assembly station
The tasting preparations continue, and thanks to the Haiti bake sale, I could be charitable with the samples instead of stuffing them all in my mouth. I chose to make a vanilla cupcake filled with passion fruit mousse because, um, passion fruit is the bomb and would easily get my vote for president if it ever thought of running.
I pulled out a recipe that called for 1/3 cup passion fruit puree, which I knew would be a small challenge to find. Even though people on Chowhound suggest going with Goya brand, I ventured to Surfas because, when I think of Goya, I think of beans, not wedding cakes. Surfas had a 1 kg container of Boiron puree in the freezer section. Not really what I had in mind because a) it was frozen, b) it was way more than I needed and c) it was $22! Ok, maybe the bang for your buck made more sense compared to what I ended up doing, but that’s why it’s called hindsight—a concept I’m all too familiar with. Besides, I had already left Culver City and I wasn’t going back.
And I wasn’t going to Food 4 Less for Goya brand either. This was puree nonsense! I was going pure or I was going home. (bad, I know)
ugly
After an unsuccessful trip to Super King in Glendale, I found the real deal at Pavilions West Hollywood. They have everything—at exorbitant prices and not always in the freshest state. (Really, check your local farmers market before splurging on their designer produce. Also, please buy enoki mushrooms at a Japanese market on Sawtelle for $.89 instead of paying $4 per package for the limp, tangled specimens at Pavilions.) But until my friend with a yard reads this and plants some high-yielding passion fruit limbs, I have no choice but to brave Weho. There, in the elite fruit section I indeed found the dark, gnarly gems. I picked out a few (how do you pick purple passion fruit anyway?—they’re all ugly), paid a pretty penny for them and headed home, where I continued to flush money down the drain by not using them properly.
ice bath
The inside of a passion fruit is composed of rows of black seeds surrounded by juicy golden pulp. I dumped the whole mess in a strainer, extracted half a tablespoon of juice and tossed the seeds in the garbage. Big mistake, dummy! Most of the pulp is attached to the seeds! How do you detach it? Put everything in a food processor or blender and pulse it up. Like you, I also thought that this would crush the seeds into an oblivion, but don’t worry, they’re tough. The blender strips them of the goods so you can discard the gravel sans last week’s paycheck, which works out well because you will need that money to buy out the rest of the passion fruit supply at Pavilions in order to make enough puree for this recipe. Have fun!
voila!
Passion Fruit Puree (adapted from Martha Stewart Wedding Cakes) – makes 3 cups
3 large eggs
1/3 cup sugar
1/3 passion fruit puree
1 T unsalted butter
1/4 cup fresh orange juice
2 t powdered gelatin (*see below)
1 cup heavy cream
1. Fill a medium bowl with ice water, set aside. In a small saucepan, whisk together the eggs and sugar. Add passion fruit puree. Cook, stirring constantly, over medium-low heat until the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon (nape, that’s called), about 3 minutes. Remove from the heat, add the butter and stir well to combine.
2. In a medium saucepan, combine the orange juice and 2 T cold water. Sprinkle the gelatin over the orange-juice mixture, let stand for 5 minutes. Place over low heat until the gelatin is completely dissolved, about 2 minutes.
3. Pour the passion fruit mixture through a fine sieve or chinois into a nonreactive bowl. Stir in the gelatin mixture. Place the bowl over the ice water, whisk constantly until the mixture has cooled.
4. In a chilled bowl, whip the heavy cream until stiff peaks form, about 3 minutes. Whisk one-third of the whipped cream into the passion fruit mixture. Then, in two additions, fold the lightened passion fruit mixture into the remaining whipped cream. Transfer the mixture to a pastry bag fitted with a round tip, set aside.
*I believe the mousse has this much gelatin because it’s designed for a wedding cake which has to be structurally sound. I’m going to try decreasing the gelatin next time because after chilling overnight, the texture was a bit Nerf-y.
I learned something this weekend. Bake sales aren’t competitions.
I swallowed that tough pill at the Haiti bake sale yesterday, as I saw my winning cupcakes get shoved under a table because it was already jam packed with the cakes and cookies of the million other people who baked to help the people of Haiti. Clearly everyone’s a baker at a time like this–or so they think. I had spent all day Saturday and early Sunday traversing greater LA in search of fresh passion fruit (West Hollywood Pavilions) and edible flowers (Hollywood Farmers Market, wish I had noted the stand) so that they would be the perfect combo of taste and style. But by the time I arrived (note to self: arrive 2 hours before the designated drop off time), the table was like the Arclight parking lot on the opening night of Avatar. My dolled-up cupcakes were relegated to the hot sidewalk underneath, likely to emerge hours later in a puddle of melted buttercream and dead flowers. They had fallen victim to the overwhelming goodwill of the people of LA. I had no choice but to lurk nearby and keep a close eye on the situation, like a mother waiting for her kid to get picked for a kickball team.
