Friday, May 16

gimme pounds.

raspberry pound cake?
you guessed it!
yep...that's right.
you just won a free look at that freshness this friday morning.
check the sandwich-cake-type teleport:
raspberry pound cake miniloaf sandwiches,
because that's even better than just a slice or cup of cake.
factual.
sometimes,
a little sunshine needs to be activated,
even if it's just in the latent laid-back databank
of a whole couple of cupfuls of pulverized frozen raspberries.
mmmhmmm.
they're full of it, these pounding cakes-
there's even a big blop of raspberry jam shoved in there,
to keep the raw sugar company while it got creamed.
y'know, with the earth balance butterishness.
yeah.
i've been using soy yogurt as an egg replacement/wet binder,
and that's been a thing for a little minute now-
this battery bomb of baked greatness was no exception.
it makes 'em smoother, and the crumb lighter, and the flavor better.
plus,
the acidic action activates the baking podwer and soda, too.
smartness?
maybe.
i mean,
i also used lemon juice to moisten up what the frozen berry mash didn't.
it's surprising how the tartness of the razzies tempers the sugar.
they're not too sweet.
but they're so good.
creamchee' frosting filling, though?
that's expert.
with added freeze-dried powdered raspberries and another 'nother scoop
of seedless jammie dodgery, the magenta color gets verrry pronounced.
and it tastes more vibrant than it appears, even.
imagine that, neighbors-
a bright batch of sunny-sidedness,
during a week of forecast clouds and bursts of hard rain every damned day.
mmmhmmm.
*
the thing of it is,
i don't USE recipes.
and even when i'm making something for the first time,
i may take a peek at proportions or oven temperatures,
and then add in the rest, filling in blanks with conjecture,
and adding in ingredients to accommodate texture.
it's ALL really happening,
live on the spot, with high hopes for hottness,
and a general disregard for failure.
but that doesn't make it simpler, creating and amending on the fly.
it's not until afterwards that i can munch up a little,
and jot the process onto paper.
it's only my memory of what i make that i write down.
the amounts are accurate, inasmuch as estimations can be,
but i have to make it all all over again,
to make sure it is what it's supposed to be.
which means more treats.
and that's good news for people who love treats.
***********
nights are the best part.
i mean it.
cool enough to still need extra covers and blankets,
warm enough to sleep without shivering under too many layers.
the sound of peepers crooning love songs for frog princesses,
and raindrops tapping rhythms on my roof,
and night birds signing off until tomorrow's early ones start worm hunting.
there's plenty to still do once the day is done,
but the bedtime routine of reading until i nod out is my favorite.
there's a nice bit of Folk Life here in the woodsly goodness,
when the treats are baked and tattoos are over with,
and dinner and dishes are done.
the simple segue into sleep (or sleepish) is the prefect denouement.
i guess that's what i've been most looking forward to.
actually,
that might be hugely depressing for all the comfort it brings as it happens.
true stories aren't always happy ones;
never quiet, never soft.....

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