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How To Pitch A Tent

The other day, finding myself in a bit of a pinch, I ran over to the cake decorating supply store on 22nd Street.  It’s the store where all the pastry chefs, cake decorators, culinary school students and confectionary geeks resign themselves to going to at one time or another.  It’s different from all other supply houses in the area in that in addition to selling every baking pan, tool and gizmo available on the market, they also sell edibles, like chocolate, cocoa powder, and fondant.  And, their legendary service is fodder for urban folklore.*

As I maneuvered around the young mother intently studying the menu of available edible cartoon images for the top of a cake, I overheard two ladies asking about a particular cakebox that the store didn’t carry.  Panic set in.  ”OH NO!  What will we do?  How will we carry the cake?”  Before I could even think, I heard the sound of my own voice.  ”How big is the cake?  How big is the base?”  In a few sentences accompanied by sweeping arm gestures usually reserved for a rousing game of Charades, I described to these damsels in distress how to transform the boxes they already owned into one tent-like covering that would shelter the cake during its transport to its final destination.

As I explained the process, I watched the panic on their faces melt away, quickly replaced by relieved smiles.  ”Thank you so much”, cooed the younger of the two women.  ”You should be online”, said the other lady.  I returned the smile, turned away and thought  YES!  BLOG POST!

If I could help these ladies with their packing dilemma, surely this post will help you, too, right?

Begin with 2 cake boxes the same size as your cake base.  10 inch base?  10 inch cake box.  Grab a pair of scissors, too.  And, have a roll of cellophane tape handy for sealing the sides as you’re finishing.

Line one box inside the other and cut off  the front flaps of both boxes.  I save these flaps to work out templates, as well as a bridge for the occasional gap on the finished top of the box.

Separate the two boxes and face them toward each other, their newly cut sides fitting one over the other.  I’ve folded one of the box tops down, so I’m not showing a sea of muddy brown.

Turn the box around so you can identify the tabs on the side panels of the box.  Insert them into their corresponding slots.  Do one side only.  You’ll want the other side open so you can slide the cake into the box easily.

You should now have something that resembles this:

Now with that one open side, you can slide your cake right into its temporary home.  Yes, it’s a Halloween cake.  And, yes, that’s how long I’ve been sitting on this post.

 Once the cake is pushed inside the box as far as it can go (See why it’s always good to have a cake base larger than your actual cake?  The base behaves like a protective bumper.), you can start closing up the box by inserting the two remaining tabs into their respective slots.

It’s beginning to look like a tent, right?
Now take those big flaps and bring them up together to form the pitched roof of the tent.

Fold the side flaps down and adjust them so the cake is fully shielded, but not so close that the box touches or rests upon the cake.  Use a bit of cellophane tape to  hold them in place.  Swivel the box around and repeat on the other side.

You should have something that looks like this.  A tent!!!

There.  Snug as a bug in a rug.

Commandeering potholes along the way, of course, is another story entirely.

*Legendary is yours to define.

The Social Revolution IPO

By now you must know this story:  a few guys sitting around their Harvard dorm rooms, writing computer codes just for fun.  They can’t possibly be bothered with emailing or yakking on the phone to each and every one of their friends to say, “Hey, I’m just chillin” or “Dude, I’ll be at Starbucks”, or whatever kids would say waaay back in 2004.

Anyway, one of these dudes basically said “Wouldn’t it be AWE-SOME (said in that sing-songy ‘up’ last syllable said as if it were the end to a question) if we had some kind of site where we can just sit around and with one or two clicks, check in with all our friends AND meet new ones?”  By new friends, these guys may have been talking about girls, but that’s just a guess.

And so, after a code here, and a widget there, PRESTO!  Facebook was born and we haven’t been the same since.  We have more *friends* than ever thought humanly possible.   Casual conversations occur as easily between people scattered around the globe as they once occurred with our neighbors across the street. Maybe even more easily since we don’t have to change out of our pajamas and walk across the street. Walking across the street, for purposes of this post, is obviously very overrated.

