“The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts.  No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving.”  ~H.U. Westermayer~

If you ever get a chance, visit Plimouth Plantation in Plymouth, Massachusetts. It’s a reconstruction of the Plymouth settlement and once you see how hard these people had it, you will truly appreciate what you have much more.  Even the wealthiest of  them were crammed into tiny huts, smaller than the living rooms in most of our homes today.  A fireplace was where they cooked and preserved their food for winters, which were harsh.  The tiny fireplace was the only heat they had in the brutal New England winters.  England abandoned them, left them without provisions for long months, and somehow, those who survived pushed on to build one of the greatest countries on earth.  This is the stock I am descended from, and I am proud to call them my ancestors.

Simple things.  These are the things we should be thankful for.  A sunny day, a walk in the park, love from a pet, a call from a friend, an email from your child.  So many times, we forget to be thankful for the things we have and grieve over the things we don’t have.

This has never been more evident to me than this year.  This has been the worst year of my life.  I won’t go into details, but suffice to say that this year a lot of what I have tried to build over the last 50-something years has crashed to the ground, right on top of me.  I think I’ve probably cried more than I have laughed this year.

Still, there is so much to be thankful for.

I have a roof over my head…many don’t.  There are families living in cars, on the streets, and — if they are lucky — in shelters.  Children have had their homes and security ripped out from under them, while the very people who did it sit in mansions and sip champagne, and laugh at those they have destroyed.

I have food in my belly.  I probably throw out more food every year than some people have to eat, which makes me feel very guilty.  Every time I clean out my frig, I think of how spoiled Americans are.  There are families all over the world who go to bed hungry while I am tossing away what would keep them alive.  I do not toss food away blithely, only when necessary, because I wish with all my heart that there was some way I could send it to all those children my mother always told me were starving and would love what I refused to eat.

I have clothes on my back, and the ability to get more.  There are those who live in rags, and are thankful for them.  We here in America spend more money on clothes every year than the entire GNP of some third world countries.  There is a favorite thrift store of mine where every day, Haitian ladies come and raid the linens tables.  They ship these home to their people in Haiti, who have lost everything from the violent hurricanes of 2008, and are still rebuilding.  The Haitian people are very resilient, but they have had their country destroyed by war, corruption, and nature so many times, they are out of resources.  They are willing to take our discards, because it is all they have.  They cut apart our discarded sheets to make clothes for their children.  I am thankful that there are some of  them here who can help in whatever way possible.

I am looking forward to having my sons here this Christmas, and although I don’t have a lot to share with them, I know it will be enough to make them happy.  I think of all the people who are alone, with no one this holiday season.  I know their pain, because I’ve spent many holidays alone.

I have pets, and am able to feed and care for them.  Pets are so important.  In some countries, pets are a luxury only the rich can afford.  Day to day survival is much more important than feeding an animal.

All these are small things to people in developed countries.  But if we are not thankful for these, and pity ourselves because of what we don’t have, or what we have lost, we are missing out on some of the best and greatest gifts the universe can bestow.

I won’t be posting tomorrow, because I will be spending Thanksgiving with friends who were kind enough to invite me to be with them.    I may complain about how they cook the food, but I’m thankful for the love and caring they have given me this past year when my world has been so chaotic and painful.   I treasure their acceptance as part of their extended family, so being with them will mean so much to me.

Be thankful for the little things.  They are really what counts.

The Habu Stainless Steel Silk Cardigan by Sestuko Torii has enthralled me for years. When I bought the book and opened it up the japanese patterns well and truly scared me enough to sit and ponder the thought of making the Cardigan. But not straight away.

When Inge-Lise spotted the book at my place over a year ago, we sat and talked about what sort of colours she would choose for her own jacket that I would knit for her.

We decided on smokey grey cotton and black stainless steel. A lovely combination together with just enough to be a little different from other kits/cardigans we had seen. The yarns came in January. It’s now November. But it’s done. And I couldn’t be more pleased with a garment if I tried.

Knitting the cardigan has been quite a journey. Knitting two strands of stainless steel is like knitting with two strands of live fishing wire. I didn’t read the pattern properly. Twice. I had to frog the first sleeve right back to the start, and had to do the same with the front.

It got thrown in the naughty corner.

And I pondered what I could do to make it less painful for myself.

So…..

