs.

This past summer I was unable to make it to the river. It was in my head the whole winter. I decided to try to make it to the cabin before the next summer. In the fall, I had moved in with a classmate from highschool who had transferred to my university. We had a great deal in common despite coming from completely different backgrounds. I had told her about my aunt and the cabin, both of which define a great deal of my personality.Once I had secured plans with my aunt to make it to the cabin, I decided to invite her along. I figured she’d appreciate it. She’s one of those people who definitely lives in the moment. When she likes something or someone, she verbalizes it. She never forgets a word you say, although she often appears to be spacing out or not paying attention, she always is. She’d remembered the cake I’d told her about, the Olive Oil Meyer Lemon cake with Lemon Curd and Honey Lavender whipped cream, my aunt had made it two Easters ago and the taste had lingered on my palette. It came as no surprise when she told me she’d be making it for our stay at the cabin.

We left home at 5 in the morning and drove up to the cabin. The sun rose as we raced with traffic, knowing that tranquility, good company and delicious food awaited us. Upon our arrival, Chris was cooking. She had already made the lemon curd and it was a deep yellow color. She had used duck eggs. We drank tea with a side of Egyptian Fig bread from a local bakery and baklava that my mom had sent with me. My brother had requested it and like a Middle Eastern mother, she could not have the request of her son go unanswered. She made a tray and there were leftovers, so she sent them with me, along with a Tupperware of cooked lamb and some fruit.

After our tea party, over which we discussed the current health care issue, inaccurate borders created post-WWI and Jane Austen, we embarked on the journey that was making the cake with cabin utensils.

In a cracked white plastic salad bowl, I began to beat duck egg whites using a slotted serving spoon. This proved to be quite the workout. The flour was sifted through a tea strainer and a paper bakery bag was used in place of parchment paper.

These are the duck egg yolks. The size of the eggs made it so that we could have used one less than the recipe had called for, but then again, it was imperfectly perfect just the way it was.

For lunch we had farmer’s lettuce picked from a friend’s garden tossed with the accompanying flower petals and Girard’s Champagne dressing, one of the few bottled dressings I enjoy. We had this along with radishes and herbed butter. The radish greens served as a bed for the lamb, which had been made with mushrooms, garlic and potatoes.

To make herbed butter, simply take room temperature unsalted butter and knead in any herb of your liking, we usedHerbs de Provence, but basil alone would work just fine, or oregano, which would give it an Italian twist, and now that I’m running through my herbs and spices I think curried butter might be nice, I will have to try it next time.

Vegetable Stock, Vegetarian French Onion Soup and Foreign Parents

I recently made French Onion soup with a friend of mine. We were surprised at how easy it was to make. I decided that I would make it for my mom and dad when I went home for Spring Break.

For anyone who was raised by foreign parents, you understand. My mom has been cooking 3 meals a day since she got married. Before that she spent a good deal of time with her mother in the kitchen helping out and setting the foundation for a life of food preparation. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't mean for this to sound like a bad thing. I think it it wonderful and I love that I too was raised this way. My mom started me out making pudding. It's very simple, and most European, and Middle Eastern cuisines have a pudding, typically milk with some kind of starch to thicken it. I will save the recipe for another post, when I actually make it and can post photos.

So when I suggested, like I have done in the past, that I was making a meal, my mom agreed. Now, as I was making the stock for the French Onion soup my mom was watching, she is a lifelong learner and her curiosity was enticed by the smell of simmering thyme. But! She questioned everything I was doing and even suggested we just make soup out of the vegetable broth. Had anybody else made this suggestion I may have been offended, and yes, I was annoyed but I understand my mom and where she comes from. Everything outside of the routine is a hassle, this was a hassle, but I soldiered on.

Unfortunately I will talk about food in this post and not post photographs to verify. Hopefully in the future I can come back and edit this post and include photographs when I make it again.

So I made vegetable stock first.

Vegetable Stock

1 white onion, cut in half and then sliced thinly

2 stalks of celery, cut in 1/2 inch pieces

1 carrot

1 tbsp olive oil

2 bay leaves

3-4 sprigs of fresh parsley

3-4 sprigs of fresh thyme

salt and pepper to taste

6 cups of water

a small handful of whole peppercorns

In a large pot, sauté the onion, celery and carrot in the olive oil for about 5 minutes, until the onions have wilted slightly. Add the remaining ingredients over high heat, bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Once done, I strained the broth into a jar and kept the vegetables in the pot. The broth I would use for the French Onion soup and the vegetables were used for a vegetable soup that my mom made the next day.

Vegetarian French Onion Soup

serves 3

3 whole yellow onions (I have found it to be 1 onion/person if you're looking to adjust the recipe)

1 tbsp olive oil

dash of salt

1-2 sprigs fresh thyme

1 bay leaf

1/2 cup dry white wine

3 cups broth (traditionally beef, I used vegetable stock listed above)

3 slices of farmers bread (any bread will work, I used a whole wheat, grainy and seedy bread)

shredded gruyére cheese (sliced would work just fine)

Peel the onions, cut them in half and slice them into thin half moon slices. In a medium sized pot, heat the olive oil and carefully add the onions, salt, bay leaf and thyme. This takes the longest, about 30 minutes, saute the onions until they are a golden amber color, stirring often so they do not stick to the pot.

Once the onions are a golden color, add the wine and let sizzle off for a couple of minutes. Then add the broth, bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer for about 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, shred the cheese, toast the bread, and pre-heat the oven to 450˚ F. After the bread is toasted, I like to break it up into small pieces to make it easier to eat.

