Biscoff Pop-Tarts


Here is a list of the most awkward things to ever occur on planet Earth:

-Me, age 10 to 15

That’s the whole list.

It was a fragile time, the ill-famed awkward stage, one I filled with activities like: making water balloon families and naming them after the cast of Full House, plastering every square inch of my bedroom walls with posters of Disney Channel stars to “take a rebellious stance” against the “hideous lavender paint for babies,” cutting my own side bangs to be just like everybody else an individual, misunderstanding the concept of eyeliner … oh, how vivid is the ghost of braces past.

In retrospect, I think the first defining moment of my awkward stage was when I opened up a box of Pop-Tarts to find that I had WON A FREE IPOD and literally ran in circles around my house singing “I’VE GOT A GOLDEN TICKET!!” because clearly I had just won a trip to the Wonka factory. (shout-out to my parents for laughing only behind my back)

That sleek, sexy (chunky, made-in-2006) piece of mp3-playing metal defined me as a real live “preteen,” and when that term comes into play in any young female’s life, things immediately take a turn for the worse. I filled that iPod with lots of High School Musical and thus my awkward stage was born. A Kellogg’s miracle.

(I will not be including any photographs of myself from this time as I do not condone publicizing early adolescence. Which is why I will never understand bat mitzvahs.)

I ate so many Pop-Tarts as a child that I actually ended up with the prize-winning box. I ditched them as a regular snack around the same time that kale started being a thing that I thought about, so it’s been a hot minute since I’ve tasted their genuine chalky goodness. (That’s a lie, I ate Pop-Tarts on prom night, but I’ve decided to omit all of prom from the list of “things that have happened in my life,” so they don’t officially count).

When it dawned on me that Pop-Tarts could be homemade, it also dawned on me that I could fill them with Biscoff spread. So the next morning at dawn (just kidding, I’ve never once functioned at dawn) I embarked on an adventure to build a better Pop-tart, 0% chalky preservative awkward stage mess, 100% flaky rich goodness with some seriously awesome caramel-y depth of flavor. I made them tiny because I generally prefer tiny things (this does not apply to bags of kettle corn or closet space), but it turns out that these are so overwhelmingly flavorful and satisfying that a smaller-than-average serving size is perfect. If you’ve never experienced the magic of Biscoff, it is an ethereally smooth cookie spread made from ground Belgian ginger cookies, and there are few things more delicious/addicting on the planet. Stuff it in Pop-Tarts and your life will improve exponentially.

In conclusion, I have managed to make icing covered cookies filled with ground cookies and call them breakfast. ‘Impossible’ is no longer a word in my vocabulary.

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January 30, 2013 · 8:55 pm

Lemon Lavender Tea Cakes


 
I adore winter and its frostbitten cheer. Autumn is lovely in its burnt orange shade, bringing apples crisp as fallen leaves and a cool wind, warm with cinnamon. Summer is divine in its simplicity, and its navy night skies that never really let go of the sun. But this is the first week of spring, the season of bird songs and lavender and budding new life. My most favorite season of all.

(Excuse my merciless adjective abuse.)

I’m sitting here trying to think of things to say about how much I love spring and I just can’t. I cannot put it into words. I guess it’s like Mother Nature went down the pastel aisle at Michael’s and drew all over everything in the world. That’s what spring is like. It’s like all the puppies and kittens and bunnies and baby chicks are parading around flaunting their cuteness and snuggling in fluffy white blankets because that’s what cute baby animals are supposed to do. Cuddle with things. Spring is one big cuddle fest of nature. There. I found words.

Note to self/everyone: when faced with writer’s block, start talking about baby animals and everything will be okay.

In all aspects of life, the springtime has brought many beautiful things. Like cookies for friends, mason jar candle lanterns, pottery, and pizza night.

And when I wake up and the birds are singing, I like to open all the windows and make breakfasts like this.