I knit the sleeves in the round with the magic loop method and then when it came to the body of the garment I decided to cast on the left front, the back, and the right front all at the same time and knit the whole body in one piece. This actually solved a lot of my angst about seaming with the leeeetle teeeeeeeeny tinnnnnny stainless steel thread.

Once I got started (plus with a good bit of time dedicated on the ‘road trip’, I wondered why I had waited so long. I finished it fairly soon after I really committed in my head to finish it. And after a fair bit of pondering I went with one button only.

Japanese patterns = unfamiliarity = simplicity = sheer genius.

When I tried it on to make sure it would fit Inge-Lise (she is smaller than I) I was amazed. It looks so good. I asked another two friends to try it on (both various sizes) and it looked great on them too.  I am sure it has so much to do with the stainless steel silk moulding to whatever shape is needed.

Now it gets packaged up and sent off to the other side of the world for Christmas. I must admit a little sadness to see it go.

But I can’t wait to cast on for another for myself.

I smell things. Most things, in fact. If I’m eating something new, guaranteed I’m going to sniff it before I put it in my mouth. I smell people too. And yes, I will judge you based on that smell. The same goes for houses, laundry, cars, pets, new electronics, locker rooms…I always inhale.

The following are my top 10 smells. I defy you to come up with a superior list.

1. Toast.

2. Hot asphalt that has been sprayed with a hose. Preferably in the summer, preferably while washing your car and listening to classic rock.*

*It’s my list. I’ll be as specific as I want.

3. Rain.

4. Grass; this includes freshly-cut grass as well as wild grass that has been baking under the sun all day.

5. Any baked good containing apples.

6. Jasmine.

7. Men’s deodorant.

8. Woodsmoke.

9. Books, whether a fresh new paperback or an old, crinkly-paged novel I found at a used book store. They just smell interesting.

10. Sunscreen. So. Damn. Nostalgic.

Shock is fun, shock rock is like something that existed, for example, like in the 70’s, Alice Cooper…David Bowie, you had artists that liked to push the envelope and that’s what made them so fresh … Prince for example, wore a**less chaps one year…I think that surprise is part of entertainment. I think that it keeps people watching its fun, it makes you laugh and it should be that way. And if it made you uncomfortable, maybe I’m not for you. Access Hollywood on Adam Lambert’s AMA Performance

Well, I feel the need to write two posts today, in light of the controversy over Adam Lambert’s shock rock performance at the AMA’s.  I’m sitting here reading comments on MTV where some woman says that he has no right to do that where her 4 and 6 year old can see it.  What self-respecting mother lets her 4 and 6 year up be awake at that hour, much less watch the AMA awards?   This was the last performance of the evening, waaaaaay past most 4 and 6 year old’s bed times.  I believe that’s why they put it last, so it would not be viewed by young children.  As for him kissing a man, get over it.  Don’t you know that there are still a lot of gay sports figures out there, and quite a few on the “down low”?  Do you care?  No, not as long as they are busting heads on Sunday afternoons.

Well, we all expected the conservative right to blast him, and true to form, they did.  What shocks me is the boomers.  I’m a boomer, and I grew up with Alice Cooper, David Bowie, Prince and The Village People.  Talk about controversial…take six gay guys dressed up in costume and prance them around the stage singing about how much fun it is to stay at the Y.M.C.A!

Now, Alice Cooper was one of the nicest men that has ever walked this earth, and he answered his critics by saying that it was entertainment, nothing more.  If you can get anymore shocking than a man cutting baby dolls heads off on stage, please let me know what it is.

Why on earth is my generation, the “free love”, Woodstock, acid dropping, communal living, hippie generation now so damned judgmental?  I actually loved Adam’s performance.  It was raw, animalistic, and real.  You can pretend all day that S&M doesn’t exist, but that won’t make it go away.  He’s not the first person to do bondage on stage, not even the first male.  David Bowie did bondage before Adam Lambert was born.  He even pranced around the stage in a very feminine shirt that barely covered his crotch, which was good, because he had no pants on!

Who can forget Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” video?  Burning crosses, stigmata, rape, interrracial sex with a priest.  I thought the controversy would never stop!

Then there was Cher, barely dressed straddling the cannon in the “If I Could Turn Back Time” video.