The situation only deteriorated as my irresistible cupcakes got buried underneath every late arrival of scraggly-edged Saran-wrapped brownies.
“How could a person hand over those indecent brownies with a straight face?” I growled.
“It’s just a bake sale. That’s the kind of thing people make,” Steve told me.
People not enjoying my cupcakes.
“Uh, no. It’s not like when we were kids, Steve. This is the age of the Food Network.” Or at least that’s what I tried to tell myself as yet another person arrived with yet another batch of cupcakes fit only for a preschool graduation party. Jeez, the people of Haiti were really going to make out on this one.
“It’s the thought that counts, Sarah.”
“Oh yeah, well here’s a thought. I’m going to take my cupcakes back and sell them across the street at my own bake sale. What do you think about that? I bet the people of Haiti would appreciate that!”
Relax. I didn’t do that.
Instead, I got in line and bought every single dried out brownie and vegan whoopie pie on an area of the table “perfectly big enough to welcome my remarkable cupcakes,” I pointed out to someone in charge.
That didn’t happen either. (But I wish I had thought of it at the time because it just could have been a win-win.)
My cupcakes before the event.
My cupcakes at the event.
Finally, I just whispered some encouraging words to my cupcakes so they wouldn’t have a meltdown, and I went home and quietly devoured the Duncan Hines brownie I bought to support the people of Haiti.
Bake Sale Lesson #1: No one is going to publicly acknowledge you for going all out and making cupcakes with fresh fruit and schmancy buttercream. A batch of brownies from the box will raise the same amount of dough for the cause. I suppose the people of Haiti aren’t going to be picky about the quality of baked good involved in rebuilding their country.
P.S. The bake sale raised $5000 for Haiti Relief. In the end, my cupcakes were honored to be a part of it.
And I was told by an insider that they did make it out eventually and got lots of love. All a mother could want.
before
after
Sooooooo, I’m doing a wedding cake tasting! I mean, for someone else. I’ll be making the cake, not tasting it. Just so we’re clear. You see, ever since my cousin’s wedding cake was a screaming success, it boosted my confidence in the large-scale baking category, and I’m ready to keep the momentum going. “Use it or lose it,” as my dad says. So much for cutting back on the baking and subsequent tasting and poundage involved in 2010. Who cares about a perfect body if you’ve mastered the perfect passion fruit mousse, right?
While last time was all about developing the foundation recipes—the cakes, the buttercream—this round will be devoted to expanding my repertoire. We’re focusing on bright, fruity flavors for their springtime affair, so I immediately looked to Smitten Kitchen for the mango curd recipe she made for her friends’ wedding cake.
Smitten Kitchen helped me tremendously in preparation for my first big cake. It was comforting to read another amateur’s journey into the daunting world of wedding cakes. She asked the tough questions (how to avoid the tiers sticking together) and shared her struggles (the Swiss buttercream!). I literally sat at my desk on a slow day and read all 200+ comments in which people offered up tips, advice, encouragement—it was like group therapy for the nutcases who agree to attempt such a feat.
So, back to the mango curd, which I’ve been eager to try ever since I laid eyes on it. It’s a straightforward combo of fresh mango, sugar, egg yolk and lime juice, and I was going to test it on yellow butter cake with Italian meringue buttercream. I woke up early Sunday morning to make it, and I let it chill in the fridge all day. However, when I tasted it in the evening, I could hardly detect the mango! It was all but lime curd! This called for an investigation.
The extent of my math skills.
I took another look at SK and noticed that the recipe was adapted from a previous one (as most recipes on blogs are) that was published in Bon Appetit June 1998. I clicked on the link which took me to my beloved Epicurious.com. Now, just as I had read all 200+ comments on SK, I never make a recipe on Epicurious without reading a good handful of the people’s comments. I strongly believe in the voice of the people to give it to me straight. And, sure enough, the comments on the mango curd revealed the truth—everyone thought it tasted like lemon/lime curd and not a thing like mango! Maybe the flavor got lost in the cooking process, maybe the recipe called for too much citrus juice—whatever the reason, this was not the best recipe for full mango flavor explosion. I wonder why SK didn’t mention that in her experience. Deb, if you’re reading this (in my dreams), do tell. And potential clients, if you’re reading this (probably a long shot, as well), don’t worry—I will persevere until I achieve the full mango flavor explosion that you and your guests deserve.
