Peanut Butter Banana Donuts with Chocolate Glaze

“How was your mom’s?” Roo asked.

“She cleaned out my old room and found some interesting stuff.”

“Nothing too damning I hope.”

“Well, she found some old diaries. Thankfully they were written when I was 12 and the most horrible thing I could have admitted to back then was throwing a hockey stick at my brother.”

“You what?”

“He deserved it.”

“Says the thrower.”

“She did find something random,” I said, changing the subject.  I handed Roo a piece of paper that had been deliberately folded over and over again.

“What is this?”

“A letter that S gave me before I left for college.”

“Huh,” he said, glancing at the letter then putting it down on the coffee table, “What’s in your other hand?”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“Is that a CD binder?”

“No.”

“What CDs are in there?”

“It’s empty.”

“You brought back an empty CD binder from the 1990s. To our apartment. Which is already cluttered with how many back-issues of Rachael Ray Magazine?”

“Hey, your DVD collection -”

“Which there are of 5. What CDs do you have?”

“Well, ok,” I said, handing it over.

Roo unzipped the binder, flipping it open in the middle. “You listened to Godsmack?”

“I listen to everything.”

He flipped the sleeved page over, pulling out a CD labeled with thick permanent marker, “System of a Down?”

“Yeah, I listened to them in college. I liked the song about chop suey.”

“I don’t think it was really about chop suey.”

“Whatever. So, I was thinking about it on the drive home; after reading the letter, listening to some CDs in the car -”

“You listened to these?”

“Maybe. Maybe Dave Matthews Band. Who are still awesome by the way.”

“Agreed.”

“Anyway, all of this made me remember, how S, L and I ran around that farm, acting like we owned the place.  We would skip out on barn chores to do Dunky’s runs. Do you remember when they came out with ‘the breakfast sandwich?’”

“It was kind of epic. Back when Dunky’s used to be good.”

“I know. And I remember saying, ‘Bagels at Dunky’s?! Uh, no thanks.’ But then I had one and it was delicious! Or so the hungover 18 year old me thought.”

“Now they taste like sawdust.”

I smiled, “And we would order iced coffees with milk and 10 sugars, boxes of donut holes – mostly chocolate of course- and oh! Cumby’s! We would go to Cumby’s all the time, buying pints of Ben and Jerry’s. L would get Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. Or maybe it was Peanut Butter Cup? I forget what S would get…”

“That sounds really -”

“Awesome, right?”

“Gross.”

I sighed. “I want donuts.”

“What?”

“Reminiscing about all of this makes me what donuts. Peanut butter, chocolate…”

“Banana?”

“Genius.”

Lemon (Almond) Cornmeal Cake

A Few Things I Loved About Traveling in Japan

1) The free “old man” pajamas provided by the hotels

The red kimono almost made it into my suitcase. Almost.

2) Springtime is like no other

The daffodils and crocuses popping up around Boston are cute, but they’re just not the same.

3) Excellent customer service

No matter if you pull into a gas station, buy an onigiri (rice ball) from a kiosk at the train station, or ask for directions for a hotel (at the competing brand’s concierge desk), the customer service is excellent. Sometimes I wish people would just say thank you in the States more often. It does make a difference.

4) Public transportation is on time.

Without fail, the trains pull up to the station a minute ahead of departure, allow people to hop into the cars, and leave, exactly on time.

5) There’s always time for tea. And with tea, there’s cake.

Like my jet lag, I have yet to shake the habit of daily tea and sweets.

Any downtime my mom and I had, we’d pop into a cafe – at the train station, in the hotel or down a random road from temple – and order a pot or two of green tea.  With tea came sweets (“Obviously,” my mom would say), and talk of what our plans would be for the remainder of the week.

The 13 hour flight home left me exhausted. But after I climbed the stairs up to the apartment, my stomach rumbled. And it wasn’t a meal I wanted.  It was tea and cake.

Lovely Lemon Cake

“Remember when you called me after your job interview and you said you were ‘so going to work there’ because it was next door to a Whole Foods and across the street from a Starbucks?”

“It was probably the best day ever.”

Roo stops washing the dishes, ”When was the last time you went to Starbucks?”  He looks over to see me hugging myself.  ”You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you hug yourself like those sad monkeys we saw on PBS.  You’re obviously upset.”

“Well, that’s the last time you’re watching Frontline with me. I am not a sad monkey.”

I am so a sad monkey.

Back when I was delusional and living beyond my means living in Cambridge, my apartment was across the street from a Starbucks.  I would go there so often (ie twice a day, everyday), they started making “my drink” as soon as they saw me walk in.