Once the soup itself is done, ladle it into 3 oven-safe dishes, place a slice of bread (or cover the top of the bowl with crumbled up toasted bread) and a thin layer of cheese. (I say thin because it's a natural tendency to want to put a lot of cheese on the top, but you really don't need it, it gets harder to eat and then the whole soup gets consumed by the flavor of the cheese, which is unnecessary, and in fact undesirable). Place in the pre-heated oven for about 10 minutes or until the top of the cheese/bread is golden brown.

Serve hot.

My mom and dad loved it. My dad even insisted that it was too much to eat, he licked his bowl clean and concluded it was just right.

Tea

I am what one may call a tea aficianado. I don't necessarily know how to process tea leaves, I leave that to the professionals, but I support what they do and enjoy my tea on a daily basis.

I one day found myself in a store called Teavana, I had been lured me by samples of white tea and a cute scruffy boy distributing the warm delightful treats. He was in an apron.

I was with my dear friend and roommate from my freshman year dorms, she is used to this. By this I mean the state of mind to which I transform when I see tea, chocolate, good food, running paraphernalia , yoga pants, babies, cooking utensils and Mediterranean looking men. She said she'd be at Borders across the way, I think she repeated herself four times before I noticed she was talking to me. I was too busy focusing on not touching the tea pots. It has to be an active effort.

So I wandered around the store. I found myself at the counter reading the names of all of the teas, with a blank look on my face. The woman at the counter asked if I could be helped. I claimed that I was just in awe of all of the tea. She asked me what my favorite tea was. I chuckled.

"It depends on my mood, the time of day, the weather, and whether I'm with company or alone."

Her face lit up and she said we would make great friends.

"I guess my favorite tea is Earl Grey. "

She introduced me to something called Earl Grey Creme. A blend of Earl Grey with Vanilla extract and some

sort of cream flavoring. Quite nice, especially for early mornings with a dry biscuit dipped in it.

I enjoy green tea, gunpowder to be specific, on chilly Pacific Grove days when I eat lunch with my mom on her lunch break. The typical lunch consists of olives, cut up vegetables, toasted bread, labneh (the Syrian version of what you may know as Greek style yogurt served with olive oil and crushed, dried mint leaves), various white cheeses, and zeit ew zatar (again this is a typical Levantine food, it is a dried thyme and sesame seed mixture (among other spices) served next to a bowl of olive oil, you then take bread and dip it first in the olive oil (zeit) and then dip it in the thyme mixture (zatar), it is also served together sometimes, the olive oil mixed into the thyme mixture and you dip your bread directly in that, it is also put on flat breads and baked in a hot clay oven for a thin treat known as mana-eesh). This meal is followed by green gunpowder tea and fits the meal perfectly as it is light and not too strong of a flavor, and the food is all light and fresh.

When I have an upset stomach I like mint tea. I make it out of dry or fresh mint leaves. My mom likes to mix it with green tea, which is also delicious. When I was in Morocco the locals drank that several times a day. They served it with lots of sugar and it was just splendid that way.

For a sore throat remedy I swear by fresh ginger root, sliced real thin boiled in a pot of water for about 20 minutes, then half of a fresh lemon squeezed in and some honey. If you drink this 3 times/day, your sore throat will be cleared, I can almost guarantee it.

Fruity and flowery teas I like iced. My favorite is Jasmine Fancy

by Peet's Coffee and Tea, my aunt has a pitcher of this tea on the counter of her kitchen available at all times. She makes this sweet and the smell of jasmine tea and the taste of it takes me back to my childhood and all of the learning and tasting I did at her house.

Smokey teas are good for cold days and with cream. These include Lapsang Suchong, and some less smokey teas such as Russian Caravan. Lapsang Suchong is very strong and has a bit of a bitter taste, I cannot drink this tea daily but every once in a while it is just right.

Chai Tea is perfect for the times I am feeling like something sweet as I enjoy this spicy drink with warm milk and honey.

Herbal teas are perfect for the evening, and are famed to help you sleep. This includes lemon verbena, rose hips, chamomile, etc.

White teas are great but often served mixed with fruit flavors, these are wonderful but would not be my first choice.

I have recently discovered Rooisbos which means red bush in Afrikaans.

It is completely unrelated to black, green or white teas, all of which come from the Camellia sinensis plant. The difference between these three teas is the time of oxidation. The tea is classified as white, green or black depending on how it is processed and prepared. After the leaf is picked, it begins to wilt and oxidize if it is not dried well. Oxidation often referred to as fermentation (although it is not true fermentation) in the tea leaves is considered enzymatic oxidation, the tea leaves turn brown as a result of the chlorophyll breaking down and tannins being released. The tea is then heated to stop the enzymatic activity. Black tea is then dried and then considered done. White tea is unoxidized wilted tea, green tea unwilted and unoxidized (which is why it still slightly green and where it gets it's name) the last major class of teas, oolong is often considered half black, half green; it is wilted, then bruised and partially oxidized. Rooibos on the other hand comes from the Aspalathus linearis plant, a member of the legume family. Similar to "traditional" tea, it is allowed to oxidize after harvesting followed by drying. During the oxidation process, it gets to be it's red-brown color.

Back to Rooibos, it has a very earthy flavor, I imagine it to taste like Africa, it is red and resembles the taste and smell of red clay. I recently tried Rooibos Chai with some honey and soy milk. It was wonderful, creamy and soothing, yet earthy and sweet.