Wednesday, June 15, 2011

soft expired peaks


Pioneer Woman posted a recipe a few weeks ago that I have been wanting to try ever since. Last week I finally had all of the ingredients and the appropriate time. So, I commenced to making Strawberry Pound Cake with Basil Whipped Cream. Yums, right?

So, I rounded up the typical ingredients and correct equipment. I creamed the sugar and butter,


then convinced the strawberries to go for a whirly-ride.


They didn't even say thank you.


I added the flour,


the (now) disgruntled strawberries,


and whipped it into a beautiful fluffy pink batter. And my left hand is seriously handicapped. I needed it to work the mixer so I could take pictures with my right. Would you believe that Lefty barely knew how to use an electric mixer? It was like, "Whoa man! Why you make me be doin' all this work?"

After pouring the batter into a bread pan and into the oven to bake, go out into your lovely, dew-kissed, weed-free garden and pick some fresh basil. If you don't have such a garden, it's okay. I don't either. If you don't have a garden period, come to my house and get all the basil you want. Seriously.


Ah. Now the whipping cream. I love whipping the cream. I love it the way it forms "soft peaks." So, I started whipping. I whipped and I whipped and I whipped. After 25 minutes, I googled "how long does it take whipping cream to whip," and was told by the masses that the longest it should take was 10 minutes. And that was with a hand mixer. So, I continued to electrically whip for another 10 minutes. Thus I had whipped for 35 minutes and this is what I was looking at. Not to mention that, by now, it was all over me, the counter, the flour and sugar containers, and the mail lying on the counter.


So, I yanked open the fridge and glared at the whipping cream. It said, "Don't blame me! You're the idiot who didn't check the expiration date!"
Yes. May 4th. And it was, very much, no bones about it, June 3rd. It didn't smell or anything to clue me in. It just didn't whip. Curse you, whipping cream. My husband reminded me that this was not a big deal and that we would get a free one from Winn Dixie. Which we did.


Ah. Whipping cream that hasn't expired. I love whipping cream that hasn't expired.


Look at those soft peaks. And that lazy left hand that can't even hold the glass bowl upright. And the weird yellow lighting.


Stir in the chopped basil and remember to look up the definition for pontification.


Voila!
Oh, by the way, the cake finished while I was whipping for nothing.


I will be perfectly honest and say this: It was kind of weird. All together it was good.... but the whipping cream by itself was strange and the cake by itself was plain. Now, the strawberries by themselves were fantastic! But, God made those, so duh. Jim said he liked it and I believed him... but we didn't go back for seconds.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

The Creeper has been missed


We recently traveled northwards to be with my family. A more detailed account will come later, but for now: The powerpoint.

The first reason we went up - Asa walked across a stage in a billowing robe of blue honor and was given a piece of paper. I really think our shout was the loudest. Congratulations, little brother.

Then... on to the Creeper. The bike trail we have visited at least five times now.

But this time, I have a husband.

Actually, this was the first time for all three of the sons-in-law. Son-in-laws. Whatever.

We saw multiple snakes,

swam in icy water (at least, the guys did),

took naps whenever we could,

and Dad fished whenever he could.

Sometimes we were confused,

and sometimes we were sleepy.

But most of the time we were glad to be in such a glorious land.

One day, we were forced to dress like trash bags. This is Mom saying, "Hey, you! You don't have on your trash bag!"

Yet somehow,

we still managed

to get very, very dirty.

And tired.

There was a cave to explore,

cute people to photograph,

Four Square to play (we are serious about this game),

wild ponies to feed (wild is very loosely translated here - these guys just hang out by the hiking trails for free food),

a dumb movie to watch,

and much cheesing to do.


I cannot wait to do it again.

Oh, the thing that I call living isn't gold or fame at all!
It's good-fellowship and sunshine, and it's roses by the wall;
It's evenings glad with music and a hearth fire that's ablaze,
And the joys which come to mortals in a thousand different ways.
It is laughter and contentment and the struggle for a goal;
It is everything that's needful in the shaping of a soul.
-Edgar Guest