“Grande, skinny, two pump vanilla latte for Lys.”

Sometimes it got awkward when I wanted a different drink.  And by awkward, I mean awesome as they would just give me both drinks for the price of one.

It pays to be nice to the baristas.

“Why are you shaking?”

“I’m not shaking.Youcrazy.Oh!Side note. Igottwolattesforthepriceofone!”

“It’s 2 p.m.  You are shaking and talking like a college kid on ritalin during finals week.”

“Wha?”

“You should lay off the ten shots of espresso in the morning.”

Besides the obvious self-induced caffeine overdose, my love for Starbucks was a $40/week habit.

They’d always find a way to draw me in.

“Buy one beverage in the morning and get any drink for only $2 after 2 p.m.!”

“Starbucks Happy Hour (ie half off frappuccinos between 3 – 5 p.m.)”

And lemon cake.

Yes, lemon cake.

Dark Chocolate Stout Bundt Cake

Work has been strange.

Last month my boss announced that he was moving the lab to California.  What resulted can only be described as a workplace full of whispers.  Murmurs of who will be going, will there be raises, and the phrase, “did you hear…” repeated over and over again.

I’m kind of over it.

Not one that likes to bring home their workday, I often turn to the kitchen to let out any stress that may remain.

Did your colleague take the last of your solution and not replace it?  Knead some dough.  Picture it’s his face.  Much better.

Did a granny that smelled like moth balls hiss at you on the bus, because you were applying a “smelly lotion?” Don’t say you’d do the world a favor by calling her kids to tell them to pull the plug in a few months.  Instead, segment some citrus.

Did you lose one of your favorite technicians because they’re being transferred? Make them a cake.  Or two, because if it’s going to be a dark chocolate stout bundt, surely you’d want one for yourself.

Baked Cinnamon Sugar Pumpkin Donuts

I am not the best when it comes to “just buying the essentials.”

When I’m let loose in a store, I end up trying to rationalize purchases “we absolutely do not need.”  Well, according to Roo.

Last weekend I convinced myself that I needed five pairs of knee high socks.

“Why is there a plethora of socks at the bottom of this Target bag?”

“Oh. I need them.  You know, to keep warm.  Boston’s cold in the winter.”

“Spring is almost a week away.”

“I’m cold!”

Roo picks up one of the pairs, “This doesn’t have to do with the fact that they all have Hello Kitty on them?”

Damn.

What’s ironic is that this behavior gets quite bad when I’m trying to save money.  After a few weeks of setting a little aside from each paycheck, I feel the need to reward myself.  And if that treat comes to me via “free super saver shipping” from Amazon, then so be it.

Today, it was a donut pan.

But I’ll be ready when Roo comes home from his mother’s.

Yes, this pan is something we absolutely do need.

Chewy Granola Cookies

I am not the easiest person to live with.

For one, I’m becoming my mother at the wee age of 30.  I realized this when I started to wash out the kitchen trash can last weekend.  Really, who does that?  My mom.  Oh, and me.

Also like my mother, I ask, without fail, the second after Roo takes a bite of food how it is.  (FYI “it’s good,” is not a proper response.)

Second, there were a few times where it was pointed out that I have a hard time throwing things away.

“Babe, we have so many empty glass jars.  I feel like we’re one away from being cast on Hoarders.”

“What are you talking about?  I use them, like all the time.”

“For what?  Besides leaving them in a paper bag on the floor.”

“That’s where they live!  I don’t have any cupboard space.”

“Because there’s no room in the cupboard from all your glass jars.”

Lastly, I may or may not have had two meltdowns so far this week.  But in my defense, the first was from burning my hand….by grabbing a pan that had been in the oven.  The second was after realizing there was shattered glass in every single cup we owned….because I dropped a bowl on top of those cups and it um, shattered.

So when Roo asks if there’s a way he can have cookies at ‘snack,’ (which to me is essentially second breakfast), I try to make it happen.  After all, I need to keep someone around to identify my body when it’s found underneath a mountain of fallen glass jars.

Double Coconut and Banana Loaf

This afternoon I was interrupted Facebook stalking doing my research for my next lab meeting by a phone call from Roo.  He occasionally calls when he’s stuck in traffic.

“Babe, sometimes I think I’m psychic.”

“Mmm hmm….Wait, what?”

“Are you doing something right now?”

I click my browser window closed, “Uh no, I was just petting Monkey.  What’s up?”

“As I was walking up the stairs at school today, I thought, you know what would be funny? If I missed a step.“

“Uh huh, so you missed a step. Ok, well…”

“No, that’s not the whole story.”