900,000 users later and it’s come to this.  A special day in May when, theoretically, we can all buy a little piece of a revolutionary idea; an idea that birthed what’s now known as social media.  Social media that is credited for everything from getting Betty White her “Saturday Night Live” hosting gig to boosting the rise of Arab Spring.  Mind-boggling, isn’t it?

So, Facebook, I celebrate you and your IPO the only way I know how.

You want these cookies?  Are you kidding?  They’re as impossible to get as a few shares of the stock.*

*Cookies made just for fun.

They’re Piped and Flooded, But How Do You Remove Them In One Piece?

Call ‘them’ whatever you like, royal icing plaques or run outs are a decorated cookie’s perfect confectionary accessory.  They can add dimension to a cookie’s surface, as well as artistic accuracy.  And, we’ve all seen many wonderful tutorials instructing us how to create these masterpieces.  Let’s face it, making them is so much fun.

Removing them is another story, the story no one really takes the time to describe.  The instructions in many of these tutorials say, “peel carefully from the parchment paper”.  While that’s absolutely correct, if you haven’t played with this technique, more of your hard work will lie broken into bits and you’ll curse and shake your fists in the air, as you vow silently to yourself that you will never  make another cookie as long as you live.

Frankly, I take all this for granted since I learned this trick in culinary school.  Until my college roommate (and budding cookie decorator) Debbie messaged me asking just how to go about unsticking these plaques from the parchment, I didn’t give it much thought.  But, as I tried to succinctly answer her with the instructions, I thought…”BINGO…BLOG POST!”

So, I printed out a big Times Roman “G” and used some leftover royal icing to pipe out a few on parchment.  Then, I resurrected my Flip video camera and got J to video my hands in action.

http://youtu.be/j8cwHFXWRvY

Nothing to fear here.  Just make sure you let your creations dry for at least 8 hours before attempting to remove.  Find a flat, smooth surface with a 90 degree edge on it so you can pull the parchment as easily as I have.  Gather the released plaques and put them aside so you don’t scatter them hither and yon while you’re doing your victory lap around the kitchen.

And, say thanks to Debbie for giving me a great idea for a blog post.

3 Decades Deserves Something, Doesn’t It?

This April will mark thirty (30) years since J and I met.  Officially we met on April 4th, but this year I’d like to start celebrating right now.

Thirty years of very authentic, un-rehearsed Gracie Allen-like moments that have turned into a wealth of hilarious memories, and thus bestowing me with oodles of potential stand-up material that I use regularly on Twitter.

Like the time we went to purchase our first color TV, and J was blathering on, telling the man in the store that she liked the look of the sleek, seamless black box on the top shelf of the display case.  ”That’s a microwave, ma’am.”, said the exasperated salesman, while possibly rolling his eyes a bit.  (My memory is a bit hazy on this detail, but eye rolling would have been the most appropriate inappropriate reaction.)

Like the time we were sitting with my parents and listening to my father tell one of his World War II stories. My father was recounting how he and his outfit had taken control of a small, Nazi-occupied German hamlet. Headquarters for this occupation were set up in a castle at the top of a hill.  My dad and his buddies burst through the front door of this castle with their rifles in position and ready to discharge their bullets as they scattered around looking for any signs of life.  “You had to be prepared in case the enemy still had control of the castle.  It was kill or be killed.”  J, wide-eyed with wonderment, said “Dad, did you see any nice antiques in the castle?”  Even my mother, whose dementia always left us wondering whether or not she was in a lucid state of mind, practically convulsed with laughter.

Then there was the time we saw Diddy (wearing a red baseball hat) standing on a quiet street corner here in the West Village flanked by two towering, chiseled bodyguards.  I walked in his direction, J following me, silently wondering what the hell I was doing.  We chatted about why he was in the ‘hood, his clothing collection and, of course, Mitzi.  Introductions and handshakes were exchanged. After we said goodbye and began our walk home  J said, “He’s so nice.  What’s his name?”  I said, “Diddy.”  J:  ”Who’s Diddy?  I thought the guy was the head of The Guardian Angels.”

Diddy

Curtis Sliwa

Oh, I could go on and on, but…let’s get to the bling.

By now you must know J loves her baubles, and if ever there’s an occasion that’s bauble-worthy, it’s this one.

