i'd rather be baking

One thing I’m loving about Utah is the abundance of cheap, beautiful produce. Recently this has meant apples (especially my favorite, Granny Smiths!) at prices I haven’t seen since last October. I’m not sure what the cause of this bounty is, but I’m not complaining.

I know what you must be thinking: it’s March, nearly April. Who cares about apples right now? And don’t we all have bathing suits to fit into soon, anyhow? Let me tell you: you need this bread.

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I really, really love lemons. A lot.

I love their cheery yellow hues, their bright, clean fragrance, and most of all their beautiful flavor. I often cook with them because it seems like a little dash of lemon can improve pretty much anything. But give me a dish (or better yet, something sweet) that casts lemons in a starring role, and I’m in heaven.

Unfortunately Ryan does not share my lemon obsession, and really doesn’t even like lemons much. My family’s visit this week gave me the perfect excuse to make these lemon rolls, much to his disappointment. They love lemons almost as much as I do.

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I know I’ve posted chocolate chip cookies here already, but can one really ever have too many recipes for them? I don’t think so. As with brownies, we’re continually searching for the perfect one around here.

I had a hankering this weekend for cookies with both semi-sweet and white chocolate chips, and my family was coming into town, which seemed like a plenty good enough excuse.

For this particular variety, I decided to go to the masters. I think the Joy of Cooking is as good a source for just about anything as one can find. Seventy some-odd years of cooks and bakers agree with me, so do you really want to argue this one?

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Ryan’s birthday was last week, and with a little bit of trepidation, I broke out the bundt pan. Twice. In one day.

I realize this may seem silly, but I have some anxiety when it comes to bundt pans. They hold the potential to turn an otherwise-perfectly-prepared cake into either a glorious triumph or a colossal disaster. There are two many what-ifs. I like control.

And yet, I found myself breaking out the dreaded bundt not once but twice. First at an ungodly hour of the morning (somewhere around seven) for monkey bread and secondly for carrot cake, per the birthday boy’s request.

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My sister and I have a Starbucks habit. I was going to call it a tradition, but habit is definitely more accurate. You might even call it a bad one. We really like it there. It’s fair to say you’ll rarely find us together without a sugary-sweet coffee drink or two.

And on the (admittedly fairly frequent) occasions in which we can justify it, we buy a hunk of their delicious banana chocolate coffee cake. Sometimes two. In fact, said cake has been known to serve as birthday breakfast. She’s even been known to flirt with unsuspecting baristas over it. And hey, it worked one time.

When I made this version last week, I called Ryan almost immediately to tell him that I was bringing it to his office. I was legitimately afraid I’d eat the entire thing. And that weekend when we stopped in at a Starbucks for a midday perk, I again bought a slice just to confirm what I’d instantly suspected: this is so much better.

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