Have you ever tried to peel dates?

Yea… me neither.  Except I totally tried.  It was hard. It was futile.

Did you know you’re not supposed to peel dates? You’re not.  All it takes is one text to a friend.. and you’ll know for sure.

Texting with sticky fingers. It’s just real.  No biggie.

I love this spread.  It’s bold.  It’s how I want to live my whole life:  sweet, spicy, tart, and good on everything.

Yea… that’s exactly how I want to live my life.  Most days.  Most days are tart days.

This spread is flavored with lemon zest, fresh grated ginger, earthy cumin, and spicy chili flakes.  There’s also a load of fresh lemon juice.  Just lovely.  It packs a punch.

You saw the closeup.  This is a less close up.

I just can’t resist.  He’s all fluff.

This spread gets cooked down and pureed.

This is the cooked down part of the process.

Maybe I ate a hearty amount of spread just like this?  So what.  Stop staring.

I served this spicy sweet spread on warm garlic naan. It was divine!  It was piled on.  It was double dipped.  It was alluringly spicy and irresistibly sweet.  This spread would also be incredible on a turkey sandwich, or as a thick sauce with roasted chicken or pork, and smashed potatoes.

Think big! Live big too!

The Simple Lunch is for days when:

maybe you’re nervous and possibly overwhelmed.

you’ve considered dipping your morning muffin in good olive oil.

you want to remember the days when you highlighted your hair with lemon juice and sunlight.

you need to sprinkle salt on your lunch aaaannnddd over your shoulder.

you want day wine… maybe two glasses.  no judgements.

Take a moment to enjoy The Simple Lunch…

it’s just like taking a warm morning walk.

it’s just like relaxing on your couch and just zoning out staring at your wall paper.

The Simple Lunch is happy and relaxed.

Grab a baguette, a ripe avocado, lemon, sea salt, fresh ground pepper, and a sprinkling of olive oil.  Aaand go!

Real talk:  I bring you this abbreviated post because I’m bonkers busy right now.  But but but!  BUT!  Avocado toast is majorly delicious and and AND, I’m trying to figure out a way to put baked cheese things on a stick.  I’ll bring you those treats (fingers crossed) this weekend!  I love you… let’s hug.

I have a super power.  I can look at a sad, understocked, and  unloved fridge… and find a dessert in it.  You have the bottom scrapings of the peanut butter jar, a bit of powdered sugar, and some random chocolate chips?  Dessert.  You have honey and walnuts?  I think there’s something we can do there.  You have marshmallows?  Um… that’s totally dessert.  You’d be surprised of the wonders you can work with strawberry jam.  Bacon can be salty dessert.  Bake it with brown sugar, you big dummy.  Granola?  Put that on anything and drizzle it with honey.  Barbecue sauce!?  Wait… only if you’re desperate.  Capers?  No… those aren’t ever dessert.  Maybe I’ve gone too far.

Here’s a dessert that came from my (slightly) understocked fridge.  Ok.. truth be told, I had lemon sorbet in my freezer.  Maybe that doesn’t exactly count as understocked… but maybe I’ve just spoiled myself.  I mixed tart lemon flavors with creamy milk and crunchy graham crackers.  The result is a no muss, no fuss, anytime dessert-y good time.

This is another one of those loose recipe situations.  Life doesn’t always require lists.  Let’s just go with it.

Grab a blender and a pint of tart lemon sorbet.  Blend sorbet with about 2/3 cup of milk.  I used a few splashes over 2/3 cup.  Once milkshake is blended smooth and thick, add a hearty handful of crumbled graham crackers.  Stir with a spoon.  Spoon the milkshake into 4 small glasses.  Top with whipped cream and more graham cracker crumbled.  Eat with a spoon and big ol straw.  Enjoy immediately.  Recipe makes about 2 1/2 cups of milkshake.

It’s creamy, bright , crunchy, DELICIOUS!

The dream house that I hold in my head is sunny and smells like banana bread.  It has a real-life adult couch and big, fluffy, matching, totally not hand-me-down bathroom towels.  The bookshelves aren’t dusty and my desk is huge and spotless.  There’s also a lovely woman that comes over everyday to help me clean my kitchen.  She’s wise and knows everything about life.  She’s my secret, dream house guru… and she does dishes.

My dream house has hints of food everywhere.  Raspberry colored lamps in the living room.  Black coffee colored walls in the bedroom.  A French vanilla bathroom.  Avocado rugs.  Pink Himalayan sea salt for a little girl’s room.  Fig colored guest room.  Cauliflower whites through the office.

