Walnut Crumb Cupcake

 

I don’t usually do it over my blog. But since it’s blog related. And I do believe most of my readers are experienced bloggers. So, I’ve decided to share what I’ve been struggling lately, and I REALLY WANT TO HEAR YOUR FEEDBACK.

 

Blogger V.S. WordPress.

 

I’ve been using Blogger ever since I started blogging. I did not use WordPress simply because I did not know it existed. Now, the more I blog, the more I find using Blogger not user-friendly. Limitation of template choices (generally look unprofessional), rather dangerous (I heard) on backing up content, complication on content management……And so I’m kind of eager to switch to WordPress. Yet, I was told about the disadvantage of WordPress too: disability to modify theme, content capacity (again, I heard you need to pay for larger capacity)……

Now, I’m pretty divided on whether I should switch. Any thoughts?

(makes 12 – 14 cupcakes)

Ingredients: 

1 stick unsalted butter, soften

1 cup granulated sugar

3 large eggs

2 cup all-purposed flour

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

1 cup sour cream

For Topping:

3/4 cup light brown sugar

1 tbsp all-purpose flour

1 tsp ground cinnamon

2 tbsp cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces

1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans

Directions:

Preheat over to 350F. Grease muffin tin or line with muffin liners.

In a mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter until smooth. While the mixer is running, slowly add the sugar. Add the eggs one at a time, waiting for each to be incorporated before adding the next, and mix until light and fluffy.

In another bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Working in batches, add the flour mixture to the butter-sugar mixture, alternating with dollops of sour cream.

Spoon the batter into the prepared tins, filling them no more than 3/4 full.

To prepare the topping, combine the brown sugar, flour, and cinnamon in a medium bowl. Add the butter pieces and, using your fingertips, pinch the ingredients together into a sandy, crumbly mixture. Add the walnuts and mix.

Sprinkle the mixture over the cupcakes.

Bake until risen and browned, about 20 to 25 mins. Let cool 10 mins in the pan.

Osso Buco

I intended to make osso buco long time ago because I love to eat veal, and we don’t eat veal that much. So, when I decided to make this dish last weekend, I went to my favorite Italian butcher hoping to buy some very good quality veal shanks. 

What surprised me was they offered two types of shank – regular and osso buco. You might think of course I would go for osso buco veal shank. But no, I DID NOT! Because I’m a mom now, means I have every right to be price conscious. My instinct was to buy the regular one which looked as tender and meaty and most importantly it was HALF CHEAPER!  

After over 2-hour cooking, the osso buco tasted delicious and flavorful. Meat was tender and smooth. When we were scoping out the succulent veal marrow in the center of the bone, it’s like we were eating a lusciously pricey ice cream.

But, now I understand the regular veal shank is not superb enough for such strong flavored sauce. Sorry, young cute butcher, I know I shouldn’t have ignored your friendly advice.

(serves 4)

Ingredients:

1 cup all-purpose flour

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

4 pieces of veal shank (about 3-4 lb)

5 tbsp olive oil

3 tbsp unsalted butter

1 onion, diced

1 celery stalk, diced

2 carrots, diced

zest strips from a lemon

4 garlic cloves, minced

4 bay leaves

1 bottle red wine

1 (28-ounce) can whole tomatoes, roughly mashed

Directions:

Put the flour in a large shallow platter and season it with a fair amount of salt and pepper. 

Dredge the veal shanks in the seasoned flour and then tap off the excess.

Heat olive oil and butter in a large skillet over medium heat until butter melts.

Sear the veal shanks, turning carefully with tongs, until both sides are in rich brown caramel color. 

Set aside the browned meat to a plate. 

Preheat oven to 375F.

Using the same skillet, saute the onion, celery, carrots, lemon zest, garlic, bay leaves, and parsley over medium heat for 5 mins. Season with salt and pepper.

Put the veal shanks back in the skillet. Pour in the wine and let it simmer for 10 mins.

Add the tomatoes and stir everything together.

Cover the skillet and put it in the oven, and braise for 1 1/2 hours. Remove the lid and cook another 30 mins until the sauce is thick and the veal is tender and almost falling off the bone.

Serve it with spaghetti or steamed rice. 

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To Ethan (Your parents)

Dear Ethan,

Because both your father and I usually wear track pants, jeans and tee to easily maneouver ourselves with you around, we don’t really get dressed up for anything.