Surely a gift is in order after 3 decades, right?  ’3′ being the operative number.  A little something for each decade.

You know what’s coming, right?

Deep breath.

Here’s the box.

Ready?

April Fool!

A three carrot ring!!! Get it?

Now I must get cracking on the matching earrings!

Note:  Neither of us would trade the life we’ve built for all the bling in the world.  And that is no April Foolin’.

Size Matters

Funny business, this cake and cookie operation of mine.

Not only do I have to be creative, I also must be on my mathematical toes.  Which, for me, is quite a stretch.  For whatever reason, the formulas I employ on a daily basis are the ones that I filed away in a special corner of my brain after learning them in 8th grade math class.  Like quickly figuring out the circumference of a circle so the ribbon that adorns the cake board gets measured and cut to perfection.

Or, the subject of today’s post: what to say when a prospective client asks about the price difference between a 2.5 inch cookie and 1.5 inch cookie.

So what, who cares, you say?  A little bigger, a little smaller, it’s not that big a difference.

I’m sorry to say this to you, but your assumption is incorrect.

Allow me to show off my one math trick illustrate.

The square on the right looks a lot bigger than the square on the left.   We’re talking square inches now.

[cue the formula 'l x w = a']

Each side of the square is 2.5 inches.  Multiply 2.5 x 2.5 (the height and the width) and you get 6.5, according to my trusty calculator.

Now, multiply the smaller square’s stats.  1.5 x 1.5 equals 2.25.

6.5 square inches is a far cry larger than 2.25 square inches.  It’s not quite 2.9 times larger.

It works the same way for rectangular cookies.

Circles are a little different:

The circle on the left has an area of  .78 as opposed to the circle on the right which has an area of 3.14.  And, yes, we’re talking about the difference between a 1 inch circle and a 2 inch circle.

Consider this when figuring out the quantity of ingredients for your cookie dough and royal icing.  Be mindful that it’s going to take more of everything, including the most mystifying of all pricing factors, labor, to make and package these cookies.

Size does matter, especially when it comes to your bank account.

Real Luck

Just when I thought I had liberated myself from my own holiday cookie idea torture, I received an email asking if I could create a group of Saint Patrick’s Day goodies.

Saint Patrick’s Day cookies for ‘Real Simple’, a website heralded for its modern, highly functional design ideas for all our everyday living needs, to be precise.

“Sure I can”, I typed back with one hand to the editor, while wiping the sweat that was trickling down my forehead with the other.

After that panic and sweat subsided, the idea came to me.  Shamrocks & clover: simple in form, decorated in graphic patterns, celebrating the kind of aesthetic that is ‘Real Simple’.

It worked.  They liked it.

And this is the result.  I’m over the moon about it!

Do you see the cookie that says ‘Lucky’?  That’s how I feel today.  Lucky that I can do what I love to do and be paid for it.  Lucky for my family, my friends, my good health, my everything.

To celebrate my luck, I want one of you to be lucky, too.  I’m letting go of  my brand new copy of Julia M. Usher’s most recent book, “Ultimate Cookies”.   It’s THE ultimate in cookie decorating.   Anything and everything you’ve ever imagined (or in my case, not imagined) is in this book along with detailed, step-by-step instructions for achieving these glorious designs.  It’s perfect now for wonderful Easter ideas and other spring holidays.

It can be yours, too.  A winner will be chosen at random by Thursday, March 8 and announced on Friday, March 9.  Leave a comment here telling me why you should be the lucky winner of this book, and tweet about it. (follow me, too, if you don’t).  If you’re new to my Facebook page, ‘like it’.

Celebrate your individuality, your creativity, and of course, your own luck!

If You Liked The Spray Bottle Tip, You’ll LOVE This!

Right now, I should be cutting out cookies, lots of cookies.  But right now, this helpful hint needs to be shared.  Frankly, it’s the kind of tip I would never have thought to share, mostly because I assumed everyone already knew about it, like my shpritz bottle tip.  We all know what happens when one assumes something.

If you’re like me, you collect a lot of metal cookie cutters.  And, invariably, affixed to the cutter is a sticker coated with enough adhesive on the back to keep it secured for the next 200 years.  Great for SKU reading devices, but a nuisance for the person actually putting the cutter to its proper use.

