Cupcake friday

I had the day off today and spent part of it at the Ferry Building. The weather was sunny and bright and for awhile I sat on the pier, drinking a latte, watching the boats, and looking at Treasure Island. Isn't that civilized for a Friday?

Here's a mediocre photo I took with my iPhone.

When I'd had enough of that, I browsed the fabulous shops, then met my friend Kami for lunch at Market Bar.

I've known Kami for 19 years. We met in college, and lived together first in Los Angeles, then in San Francisco. We've seen each other through school, graduate school, countless jobs, family problems, deaths, boyfriends, apartments, husbands, dogs, and one baby. Among the things I've learned as I've gotten older is that there's no substitution for old friends. I treasure them, deeply.

We talked about all kinds of things, some serious and many not. When we were done with lunch, we found ourselves in front of Miette.

We like to support local businesses, especially during this turbulent economy, and thought it only right to purchase a few sweets. Kami bought some caramels, and I purchased two chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting. The nice lady packed them in a tiny little box and off I went.

When I got home, I was worried about the cupcakes and thought it a good idea to check on them.

I admired them for a long time.

Aren't they irresistible?And they're so...small. One person could easily eat two.

The husband doesn't know I bought them.

What he doesn't know can't hurt him.

Ssshh! Happy weekend!

Vanilla bean bundt cake

I know looks aren't everything, but I think we can all agree they count for something.

With potential mates, sure. But mostly I'm talking about with food.

On Sunday I decided to make a Vanilla Bean Bundt Cake from Bon Appetit. From the moment I saw the recipe, I knew I had to make it. First of all, the phrase "vanilla bean" makes me drool a little. Second, I'll make anything that requires my bundt pan; it's adorable but highly underused. Perhaps I should start cooking savory things in it. (Meat loaf in a bundt pan? Would that be a meat bundt?)

Anyhow, the cake was simple and ready in no time. But it didn't look exactly as I expected.

Here's the photo from Bon Appetit:

And here's mine:

Ok, different bundt pans (mine's better). But the main question is...why does the Bon Appetit cake look perfectly striped and worthy of a midwestern bake sale while mine looks like a giant, suntanned donut?

I glared at the husband, although goodness knows he was an innocent bystander.

"Does this look like a donut?" I demanded.

"A little..." he admitted, assessing my anger level. "Sort of like a big cruller." Then he hoofed it to the living room to escape my wrath.

The fact that I cannot stand donuts made this even more upsetting.

I blame it on the glaze, although it contains only three ingredients --milk, powdered sugar, and vanilla--pretty impossible to mess up. But mine turned out clear instead of white and although it seemed thick enough in the bowl, it must have been too runny. I can only conclude that the magazine used a different glaze or doctored the photo. Or that I was supposed to add more sugar. But the recipe only suggested that you add more milk to thin it, not more sugar to thicken it.

I was a little mad. Why not tell readers how to get the glaze in the picture? That's what we want to make, after all. No one would look at the magazine photo and think, "I'm gonna make that cake, but hopefully it'll turn out with a crummy, thin glaze instead of a nice thick white one."

After I huffed and puffed a little, I got over it. A piece of cake helps with tantrums. Mothers have known about this phenomenon for decades. Crying baby? Stuff something sweet in its mouth. Works for grown adults too. I'm going to try it at work, start carrying around rolls of Girl Scout cookies. Lots of crybabies around the office these days but I bet I can silence them with a steady stream of Thin Mints.

Anyway, the cake was quite delicious, homely glaze and all. Let's look inside.

Nice crumb, right? Fluffy and light...that's the buttermilk talking. And did I mention there's bourbon in this cake? Next time I might add more, to take the cake all the way to boozy.

This cake would also be dynamite with vanilla bean frosting. Or chocolate frosting. Or lemon frosting.

But for now, this will do.

Lazy girl dinner

On weekends, especially Sundays, I like to put together a nice-ish dinner. Sometimes this means something rather involved, like coq au vin or baked ziti. But just as often, I make dinners that look like they took some work but in reality required very little effort.

Such as roast loin of pork.

Here's my method. Combine a few tablespoons of olive oil, some salt and pepper, and any other spices or herbs you like. Sometimes I chop up garlic and rosemary and throw that in; other times I grind up fennel seed and coriander. Many nights, I'm too lazy to do either and just rely on salt and pepper to do the work. Rub the mixture over the pork roast and place in a pan. Roast at 425 for about 40-45 minutes, turning once. I usually take the pork out when a thermometer registers about 137-140, which is medium on the side of pink, but cook as you prefer. Let rest 10-15 minutes before slicing.

When I'm feeling a little fancy I make this fig and port sauce to serve alongside it; it's a simple, gorgeous, shiny sauce that smells of Christmas. This sauce would be divine on almost anything: duck, quail...I've even dreamed of pouring it over vanilla ice cream.

Of course, you need sides. Last weekend while the pork was in the oven, I rummaged around and found some cauliflower and a couple of carrots. I roasted them with some olive oil, and at the end threw in some slivered almonds and currants left over from Captain Chicken.

I decided to make some polenta, too, because I pretty much always have cornmeal around. I cook polenta in a mix of chicken broth and water and at the very end stir in some milk or half and half to make it extra creamy. You could always put some cheese in but sometimes I can't be bothered to pull out the grater. I also don't think you have to stir it all the time, the way some recipes say. I stir mine for awhile, then turn it down, cover it, and go do some other stuff. It turns out fine. And I'm lazy, see?

The best thing about this kind of dinner is that it requires no recipes. I've made the pork enough times to know it by heart, and all the side dishes fall into place, depending on what I have on hand and what I'm in the mood for. In the end, this looked like a pretty nice dinner, and almost like I put in some effort. But that can just be our little secret.