Today has been a lovely day. JW and I met his family for breakfast, did some grocery shopping, and then came home, where I have basically been cooking ever since.
We have a grad school student on our hands here, and some busy weeks ahead, so I’ve taken to making three things at once.
I just finished a bowl of pasta e fagioli so delicious I forgot to grate cheese on top of it.
I finally landed in the realm of my grandmother’s pasta e fagioli making skills with this particular batch, although I profess, I have a ways to go still.
She has the experience I lack.
I also baked an apple cake, recipe courtesy of Smitten Kitchen. Although I love Deb very much, often times her baking recipes exasperate me. She does intricate, cutesy things that I can never pull off.
Like make homemade Poptarts.
This cake, however, had potential, so I went with it. I’m bringing it to a dinner party tonight, and I needed something that wouldn’t leave me in tears trying to cut pastry dough into straight lines.
The only changes I made were to not peel my apples because I don’t believe in that at all, and that I used whole wheat flour because that’s all I have.
These were very scientific changes. Take note.
Anyway, although I confess I have yet to taste it (since I’d like to take it intact to the dinner party, I think it looks like a pretty sure thing. I’ll let you know.)
I was a little nervous.
Baking makes me nervous.
I added that to the dry ingredients, then added eggs. I was supposed to add them one at a time, but I didn’t remember this until I had added the third egg.
This is why baking is no good for me. It requires so much focus.
Next you layer half the dough (which is incredibly thick, by the way. A taste test will reveal if this is right or if I maybe should have done something to counteract my whole wheat dough), and then half the apples, and then the rest of the dough, and then, Deb says, “arrange the apples.”
I am not good at arranging anything, so what you see is the best you’re gonna get.
Mostly I tossed the apples.
Then I tucked it in the over for 1.5 hours at 350 degrees, despite not believing in ovens that are 350 degrees.
Deb makes me nervous. I try to do what she says.
I know, I’m overly ambitious on a Sunday.
Then JW helped me coax the cake out of its pan and onto this plate, where I plan on leaving it until dessert tonight.
I’d call it, pending the all-important taste test, a baking success.
And now I’m off to enjoy the rest of this beautiful Sunday. Have a lovely evening, chickpeas!