So Adam Lambert reminded us all of the seamier side of sex.  He’s not the first, and he won’t be the last.  All the people mentioned above were superstars, and a couple of them still are.  Adam is following in the footsteps of the greats…those who weren’t afraid to push the limits, to express themselves in their own way, and change the music world in the process.

So to all my fellow boomers…get the collective sticks out of your asses and remember when you used to know how to have fun.  Or go buy some Susan Boyle music.  No sexual content there.

To Adam, Bravo!  Can’t wait to see what you do next!

]]> http://ohmenina.wordpress.com/2009/11/22/i-love-cupcakes/ Sun, 22 Nov 2009 22:20:00 +0000 Anne - Oh menina <3 http://ohmenina.wordpress.com/2009/11/22/i-love-cupcakes/ http://vintagefashionagogo.com/2009/11/22/say-whats-cookin/ Sun, 22 Nov 2009 19:43:02 +0000 Sophie http://vintagefashionagogo.com/2009/11/22/say-whats-cookin/ http://hihihihello.wordpress.com/2009/11/21/mini-wheats/ Sun, 22 Nov 2009 02:14:35 +0000 larlarthedinosaur http://hihihihello.wordpress.com/2009/11/21/mini-wheats/

When I eat mini wheats cereal, I organize each mini wheat so that the frosted side is up. I only eat them with warm milk, but they have to be consumed quickly or else they get too soggy. I like original frosted, brown sugar frosted, or maple frosted.  They are delicious!

I love/am thankful for ginger. It tastes delicious in food (Mom’s ginger cake with caramel sauce… to die for), it makes a soothing tea when steeped in hot water with honey, it smells wonderful, and it makes my tummy feel better.  I also like its colour, and that it’s a root.

1. Because they’re kind of ridiculous.

2. Because I can never grow one and I’m a little bit jealous.

3. Because they remind me of bad 1970s male fashion, and that’s funny.

4. Because they come on lumberjacks, and I really, really love lumberjacks. More on that later.

There are months dedicated to mustache growing:
Movember (A mustache-growing charity event in November) and…
Mustache March (a US Airforce tradition involving pilots growing mustaches. Mainly because they can.)
(from the wikipedia entry) “U.S. Air Force ace Robin Olds became celebrated for a flowing handlebar moustache he grew while commanding the 8th Tactical Fighter Wing “Wolfpack” during the Vietnam War, and when forced to shave it by his superior became the source of an Air Force tradition known as “Moustache March”.^“

Because I like them so much, I try to incorporate them into my daily life as much as possible. This is a challenge, but one I proudly accept. For example:

A “Mustachio Bashio” held in Southern California. Attendees were Air Force Pilots, female friends and a cat. With a mustache*.

*I recently learned that this is called the “Kitler,” which I love.

The joint Maids of Honor and Best Man speech at my best friend’s wedding. All three of us ’stached up.

A cupcake bakeoff I entered with my youngest sister. Team name: Team Mustache. Team uniform: Aprons. And ’staches.

I’ll end with this caveat: Mustaches are one of the rare instances of body hair in which bushier is better.

Check out the Art of Manliness’ post on the manliest mustaches of all time. Warning: girls, you may have to change your pants afterward.

I had an interesting long talk with a member of BE Yoga during a quiet class earlier this week. Her name is Sue Ng, her cheeks glow with pink happiness, her words are honest, her presence and speech are as eloquent as a beauty queen and we can’t stop chatting on our business similarities and hardships as she just opened her restaurant about the same time BE Yoga opened.

We were exchanging stories about yoga retreats in India  from what I read in Eat, Love, Pray spiced with secondhand experience from my fellow yoga teachers and her firsthand experience of having been to India earlier this year following this ‘dream’ she had one night.

She was sharing her share of ‘wanting to change‘ and ‘seeing the light‘ upon being there, as I shared my fear of, ‘what happens IF I don’t want to drive a car, wear fancy adidas yogawear and get married anymore?‘ upon returning back from India if I can collect enough guts to actually go to India (Mysore hopefully) in the nearest future.

We had a good laugh yet painful reality check as we traded and agreed on this irony,

• Sue opened her restaurant and shortly after, developed gastric problem she never had before AND
• I, opened a yoga centre and immediately after, my stress level shot so high that my body (immune system) is attacking almost everything I eat!

Given a choice now, I will be happier to stick to simply teaching yoga as when money is involved, it gets ugly.