Sprinkles - fyi, don't eat the doo dad on top.
Yeah, I ate 11 cupcakes this weekend. I’m not proud of it, but it was for work. You see, I’ve been telling myself I’m going to open a bakery someday with the best cupcakes in town, so I need to test out the competition, right? Like I said, work.
Let me start by saying that I don’t understand why all cupcakeries look like hospital waiting rooms. They’re all white and cold and, despite the girly graphics and, well, cupcakes, they make me feel like I’m getting a prescription filled. I agree that the kitchen itself should be clean and industrial, but let’s warm up the shop a bit. (Disclaimer for Santa Monica shops: Too cozy could = too many homeless people. You’re ok.)
VBS - blackberry buttercream is my new favorite condiment.
My first stop was, of course, Miss Popular of them all—Sprinkles. I was curious about their lemon cupcake because that’s a recipe I’m currently working on. And I bought 5 others, just to make it even. Even though it was the first place I tried, the cake at Sprinkles will be hard to beat. It is incredibly moist, almost as if they took the pan out of the oven a nanosecond early and let it finish baking on the rack. The icing, however, is pretty standard. Loved the lemon, skip the vanilla/vanilla (don’t know who orders that anyway, but it’s a good constant in a research project).
Next I tried Vanilla Bake Shop. Their Meyer Lemon Raspberry cupcake is filled with lemon curd, so I had to see how that worked. The curd had a good pucker but what really made me happy was the frosting. VBS has got the frosting DOWN. I’m just guessing, but it tastes like they use an authentic Italian or Swiss buttercream instead of the American butter/shortening/10X combo. Heaven. However, pleasure comes at a price—the delicate buttercream may be the reason the cupcakes are refrigerated, which unfortunately kills the cake. I couldn’t imagine why the cake was so dry until I remembered how the girl at Sprinkles grabbed my hand and said, “Whatever you do, DO NOT refrigerate them.” Although the vanilla buttercream at VBS is phenomenal and I could eat the blackberry buttercream by the bowl, the cake gets sacrificed for its glory. Fortunately, they also have un-refrigerated cupcakes on glass pedestals—I’d stick to those.
Meyer lemon with sunglasses
carnage
Not yummy
Finally, since you can’t throw a stone from VBS without hitting Yummy, I relented and made one more purchase for testing purposes only—vanilla with vanilla frosting. One word—Ralph’s. Which is great if you like gorging yourself on grocery store cake at office parties (I always go for the corner piece with a big pastel flower and a 70:30 icing to cakeratio). But when you’re looking for a refined cupcake, crusty icing and crumbly cake just don’t cut it. But, hey, I will hand it to Yummy for mixing it up with a little rock n’ roll vibe. I just hope “Livin’ on a Prayer” isn’t an accurate take on their future. My physique, on the other hand….
Just like grandma. But easier. (The machine, I mean.)
For Christmas, my parents had bought me a West Coast version of my beloved Kitchen Aid mixer. We decided it would be less of a hassle than shipping my old one from home, so yes, I now have a Kitchen Aid for both coasts. The PA Kitchen Aid is white. The LA Kitchen Aid is big and black. I call it Dr. Dre.
The West Coast Kitchen Aid now has even more bling–a pasta attachment. Steve surprised me with it for Christmas, and I was psyched because the only other pasta maker I’ve had was one with a crank, which seems quite simple for other people to use, but was a struggle for me. Maybe it was because I used all semolina flour, which I now know is wrong, but I’m not going to dwell–the Kitchen Aid is here.
For my first shot at the gadget, I made plain pasta, nothing fancy, from The Naked Chef cookbook. If it were earlier in the day, I would have sought out 00 flour (which is the correct ingredient), but Jamie uses bread flour, which I have plenty of from the bread that I never get around to baking. The dough is a snap to make, just toss 5 eggs, 3 1/2 cups bread flour and some salt in the mixer and mix with the dough hook for about 3 mins. Jamie doesn’t use salt or olive oil in the dough, but we used olive oil in the countless batches of pasta dough I made at Craft, so I went with real life experience and drizzled a bit in the bowl.
