Vegan Carrot Cake

Vegan Carrot Cake

by Cat Bowen

Prep Time: 20 minutes

Cook Time: 35 minutes

Keywords: bake side snack dessert vegan vegetarian cake

Ingredients (1 bundt cake)

for the cake

• 7 oz by weight shredded carrot
• 1 mashed large banana
• 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 1 cup non-dairy milk of your choice. I like vanilla cashew milk in this.
• 1 cup brown or coconut sugar or half coconut sugar half maple syrup
• 2 cups AP flour
• 1 cup chopped nuts–I like black walnuts in this, toasted.
• 2 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp ground ginger
• 1/4 tsp allspice
• 1/4 tsp nutmeg
• 1 tbsp baking powder

for the glaze

• 2 cups icing sugar
• 4 tbsp vanilla soy milk
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• shredded coconut for topping.

Instructions

preheat the oven to 350F

in a large mixing bowl, combine wet ingredients (including carrots)

stir well

set aside 1/4 cup flour

sift in flour, powder, and spices

toss walnuts in the flour and stir lightly into batter.

pour into a greased bundt pan

place on the center of the center rack

bake for 35 minutes, or until a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean.

let cool completely.

for the glaze

whisk together ingredients and drizzle over cooled cake

top with coconut.

Tri-ing To Read, Here.

Ok. This is another book review post, but I felt as though I’ve been neglecting telling you about my workouts as of late, so I’m going to do a quick re-cap with where I’ve been in this arena recently. Right now I’m taking it a bit easy, mostly playing with my kids, and chasing them around the park. I’m working back into a walking program to rest areas requiring healing. I do, however, have a long-term goal.

It’s a sprint-distance tri. 15k bicycle, 3.1 mi run (5K) and a 1/2 mile open-water swim. I am good-to-go with the swimming and the running. I could hit those distances half-asleep while doing a keg stand. (Though that is highly ill-advised.) It’s that third bit. That bit on the two wheels.  Jesus, Mary, and all of the Saints, I’m terrified.  (Is it Saints or saints? Any hagiographers read my blog?) I don’t have a fear of riding, so much as a total-and-utter fear of crashing and dying. I’m a New Yorker. Do you have any idea how many white-painted bicycles dot street corners to memorialize the death of a bicyclist? MORE THAN A FEW.  The crazy thing is that I am friends with MANY triathletes. I am friends with honest-to-gods IRONMEN/WOMEN. My sibling equivalent does a century ride every year to raise $$ for MS. The man? Bicycles were his PRIMARY-FORM of transport all through his teens, and most of his twenties. Here is my history with bicyles. In bullet-points.

• I learn to ride between ages 7-9
• It was a yellow bicycle with a banana seat
• my sister spray-painted my bicycle red
• the banana seat remained
• I wore no helmet, ever.
• I fell off said bicycle coming down the hill near my house. It hurt.
• I fell into a ditch near my house. This too, was painful
• I got a new 10-speed huffy when I was tenish.
• It was pink
• I fell off of the Huffy in the woods behind my brother’s friend’s house. It hurt.
• There was no poison ivy, but there was a raspberry bush.
• It was like falling into the vagina dentata of thorny bushes–bloody and full of teeth
• My desire to ride upon two wheels was castrated.
• I no longer had biking balls.

My siblings routinely made fun of my bicycling abilities, though their own injuries made mine look tame in comparison. Namely, my older sister put her teeth through her lip. That had to hurt. But I could not ride without hands, or apparently, without injury. I was strictly a “hands on the bars, ride the brake” rider. Apparently that latter bit is muy malo. I lay the blame for the majority of my injuries on fear and ADHD. A potent combination. I was constantly gripping the brakes, and constantly distracted. You can see how that could go terribly wrong.

So now I’ve been set up by a viking and a highlander to do this tri. I may use training wheels. There’s a possibility of using a Flintstone’s style motorcycle, all wide-stone wheels and foot propulsion. A pink Big Wheels is also under consideration. One thing I can tell you is that I WILL NOT BE CLIPPING IN. I “clip-in” at spin. At spin, if I fall off, I fall onto a mat. I am covered in shame, and perhaps the sweat of the rider next to me, but not blood and viscera.