Having announced that though, I would NOT trade this experience of having sold my car to keep BE Yoga alive, having sacrificed my dignity and sanity to ensure my team loves and looks yoga, having met wonderful people and angels in human form as I crawl my way up and struggle for another breath when I’m on the brink of drowning – for anything else in the world and I am very excited to face what else is lined up for me, BRING IT ON!

This tunnel I am still driving through still seems endless and so far, I am not sure if I have enough fuel to reach its end but I am sure I will still have my spine and my breaths to keep me alive.

This bumpy road (and expensive highway tunnel) will definitely make me a stronger yogi, a more humble yoga teacher and a better person when I do see the light and rainbow (in form of WETHER investment returned, being a personal yoga instructor to British rockstars ;D, getting to volunteer at a remote orphanage as long as I could OR even settling down as a mother with two beautiful daughters, I don’t know and get ever so curious) at the end, I’m sure.

I breathe this wisdom by one of the greatest yoga teacher in this lifetime (I hope I will be lucky enough to meet), Guruji Iyengar – everytime I feel so drained, tired and low

“Yoga teaches us to cure what need not be endured and endure what cannot be cured.”

and I move by the love and kindness around me anytime I feel I have nothing else to smile for.

Love, hope and optimism (for RM400,000 to fall from my sky this weekend).

“The primary reason ideas die quickly in some minds is because they can’t survive in solitary confinement”

This quote hit me square in the face today.   I have that problem, you see.  Ideas come and go so quickly, that I never get to act on them.  I sometimes have an idea, go to do a search, and by the time I’ve gotten there, I’ve forgotten what I’m searching for.

Could it be that only having one idea at a time is bad?  Should I, to be effective, have myriads of ideas swirling around in my brain with all my other thoughts?  Is this some genetic disability, to not be able to consummate a thought before it flits away into the great unknown?

I seem to need constant reminders for everything…even things like eating.  I have ideas for meals, but if I don’t write them down, I lose them.  I can’t tell you how many articles have never been written because I forgot them before I got a word on paper.  What’s even more alarming is that when I TRY to think of an idea, it seems I can’t do it in a million years!    When I have to force an idea into my mind, I can’t seem to find a way to put it into words properly.  Forced ideas and forced words just do not work for me.

I’m not an impulsive person.  I’m a planner, but my plans are hardly ever realized, as in the interim, I am bombarded by a thousand other ideas and distractions, and phone calls, and things I want to do but shouldn’t.   Rational thought is not my forte.  Inspiration comes rarely, and often in disguise, so I don’t recognize it.

I am good at only a few things, it seems.  Growing plants (which I love), cooking (which I hate), and inspiring everyone but myself (which I also love).  Maybe I should stop trying to write, and start giving pep talks for money (like there aren’t enough motivational speakers out there).  There’s a thought….and I even got it down before I lost it.  Remarkable.

Someone said the other day that the internet had killed storytelling.  This will prove that isn’t true.  It will also prove that you CAN very simply, with love and kindness, make a difference in a person’s life.

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant.. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then putting a big ‘F’ at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child’s past records and she put Teddy’s off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy’s first grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners… he is a joy to be around..’

His second grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.’

His third grade teacher wrote, ‘His mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn’t show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren’t taken.’

Teddy’s fourth grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is withdrawn and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class.’

By now, Mrs… Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy’s. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children’s laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, ‘Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.’

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her ‘teacher’s pets..’

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he’d stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer…… The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson’s ear, ‘Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.’

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, ‘Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn’t know how to teach until I met you.’

(For you that don’t know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

Warm someone’s heart today. . . pass this along… I love this story so very much, I cry every time I read it. Just try to make a difference in someone’s life today? tomorrow? just ‘do it’.

Random acts of kindness, I think they call it!

It’s getting cold enough to wear tights now, and at the top of my list are Miu Miu’s spectacular jeweled tights.  Jeweled tights and embellished garments are big trends for Fall/Winter 09-10 with designers like doo.ri, Zac Posen, Louis Vuitton and Cynthia Rowley also incorporating them into their fall collections, but Miu Miu’s were my favorites by a mile.

Miu Miu Fall/Winter 2009 (Style.com)

Photos:  style.com

no explanation

Yes, this is the last of the cute photos for a while. I had to put this up because Ashley wrote it and tomorrow I am leaving for Chicago for 4 days. I love you, Ashley.