For the sauce, I took inspiration from Jamie’s Pappardelle with Sweet Leeks and Mascarpone because the market is practically overrun with leeks these days. Steve had brought pancetta home from the store, so I started with that and took my own liberties from there. Here’s what I came up with:
Fettuccine with Crimini Mushrooms, Leeks and Mascarpone
3 oz diced pancetta
1 T butter
1 leek
1 clove garlic
splash of white wine
8 oz mascarpone
chopped tomato
sliced pepperoncini, if you will
half batch of pasta (see above)
Saute the pancetta until crispy and remove from pan. Dump some of the grease, but not all, and add butter to the pan. Saute leeks for about 5-10 mins, until soft. Add mushrooms and garlic. Saute for about 5 mins. Add a little wine for flavor. Simmer for about 5 mins. Add the mascarpone and melt into the leek-mushroom medley. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper.
Make pasta following Kitchen Aid instructions. Boil pasta in salted water until al dente. Drain and serve with sauce, a little chopped tomato and a few sliced pepperoncinis if you like a kick.
What a surprise to read the LA Times article this morning about The Savory Pie, when last night I made my very own chicken pot pie for the first time. Without them even knowing. I think.
Probably should have skinned them first.
Let me preface this post by saying that I am no stranger to the pie. I’ve been makin’ pies with homemade crust and pretty leaves since I was 15. Blueberry, peach, lemon meringue are my friends, but a pot pie is an entirely new beast for me. I didn’t grow up eating them, probably because my mom thinks making pie crust is equivalent to splitting the atom. She always asks me to make a pie in the way you may ask a friend to pick you up from the Long Beach airport—“Bear, do you think you can make a pie for us or will that be too much? Oh, we don’t need one. Never mind. It’s not necessary.” All that and she still knows full well that I will let the air out of her tires before letting her buy one at the store.
So, I’m not too familiar with chicken pot pie (aka King of the Frozen Foods), but for some reason, it was the first thing I decided to make out of my new Christmas gift from Steve—Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc at Home. I guess that’s what cookbooks are for.
The recipe consists of red potato, pearl onion, carrot and celery simmered with thyme, covered in a béchamel sauce and baked in a pie. Oh, and chicken. Steve had made one of his delectable roast chickens the night before, so we had plenty for the pot pie.
The finished product was a hit, in certain areas. My pie crust, a basic butter crust, was easily the best part. The vegetables had a nice crunch, but I may have done them a disservice in over-thyme. 
(I think I figured out that a sprig of thyme means one single twig, not several twigs stuck together on one branch.) I believe that I added enough salt to the béchamel, but we still both agreed that it lacked something. Steve accompanied his with a dollop of Dijon mustard. I kept mine unadulterated for the moment, but will experiment with the leftovers. One thing that basic common sense should have told me to add was corn, which seems like a pot pie requirement. Oh well, I trusted Thomas Keller, but maybe even he doesn’t know everything all the time.
P.S. Like any young adolescent, the pot pie needed a good night’s rest to grow into itself. I was AMAZING for lunch the rest of the week!
A christened cookbook
Chicken Pot Pie (adapted from Ad Hoc At Home)
Basic Pie Crust:
2 1/2 cups flour
2 1/2 sticks butter
1 1/4 tsp salt
5 tsp ice cold water
Combine flour and salt. Cut pieces of butter into flour mixture til crumb-like. Add water, stir and knead. Split into 2 discs, one slightly larger than the other (for the bottom crust), wrap and chill.
Pot pie filling:
1 cup 1/2-inch pieces red-skinned potatoes
1 1/4 cup 1/2-inch pieces carrots (cut diagonally)
12 white pearl onions
3 bay leaves
3 thyme sprigs
24 black peppercorns
1 1/4 cups 1/2-pieces celery (cut diagonally)
2 cups shredded cooked chicken
Béchamel:
3 T unsalted butter
3 T all purpose flour
3 cups whole milk
1 tsp kosher salt, or to taste
1/2 freshly ground black pepper, or to taste
1 T finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
1/2 tsp finely chopped thyme
Pinch of cayenne
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
Keller says to simmer the potatoes, carrots and onions separately for 8-10 mins, each with a bay leaf, a thyme sprig and 8 peppercorns. I did that, but I think they’re fine all together. Don’t overdo on the thyme like I did! Drain and discard herbs. Cut onions in half. Set aside.