So it is written, so it shall be.

575 words. Gif break? Gif break.

I like this option.

Onto the sexy. And by sexy, I mean words on pages.

But I was just getting to the good part.

I’ve read several books in the past week that I’ve really liked. None so much as this one:

To be 100% Honest, The first 20-40 pages, I wasn’t truly into it, so I put it down, read The Book of Life (which we know I adored) And then I had a bit of reader’s hangover/ennui. After a few days, I picked up Landline again, and really set-in for a readathon.

Ohallofthefucks was my initial hesitation stupid.  I found myself absorbed in a sea of beautiful prose. I was overcome with a hesitation to continue, lest it end too soon. Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from burning through page after page like a vengeful Savanarola. The story pulled upon every heartstring in my soul’s violin, and wrenched from it a brutal concerto of elation and melancholy.  I once again found myself tweeting passages to a friend who also read the book. I was overwhelmed with the desire to simply “share” in the experience of it.

*tweeted to @JustLeahFelts

So, what’s it about?

From the blurb:

Georgie McCool knows her marriage is in trouble. That it’s been in trouble for a long time. She still loves her husband, Neal, and Neal still loves her, deeply — but that almost seems beside the point now.

Maybe that was always beside the point.

Two days before they’re supposed to visit Neal’s family in Omaha for Christmas, Georgie tells Neal that she can’t go. She’s a TV writer, and something’s come up on her show; she has to stay in Los Angeles. She knows that Neal will be upset with her — Neal is always a little upset with Georgie — but she doesn’t expect to him to pack up the kids and go home without her.

When her husband and the kids leave for the airport, Georgie wonders if she’s finally done it. If she’s ruined everything.

That night, Georgie discovers a way to communicate with Neal in the past. It’s not time travel, not exactly, but she feels like she’s been given an opportunity to fix her marriage before it starts . . .

Is that what she’s supposed to do?

Or would Georgie and Neal be better off if their marriage never happened?

There’s really nothing to add to that without revealing plot points that would decrease one’s pleasure in reading the story.

In Landline, Rainbow Rowell manages to effortlessly blend magical realism into an all-too-real plot with devastatingly real characters. Her world-building and character growth will rightly shut the mouths of any critic wary of reading a book penned by a woman who was previously most-known for her Young Adult novels. (Which are also quite amazing.) One will spend a good portion of the book with their heart in their throat, and tissues against their eyes and nose.

Five.Huge.Stars.

Now? The recipe I promised you on Monday.

Chocolate Almond Spread. AKA non-sketch ingredient vegan Nutella.

Vegan Chocolate Almond Spread

Vegan Chocolate Almond Spread

by Cat Bowen

Prep Time: 10 minutes

Keywords: blender appetizer condiment side snack dessert dairy-free gluten-free kosher paleo soy-free vegan vegetarian

Ingredients

• 1 cup roasted, salted, almonds
• 2 oz of your favorite vegan dark chocolate bar (newman’s or endangered species are my favorite.)
• 1 oz coconut oil, liquid state
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 tbsp cocoa powder
• 1 tbsp coconut milk (full-fat from the can)

Instructions

melt the chocolate bar

combine with remaining ingredients

blend in food pro

if needed, add a bit more melted choc or oil to smooth out.

Sapere Aude

As I type this, I have my children watching Cosmos on Netflix. It’s an hour of keeping the kids lulled by the sweet, dulcet tones of Neil DeGrasse Tyson and his love of logic and science. I want my kids to be dreamers. I want them to question everything. I want them to question me, you, their teachers, everyone and everything. Every time they don’t find an answer, I want them to dig deeper, search harder, and seek to find. Nullius in Verba.

The place I take the kids most-often in the winter months is the American Museum of Natural History, and the Hayden Planetarium. They love strolling the halls of Science and paleontology, marine life and folk art. They ask question after question about who and what came first, and where it is we’re headed. My son could spend hours in the planetarium, simply mesmerized by the grandeur of the cosmos which is so difficult to see in NYC, with all of its light pollution. “What’s beyond our galaxy, Mama? What happens if you throw a magnet in a black hole? Could Zeus make lightning on Jupiter?” He may or may not have seen me watch a silly documentary called Chariots of the Gods on Netflix. Aliens+gods+pyramids+beer and a sofa=awesome night at home.