Photo courtesy of Rochelle at CHOW

Do you like cupcakes? Do you like Guinness? The dear lord do we have the cupcake recipe for you. My little sister and I entered this recipe in SF Foodwars’ Mini Cupcake Clash and while we didn’t win any awards, we were assured that we were a crowd favorite. That may have been more because of our false mustaches and less about the cupcakes themselves, but I prefer to think it was a little of both.

Whether you’re seducing an Irish man or just really into cooking with beer, I encourage you to make these. Soon.

First, compile the following ingredients:
(For the cupcakes) Note: This amount of batter makes around 50 mini cupcakes.
1 cup Guinness
1 cup unsalted butter
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 cups all purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
2/3 cup sour cream

(For the filling)*
8 ounces bittersweet chocolate
2/3 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons room-temperature, unsalted butter (I’m not micromanaging. This makes a difference.)
*Chances are, this will be more than you need. Please use this as an excuse to liberally taste-test, and/or overfill your cupcakes. Entirely your call.

(For the frosting)
3 to 4 cups confectioners (powdered) sugar
1/2 cup room-temperature, unsalted butter
3 to 4 tablespoons Baileys Irish Cream

Make the cupcakes.

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

2. Cut the butter into large chunks. Why? It will melt faster. Also: it’s fun. In a large-ish saucepan, over medium heat, bring the butter and Guinness to a simmer. Pause to reflect that you are melting butter and beer together, and just how awesome that is.

3. While the butter melts, in a larger-than-the-saucepan-sized bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking soda and salt. The butter and Guinness should be simmering by now (make sure it really is simmering – if this mixture doesn’t get hot enough, the ingredients won’t blend properly and the butter and Guinness will keep separating when you attempt to mix in the cocoa); go back to the stove, remove the saucepan from the heat, add the cocoa and whisk everything together until smooth. Allow this mixture to cool for a few minutes.

4. While you wait for the butter-Guinness-chocolate-dearlorditsmellsamazing mixture to cool, mix the eggs and sour cream with an electric beater until smooth. No, really. Beat the snot out of those unfertilized chicken fetuses: this is the closest they’ll ever get to any real action. Now, pour in the butter-Guinness-chocolate mixture, and mix until just combined.

5. Next pour this thick, chocolaty goodness into the previously-whisked-and-mixed (flour, eggs, sour cream, etc) bowl. Stir until just combined. You’ll probably want to break out your spatula at this point. And/or your finger.

6. Put paper liners in a mini cupcake tray. Trust me. You can oil/grease/spray all you want, but you will still leave chunks of cupcake behind when you attempt to remove them.

7. After the cupcakes have cooled, poke a hole in the middle. I use my roommate’s chopsticks for this. Please don’t tell her. You could also use the handle of a wooden spoon or even your finger (but if you go with that approach, spray a little Pam on it beforehand. Also consider washing it). I wrap the chopstick in saran wrap and oil it. This keeps the cupcake in the cupcake, not stuck to the chopstick/spoonhandle/finger you’re using. Yes, right now you are lubing up the spoon handle for easier insertion. That’s why I love baking.

Now make the filling.
1. Put your bittersweet chocolate in a bowl. This step is easy when you use bittersweet chocolate chips. If you’re using a bar of chocolate, first chop it roughly. Or gently. Your call.
2. In a medium-sized (maybe even the same one that you used to melt the butter and Guinness previously, and are like me and do not have a dishwasher in your tiny Bay Area apartment) pan, bring the heavy cream to a simmer.
3. Pour the cream over the chocolate, add the butter and stir until smooth and combined. Refrigerate, stirring every 10 minutes, until it’s pourable but not too runny.
4. To fill the cupcakes, spoon the ganache into a frosting bag or (if you’re like me again) a plastic ziplock with one corner cut off. Gently squeeze the ganache into the holes in the cupcakes.

Set on a windy day at the Stable Cafe – a small, unassuming cafe between San Francisco’s Mission and Potrero Hill neighborhoods – the Mini Cupcake Clash was just what you’d imagine it to be:

A big-a** group of people geeking out about mini cupcakes.

Yes, things were cutesy to the extreme.