“You missed a step and the children saw you?  Did you fall in front of a parent?  Oh no…did you take down a parent?”

“What? No. No, what happened was, I was carrying my cup of tea as I was walking up the stairs, and it spilled. Up into my face.”

“Are you serious?”

“And when I went back into the classroom, the kids were wrapped up in a conversation about what ‘their problem was.’  To which I said, ‘You know what my problem is?’”

“Oh no, please don’t tell me you did a two-face reveal of your horribly burned face,” I said, picturing him asking the class with his ‘good side.’

“Oh yes.  And when they asked, I replied, ‘I just boiledmyface.’”

“You did the dramatic point and reveal, didn’t you.”

“I boiled my face.  Of course it was dramatic.  But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Are you ok?”

“It feels like burning.”

“Seriously, are you on your way to the hospital?  Do you need burn cream?”

“No, it’ll be fine.  But…do we have any of that cake left?”

How to Make Coconut Milk Whipped Cream

Oh look, another followup post.  This time to Banana Bread with Bittersweet Chocolate and Candied Ginger.

Don’t you love these?

I know, you were probably hoping for another Ryan Gosling post, but I’m selfish.

Because I want Ryan all to myself.

Actually, I don’t.

Yes, I’m probably the only female (in the world) who doesn’t find Ryan Gosling attractive.  In fact, I’m a little pissed that I can’t say, “Hey Girl” to my friends anymore without them replying, “Totes Amaze!”, “Hashtag, IheartRyanGosling!” or “Why haven’t you seen Drive yet!?! Are you even American?”

But enough about Ry-Gos.

Let’s talk about coconut whipped cream.

It’s light, luscious, slightly sweet, and just barely coconut with the warmth of vanilla shining through. It’s perfect folded into chocolate ice cream, dolloped on top of hot cocoa and I love sometimes, sometimes I can’t picture life without having it spooned onto cakes, brownies, or even eaten straight out of the bowl.

In less than five minutes I can make myself a treat to eat while still in the kitchen, pretending not to hear Roo ask, “whatcha making?” from the other room.

I’m sure if I said “Ryan Gosling,” he wouldn’t mind me keeping it all for myself.

Banana Bread with Bittersweet Chocolate and Candied Ginger

I have this fear.  A completely irrational fear that only an obsessive planner, type A, control freak like myself could only come up with.

I’m afraid that I’m going to be a “Crunchy Mom.”

To me, a “Crunchy Mom” is basically one who strives to have their family live clean (like chemical free), healthy lives.

And what’s wrong with this?

Well, two things, 1) I’m not married and 2) I’m not pregnant.

I should have no concerns about this whatsoever.  (I told you, it’s completely irrational.)

But after watching this You Tube spoof on Shit Girls Say (if you haven’t seen the original yet, where have you been!?), I couldn’t help but relate to what those women were saying.

For instance, I saw Business of Being Born.  Again, I’m not even pregnant.  I don’t know why the film called out to me from our Netflix queue, but it did, and I watched it.

And I liked it.

I found it super informative, even though I’m slightly traumatized from watching Ricki Lake give birth on film.  Gone are the memories of Ricki prancing around on set in her oversized blazers during the opening credits.  Instead, vagina.

I also rationalize a $20 maple syrup purchase from Whole Foods. (Because it’s Grade B.  Of course.)

I love coconut oil and I have asked Roo if my shirt “shows my back fat.” The two may be related.

And while I don’t hush Roo so that I can focus on “my kegels,” (No.) a lot of this looks scarily foreseeable.

When I explained all of this to Roo (because he made the mistake of asking me, “what’s on your mind, Babe?”), he knew what to do.

He listened, “I mean, am I going to have a ‘Chicken Pox Party?’ My mom took me to one of those when I was a kid, and we all know how I’m going to turn into my mother.”

He smiled, “And I love full fat stuff. LOVE.”

He sat me down, “I’m just so….I don’t know. Everyone is having babies!  My Facebook newsfeed is basically telling me to have babies.”

And put this in front of me.

*I feel totally better.

Vanilla Citrus Pound Cake

Roo is on school vacation this week.

Translation: “I’m going to pout about having to go to work and try to wake you up at 6 a.m. anyways.”

Sighing heavily when the alarm sounds, stomping around the bedroom in the dark, then accidentally turning on the lights, may or may not have happened this morning.

I’m a real treat, I know.

But, for what I lack in manners, I make up for with cake.

You can totally apologize for not being a “morning person” with cake.

Accidentally throwing away your boyfriend’s $100 Xbox headset because you thought it was broken? And it totally wasn’t?