Blanch celery in salted water for 1 1/2 mins. Drain, transfer to ice bath and drain again. Set aside.
For béchamel, melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Whisk in flour and cook for 2-3 mins, lower heat so mixture doesn’t brown. Whisk in milk, lower heat as necessary and simmer gently for 30-40 mins, whisking often. Strain and season with salt, pepper, parsley, thyme and cayenne.
Preheat oven to 375° and position oven racks in lower third and center of the oven. Put backing sheet on lower rack.
Roll out bottom crust and put in pie plate. Scatter veggies and chicken, and pour béchamel over. Season with salt and pepper if you see fit. Brush edges of pie shell with egg wash. Roll out top crust and cover the filling with it. Press the edges of the dough together to seal. Crimp edges and brush top crust with egg wash. Mark top crust with design of your choice to vent.
Place on baking sheet in oven and bake until the crust is golden brown, 50 mins to 1 hour. Move the pot pie to the upper rack during last 10 mins of baking if you like. Transfer to a cooling rack and let rest for 10 mins.
Serve with mustard, if that floats your boat.
In honor of my new twitter account sarahbearclaw (follow me for lots of excitement), we set out at 7:30 a.m. on Saturday in search of a winning bear claw.
Randy's at sunrise
According to Chowhound, the best bear claw in the South Bay is at the infamous Randy’s Donuts, so that was our first stop. Randy’s is clearly the Hell’s Angels meetup spot on Saturday, which made me a little nervous about snapping countless photos. But Randy (or whoever was in the window) got my back by asking, “Where’re you from, folks?” Oh, Pennsylvania, of course. He then proceeded to hand me a “bear claw” or in other words, a rectangular glazed donut filled with apples.
I don't know what it is, but I'll eat it.
This set me to wondering—what exactly is a bear claw? Does anyone really know? Wikipedia says it’s an almond-flavored, yeast-raised pastry shaped in a large, irregular semicircle with slices around the outside, evoking the shape of a bear’s claw. Bear claws often contain almond paste or raisins.
I got even more confused when we made our next stop at Stan’s Donuts in Westwood.
They say it's a bear claw???
They had a tantalizing selection of donuts, but I didn’t see a bear claw, so I asked, and the lady pointed to a section of pastries called logs—apple log, cinnamon log, etc. I laughed and said, “No, I meant bear claw,” and she pointed at the logs with a look in her eye that said, “It’s a bear claw if I say it’s a bear claw.”
I reluctantly opted for the chocolate cinnamon log, knowing full well it was about the furthest thing from an authentic bear claw.
I got a little warmer at Peet’s Coffee, where the pastry actually resembled a bear’s claw even if it had been baked and frozen two weeks ago. But the defining claw of the day was at Elysee Bakery in Westwood—light and flaky with a luxurious almond filling. It was a good bear claw, but in my opinion, no pain au chocolat. However, the search will continue because I think there’s a reason I’ve never been a big fan of bear claws—I’ve never met one I really liked.
The contestants
Randy’s “bear claw” was basically a rectangular glazed donut with apple pie filling in the center. I would have guessed it was a ghetto apple fritter, if it were not so smooth around the edges. It looked like a donut, it had the deep fat fried taste of a donut, and as far as donuts go, it wasn’t bad. But no matter how far you stretch your imagination, it was about as close to a bear claw as an English scone.
Normally, I wouldn’t count a pastry from a coffee shop chain as a real pastry. But in the case of the endangered bear claw, I had no choice. Peet’s claw was dry and stale as expected, and pretty much lacked flavor all around. It showed signs of a promising brown sugar-cinnamon filling, which turned out to be completely lifeless and clearly for show–no brown sugar Pop Tart, if you know what I mean. A few slivered almonds and a drizzle of glaze didn’t change the fact that this bear claw was nothing but a pretty face.
I thought I had tapped out my resources when I happened upon Elysee Bakery a.k.a. bear claw triumph of the day. Of course, I didn’t see any bear claws when I first looked in the case because I assumed the rectangle covered with almonds was an almond croissant. Silly me–it was a bear claw, and a damn good one at that. The pastry was fresh with a thin spread of Amaretto-like almond filling. Certainly the most sophisticated of the bunch.