Is it just me, or is more than just the earth in bloom this season? In a matter of months I’ll be embarking on this new cool adventure called my dream college, in New York City nonetheless. (!!!!!!) I feel like my brain is a cauldron of bubbling ambitions… it’s the best feeling in the world. There are a bazillion new babies and everyone’s in love and the sky is blue and it’s beautiful. Maybe it’s the whole apocalypse deal. I dunno. But I love it.

Okay, lemon cake. I made some. It was Spring, in the form of a dainty tangy light and lovely little cake. It is the edible embodiment of ‘chic.’ If Breakfast at Tiffany’s was a dessert… okay, you get it.

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Perfect Sandwich Bread

I am going to state some true facts. I know that it is redundant to say ‘true’ before ‘facts’ because facts are true by definition but I did anyway for emphasis so don’t judge.

1. Everybody loves bread because bread is the best thing ever.

I also know that this is a gross generalization but really, is someone going to argue with me? You’re going to try to find someone who doesn’t like a really good slice of bread? Have fun with that one, hoodlum.

2. My new year’s resolution was to become really good at making really good bread.

I did not resolve to eat healthier. I did not resolve to regain the work ethic that slipped out of my life as soon as the titles of “senior” and then “going to college” were placed upon my head. I should have done both of those things but I figured the whole bread deal would be a lottttt more fun. And it totally was.

3. I am now capable of making really good bread. Useful, versatile, delicious, legitimate bread.

Technically this is subjective, but once again, I would have a hard time finding someone who would argue that this bread is not completely on top of the sandwich bread food chain. It’s basically a black bear, while Wonder Bread is a small rodent of sorts. This bread comes from Sarabeth Bakery’s epic and beautiful , which I highly recommend to anyone, and basically encompasses everything that a sane person would want in a loaf of standard sandwich bread. It’s about half whole wheat and half white, but if whole wheat isn’t your cup of tea, it would work fine using 100% white flour. For me, the whole wheat makes it okay to smother the bread in butter/biscoff/jam and still trick my head into thinking it’s “healthy.” 😉

A side note: has everybody tried Biscoff spread yet? If you just said no in your head, then you need to get your hands on a jar RIGHT NOW! It is the greatest thing of my life. But really.

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Caramel Apple Cinnamon Rolls


Tomorrow is December. Today I wore a sundress.

California fails at seasons.

Despite my lack of recent postings (thank you, senior year) I have been spending the -15% of free time that I have in the kitchen. I’ve been drinking hot apple cider more frequently than my inevitable cavities probably appreciate. I made several pies. Thanksgiving was cobbler-y and cornbread-y and pumpkin-y. Things have been tasty and Autumny and nicely spiced. However, I feel kind of… disrespectful, almost, consuming all of these things when there is a blatant lack of clouds/rain/snow/anything fall-ish to make this season feel real. Here in Southern California, our seasons are like botoxed vampires. They don’t change. 

Please stop grumbling about your frozen driveways. There are snow-deprived children in Los Angeles. Shovel for us.

However, I don’t know if I’m just more observant this past week, or if someone actually drove little bits of New England across the country and planted them in my town. I almost drove over a curb today because I couldn’t take my eyes off of the most beautiful patch of crimson and orange trees that anyone could ever imagine. Did I just admit that? Sometimes I get lost in the leaves.

Why am I talking about leaves and showing you pictures of apples? I don’t know. I like apples just as much as I like leaves, I guess. And also, I made caramel apple cinnamon rolls for you. Well actually for my French class but I won’t tell you that because I want you to feel more special than I already think you are. They were sticky and messy and sweet and salty and delicious and a lot more adjectives but I’ll stop there. They feel like fall.. even in eternal summer land. So whether you’re covered in snow or covered in barely anything because it’s so freakin’ hot out, I advise you to make cinnamon rolls, fill them with apples and drown them in salted caramel sauce. You’ll be happy either way.

Bon appétit.

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Meyer Lemon Doughnuts

I know that I’ve professed my love for Whole Foods here before, but really, once is not enough.