I remember watching the original Cosmos with Carl Sagan in reruns on PBS as a kid. I was instantly enamored by his easy manner and fervent passion. He also had some boss blazer and turtleneck combinations. He remained important to me even through my turbulent teenaged battle between where and how my faith and science could fit together. I was taught that evolution was a joke, that we aren’t a changing universe. I was taught this in spite of the fact that I could SEE evolution. I could SEE changes in the universe. Somewhere, deep inside my mind, lived the quiet words of Carl Sagan, just waiting to be given an ear, and a fistful of curiosity. I am so grateful for that.

Now? My kids have ample opportunities to question, to seek, to know. The can go to the museum, or the library, or even just an iPad. They can watch Into the Universe with Stephen Hawking  and then scroll through the Science News and Discoveries App, and see what correlates.

We are lucky to live in an era that between My Little Pony and Transformers, there is NGD and Hawking, open and accessible at the press of button.

On a compleeeetely different note, you know I’ve been training for my first triathlon. You also know I’ve been terrified of riding bicycles. Lately, I’ve been doing REALLY well on the bike. Yes, I’ve fallen, but it WASN’T THAT BAD. I mean, I’m a klutz. I’ve fallen HARD just by walking! So it wasn’t really that bad. I didn’t break both arms, my cheekbone, and grind my teeth! So…WINNING! (I fell down the stairs at fifteen and did just that. You know, WALKING.)

Anyway, I typically like to listen to audiobooks when I cook, but because I’ve been baking and cooking up a storm for triathlon fuel, I’ve been watching documentaries on my tablet. Biking and running documentaries. By the dozen. Yesterday, while making the recipe featured on today’s blog, I watched Rising from Ashes on Netflix, and was immediately inspired and immediately felt like an asshole for eating batter while watching a documentary featuring bicyclists who overcame GENOCIDE to keep on riding.

Yup, asshole party of one.

I got over it by watching Run for Your Life: The Fred Lebow Story on Netflix after the biking movie. I felt SMUG. I like SMUG. Smug is a comfy duvet of self-aggrandizement. The whole thing reminded me of the fact that unlike Boston, my marathon allowed women runners THE VERY FIRST YEAR. (so she got sick and couldn’t run. WHO CARES?!?!?!) Proving once and for all, NYC kicks Boston’s ass in all things, not just city layout and baseball. BOOM!

Now? Food for your Face.

Almond Banana Power Balls

all-natural, nutrient dense, happy balls of yum.

Almond Banana Power Balls

by Cat Bowen

Prep Time: 15 minutes

Cook Time: 10 minutes

Keywords: bake appetizer bread breakfast dessert snack vegetarian soy-free kosher gluten-free dairy-free

Ingredients (1 dozen balls)

• 1 cup almonds
• 1 1/3 cup whole-grain oats
• 1 egg
• 1 very ripe banana
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 3 tbsp honey

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350F

grind together nuts and oats in a food pro

when smooth-ish add in remaining ingredients

stick in freezer for 10 minutes

scoop onto greased baking sheet

bake for ten minutes or until golden brown

Bibliophrenia…It’s a thing.

Up is down. Left is right. Richard Marx seemingly has a new album…(It’ll never be another “Should’ve Known Better”…the botox prevents him from moving his mouth properly.)

One thing that hasn’t changed is that I’m still reading an absurd amount of books. I have a crippling fear that I’ll one day have to spend a day without books. It’s irrational, I know. I think it’s ok as long as my books don’t start talking to me through book-mouths and not their words on pages. What would that look like in the DSM? Bibliophrenia? I already have enough DX from the DSM, and I do not need another notch on my crazy-belt. *the other belt with notches will accept one from Michael Fassbender, however.*

I’d like to add that notch for you–with my teeth.

A book I read recently, I felt I needed to simmer with for a little while before I gave my full-review here at B2B. I did pen a quick review at Goodreads, which you can read here.