If you just peel the cutter away, you’re left with an impossible to clean residue, and probably some leftover pieces of the sticker that refuse to budge.

Well, I have a simple, chemical-free solution to this little annoyance: your hair dryer.  It’s simple, it’s fast and it works.

See the little Eiffel Tower cutter in the photo?  That’s today’s culprit.

Turn the hairdryer on to the highest and hottest setting and point toward the sticker.  If you’re holding the cutter between your fingers, beware….that metal can get very hot, very quickly.  Here the cord of the hairdryer is being used to steady the cutter.

Point the dryer’s hot airstream directly on the label for about a minute or more.  Sometimes the label will darken, but not always.  Turn off the dryer and test an edge to see if the label lifts easily.

This is perfect.  It’s lifting without tugging, and there’s no glue-y residue.

TA-DAH!

Now, just wash your cutter in hot, soapy water, dry thoroughly and start cutting out cookies!

Just like I am going to do now.

Many thanks to Cookie Cutter Company  for the adorable Eiffel Tower cutter!

Stamp Act

Sometimes (read as ‘once in a blue moon’) I come across a new technique for cookie decorating. Sometimes the technique and I don’t see eye to eye.  Other times the technique and I seem to be made for each other.

This is just one of the best of those times.

In my last post I showed you my lipstick on the collar cookie.

Pardon me for patting myself on the back, but this cookie has me so entertained, I can’t stand me.  It’s fun, it’s easy and the it tells the story better than a piped on lipstick print could do.  Piped royal just can’t get all those wonderful lines that the stamp has on it…just like a real lipstick stain.

After reading this, you’ll be putting lipstick prints on everything!

First, buy yourself a lipstick print stamp.

Now, here’s what you’ll need to get started.

• Food color gel, color of your choice
• Rubber stamp that is either food safe or a brand new one that you will only use with food color.
• Paper towel (You might need a few pieces)
• Flooded cookie
• Parchment paper (not pictured)

First, squeeze a little gel onto the paper towel.

Next, dip the stamp into the gel.  Make sure the entire surface of the stamp is covered.  Then, just like a freshly slicked mouth, blot.

See how the blot doesn’t look like the lipstick print?  Keep calm.  It only looks that way because my paper towel is quilted and uneven.  I will not confess how many tries it took me to figure that out.

Now you’re ready to test on parchment.

Oooo….looks like a lipstick print to me!  Grab the cookie and stamp.  Remember that when you press the stamp down on the cookie, press firmly over the entire stamp, not just in the middle.  Press left, right, up & down to make sure the whole print gets on the cookie.

Okay?   Remove the stamp and be prepared to wow yourself.

OH YES!  YES YES YES!!  A big, fat juicy lipstick print!

Keep stamping now and you’ll see the different tones and imprints you get…just like what happens in real life when lipstick finds its way onto a collar.  In the parking lot of a big box store in broad daylight in the middle of the week….oh wait, that was my last post.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Get A Room

I need to get something off my chest.

It’s about holidays and cookies. All holidays.

I don’t do Christmas or Easter or July 4th or any other holiday that sparks the imagination of my fellow cookie artists.  I choke when faced with this daunting task.  And, a collection of holiday cookies?  Like a/an (animal of your choice) caught in headlights, I am paralyzed.  My mind just doesn’t work that way.  How can it, when people like Callye and Bridget and Marian, (just a few of the MANY talented designers out there) do such a magnificent job?  Every.  Single.   Holiday.

I hide from my fabulous marketing team when they call/text/DM/email 3 or 4 months in advance of any and all observances that garner media coverage while selling products.  I’m MIA despite having 3 different devices at my fingertips at all times.  ”Too busy with orders”, I cry, after their futile attempts to contact me practically fail.  Sometimes, I just ignore them, because I’m wishing and hoping and praying that whatever holiday is coming up just whizzes by without  me or my cookies.