This is what my brain does.  It makes a dream house and fills it with beautiful food smells, food colors, love, cat hair (why!?), and kid laughs.

I’m going to try hard not to call these cinnamon rolls.  These are not cinnamon rolls.  They’re something better and messier… that starts out just like cinnamon rolls.

We’re making a soft yeasted dough, with lemon zest.

This dough gets kneaded with a dough hook in an stand mixer for about 10 minutes.

It’s a soft dough… that means you really need a stand mixer to make this dough.  Otherwise, the dough will stick to your hands like mad.

After kneading in the mixer, I quickly knead it in a bit more flour and get it ready for its first rise.

Can you see the sheen in the dough?  That means the dough is a bit sticky.  That’s what we want!

After an hour of warm resting, the dough is ready for action.  Time for rolling and filling.

Dough is doused in browned butter and topped with a crushed raspberry, lemon zest, sugar, and cornstarch mixture.

And then it gets messy.

Yes… there is a raspberry juice mess going on here.  After rolling and slicing, and carefully lifting these rolls into the buttered pan you’ll totally have sticky hands.  Don’t freak out.  Sometimes food gets messy.

Let the rolls rise in a warm zone and bake up to perfection.

All love.

Believe it or not, these rolls aren’t overly sweet.  The dough is soft and tender.  The filling is bright and fruit studded.  I topped the cooled rolls with a quick lemon glaze.  Doughy and fruit sweet.  These rolls TOTALLY belong in my dream house.  What more do you want from life?

Dear The French Laundry,

How did a humble baker girl like me end up at a fine establishment such as yours?  Seriously.  Breathtaking.  How did this happen?

Ok… truth be told, my friend Tracy extended a last minute invite, I basically ran to my car in my slippers, a dress on a hanger flying behind me, and I sped from Los Angeles to Yountville in a cool 7 hours.  I forgot my lipstick.  Thank you for not judging.

Is it The French Laundry, or can I just call you French Laundry?

We’re on a first name basis, right?  Good.  Thank you.

French Laundry.  You are Fancy.  Capital F, Fancy.

… I can tell by the generous amount of gorgeous Thomas Keller flatware, delicious amount of caviar, and generous amount of champagne.

You brought me this tiny pearled spoon scoop and I thought about accidentally putting it in my purse for 3.45 seconds.  It’s a good thing I remembered that I don’t steal things.  I love that little scooper.  Well played.

You have salts from all over the world.  One of these is from the deep ocean, one of them is a French grey salt, one of them is a 40 million year old salt from Montana.  Wait… did you say 40 million years old?  Is Montana even that old?  I believe you.. mostly because you serve your salt in a swan.

I’m humbled by your salt choices.  Truly.  So delicious.  So delicate.  Refined.  So much refinement.

French Laundry, your Cold Corn Soup almost made me cry.  You brought giant truffles out in a dehumidified box.  Whoah!  You served me Lobster Mitts…. I didn’t even know that was a thing!  Lamb with pine nut vinaigrette?  I love you.  Every bite was entirely humbling.  I mean that most sincerely.

You did a thing to me… I think it was called Caramelia Chocolate “Cremeux”.  Don’t judge me for only being able to pronounce one of those words correctly.

Chocolate mousse, caramel corn, Georgia peanuts, ridiculous banana puree, and and and and Salted Popcorn Ice Cream.  It was the best dessert to ever happen to my mouth.  I thank you.  My heart thanks you.

The thing is, French Laundry… the thing is this:  you’re fancy… to be sure…  but you and your staff have a way about you.  You somehow make ultra fine dining feel like an intimate home dining experience.  You make the most delicious, perfectly executed food taste like mind blowing home cooking.  I mean  that with the most respect possible.

Your food tastes like community.  It tastes like love and pride.  It taste like dedication, education, and attention.  It tastes like knowledge and technique… and it tastes like you love your grandmothers.  It is everything that is good, brought to its highest potential.  Inspired.  I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know… but you blew my mind.

Would now be a good time to mention that we wrote ‘booyakah’ in your guestbook?

Yea… that happened.

Oh!  We also took a picture outside in the dark.  Tracy was holding her lightsaber.  Totally normal.  Nevermind.

Thank you, French Laundry.  That sounds trite, but I mean it from deep down inside.

Love,

Joy

Ps. Please don’t show your pastry chef these cookies.  Seriously.  They’re no biggie.  Like… seriously.