The book? Neanderthal Marries Human. Book 1.5 of the Knitting in the City series.

Last year, I read and loved this books’ predecessor, Neanderthal Seeks Human, and the other books in the series: Friends Without Benefits and Love Hacked. I have been anxiously awaiting this installment since it was announced. I was positively twitterpated with glee when I read that Penny Reid had released it early.

It’s like going to the gym only to realize that only four other people showed up for bodypump class, and you get your favorite spot and barbell.

Neanderthal Marries Human is everything I’ve come to expect from Penny Reid, and still very surprising. Her books (so far) have been witty and smart sugar-cookies of literature. Yes, they’re essentially contemporary romance novels with happy endings and googly-love eyes, but at the same time, they’re not dumbed down to a specific level of reader. (insert reference to a book with a multiple of five, and non-specific hues of a non-color.) Penny Reid puts out quality books that are enjoyable, accessible, entertaining, and intelligent.

This book was all of those things, but it was also decidedly more demanding of a reader’s introspection. Getting married is a pretty big deal. The protagonist, Janie approaches the situation with her typical level of pragmatism and skeptic world-view, and Quinn is ready to throw caution to the wind.

Throughout the book, both Quinn and Janie are forced to reckon their lives together in the present with what may happen in the future, and what, if any, their pasts say about what will or could happen. They’re backed into their own corners and made to face their own insecurities and decide to press on in spite of them.  The thing is, they DO press-on, and it doesn’t feel contrived or forced, or as if they had some sort of “it only happens in books” epiphany. It’s organic and wonderful.

After you read the book, you feel refreshed and renewed. The subtlety of the “message” of the book, that family is everything–whether it’s the one you’re born with or the one you choose–it matters not which family. It’s about finding your place in that family, and finding that place in yourself, and being okay with that. Both Janie and Quinn grow a lot in this book, and it was great to be able to laugh and empathize with the characters on that level.

All-in-all, Neanderthal Marries Human is an excellent example of a sequel doing exactly what a great sequel should–it highlights growth and revelation while propelling the storyline forward, entertaining and engaging the reader, and setting up possible questions to be answered in any subsequent titles. It was a highly-engrossing and fulfilling  read with surprising depth and wit.

Five stars.

NOW! you need a cocktail. And so does my AWESOME SUPER SPECTACULAR online book club, We Ran, We Read, We Rummed! On Goodreads AND Facebook.

I call this one, “The Compari.” It’s a sweet and tangy citrus drink with a fun color and bubbly zing.

The Compari

by Cat Bowen

Prep Time: 2 minutes

Keywords: beverage

Ingredients (1 drink)

• 1 1/2 oz Curacao
• 1 oz Campari
• 1 tsp superfine sugar
• 1 1/2 oz seltzer
• ice

Instructions

combine ingredients

stir with ice

optional garnish

grapefruit or lemon wheel

colored sugar rim

A Prince, His Goat, and Rush Limbaugh

Have you ever experienced a sort of pervicacious ennui that feels as though it’s dragging you down a rabbit hole filled with “just don’t give a damn?” I feel as though I’m stuck there right now, and I need to find some tea cake or magic potion labeled “drink me” to peel back the threat of The Nothing that’s encroaching.

It’s as though every fuck I have to give has been taken by the fuck-stealer.

*Also, “fuck-stealer” is either going to be a new sort of sub-genre pornomance novel, (like this) or perhaps a new creature which was previously unknown to medieval historians,  found in a beastiary buried with a partially-mummified British prince and his trusty goat.*

I always hear people droning on about the value of boredom, but I am certain, that for some people, that is a complete crock of shit. People like me, disruptive types¹ with rampaging ADHD that borders on next-level batshit. For us, boredom is a very bad thing. As an adult, I’m fairly good at devising ways to occupy my time to keep me sane, (endless hours of exercise, research, and reading) but it can still lead toward some, shall I say, interesting things? Take for instance yesterday, I was having a very average day, and during that very average day, I was listening to an audiobook, plaiting my hair; and like The Nothing that crept upon Fantastica, I was hit squarely in the chest with The Nothing. So what did I do?