A couple weeks ago, we went to the wedding party of your father’s sister, Karin. And for the first time since I don’t even remember when we got all showered, shaved and attired. We had this moment documented in case it never happens again.

Love,
Mommy

Blackberry Cake

Now, we have the most gold. We won the hockey game. I believe. I believe the Stanley Cup is coming.

(makes a 6″ cake or 1 loaf)

Ingredients:

1 stick unsalted butter, softened

1 cup plus 2 tbsp granulated sugar

1 large egg

1/2 cup milk

1 tsp vanilla extract 

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

2 cups fresh blackberries

Directions:  

Preheat oven to 350F. Grease a 6″ cake pan or a loaf pan.

Using a stand mixer, beat together butter and 1 cup sugar until light and fluffy, about 3 mins. Add egg, milk and vanilla. Beat until fully incorporated.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

With the mixer on low speed, mix in flour mixture.

Transfer batter to the greased pan.

Arrange berries on top. Sprinkle remaining 2 tbsp sugar over berries.

Bake cake for 10 mins. Reduce oven temperature to 325F. Bake until cake is golden brown and firm to the touch, about 50 mins.

Cool in the pan for 5 mins. Remove to wire rack and cool completely.

To Ethan (16 Months)

Dear Ethan,

You turned 16 months old 2 days ago. I seriously hope it was your worst month in your life.

Let me tell you something. In modern days, people do not use cell phones to make contact, instead they text, MSN, Facebook or Tweet. Email is considered the most humane channel. People in our generation simply refuse to talk over the phone. If you receive a call from someone who does actually push the buttons on the phone trying to talk to you with their lips, there must be something life or death. In the context of your father and me, it’s something important about you.

Over the past 2 weeks, I received 2 calls from your father while I was at work.

The first one came on the day your father was driving you to your wonderland, aka, your grand parents’ house.
“I had my car CRASHED!”

“Was Ethan in the car?”

“Yes. But he’s fine.”

“How can you be sure?”
“I called the ambulance, and they examined him thoroughly, made sure he’s not shaken at all.”
“What happened?”

“I braked urgently when the green light turned yellow, and the car was hit from behind. The bumper was damaged. I got a neck strain from the pressure of the seat belt. Ethan did yaup a little bit, but I had him checked.”

Having been awarded the freaking “Road Star” for his over 10 freaking years of freaking safe driving, your father is that kind of driver who always reminds me to prepare to stop 400 blocks before the stop sign. And he knows EXACTLY WHEN THE TRAFFIC LIGHT TURNS COLORS!

“You got your freaking unsafe tiny Mini hit from behind. You got yourself hurt as the driver sitting at the front, and you are telling me Ethan is fine though he was put at the back where the first contact point of the hitting was? Let me talk to one of those paramedics!”
“I drove Ethan to grandma’s already. He’s all normal and smiley.”
“You do know your son acts ecstatic when he sees strangers, don’t you? Not to mention a whole bunch of uniformed dudes rushed out from a siren sounding ambulance. Party was on for him!”
“HE IS FINE. TRUST ME! I’m the one who was injured.”
“Now, you know which wife of yours is more reliable.”

A week later, I called your father after I realized I had missed SEVEN of his calls when I was in a conference meeting one afternoon. He told me to stay calm first before telling me YOU BROKE YOUR ARM! I tried to collect my disconnected and shattered ear and disassociate with millions of worst scenarios that came to my mind within that second, “You didn’t mean he actually broke his arm?” But, yes, you fell from the side of the couch on the hardwood floor and had your left lower arm fractured when your stupid father, left you unattended in the living room, was fixing your breakfast in the kitchen believing to fill up your stomach is more important than protecting your from killing yourself with your countless attempts. AND HE DID NOT REALIZE YOUR INJURY UNTIL NOON though you were groaning the whole morning!!!!!!

Now, don’t tell me to prepare to stop 400 blocks before the stop sign, and I don’t care when the traffic light turns colors. I rushed to my car and drove to the hospital as if I knew how to drive with tearing and blurred eye vision.

There in the hospital, you lay in the arms of your father with your little arm wrapped with stiff foam. You looked so tiny, fragile and helpless. I held you gingerly worrying that I might hurt your arm. You snuggled close to my chest, your body so still. That was the moment the mama bear inside of me protecting her little cub from being bullied by other animals. Then I heard a voice telling me we were transferring to another hospital as you needed a surgery, THEY NEED TO CUT YOUR ARM OPEN AND PLACE A CHIP IN TO JOIN BACK THE BROKEN BONES. There were barely words to describe the feeling I had at that news. It felt like a thunderstorm shooting through my heart, and had it razed open. I have never had any surgery in my whole life, and you are just over 1 year old, how could I possibly let anybody put my little baby on the cold operation table treating you like a piece of meat. I held you tighter figuring how I could put you back into my belly and escape from the hospital.