Sigh.

Back to real life.

Back to my boring old cookies.

Light, crisp, and delicious meringues.

Egg whites are whipped with granulated sugar, salt, and lemon juice until they’re stiff and glossy.

Then we fold in ground, toasted almonds, and cornstarch.

Humble… but I like where this is going!

It’s like nutty marshmallow fluff!

I’m into it.

These cookies can either be piped or spooned onto the cookie sheet.

Keep them close on the baking sheet because they don’t spread.  Easy!

Top with powdered sugar and sliced almonds.  Generous.  We like generosity.

These cookies were a gift to Tracy, to say thanks for French Laundry invite.

Packaging is key when you’re dealing with Tracy, so I tried to keep it cute.

Oh!  And I had to write a note… even if it got awkward. Note paper from Anthropologie.

It’s that time of year.

It’s time to put a marshmallow Peep in your hat.

It’s time to pipe a cross on your biscuit.

It’s time to eat way way way too many white chocolate Easter bunnies.

Or maybe you gave up sugar for Lent… in which case… I’m sorry to torture you with dessert everyday.  I’m sorry.

Hot Cross Buns are traditional this time of year.

These are not Hot Cross Buns.

These are the totally lazy version of Hot Cross Buns.

Hot Cross Buns are traditionally and English Spring/Easter time treat.

They’re yeasted and spiced and adorned with a frosting cross.  They’re usually served on Good Friday.  They’re always always delicious.

I don’t do well with rules.

I turned buns into biscuits, added currants and lemon zest, and added a cream cheese frosting cross.

Jesus would totally be down.  I’m almost certain.

… and I love when things turn into a pretty pretty mess.

… Like my kitten, he’s a pretty mess too (picture not included).

I like this.

These biscuits are subtly sweet, filled with sweet and tender dried currants, and have a hint of citrus flavor.  If you’re tempted to have a heavy hand with the cream cheese frosting… we must be related.  I like you.

There are only three reason why I would rip the shirt off my body in public:

1.  If a kitten were on fire and I needed to smother him, put him out, cuddle him, give him food, and make him mine forever.

2.  If I discovered a bee… a ferocious, man-eating bee, down my shirt.

3.  If a handsome young fireman needed my shirt to wipe his sweaty brow after saving a grandmother and her fluffy orange cat from the top of a burning tree.  But even then… I’d make the fireman take his shirt off first.  I have standards.

Yesterday, I ripped my shirt off in a spazzy, screaming fit on Main Street in Santa Monica.  There was no kitten nor fireman in sight.  There was a bee down my shirt.  A live bee… buzzing down my shirt.  Standing in front of a bike shop and across the street from a busy cafe, I full on FREAKED OUT and tore my shirt off my body.  There was also FREAK OUT screaming involved.   Then I spent another agonizing ten seconds trying to brush the bee off my body with the shirt I was supposed to be wearing.

Then I was just standing there… on the street… shirtless… in my ugly bra… the one that looks like my grandma’s sprotsbra.  I just stood there, holding my shirt and staring squarely at the ground… at the bee struggling to walk away… at the bee that had rendered me shirtless.  I knew that if I looked up from the ground I would be mortified times one million.

As I’m struggling with the sleeves, trying to get my shirt back on… I see a pair of feet stroll past me.  I didn’t see one of those red tipped seeing eye sticks, so this person was clearly a seeing person.  A witness.  Ok.  Carry on.

My sleeves were all wonky, I couldn’t button my shirt inside out.  I was a hot mess… so I had to take my shirt off (again!) invert the spazzy sleeves and put my shirt back on.  That’s twice that I’ve taken my top off… Enough!

I never did look up from the ground.  I never did blush.  I did, however, want to dig a whole through the concrete and tunnel home instead of putting my shirt back on and riding home.  But that’s just what I did.  And if anyone was pointing and laughing… well, I guess I can’t blame them.  I was quite the site.

Lessons were learned.  Always wear a cute bra.

In more important news, I made a lovely lemon cake.

Let me tell you about it… it’ll distract me from the humiliation.

This lemon cake is simple and unassuming.  It’s combined with cornmeal and baked up in a cast iron skillet.  It’s sort of like hearty Southern cornbread meets dainty lemon tea cake.  The cake is topped with sweet lemon glaze while it’s still warm, and the sweetness seeps into the cake itself.

What the name of this cake doesn’t tell you is that is has browned butter in it.  See?  We’re friends for life.