I Facebook stalked people I hated in High School. Like a freaking spurned lover, I eagerly tore through their pages, looking for what they “liked”–Rush Limbaugh? Really? I’m relatively certain that even his mother thinks he’s a rank assbag with a megaphone–where they live, how they spend their time. All of that. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t looking for ways to feel superior to those who once made me feel so inferior. It took a great deal longer than it should have to admit this was a stupid exercise in which to engage. Their lives and their successes and failures hold absolutely no meaning in mine, so why bother? I am no Pretty Woman frosty-pink lipsticked prostie to go back and throw my meager successes in their faces. –Not only because telling them that I’ve been in academia in some form or fashion for *cough* years seems less like a brag and more like a prison sentence when said aloud.

Shankaracharya, in his commentary of the Bhagavad Gita writes: “Self-knowledge alone eradicates misery.” I think Facebook stalking is the very opposite of this sentiment. Unless I’m learning that I’m quite the noxious character, given to fits of temporary insanity. Eradicate misery? Nah, facebook looks at that misery, undresses that bitch, and has its nasty way with it. I’m no ontologist to decipher the mysteries of the self, but I know what I perceive in the mirror.

Why on earth I’d let boredom lead me to the black-hole of social media, I’ll never know. Do you see what I mean? Boredom is dangerous. I will take four hours of researching the historical significance of the gifts Henry VIII gave each wife, and then going for a run, over that nonsense any day of the week.

(nothing says “I love you, but still may have you beheaded” like gold gilt!!)

**footnote¹: the handful of my former professors who follow my blog, are all readily nodding their heads at my “disruptive” comment.

Thankfully, the very act of penning this post, and getting it out there, in words, seems to set a lumos charm upon my ennui, at least for now.

I’ve also decided to come up with new baking recipes for the rest of the day. Healthy ones. There might be a crumble or buckle involved. For now, how about a crepe suzette cake?

I’m not going to lie, while this cake is a “no bake” recipe, you will be at the stove for a solid 45 minutes (at least) making the crepes. What this recipe has going for it–aside from being delicious–is panache. This cake has STYLE. In a traditional Crepé Suzette, the crepe is topped with tangerine juice, and dressed with a Grand Marnier and caramelized-sugar sauce. In my version, there is zest in the crepes (lemon and lime, because, summer) and there is sugar brûlée between every layer. If you want the liqueur, may I suggest a sidecar??

Crepe Suzette Cake

Here is Alton Brown showing you how to make one. Just use my recipe. Also? I find it easiest to use a 10″ offset spatula to flip it.

Crepe Suzette Cake

by Cat Bowen

Prep Time: 1 hour 30 minutes

Keywords: fry no bake blender breakfast bread appetizer side snack dessert cake

Ingredients (1 cake)

for the crepes

• 2 cups whole milk
• 4 tbsp melted butter
• 2 eggs
• 1 1/3 cups AP flour, sifted twice
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 1/2 tsp lemon extract
• zest of one lemon and one lime

between the crepes

• about 1/2-2/3 cup sugar
• a firey implement.

top the cake

• powdered sugar
• lemon and lime wheels

for the crepe pan

• a metric ton of butter to cook the crepes in.

Instructions

it’s honestly easiest to throw the wet ingredients into a blender and blend, and then sift in and blend in the flour a little bit at a time.

Let this SIT!! I, like Alton, make mine the night before.

heat a light skillet or crepe pan (because we all have those, right?!…no) on medium.

melt a bit of butter, enough to coat the pan

add 1/3 cup batter to the pan, and using a spatula, spread it into a thin crepe…or twisty-twirl the pan. look at the video I posted, and realize the first crepe NEVER works right.

make a crepe

place it on a plate

add a heaping tsp of sugar to the top of the crepe, coating it as evenly as possible

using a brulee torch, torch it. (optional, it’s good even if not bruleed)

repeat this process, layering each crepe and sugar on top of each other until you run out of batter

let cool

top with powdered sugar and citrus wheels.

*this will not keep more than a day and a half. It gets rubbery.