On the way to another hospital, you were so calm, so quiet even though you had not been eating since that morning for the sedative. But I were not. Not the mama bear! I’ve seen on TV about children with various kinds of disease in wheelchairs or with tubes in their ears and noses. Still, nothing can really keep my heart from destroying further to only picture how they point a sharp knife to my own child’s arm. I completely broke down refusing to speak a word to your father whom I thought I would divorce very soon.

After we checked you in, we waited to have you examined by an orthopedist. And I have to tell you about that 4-HOUR WAIT.

During the first hour, you were a little grumpy as it hit your nap time. Both me and your father were holding and rocking you to sleep alternately. Though my arms were soar and numb, I wasn’t willing to let go of you to any family member cause I knew what you would be going through was way more painful. And I wanted to share and feel it with you. Then a nurse approached us like an angel trying to mend a little bit of my heart, telling us it might not be necessary for you to have the surgery though it’d all depend on the orthopedist examination. But I took it. I completely trusted her advice as she definitely knows more than I do.

The good new woke you up too. And you became extremely cranky as you were almost 10 hours without eating. We spent our utmost afford distracting you from the fact that you were hungry, and we did that by letting you tear off your father’s ear, bite off my finger, or singing you the Texas Chainsaw Massacre theme song over and over again. By the time another two nurses were ready to give you IV which was AFTER ANOTHER 2 HOURS,  I was about to split your father’s head off from his neck to show you what a human nerve system looks like.

And those two nurses!  As if they still remember they were trained to take care of babies IN A GENTLE WAY, not torturing them! They asked us to hold you tight on bed so they could put a needle into a vein in your hand. Right after you were away from my arms, you started to cry. When the nurses put pressure on your hand and put the needle in, you struggled and screamed with tears puddled underneath your head on the white cloth lining the bed. Ethan, I have not seen you so upset before, upset because you were let go of my arms and put under the hands of those completely dumb strangers who were jabbing a humongous needle into your tiny hand. I hugged your arm and held your head in my hands as I let go of my own emotion and cried in rhythm with your tears. Deep down in my heart, I felt like they were picking on you and I wanted to punch them in the nose. After a full sweaty 5-minute attempt, those two dummy dumbs took out the needle from your hand sighing IT DIDN’T WORK ON YOUR HAND AND THEY NEED TO TRY YOUR FOOT. I almost lost my breakfast and lunch on the floor, and that’s the moment mama bear roared and wanted to claw out their eyeballs. You continued screaming for another 3 minutes until the IV was successful injected.

After ANOTHER 45 MINUTES, an Olympian-looking lady with her biking gear came into our room. The long awaited orthopedist arrived. And the first question she asked was if Team Canada has won! Listen, bike lady, I have my baby here with broken bones in his arm, not eating for 10 hours, done being tortured by two moronic witches, waiting for you for almost 4 hours, and now what you care is the freaking Olympic hockey game? Someone please give me a gun, I would gun her down after she treats you. Then, she explained to us that she viewed your x-ray. And she’s going to put you to sleep and kind of push back your bones into the right position. NO SURGERY IS NEEDED!!!!!! NO GUN IS NEEDED.

When it came time for the sedative to take effect, I cuddled you as you went under. You didn’t cry, you just made that adorable siren sound until you became very limp and very DRUNK, drunk as a 13-year-old secretly sips your father’s brandy on an empty stomach with your eyes half open denying how drunk you are.

Then they took you from my arm, and asked us to stay out of the room. And I couldn’t argue with them at that point, I had to leave you for them to BRUTALLY HUSTLE YOUR ARM. And I’ve never felt so helpless. Every of your gagging sound that I heard from outside just drove my tear pouring more severely. After 15 minutes, it’s done, it’s over. We stormed in the room and saw you, our little drunk baby, still giggling and bobbing your head, and having your arm wrapped in a heavy cast, lying on bed peacefully. I simply could not believe all along the operation you stayed in head-bobbing state,  seemed like you were enjoying a massage. You didn’t completely pass out until you had your final x-ray.