Yes, people made vegan cupcakes (it’s the Bay Area. C’mon)

Yes, there was one “husky” boy who returned to our booth over three times. Get ready for a lifetime of diabetes and sleep apnea, son.

( for the “crowd favorite” Guinnes Gasm cupcakes my sister and I made, check out the SF Foodwars’ site here or my post here.)

Team Mustache’s booth was at once adorable and classy. Sweet and masculine. Beery and delicious.

Our aprons were supposed to be craftier, but we hit a wall after decorating 200+ mini cupcakes. We = me.

photo by chris rochelle @ CHOW

“Because everything is better with beer. And Mustaches.”

And now for some of the other attendees…

Peanut Butter Jelly time was definitely referencing this youtube sensation (if that video isn’t annoying as f*** I don’t know what is).

Does it get cuter than this? Only if  kittens shat them out.

Pears. Walnuts. Someone didn’t get the memo that cupcakes are supposed to be bad for you.

These guys, on the other hand… (I think bacon cupcakes were inevitable. Inevitable and delicious.)

Three-cheese cupcakes and a not-so-subtle sexual allusion. I approve.

When it comes to cookies, my family rarely branches out:
Chocolate Chip.
Peanut Butter.
Oatmeal Raisin.

Okay, my dad makes a bastardization of chocolate chip cookies he calls “Conga Bars” (no idea why), which is basically cookie dough baked in one big pan, brownie-style. He’s very proud of this, so please smile and make appreciative noises if he ever feeds it to you.

But then I found these.

These chewy, ginger-y, spicy little disks of yum. I discovered the recipe a few years ago, and it’s now my go-to, not-chocolate-chip cookie.

Get your face ready.

Ingredients:

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons fresh grated ginger*
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup butter, softened or melted**
1 cup white sugar
1 egg
1 tablespoon water
1/4 cup molasses
2 tablespoons white sugar

* You can use ground ginger if you’d like, but then you’d be a cheater. Really, use the fresh stuff. It looks like this.
** I always completely melt the butter in the microwave for these. Yes, the original recipe says to just soften it, but I’m being efficient here. Or lazy. Either one.

To make the dough:

1. Peel, then grate, the ginger. Note: I have put more than 2 teaspoons into this recipe and it resulted in slightly more ginger-y, spicy cookies (duh), so be generous with this ingredient if that appeals to your sensibilities. Combine the flour, ginger, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, and salt. Set aside.
2. In a large bowl, cream together the butter and 1 cup sugar until light and fluffy; use electric mixers if you want or just a good, old-fashioned wooden spoon if you’ve chosen to liquefy the butter (like me). Beat in the egg, then stir in the water and molasses. Gradually stir the sifted ingredients into the molasses mixture.
3. Refrigerate the dough for a couple of hours. Seriously. You will be f***ed if you skip this step.
4. Now preheat your oven to 375°. Shape the dough into walnut sized balls and roll them in the remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar. Place the cookies on a cookie sheet and flatten slightly.
5. Bake cookies: 8 for chewy (can’t recommend this more) to 10 (for cookies erring on the side of crunchy) minutes.
6. Note: These cookies are good, nay, better, a few days after you bake them, so exercise some self control and keep a few around*.

*I have trouble with that last one.

See the original recipe here.
Photo courtesy of Johnson_Cameraface

Remember our post ‘beards are the new black’?
We at Blue Blood also like moustaches.
Especially all the fun gadgets available nowadays.

I’m so in love with Reebok’s Basquiat sneakers for Fall 09. I’ve been obsessed with Jean-Michel Basquiat since I was a kid. I was so excited a few seasons ago, FW06 I think, when Valentino used Basquiat printed fabric. It wasn’t the best fit because Valentino isn’t particularly hip, edgy or urban- but for me it was the thought that counted.

These sneakers are, for lack of a better word, awesome. The high-tops, the use of color, the prints. So deliciously 80s (just like Basquiat’s Neo-Expressionist paintings, sampled by Reebok for the prints). Just really, really cool. Each pair is like a work of art in it’s own right, and if I owned a pair I don’t know whether I’d be able to wear them outside for fear of ruining them.

Check out photos of the sneakers with their corresponding Basquiat paintings:

I Heart NERDS by 220clothing
Browse Nerd T-Shirts

For everyone that wants to show the love for the nerd in their life this graphic hoodie makes it possible.