That is, until a recent excursion to a suburban big box store opened me to my truth.  Well, not so much the store, but the parking lot.  When I go to do my  large quantity sundries shopping, I employ a particular parking strategy.  I align my station wagon right next to the canopied ’return cart here’ area.  That way, after I unload the flatbed piled high with toilet paper, paper towels, dish detergent and cotton swabs into the car, returning  this unwieldy beast is simple.  Not to mention that this ‘return cart area’ is so far from the actual store, no one in their right mind parks there.

Except for the last time I went shopping, and was surprised when I noticed the  non-descript beige 4 door family car that  sat quietly in the parking space adjacent to mine.  After deftly maneuvering my haul next to the rear of my car, my eyes caught a glimpse of what was going on in that car next to mine.  Two, how shall I say, close-to-middle-age adults were locked in each others’ arms, hungrily devouring each other with their ardent kisses; a sight rarely seen in a Jersey City Shoprite/BJ’s parking lot at noon in the middle of the work week.

Now, I’m as romantic as the next person, but I’m also a proud pragmatist with a cynical streak.  WHO MAKES OUT IN A SHOPPING CENTER PARKING LOT AT NOON IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WEEK?

Come to your own conclusions.  Think about it.  You know I’m right.  Please,  I’m not judging, mind you.  It’s none of my business despite the fact that I have to try to pack up the station wagon as quickly as possible without letting my eyes wander over to the wanton lust-fest occurring a few feet away from me.

So, while I loaded up the Charmin, the multi-packs of Sensodyne toothpaste and the box of Cascade that lasts for at least a year, I thought to myself, “Get a room.”

At that exact moment I had my breakthrough.

My cookies need to reflect my cock-eyed perspective of  the world around me.

With my new philosophy firmly in place, I invite you to celebrate  inappropriate public displays of affection this Valentine’s Day with my ‘Get A Room’ collection.

Of course I’ll still continue with my usual birthday cakes and favor cookies…heck, I’ve built a business around them, and I love them dearly.  But this new dimension is purely for my entertainment.

Yours, too, I hope.

Leopard Goes With Everything

You know J, don’t you?  She’s my partner in everything, and this week she celebrated a major birthday.  M.A.J.O.R.

I’ll give you a hint.  The number doesn’t start with a four, or a five.  Impressive, right?

J doesn’t look her age at all, does she?  This photo was cropped only, not adjusted, manipulated, tampered, tinkered or monkeyed with in any way shape or form.

Tonight we’re going to a dinner party given in J’s honor by her business partner, which is a really lovely gift.  I was asked to make something for dessert.  Of course, since this is a birthday party, cake is the obvious choice.

The problem is that J doesn’t share my love for all things sweet.  Cookies can disintegrate in their jar before she’ll cast an eye at them.  J would rather have a big bowl of broccoli.   Chocolates can go completely white with bloom before she’s even interested in what they might taste like.  Cheese, however, will never grow moldy in our refrigerator.  Pie will get a mildly raised eyebrow, but it must have very little fruit filling with no sugar and a thick, double crust.  A head of cauliflower will much more likely capture J’s full attention.  Cake?  That’s usually a big fat ‘no’.

Until this week.  All of a sudden J decided she must have birthday cake.  Not too sweet (preferably no sugar in it at all, but we all know that’s not going to happen), and not too much of it.  Chocolate?  Maybe.  Vanilla.  Nah.  Mocha..how about mocha?

Okay, so mocha it is.  Now, on to the decorations.

J, as you know, is a fashionista.  She’s been in the biz for 38 years and still loves to get dressed up.  Magazines and websites are scrutinized s, stores are shopped for wardrobe updates.  All that attention to detail pays off; J always looks like a million bucks.

Notice the skirt?

Back to the cake.  What kind of cookie theme could I concoct that would really do her justice?  What would I come up with that just screams ‘J’ the minute everyone lays their eyes on it?

I scoured the apartment looking for some kind of clue, some kind of recurring theme.  As I began opening drawers and flinging open closet doors, it came to me.

The belt drawer:

The den:

SCORE!

It doesn’t stop!

The pièce de résistance!

Working at home:

Or working at another’s home:

Oh, for crying out loud!  The dog’s not even immune!

Clearly, there was only one way to go on this cake!

In the immortal words of J, ‘leopard goes with everything’.

I think she just might be right.