This is not a fancy pants dessert… that’s why I call it a breakfast cake.  Breakfast cakes don’t wear their pearls to the table… obvi.

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.

Have you ever made citrus curd?  It’s one of those things that might feel really fancy, but it’s super easy to make.

Citrus is totally bonkers right now.. I say get on this.

This Tangerine and Lemon Curd is a simple mixture of fresh juice, sugar, zest, butter and eggs.  When heated and whisked, the protein in the eggs work to thicken the curd just the right amount.  Warm curd with be the consistency of warm pudding, but will be perfectly spreadable when chilled.

I like to rub tangerine zest into the sugar to release all of the essential oils before cooking.  This is totally a smarty pants move.

What the heck do you do with curd?  If you’re anything like me, a spoon is an awfully delicious way to enjoy curd.

I also like these Brown Butter Blueberry Muffins or Buttermilk Biscuits as a curd delivery system.

Also… I won’t tell you how many times I typed crud instead of curd in this post.  A lot.

My friend makes one small mention of Rachel Zoe this morning and here I am, shoulders deep into a Rachel Zoe Project marathon.

Shameless.

I keep telling myself that I’ll just watch one more episode… one more… then I’ll think of something to write on my blog.

Five hours later… here I am, alone in my house, wearing heels and my chunky sweater.  I may or may not have just shopped for a furry vest online… and I’m so invested in Rachel getting pregnant, it’s ridiculous.

I need a Rodg… or a psychiatrist… or a bottle of vodka… or just someone to come turn off this program.  I’m not sure.

Swoon.

In other news… I made this really beautiful cake.

I’m so happy with this little darling.  It’s marbled, green, flavorful and delicate.

Dreamboat situation.

Matcha.

The lemon portion of this pound cake is pretty simple.  Lemon.  Juice and zest.  We all know what that is.  Bright and delicious.

What’s Matcha?

Matcha is a finely milled green tea.  When combined with hot water, it creates the most beautifully green, super flavorful, luxurious green tea.  It’s the whole tea leaf, ground super fine so you get all the goodness of green tea in a super powerful way.  Fancy.

Matcha is used as a ceremonial tea so there are often fancy whisks and bowls to accompany the tea.  I forgo those items and manage to make myself a beautiful cup of matcha with just the powder almost every morning.

Besides a nice morning cup of matcha (with milk and honey), the green powder is great in ice creams, custards and cakes.

Matcha is a really lovely ingredient in baking.  Green secret weapon.

But!  Matcha is a tad bit more expensive than regular old green tea.

I use The Art of Tea Matcha… it’s really lovely.

Splurge a little.  I think you’ll really like it.

But maybe I’m just saying that because I really want you to make this cake.

I mean really… look how pretty this is!

The brightness of the lemon.  The earthiness of the green tea.  Eggs, butter and sugar.  This cake is delicate and impressive.  See, I just used food words.

But be prepared to get stray powder on your shoes and your jeans.  And please pay no mind to the gravy stain I also have on my shoes.

That’s just embarrassing… but seriously, who doesn’t love gravy?

You get the idea, right?

I’m sorry to leave you like this… it’s just that I have a few more episodes of Zoe to go.

I have downright baffled myself.

I may have mentioned that I’m moving this week.  Moving is… horrifying.  Yes, I’m being dramatic.  Please indulge me.

Among the things that I found under my bed and in the dark recesses of my closet as I’ve been cleaning and packing are:

eight kitten stuffed animals.

one medium sized bunny stuffed animal.

three puppy stuffed animals.

….. WWWHHHHHYYYY?

one baby sock….  A. Baby.  Sock.  I have no baby.  Seriously… What the heck is going on here!?

a tiny rhinestone turtle toe ring.  Really?

one sweater that gives my arms a rash.  I found out the hard way.

one wooden bobble head turtle toy.  Why so many turtles hiding in my house?

and… a rock.  Because… yea.  A rock.

Take these Little Lemon Hazelnut Cakes as a token of my love, affection, and dwindling sanity.

This recipe is like a secret weapon.  It’s super adaptable and always perfectly moist.  At its root, the cake is an easy buttermilk and oil cake that comes together with two bowls and a whisk.  I used hazelnut oil, but almond oil, walnut oil, or olive oil also work beautifully.  Also feel free to add any sort of citrus zest you like.  This recipe makes twelve tender and darling little cakes.  Go on.  Bake em.  I’ll just be over here in the corner losing my ever loving mind.  Don’t mind me.