Before you got discharged, the LOVELY BIKING LADY came and let us know the x-ray looked good, and urged us to keep a close look on your arm in case the cast was too tight cause it’s going to be on for FOUR FREAKING WEEKS. Now, biking lady, after that 4 weeks, if my son completely forgets the fact that he does have a left arm or he’s developed to use his feet to play with his Blackberry, I WILL GUN YOU DOWN!

Now, you are home. Though it’s heartbreaking for me to see you not able to use your arm as you used to, most of time you are in great mood. The discomfort doesn’t seem to bother you. And you probably has no recollection of being tortured by those two brainless dumbs. However, I will always remember those few hours, and the days of worry leading up to those few hours, and the years and years leading up to those days when I didn’t know what it was like to have my soul wrapped inside your tiny palm.

Love,

Mommy

Sour Cream Coffee Cake with Cinnamon and Sugar

We Are More (by Shane Koyczan)

When defining Canada

you might list some statistics

you might mention our tallest building

or biggest lake

you might shake a tree in the fall

and call a red leaf Canada

you might rattle off some celebrities

might mention Buffy Sainte-Marie

might even mention the fact that we’ve got a few

Barenaked Ladies

or that we made these crazy things

like zippers

electric cars

and washing machines

when defining Canada

it seems the world’s anthem has been

” been there done that”

and maybe that’s where we used to be at

it’s true

we’ve done and we’ve been

we’ve seen

all the great themes get swallowed up by the machine

and turned into theme parks

but when defining Canada

don’t forget to mention that we have set sparks

we are not just fishing stories

about the one that got away

we do more than sit around and say “eh?”

and yes

we are the home of the Rocket and the Great One

who inspired little number nines

and little number ninety-nines

but we’re more than just hockey and fishing lines

off of the rocky coast of the Maritimes

and some say what defines us

is something as simple as please and thank you

and as for you’re welcome

well we say that too

but we are more

than genteel or civilized

we are an idea in the process

of being realized

we are young

we are cultures strung together

then woven into a tapestry

and the design

is what makes us more

than the sum total of our history

we are an experiment going right for a change

with influences that range from a to zed

and yes we say zed instead of zee

we are the colours of Chinatown and the coffee of Little Italy

we dream so big that there are those

who would call our ambition an industry

because we are more than sticky maple syrup and clean snow

we do more than grow wheat and brew beer

we are vineyards of good year after good year

we reforest what we clear

because we believe in generations beyond our own

knowing now that so many of us

have grown past what used to be

we can stand here today

filled with all the hope people have

when they say things like “someday”

someday we’ll be great

someday we’ll be this

or that

someday we’ll be at a point

when someday was yesterday

and all of our aspirations will pay the way

for those who on that day

look towards tomorrow

and still they say someday

we will reach the goals we set

and we will get interest on our inspiration

because we are more than a nation of whale watchers and lumberjacks

more than backpacks and hiking trails

we are hammers and nails building bridges

towards those who are willing to walk across

we are the lost-and-found for all those who might find themselves at a loss

we are not the see-through gloss or glamour

of those who clamour for the failings of others

we are fathers brothers sisters and mothers

uncles and nephews aunts and nieces

we are cousins

we are found missing puzzle pieces

we are families with room at the table for newcomers

we are more than summers and winters

more than on and off seasons

we are the reasons people have for wanting to stay

because we are more than what we say or do

we live to get past what we go through

and learn who we are

we are students

students who study the studiousness of studying

so we know what as well as why

we don’t have all the answers

but we try

and the effort is what makes us more

we don’t all know what it is in life we’re looking for

so keep exploring

go far and wide

or go inside but go deep

go deep

as if James Cameron was filming a sequel to The Abyss

and suddenly there was this location scout

trying to figure some way out

to get inside you

because you’ve been through hell and high water

and you went deep

keep exploring

because we are more

than a laundry list of things to do and places to see

we are more than hills to ski

or countryside ponds to skate

we are the abandoned hesitation of all those who can’t wait

we are first-rate greasy-spoon diners and healthy-living cafes

a country that is all the ways you choose to live

a land that can give you variety

because we are choices

we are millions upon millions of voices shouting

” keep exploring… we are more”

we are the surprise the world has in store for you

it’s true

Canada is the “what” in “what’s new?”

so don’t say “been there done that”

unless you’ve sat on the sidewalk

while chalk artists draw still lifes

on the concrete of a kid in the street

beatboxing to Neil Young for fun

don’t say you’ve been there done that

unless you’ve been here doing it

let this country be your first-aid kit

for all the times you get sick of the same old same old

let us be the story told to your friends

and when that story ends

leave chapters for the next time you’ll come back

next time pack for all the things

you didn’t pack for the first time

but don’t let your luggage define your travels

each life unravels differently

and experiences are what make up

the colours of our tapestry

we are the true north

strong and free

and what’s more

is that we didn’t just say it

we made it be. 

