Sunday, October 21, 2012

Brandon has been doing all the cooking and baking lately.

   So lately I've been really depressed. I'm generally a really happy person, but I've been in such a funk for a while now. After having my son, Cooper I got really depressed and started having panic attacks really bad, and depression is pretty common in my family. My mother, grandmother, and aunt are all medicated for it, and I'm fairly certain my little brother has clinical depression too, but he'd NEVER talk about it or get help for it. Instead when he gets down he does reckless, stupid things or hurtful things and hooks up with women with too much drama that just end up cheating on him or ripping him off. As for me, when I get in a funk, which isn't horrendously often, but it does happen, I tend to become really overwhelmed. I tend to feel like I'm all alone and like no one gives a damn. Which frankly, is complete bullshit. Still, the reason I think it's actual, treatable depression is that no matter how much evidence I have that I'm not alone and the people in my life do care, and that life is worth waking up happy to every day no matter what's going on, I just can't manage to feel happy or care about things I'm normally passionate about, and that scares the bejeezus out of me.

   That all being said, I feel like I'm never going to have my food truck. See, we've had issues paying our bills the last couple months, and we're still behind on everything. Brandon found a really great job, but he doesn't start working until mid-November, when the next training class starts. By then we'll be so far behind it's going to take months of devoting every penny of every paycheck just to pay the rent and power bill. We won't be caught up enough to spend anything extra until the end of February, well after Christmas and Cooper's birthday, which bums me out, because he's old enough to participate and find magic in all of it this year. Thankfully we have a fantastic landlord that is working with us and paying our power bill until we have reliable income, but I feel smothered in debt. We're better off than a lot of people this winter, and I feel for everyone that doesn't know if they'll have a home for their families on Christmas morning, or the people that are where we were just a month and a half ago, that don't know where their next meal is coming from. At least I have a plan, and I have hope, and I have my fantastic family. Now to just get rid of this weighty lingering sadness.

   I was going to use this blog, back when our bills were being paid and I was in school, to write about the progress of owning my food truck, and to post recipes for things I planned on selling in it. Since that's being postponed for a while, I'm going to stick with just the progress in our life in general, and still post recipes, but of anything and everything I feel like. Lately, Brandon's been doing the majority of cooking and baking, so I've got nothing. The stuff he makes is so vastly different from the stuff I make. I make cupcakes, he makes empanadas. I make quiche, he makes flautas. I make chicken noodle soup, he makes pork calabacita. He's basically the wealth of spice to my (extremely pale) white (seriously, I pretty much glow under a black light) granulated sugar.

   Brandon made pineapple and pumpkin empanadas the other day that makes me wish pumpkins were sold year round in Idaho. Only getting to eat these delicious little things one month out of the year is depressing and wrong. He said he would start using canned pumpkin, but I think he was just saying that as I sobbed over the crumb covered plate of what moments before were 2 dozen warm, 3-bite empanadas that I inhaled. I left 2 for Brandon. I'm generous that way.I think he just wanted me to stop lamenting about the fact that once they're gone, I get no more, and they were gone. We still have pumpkins to carve though, so it's going to be alright until at least the first week of November.

   These things are seriously delicious. I helped make the crust, because I'm incredible at making flaky, delicious crusts, if I do say so myself. Brandon has a tendency of overworking it to death. So he let me do that. I also got to sneak filling off the stove top with a spoon every time his back was turned. He was not amused. I didn't care. I despise pumpkin. I don't even really like pumpkin pie. I always think I do, and try to eat some on Thanksgiving, but I don't. I never finish the piece. I usually just eat the back crust and let someone else finish my slice. Pumpkin is not ok. Unless it's in my Aunt Ellie's pumpkin ice cream pie, or pumpkin pie milkshakes from Jack in the Box. Both of those are good. These empanadas are like magic. Just trust me. I'll get and post the recipe tomorrow. I have pants to put on now, and a house to tidy while my son is at his grandparents.

   Cooper's over there because we were out late last night doing the local zombie walk, which was lame this year, and getting pizza, and playing practical jokes on Morgan's little brothers, and bugging one of them until he was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. It was a good night. Morgan wanted me to do pinup zombie, so I got to dress up scary and sexy. I love that combo. Now, on to dishes!

Sunday, October 7, 2012

My man made me cupcakes.

   I don't have a recipe to post today. Because I didn't bake. My love, however, my love made me some of the best cupcakes I've ever eaten. He made them completely from scratch today. This is a big deal for a few reasons:

  1. No one has ever made me cupcakes before. I even made the desserts for my own baby shower, and birthdays usually involved store bought cake or at best a boxed mix. That's not to say I'm not grateful for what I got, it's just a big deal for me to have someone make me something from scratch just for me.
  2. He made them for no reason. Just because. For me. To make me feel good. He hates sweets, especially cupcakes, but he made them anyway.
  3. He DOESN'T bake. Ever. The few times he's tried he's failed so hard he's avoided the oven like I avoid needles. With an avid fear apparent to most in the room. It's funny, because he can cook like no one else. He makes some of my favorite foods. None of them are baked. He's SCARED of baking because the result is so rarely good. Once he did make me cookies while I was pregnant. They weren't bad. I ate a few on purpose.
  4. They were easily the best cupcakes I've ever had. I can't tell him that, because he will think I'm just telling him to boost his ego, but they are unequivocally the best cupcakes I've eaten, and I'm a girl that loves a good cupcake.
   I may have had to give him a few pointers. He doesn't bake, after all, so some things were new to him. Also, he wrote part of the recipe wrong, so I had to tell him before he put 3-4 Tablespoons of salt in the batter instead of 3/4 teaspoon. Still, he made them, and he did an excellent job.

   These little cakes and I may have to run away together. It's going to suck when I eat them all and find myself alone, having left Brandon for baked goods, but they are that special kind of delicious that inspires art. Or poorly lit pictures of me pointing at cupcakes while grinning like a fool in my jammies because I don't get dressed or brush my hair on days I don't have to. I also don't cook real meals beyond quesadillas, or eat anything beyond junk food unless Brandon yells at me about being healthy. Cooper is gone this weekend, so this is one of those weekends. I'm a grown up, I promise.

   Let me describe these for you before I post the photo that is going up below. These are the fluffiest, moistest, softest little white cupcakes. They are lightly sweet and have a mellow vanilla flavor. I had him add extra vanilla because... well... vanilla is yummy. I can't get enough. They are filled with raspberry and white nectarine compote, which isn't overbearingly sweet. It's tart enough to stand up to the frosting, but it doesn't overpower the delicate little cake. It's pretty darn good. Then he topped them with a dollop of extra, EXTRA, EXTRA vanilla butter cream frosting. It's perfectly smooth and soft and whipped up so it's like a little pillow of creamy sweetness. Then he dropped on the rest of the compote. This is more than a crush. This is true love. I may have to dedicate a side of the bed to these little babies. They are that good. Just no one tell Brandon. He may decide he likes baking, and I swear, if he keeps baking better than me, I'm going to be upset because I like having that.

This is me being thrilled to death with my cupcake. I didn't actually die, but almost.

This is Brandon enjoying the last bite of his.