Peanut Butter Pecan Biscotti


My life is so orderly.  Most afternoons I make up a pot of coffee, whip up some cookies, take out my fancy napkins and invite a friend over for coffee.

Nothing is ever out of place.  My hair is always shiny and perfect.  My lipstick never wears off.  I could totally walk down a read carpet… like, now.

My dishes wash and dry themselves… and hop right back in the cupboard where they belong.


Occasionally there are crumbs, but I keep them contained to my lined baking sheets.

Everything is easy and perfect.  You should see just how neat and tidy my closet is. Too good to be true.

And I don’t have to pay taxes…

… oh man… if only that were true.

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Breakfast Polenta: Two Ways


Dear Future Husband,

I got your email yesterday… the one with the subject line “To My Future Wife”.

Um….. can I be honest?  That was sweet… but a little creeptown.

I know… I know… you’re probably going to say it was all a joke and you were just kidding and blah blah blah.

Listen.  You may get the impression from this blog that it’s all sunshine and lollipops here at my end of the world.

Here’s some things you should know:

Sometimes I run out of toothpaste and forget to buy more.  Irresponsible.  I’m sorry.

I only have 168 Facebook friends.  That’s not a lot.

I adopt stray cats… even the ones with dirty, matted fur.  And I love them.  And I talk to them in my cat voice.

I have a voice I use specifically for cats.

I put my feet on the coffee table.  I’m demanding and unreasonable when I get stressed out.  I text too much.   I don’t want a pet bird.  I don’t want to pretend that I like your mother’s pet bird.  Oh.. and I’ll lose my everloving mind if you get pee on the floor and don’t clean it up.  I will.

So… yea.  I understand if you want to retract that email now.  If you don’t, you’re nutso.


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Tangerine Lemon Curd


I go to church in Hollywood.  Most every Sunday.  I step over super gross, drunken Saturday night vomit, club promo cards, discarded hair extensions, gum wrappers and street hot dog remnants.  I kid you not.  Hollywood is nuts.  Watch your step.

Some questions arise when I go to church.  Is it rude to shush a chatty couple in church?  Is it rude to ask a once chatty couple to stop making out during church?  Cause… I mean, seriously. I know we’re sitting towards the back of church… but Jesus (literally)!  ((Ok… I’m exaggerating.  They weren’t totally making out.  But they were kissing.  And I wanted it to stop.)) (((Um, Joy… jealous much!?)))

And another thing!  Sir, when I’m the usher and offer you the offering basket please don’t hold up your hand like you pass… like you’re passing on another coffee refill at a diner.  Taking the basket is not optional.  Putting money in the basket is optional… but you have to take the basket.  Touch it.   Just pass it on…. this is how this whole offering thing works.  K.  Thanks.  God bless you.


I love my church.  I do.

Now that I have that off my chest we can talk about citrus and curd.

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Matcha Green Tea Malted Milkshake



Hey Nextdoor Neighbor,

Hi.  How are you?

Listen.  I know you’re attractive.  I know that you know you’re attractive.  It’s not really that big of a deal.  It’s not like you’re a model or anything.  Mostly… you wear nice hats.

I think it would be nice of you to say hello to me when I say hello to you when we’re passing on the sidewalk.  I see you see me.  Just say hi.  I do, after all, hear you sneeze super loud, and put up with you when you blast your 90’s jams and… I suspect it is your stupid dog that leaves giant turds on old Lucy’s lawn… but I say nothing.

Maybe you’re shy.  I’m shy too.  Just say hi.  If you did say hello, I’d probably bring you cookies and cakes, and make you a milkshake instead of making my cat a milkshake.

See what you’re missing?  It doesn’t have to be like this.

Love, Joy


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Toasted Almond Granola


I’ve been workin my way back to you, babe.

With a burning love inside.

Hey I’m workin my way back to you, babe.

And the happiness that died.

I have that song in my head.

Maybe that means I’ll want brownies and cookies again sometime soon.

Maybe I’m working my way back to my sweet tooth.

Until then… I toasted you some almonds and oats… and I took exactly three pictures of it.

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Hasselback Potatoes with Spinach Cashew Pesto


Did you know that if you fancy slice potatoes and roast them with butter and oil they’re called Hasselback Potatoes?

Holy heck.  How did I not know this was a life option?

pesto collage

Did you know you could pulverize all this stuff with a machine and turn it into pesto?

Did you know that if you drink three Irish Coffees with dinner you’ll feel like a maniac?

Did you know that if it’s freezing cold and you’re riding your bike by the beach you can totally just stop at the mall and buy a jacket… and a scarf… and a cute new pair of underwear… and a few new tops?

True… all of these things.

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Tuna Pasta Salad with Spinach and Radishes


Clearly I’ve lost my mind.

For the life of me… I just can’t make a batch of cookies come out of my oven.

That’s not a euphemism .  If it were… it would be a gross one.

I hope you can bear with me through this savory time.

I dunno.  I just need spinach…. and tuna is pretty nice… and while we’re sitting around talking about nice things, I’d also really like a beer, nap and a fashionable pantsuit.


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Whole Wheat Molasses Bread


I had some pictures taken this week…. the kind of pictures where I had to pretend to be an actress with glossy lips and curled hair.

The kind of pictures where you have to look surprised and pleased and over the shoulder and don’t do that weird thing with your lips and open your eyes wider and tuck that crazy hair under the less crazy hairs and what the heck are you doing with your chin and please stop that…

Those kind of pictures.


Know what I learned?  My forehead is huge.

When I was a kid my Dad made fun of me for having a huge forehead (thanks dad… it’s your fault anyway!), and I had assumed that I had grown into my large upper face region.  I was wrong.  Totally disproportionate.  I’m reconsidering bangs.  Please don’t tell my Dad…. the last thing I need is for that whole thing to start up again.


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Kale Spinach and Pear Smoothie



If you’re lucky enough to romance someone with breakfast in bed…. do not bring kale.  Bring bacon.  Bacon is better in bed.  Kale is stupid in bed.  Kale is better if you’re a single lady that wants a smoothie.

How is that for a pro tip?


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Twenty Eleven

december collage

I have a few New Year’s resolutions.  I want to be better and do better… you know, easy stuff like that.  Do you have resolutions?  Be faster and stronger and cuter and smarter?  Cut down on the sugar?  Take Joy the Baker’s blog out of your feed?

Now waaaaaait a minute… before we do anything too brash.. I have a few New Year’s Resolution suggestions you might like to take into account.

Maybe you want to resolve to see more sky in 2011.  That could be nice.

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