All posts filed under: cake

peach upside down cake, from a raisin & a porpoise

ǝʞɐɔ ɥɔɐǝd

Inversion therapy involves being upside down or at an inverted angle with the intention of therapeutic benefits. The process of doing so is called inverting. Are you familiar with the Pollyanna Principle?  If you ask a glass-half-empty type, it’s a naive or deluded form of reality-avoiding optimism. Don’t ask those guys! Never ask those guys anything! They always say stuff like that.  Your half-full types will tell you that the brain processes, and stores, positive information more readily and durably than negative.  We are hard-wired to look on the bright side, says the PP, to ponder lemonade as the dump-truck tips the load of lemons in our yards.  It can be hazardous to your health to take this too far– as in, That wolf is a fuzzy puppy.  I am sure he means me no harm!–but it can dull the pain of past trauma, and make you more fun at parties too. (The ship is sinking?  Fun!  Now it’s a swim party!) Feel like life is topsy-turvy?  Don’t fight the tide.  Bake.  (Though if it’s a cheer-up …

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hedge your bait

In an old Pillsbury Bake-Off cookbook that my mom has, of early 70’s vintage, there is a recipe for Blueberry Boy Bait.  It’s a very buttery and sweet, cinnamon-sugar-dusted one-bowl cake, but it almost doesn’t matter what it tastes like, right?  The name does all the work.  We used to make batches and batches of it.  As near as I can recall, no boys were baited.  But it was a tasty cake. I woke up thinking about Blueberry Boy Bait because someone left the freezer door open yesterday–not the Big Kahuna Freezer, thank goodness, because if that puppy defrosts, you will find me in the nut-house with all the nuts and the squirrels.  The mere notion of such an event gives me grey hairs.  This was just the little bottom-of-the-fridge freezer, where snacks are snatched hourly, and nothing much was lost besides a set of those yogurt & jam popsicles.  But a little bag of blueberries did thaw and then re-freeze, making me think that quickly dispatching them was best for all concerned. When it …

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but wait, there’s more!

  Are you lurking there in the wings, shy of telling me what it is that you cook that makes you wag your tail with pride and sends your self-esteem rocketing?  Are you shy because you wonder if barnyard animals roam freely around my house, and if you only could be sure that they did, then you would pipe up with your story? Warm up the pipes! is there anything here for moi? Note to the file:  If you have hand-raised a chick in your house, and then introduced her to coop life, she will prefer coop life.  But she will never forget her roots.  Anytime wind or careless residents leave our front door open, this chicken (and only this chicken) wanders in.  There she is, seeing if the children have brought anything home from school for her. If, on the other hand, you were waiting for a little teasing glimpse of the goodies so coyly offered yesterday with no hint of their identity, then consider this: Bear in mind, if you are still tempted …

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