Who's the Monkey Now

If you recall from my 1st post about my beloved grandfather, I mentioned how difficult he can be at time, in fact most of the time. Well, this week he accused me of neglect.... Yeah, he claims that I have neglected his request for Monkey Bread. I, honestly, don't remember him asking, but only suggesting it as something new for me to try and make.With that said I set myself out to make some Monkey Bread for my pawpaw this weekend.

I remember Monkey Bread, or pull-apart bread, to be a round circle of small dinner rolls all lumped together from which we would all pull pieces and dip them in melted butter. The one distinction, I remember, from dinner rolls was that Monkey Bread was a tad bit sweeter than the normal dinner roll. When doing some background research, again it proved to be difficult to trace the origin of Monkey Bread. Food historians say the first peoples to make sweet, buttery rolls with cinnamon were ancient Middle Eastern cooks. These recipes and spices traveled to Europe in the Middle Ages with crusaders, travelers, traders and explorers. Recipes varied according to culture and cuisine, but the concept remained stable.

When searching for a recipe, most of the recipes I came across were all for the traditional cinnamon recipe, and because I was making for my pawpaw, it had to be the way he wanted. I simply took a traditional recipe and scrape the cinnamon and sugar mixture, only rolling the dough in melted butter before placing them in the bundt pan.

It came out beautiful, and delicious. The best part was hearing my pawpaw rave about how good it tasted. He was so happy that I made it for him that he promised to never talk shit again (his words not mine). I impressed myself so much that I made a cinnamon Monkey Bread for some friends the following day. It also came out spectacular, and everyone enjoyed it. So to my pawpaw who doubted me......Who's the Monkey, now?! LOL.

Sock-It To-Me Cake

I have a plan set out to learn how to make southern desserts. My goal to learn and perfect the traditional treats that I have grown up with and have heard requested for many a family function, so that I may one day have a business of my own and share these dirty south desserts with my South Los Angeles community. Cooking is just one of many ways I channel my creative energy, and it has proven to be the most rewarding.
To mange myself and my spending I plan to focus on my dessert per week. I will research and study the history behind the dessert so that I have a historical understanding of what I'm learning.

This past week was Red Velvet Cake. However, I was so eager to make it that I didn't realize I was missing vital ingredients; buttermilk, distilled vinegar, and food coloring.While discussing my my dilemma with my "go to gal," my grandmother, she suggested that I make Sock-it To-Me Cake. Remember y'all, I said I wanted to learn the history behind every southern indulgence, so I had to implore my grandmother as to what Sock-it To-Me Cake was. The second she told me it was similar to a coffee cake, I was stoked about making it. I love coffee and one thing I enjoy with my black coffee is a light semi-sweet pastry to accompany it. It was really hard to find any historical information on this cake, so instead I will simply reflect upon my experience preparing it.

Sock-it To-Me Cake is a moist yellow cake with a cinnamon streusel filled center and wildly apply glaze on the top. I had already had a great yellow cake recipe and everything else I had readily available. The filling was a simple combination of brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and optional nuts, all blended together and spread in between two layers of yellow cake batter.

(SIDE NOTE) I HATE BUNDT PANS! They are the devil's minions. I'm just joking, but they have proven to be my one of my most hated pieces of bakeware to use. Greasing a bundt pan is the worst, especially the ones with the designs. My grandmother has taught me to wait no longer than about 10-15 minutes to flip a cake out of a bundt pan, and to insert a knife if the cake is being stubborn. I, once again, had a problem with thoroughly greasing my pan and the cake  broke a little bite. Luckily, I was able to place the broken piece so that when I drizzled the glaze you couldn't see it in the picture.

This cake could easily be converted into a cupcake or cake ball, which I plan to try....Stay tuned

Face N Tree

Face N Tree, a photo by The Protean Libran on Flickr.

I took this shot well on a walk at the park up the street from my job. I had just received this Nikon Point N Shoot and I was ready to try it out. I go to this park nearly everyday, but I normally don't get out of the car. I was ready to snap some shots and I immediately saw this tree with the face. The eyes and mouth were so pronounced, it was was spooky. Have you ever considered the idea of reincarnation? I have.

My PawPaw

My PawPaw, a photo by The Protean Libran on Flickr.

"I'm a hog fa ya, Nellie," my pawpaw says to me every time I see him. He is pretty much an older, male version of me. Could be because we share the same sign. My pawpaw is the toughest cookie in the bag. Oh yes, don't let the smile fool ya. This old man is no joke. Blunt is understatement, and he will rip you a new one first chance he gets. Growing up, he and my father never got along and he hates him to this very day. I wouldn't blame him. My father still isn't in my life. My pawpaw has always been that male figure for me. He spoils me like rancid meat.

Now as you see he is on a ventilator and he has trache. Unfortunately, his healthy has never been a huge priority, becoming worse once he retired as a Heavy Equipment Operator for DWP . He is truly a foodie, that's for sure. Watching him and his health deteriorate has been the most painful thing I've had to endure in my life. I've never lost anyone close to me before. I almost lost my mother, but I'll save that for another blog (maybe). Watching him as also taught me a shit load about being healthy. It has also taught me to appreciate the smallest things this big world has to offer, like being able to care for yourself physically and being able to go outside. Not being able to get around has also taken a toll on his psychology health. I can bet a lot of you are thinking, "why didn't he diet" or "why don't you do something to help him." Somethings just aren't that easily fixed; people aren't that easily fixed.  

When I was a little he would tell EVERYONE that I was HIS baby, even my mama. I am, to this day, his only granddaughter. I'm holding it down! I inherited his addictive, aggressive, and argumentative personality. That's okay, however. My pawpaw is the spark for most of my hobbies and passions. My first SLR was his vintage Nikon and my love for cooking comes from many a conversation about food. We both love gardening and working with our hands, and we both love exploring and leaning new things. It could be genetics. It could be because we're both Libras. One thing that I do know is that I'm a hog for him, too.