I make an event out of my trips to Whole Foods. Sometimes I get dressed up. I usually wear lipstick. I may or may not have a crush on the produce department but nobody needs to know that. I would be beyond embarrassed if someone found out that I sometimes write about heirloom tomatoes in my diary. Or that I have this reoccurring basil dream. Or that one time when I was trying to decide between red or green kale I…  wait. Oh no. This is so awkward.

I’m talking about Whole Foods today because last week, in the citrus section, I finally found my first bag of Meyer Lemons. I could have cried. It felt like I just saw a sign that said:  “Free room full of Christian Louboutin pumps, Mac lipstick, and gift cards to Neiman Marcus.” I’m pretty sure there was a Hallelujah Chorus present because when I spotted those tangy hybrid oddities, I swear I heard singing from the heavens. Meyer lemons, for those of you who think I’ve gone mad and made up my own citrus fruit, are Japanese hybrids of regular lemons and mandarin oranges. They’re little, smooth, deep yellowy-orange in color, and much sweeter than regular lemons. They have a distinct perfume-y smell, and make things sound fancy and gourmet (!).

According to my taste buds, lemon curd is king of the dessert kingdom. I couldn’t imagine doing anything with my first bag of Meyer lemons but cooking them down into Meyer lemon curd… and then using it to fill the most precious baby doughnuts ever. Mini things, rare lemons, hot oil… it was an all around good time.

Bless you, Meyer Lemons.

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Caramel Macchiato Cupcakes

I have a confession to make. This is kind of embarrassing. I don’t know if I should be revealing this to the world.

I’ve never had a caramel macchiato. Not one. Not even a taste. In fact, I didn’t even drink coffee until June. Oh man oh man oh man… I was missing out.

I lived in Manhattan for a while this summer. Seven weeks. It was vibrant. It was lively. It was hot. My God, it was hot. 100 something degree weather mixed with 5 million percent humidity does something to a person. Something unimaginable. Something unthinkable… something that Starbucks lives for. That extraordinary heat turned me, a coffee-loathing, religiously devoted tea drinker, into a downright iced coffee fiend. Maybe the three Starbucks that I passed by on my 5 block walk home (yeah.) from dance sent me subliminal messages. Maybe that green mermaid is a spy. (*insert illuminati joke here*) Whatever it was, it worked. Hello my name is Jordana and I am obsessed with coffee.

I can now go out for coffee and not be that awkward one drinking tea. I can indulge in cappuccinos and lattes and caffe mochas like sophisticated coffee shop hipsters do. I can drink caramel macchiatos (still haven’t.. but at least I know I can), and more importantly, I can make coffee-inspired baked goods without the whole “well, I don’t actually like coffee” situation going on. Thank you, mystical Starbucks gods. You’ve changed me.

These are fancy pants cupcakes. They have a sufficiently snobby name. They’re suitable for a brie cheese, fois gras, and truffle oil dinner. They have really ideal table manners and they’re very haute couture. However! If you were, hypothetically, to eat these while watching the VMA pre-show and several episodes of Jersey Shore… I don’t think anyone would judge.

**ALSO! Does anyone notice my new snazzy header?! Thanks to the awesome Patrice Bedard, Flour Child is all spiced up! Check her out!

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Nectarine Blueberry Cobbler

Hello. Hi. It’s summertime. Has the livin’ been easy? Flour Child is back in business and there’s a cobbler involved.

It’s been a jam-packed summer (pun intended. I ate a lot of jam. Jam post coming asap) and I apologize for the 3-lightyear gap between my last few posts. However! I am back home and stoked to tackle the best of summer fruits. August is produce promise-land.

Let me talk about this cobbler that I made. It’s borderline Amish simple. It cooks in a cast iron skillet, so you feel like a peasant in the best possible way. The crust tastes like cornbread. It has blueberries. It’s gonna be a good time.

Additionally, I jumped off of a cliff yesterday. Literally.. that’s not a metaphor for something. It was the greatest celebration of summer ever of all time in the world. If you’re ever given the opportunity to cliff dive, please take it. For me. For you.

