Blog Post List

This blog post list contains the most recent blog posts from The Messy Baker in reverse chronological order. You can also browse by recipe category or use the search function.

I've created a monster. Or half a dozen monsters to be precise. Seems I've become the unofficial pastry chef for potlucks. In the past month alone I've made three fruit galettes, two rounds of pavlova, a gigantic chocolate-orange torte, a double batch of ginger cookies, champagne sorbet, and a couple of ask-for-seconds bundt cakes. I'm forgetting what vegetables look like. Oh wait. They look like this..
Black Cherry Raspberry Galetter by The Messy Baker Do you really need me to write out the instructions with a recipe title like that? Clearly I didn't name the dish with Twitter in mind. Instead, I created this for my parents' anniversary. When asked what he wanted for dessert, Dad requested a "red galette." After a bit of probing, I learned this was code for "use raspberries." When I asked what he wanted to go with the raspberries his response was blunt. "No peaches!" Turns out Dad likes his peaches in their natural state, not cooked. So much for the peach galette I made him when I thought he didn't like pavlova. Perhaps I should start issuing surveys before planning a menu for family events. So, with walnuts in the pantry and a batch of this season's black cherries in the freezer, I riffed on the ruby red rhubarb and raspberry galette my father liked so much. I even made an oil-based pastry so my newly dairy-free sister could enjoy dessert. It was a bit brittle and needed the support of a pie plate, but I got bonus points for the attempt. Despite springing a few leaks, the results were deemed Breakfast Worthy, which in our house, is the ultimate compliment.
No one guessed the meaning of yesterday's mystery sign. Via Facebook, email and other sources, readers hazarded the following guesses:
  • clackers
  • "dual hose bibs for firefighters when looking for water in downtown areas...also known as a Siamese connection"
  • "a place where you could plug something in to charge it"
  • a warning of "low hanging lights"
  • a practice area for the gymnastic sport of rings
  • and my favourite -- it means you "ARE allowed to peep in the door mail slot"
All valiant efforts. All wrong.

Huh? Andrew and I saw this sign in Montreal. Often. It appeared in a wide variety of locations which only made its meaning more perplexing. While we came up with some creative interpretations, none of them made any sense. Got any ideas? Post your suggestions in the...

Peach Mango Soup Shooters

I don't think of soup when it comes to pairing wine. And I don't think of peaches when it comes to soup. And I don't think of tart when it comes to sweet, sweet peaches. So a cayenne-kissed, very tangy-yet-sweet peach-mango soup designed to go with Gewurztraminer is exactly the kind of shake-me-up dish I needed to save me from the stupor of Peach Rut. Yes, Peach Rut. It's not often talked about in public, but it is a professionally recognized condition that frequently afflicts food bloggers. Victims find their immunity severely depleted from the stress of creating increasingly complex variations on salsa, ice cream, jam, pie, galettes and upside down cakes. Once grilling and salad options have been exhausted, so is the blogger. New strains of the virus emerge each season, frequently taking the form of Tomato Fatigue, Apple LetDown or the dreaded Dear-God-Not-Another-Zucchini Panic Attack.
  Radishes at the Farmers' Market - TheMessyBaker To observe my mother eating radishes is to understand that over-used phrase "living in the moment." They are not munched like baby carrots or popped into her mouth like grapes. They are consumed with quiet, focused deliberation. To begin, she sets a small bowl of radishes on the table beside her. They are scrubbed and trimmed, with just enough stem to form a handle. She then carefully pours a modest pool of salt on her plate before plucking a radish from the pile. Once she has selected a radish, she nibbles a tiny piece from the tip and dips the freshly exposed end into the salt. She then proceeds to eat the radish, crunching away with a look of peaceful concentration on her face. She doesn't talk. She doesn't touch the other meal items in front of her. She devotes herself fully to the radish. She repeats these steps until her allotment of radishes is gone. The rest of her meal them resumes.
Individual Pavolvas are an easy way to enjoy summer fruit - TheMessyBaker.com If you asked me to describe my father's taste in desserts, I'd tell you he's a lemon man. When he turned 65, Mom and I baked 13 lemon meringue pies for his party. He squeezes fresh lemon juice into his tea and sometimes even orders lemon pie as an appetizer when we dine out. He likes things tart, not sweet, choosing citrus over chocolate any day. Based on his dining history, pavlova is not something he would like. I was so sure of this that when my mother asked for pavlova for her birthday dessert, I made a peach galette as well -- just for Dad. Turns out Dad loves pavlova. Almost as much as he loves lemon. You learn something new every day. So, for the closet pavlova fans out there -- and even for those who like to flaunt their love of this powder-puff dessert - here's the recipe. It has a little lemon in it to cut the sweet. Hey, maybe that's why Dad likes it...
Writing about strawberries in September seems unreal to me. When I was a kid, September meant corn. Cobs and cobs of hot corn slathered in butter. Strawberries ushered in the summer holidays. They didn't close them.
Look past my freshly harvested garlic and the stone fruit hogging the counter. See all those boxes lurking in the background? They were expropriating my dining table under the pretence of helping me organize the pantry. Or The Prototype, as I now call it. From last year's renovation and until last month, we shoved tinned goods and baking supplies onto a lopsided IKEA storage shelf in the dining area and a big steel rack in the living room. Like most temporary solutions, they were ugly, marginally serviceable and far more permanent than anyone imagined.

Yesterday, I'd meant to wish everyone a Happy Canada Day (or Dominion Day, in the case of my husband). But that didn't happen. I blame the carbs. The day started with pancakes and waffles on the patio -- with just enough protein to keep us level. Add...