Stan’s log/bear claw just baffled me from beginning to end. It was like the epitome of everything wrong with bear claws today. Like there’s a top-secret chapter in the donut maker’s handbook that says, “Don’t bother with bear claws. If anyone asks for one, just point at a random pastry and insist it’s a bear claw. That way you won’t spend time and money making a pastry that no one will buy.” Well, maybe people would buy more bear claws if they were given an honest chance to be themselves. We shaw see.
View of Manitoba from a plane.
It was a two-cake weekend, starting with the Canadian cake for Dan’s housewarming. See, Dan just bought a house in LA, but he’s originally from Winnipeg, so even though he’s become this So-Cal high roller, we didn’t want him to forget the Mother Land. Thankfully, Manitoba is shaped like a rectangle with one fat arm sticking out on the right by the Hudson Bay. The shape would be simple, as would the décor, because there is really nothing there except a few lakes.
This Guinness would rather be in a pub than a cake.
I made a gingerbread cake flavored with maple syrup to combine the holiday spirit and the spirit of Canada. I used this recipe from Epicurious, but left out the fresh ginger because I believe there’s no need to get that fancy with gingerbread. It was perfectly moist with a hint of Guinness. I covered it with maple whipped cream, although the maple flavor wasn’t pronounced because I didn’t want to risk having beige snow in pristine Manitoba.
Cool city guy gives a smiley Winnipeg tourist the cold shoulder.
Steve helped me make the silly snowmen that make up the people of Manitoba. If you’ll notice, there’s a cool city guy down by Winnipeg and up north, there’s a guy with a black eye from fighting a grizzly. I encourage you to pick out your favorite.
The guy up front is singing "Down on the Lakes of Manitoba."
The best part was that Steve insisted on including Flin Flon, a city in the West on the border of Saskatchewan, because it’s clearly a cool place. Turns out, Dan’s dad is from there, AND it’s named after a fictional character – Josiah Flintabbatey Flonatin. I thought it was discovered by him until about two minutes ago, when Steve informed me that they don’t make giant cartoon statues of legitimate explorers and other important people in history. Every cake is a learning experience.
As a general rule, I think the basket weave piping technique is for grandmas. If you’ll notice, every photo of a basket weave cake has a 70s color scheme, similar to the couch you grew up with. The cake is usually sitting beside a Jell-o mold or an ambrosia salad, waiting to be devoured by people wearing bell bottoms.
One delicious basket.
I know, I know, don’t knock it til you try it, and between you and me, I was pretty excited when the opportunity arose to give it a shot. See, when you make a birthday cake for someone who hails from the Longaberger capital of the world, you have no choice but to whip out the old basket weave technique. I’ve never used this decorating technique before and may never again, so this was a special moment in my personal journey.
Attempt at a gold-plated label.
For those of you who don’t know, the Longaberger headquarters is shaped like a giant basket. We decided on a peanut butter frosting for the best color match. The cake was white and I used chocolate frosting between the two layers. The only problem was that I used a recipe that simply combines melted chocolate with sour cream and it stiffened up like Magic Shell. Not sure what I did wrong, but it gave it a Tagalong effect that wasn’t entirely bad.
Yesterday, I participated in a fantastic event called Eat My Blog. At least 30 food bloggers baked all sorts of delicious treats to raise money for the LA Foodbank. We raised over $3000 and I raised my friend count in a major way. It was really the first time I felt like I took part in my community since I got to this gargantuan city over 3 years ago.
Giving the bear claw to Cathy Danh, our intrepid organizer.
Cathy Danh of Gastronomy Blog organized the event. The spread was truly amazing, from olive oil coffee cake to bacon wrapped breadsticks and so on and so forth. I made chocolate cupcakes with five spice frosting, which I think turned out pretty well. I have to admit, I ate so many trimmings while baking them that my sweet tooth wasn’t in full force for the event, and I didn’t sample as much as I would have liked. However, I will say that the bacon wrapped breadstick was a real winner!
For me, the best part of the day was meeting my fellow bloggers. I am probably the newest member of the group, so I have a lot of catching up to do with this seasoned crowd. Though I’ve been reading their food adventures online for a while, it was nice to put the names with the faces. I had a long chat with Jennifer of peteeatemall.
Me and Jennifer from peteeatemall.com.
I also met Hong of Ravenous Couple and talked with him about Vietnamese cooking, which I know a little about thanks to my lovely sister, Tuyen. I’m thrilled to have all these food enthusiasts as resources for cooking and dining in LA.
Find more fabulous photos of my cupcakes at Rants and Craves. Thanks, Daily Gluttony!
Everyone having fun.
My babies!