GO! CANADA! GO!

(makes 2 loaves)

Ingredients:

Cake

2 sticks butter

1 cup white sugar

2 eggs

2 cups flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1 cup sour cream

1 tsp vanilla extract

Topping

1/2 cup brown sugar

2 tsp cinnamon

1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350F. Grease 2 loaf pans.

Cream butter, sugar and eggs in a stand mixer with the paddle attachment until light and fluffy.

Combine sour cream and vanilla. Add to butter mixture.

In another bowl, sift flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Gradually, add flour mixture to sour cream mixture, stirring until just combined.

Combine all topping ingredients in a small bowl. Pull half of the cake batter into 2 loaf pans. Sprinkle half of topping over. Pull remaining batter over toppings. Finish with remaining topping. 

Bake at 350F until toothpick inserted into the center of the cakes comes out clean, about 45 mins.

To Ethan (Sponge Stage)

Dear Ethan,

Your ability to repeat everything and act too sensitively has proven the function of processing sensory data in your brain is developing fine.

One hockey night, when our consistently inconsistent Canucks gave up an ugly goal, an exasperated “FXXK” rushed out from my mouth. And you, who had been busy wandering around the house like a lost baby penguin looking for your igloo, suddenly stopped, stared at me with your 2 loonie eyes and said “FOK” to my face. Then, when we were cheering and screaming for their first goal, you got all excited HOLLERING AT US AND LIFTING UP YOUR TOY TRAIN SET like an extremely stoned heavy metal star trying to smash his Gibson.

There, I knew it’s too late for me to behave like a parent. 

This week, your father bought you to watch Olympic torch relay when it passed through our neighborhood. When everybody in the crowd was overwhelmed emotionally, YOU FELT COMPLETELY BORED that you didn’t even bother to scream to stop all screams which you usually do……until the honking police cruiser ran by where you considered the party was officially started. I think you’ve come a lot closer to get the whole family in jail after your last attempt.

Love,

Mommy

Brown Sugar Walnut Shortbread

It was Karin’s wedding last weekend. Karin is Matthew’s elder sister.

Karin is an extremely high maintenance person. And it kind of intimates the low maintenance of me who has no problem staying at home doing nothing and not speaking to anyone for a whole day. Not happening to Karin’s life at all.  Not one single day. Being energetic, passionate, funny, resourceful, friendly and socialized, Karin is a core piece of the family puzzle. And I believe those characters have made her a very successful business woman.

It’s Karin’s second marriage. The beautiful wedding aside, there were also moments where I witnessed how a mother shared the joy of this life event with her daughter. It sucks when the first marriage doesn’t work. But that’s exactly what Karin would do – mend your broken heart, get yourself ready to move on with your life. Be brave to embrace what comes next.

Love you, Karin and Brian.    

(makes round 32 squares)

Ingredients:

4 sticks unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup light brown sugar

1/2 cup white sugar

2 eggs, room temperature

1 tbsp vanilla extract

2 1/2 cup all purpose flour

1 tsp kosher salt

1 1/2 cup coarsely chopped walnuts

Directions:

Preheat oven to 325F. Grease and line two 8″x8″ square cake pan with parchment paper.

Cream butter, brown sugar and white sugar in a stand mixer with the paddle attachment until light and fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla until combined, then mix in dry ingredients. Combine completely.

Divide dough evenly into prepared pans, spreading smooth and level. Sprinkle with granulated sugar and bake until golden brown, about 35 to 45 minutes.

Let cool completely before using a sharp knife to cut into squares.

To Ethan (It won’t rock after 10 years)

Dear Ethan,

Simply tell me is it the fate of all men to grow facial hair? No. Not on the young. CREEPY! Mustaches are for fathers, Sherlock Holmes, and maybe very ugly porn stars. 

So, please let the mustaches be a welcome mat to your gooey nose fluid JUST FOR NOW.

Love,
Mommy