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Flour Facebook Child

Greetings to all! Happy July 10th! Every day should be a celebration, right?

On this special day I’m proud to announce to you fellow flour friends that Flour Child has jumped on the Facebook bandwagon.

Since most of you are already smooth riding on that same bandwagon, I hope you’ll take just a quick moment to hit that convenient little ‘like’ button for me. For me! Come on! Don’t be a couch potato.

And in the meantime, keep on baking. Cookies make the world go round.

And so does pie.


Love love love love love,

Jordana

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Summer Strawberry Cake & New York City

Dear world/lord/universe/god/lady gaga/divine being,

Thank you for summertime.

Thank you for summertime, for strawberries, for ovens, and for New York City.

Do you have any idea how much I love those four things? Any idea at all? Well I’m sorry if you don’t, because there’s absolutely no way that I can put it into words. No way possible. Not even worth an attempt. Just don’t even.

It’s clear why I’ve chosen to mention my intense adoration for summer, strawberries, and ovens. It’s summer, I made strawberry cake, and without ovens, well… I’d be blogless. That’s a no brainer. But New York City? What? Yeah.. I’m here. In Manhattan. For six weeks. Why? Well, I don’t think I’ve ever previously mentioned that I’m a dancer… but I am. I spent last summer working my dessert off at a dance program in the city, and fell so in love that I couldn’t resist coming back again. It pretty much rocks more than The Rolling Stones.

Manhattan is foodie paradise. My friends and I ended up in Chelsea Market a few days ago, and I was speechless. Literally considered moving in. I’d sleep in the basket shop. They have a basket shop! All baskets! We drooled over the railroad track ceiling and hearty brick walls.

Moving on, have you ever eaten Ray’s Famous Pizza of Greenwich Village? Because it’s ridiculous. The slices are like… the length of my torso.

We have a (tiny) (but cute) kitchen in our suite-style dorm, so I’ve been spending plennnnty of time taking in all of the incredibly precious markets here, and cooking cooking cooking. This vegetarian chili and cheddar cornbread got me the Roomie of the Night award. Thank you and you’re welcome.

And this strawberry-banana-chocolate chip-brown butter bread (thank you Joy the Baker!) fed 12 rambunctious dancers staring at a tiny t.v. to watch Beyonce on the BET awards. Dorm life is awesome. Especially with loaves of things.

There’s a gourmet Belgian Waffle truck here. We ate gourmet street cart pretzels (truffle cheddar, anyone?) on the steps of the Met. The Whole Foods is like Disneyland. This city.. I can’t get enough of it. Ever.

On a sadder note.. my camera broke. It straight up broke. I didn’t drop it, didn’t get it wet. It just stopped. So that’s cool… but hopefully it’ll be fixed soon!

Anyway.. back to this cake I made. It’s called a Summer Strawberry Cake, because it’s just that. A dollop of softly whipped cream and it’s a picnic treasure. 4th of July loves this cake. Pool parties love this cake. Those farmers markets strawberries that were calling your name? Please turn them into this cake.


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Homemade Oreos

Fact #1: I made Oreos. I didn’t think it was possible, either.

Fact #2: They tasted just like the real ones.. on crack. So much better. So. Much.

Fact #3: They are extraordinarily better for your body than those blue plastic wrapped gems. (Goodbye gross high-fructose-I-don’t-even-know-this-looks-like-my-chemistry-homework ingredients.) Score. Double score.

Fact #4: You will become 700 times more popular if you bring a batch of these to school/work/anywhere else where humans congregate. I’m talking It Girl popular. Might as well just change your name to Kate Middleton. These are the #1 most crowd-pleasing cookie I have ever made. I mean, homemade Oreos…who does that? You. You do that. You’re awesome.

Sorry about all the paparazzi.

Falling short in the friends department? Whip out a batch of Oreos. Too much surplus milk in the fridge? Oreos. Little kid’s birthday party? Oreos. Grown up’s birthday party? Fruit tart.

Just kidding.. obviously Oreos.

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