Diary Recipes

A new gluten-free dairy-free pumpkin cupcake recipe for Fall.

Before I get to my pumpkin cupcake recipe, I need to wander off a bit. Just briefly. Because it's who I am. A person who wanders. Ponders. Finds solace in books. I've been like this since girlhood. Curious. Serious. No good at catching balls. Or dressing dolls. I am beyond inept with hair. And eyeliner. Nail polish. I get anxious and non-verbal if I have to wear anything that isn't a pair of jeans.

It might be because I'm a child of The Sixties, that starstruck Age of Aquarius, when kindred souls united for peace, beauty, and rock and roll. As Hunter S. Thompson wrote, "You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right," and there was that "...sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave."

I've been remembering the beautiful wave lately. The idealism. The hope. The belief that there is more to life than collapsing in front of the television and microwaving hot dogs. The belief that beauty- as Steve Jobs believed- is important, has value. That we are deeply interconnected. That life on Earth is precious- from the house sparrow to the living sea. That we are part of a vast and mysterious collective- not merely of our absurd egos (who natter inside our heads and squander our attention on drama, conflict, acquisition and the need to control)- but of a newly unfolding awareness of astonishing inner space and outer space. Infinity in every direction. The Universe is far more capacious than we ever dreamed. Perhaps even multi-dimensional. A Multiverse.

Which begs the question.

Who am I? Really. I know I am not the car I drive or the laundry detergent I use. I know I am not what I identify with. I am not what I embrace- or reject. Though for years I thought so. I believed my opinions created a self. Made me Me. Now that I am old enough to have lived through countless opinion reversals, I realize opinions are temporary.

And not defining.

Just as I am not my baby teeth. Or my once lactating voluptuousness. Or my sprouting silver hair. Or what music I listen to. Or what jeans I outgrow. I am not even the woman baking pumpkin cupcakes for her readers. Or am I?

Well, maybe I am. Just a little. But wait. Doesn't that make me the sum of what I do? I bake therefore I am? I am trying lately not to be so much of a human doing. And more of a human being.

It's not as easy as one might think.

And therein lies the trouble. The whole thinking thing. Our brain. Our wired hardware. It disconnects us. It addicts us. It overrides the heart and soul of what is really going on. The being we really are. Beneath the seductive and glossy surface of things. The spark that burns from the greater whole.

I see that spark in you. In your words and comments. In your avatar's eyes.

And that spark?

It's why I made you cupcakes.

xox


Read more + get the recipe >>

Just right.

As you may have guessed, I have issues (who among us doesn't?). Texture is a big honking issue for me. Size is an issue (portions bigger than my head? A  serious turn off). And taste, well, that goes without saying (you know how I loathe bean flour). If I was a storybook character I would inhabit The Princess and the Pea.

Read more + get the recipe >>

Last week, boxed-cake-mix-maker Duncan Hines was forced to pull its latest marketing gimmick from the airwaves after a public outcry labeling Duncan Hines as "racist."

Entitled "Hip Hop Cupcakes", the commercial features unfrosted (presumably preservative-laden Duncan Hines) vanilla cupcakes, seemingly coming to life as a headless actress drizzles even more preservative-laden chocolate sauce atop the cupcakes, who then sprout cartoon eyes and lips, and begin to "sing" probably the best hip-hop music Ive ever heard in my life.


Lets get one thing straight: I hate racists and racism. Other things I hate: Glee hiatuses, red peppers, and buying shoes at full price only to see them go on sale the next day.

Now that Ive solidified my politically correctness, lets get real here--the hip-hop that Duncan Hines speaks of sounds more like the musical ramblings of a 14-year-old who just tinkered around with Garage Band for the first time. I try not to listen to any music that doesnt sound like itd be the color pink, but Im still pretty sure hip-hop is owned by the likes of Jay-Z and CB4. I mean, honestly, this "rap" isnt even half as edgy as the kind of songs performed on "The Sing Off".

And yet somehow, people are PISSED!!! Its reminiscent to a large population of people with way too much time on their hands and not enough real problems to worry about of the actual racist practice of black face. Add in the idea of hip-hop and clearly you have a whole new clan of racism forming--the KakeKakeKake.

Look, the real problem here is two-fold: Duncan Hines is horseshit and their ad team is clearly a group of third-graders who have a thing for Chipmunk voices and cartoons. I guess when you think of it like that, its actually quite a sophisticated ad campaign.