A few years ago, my friend Adam and I decided it was time we learned how to make pizza. Every Wednesday we would convene at my apartment, eager to wreak saucy, cheesy, cornmealy havoc on my poor kitchen. Within only a couple weeks, it became apparent that there are five items necessary for an easy, enjoyable, and successful pizza-making experience:
- A pizza stone. (I had appropriated one left behind by a housemate in a previous apartment. Score.)
- A pizza peel. (I bought one almost immediately after we attempted to use a cookie sheet as a substitute.)
- Beer. (Duh.)
- Cornmeal, to keep the pizza from sticking to the peel. (Or parchment paper! A trick I didn’t discover until recently.)
- Plastic bags and rubber bands. (To cover the smoke alarms.)
And, at the risk of sounding like a braggart, we got good. Mega-delish things started happening, like spicy eggplant parm pizza (a lot of work, but worth it). Garlicky swiss chard and goat cheese pizza (my favorite). Bacon cheeseburger pizza (everyone else’s favorite). And as proud as I was of all our creations, I harbored a secret shame that kept me from declaring myself Queen of the Stone: I did not make the pizza dough from scratch.
When I was young, tomatoes were up towards the top of my Most Hated Foods list. My mother once paid me $20 to eat a slice of one (a slice). I did it, but I definitely did not enjoy it. But then I grew up, and I developed those “mature taste buds” that everyone was telling me I’d have eventually. And I realized that tomatoes are quite delicious.
Ah Fall, my favorite season—it’s almost here! Can you feel it too? The days are still warm, but there’s already a few leaves crunching beneath my feet and a chill in the air at night. I’m dusting off my boots, unearthing sweaters, and craving wonderful fall things: roasted brussel sprouts, pumpkin cake, cider donuts . . . mmm mmm mmmmmm. And these ravioli!
What have I been up to lately? Oh, you know, just milling around.
Anyone familiar with my blog or me personally knows that I am most definitely not a vegan. Although I don’t consume all that much meat, I cannot imagine my life without eggs and dairy. I am amazed by the leavening and emulsifying properties contained within one tiny little egg, and fascinated by all the different things that can be created from milk. So why am I—lover of all things butter and cheese—making vegan bread?
What do you do when it’s so hot, you can barely muster the energy to get up and refill a glass of water, much less even think about baking anything? You could try to tough it out in a 100°+ kitchen, and hope none of that sweat dripping off every square inch of skin makes its way into your treats. You could go on baking hiatus until the temperature drops to a more reasonable level. Or, you could make something that requires no baking*—like this cake!
A few weeks ago, the folks at 
