![]() ![]() It didn’t pick up many crumbs like I was worried about (although I did chill the layers prior to frosting). Easier to apply than others I have tried in past. ![]() It’s a very forgiving and luxurious icing. I didn’t follow the icing recipe for that and used this one instead. For the batter, I made the “no mixer vanilla cake” recipe that is also on this website. I’m not a very experienced baker, but wanted to make a 7 inch, 3-layer cake for my anniversary. It is now the only one ( 12 cakes now ) I use. It is by far the easiest, fluffiest, best tasting frosting I’ve ever made. Bring to room temperature, then beat until smooth before using. Step 4ĭo Ahead: Buttercream can be made 3 days ahead. Scrape in vanilla seeds (discard pod) or add chocolate or espresso, depending on desired flavor. Beat until buttercream looks glossy and smooth. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and add vanilla extract and salt. If mixture starts to look chunky or liquidy, just keep beating it will come back together. With the motor running, add butter a piece at a time, incorporating fully before adding the next piece, 8–10 minutes. Increase speed to medium-high and beat until the bowl is cool to the touch, about 2 minutes. Turn off mixer, add powdered sugar, and mix on low speed until incorporated. Step 2įit bowl onto stand mixer fitted with whisk attachment and beat on medium-high speed until meringue is stiff, glossy, and dense, about 5 minutes. Heat, whisking constantly, until sugar is dissolved and an instant-read thermometer registers 115°, about 5 minutes. It’s a cake that brings out this girlish smile in my grandmother and for a split second, as she beams from all of the “happy birthday to you” attention, I can see that little mischievous girl who was brave enough to defended her brother.Combine granulated sugar and egg whites in the bowl of a stand mixer and set over a medium saucepan filled with 1" of gently simmering water (do not let bowl touch water). ![]() It’s one I’ve made a million times at not just her request but my entire family’s request as well. She loves my food, and always says, “Robyn, you’re so talented, I just don’t know how you do it. She has good taste and ever since my grandpa passed, I’ve found myself cooking for her often. Typing this out makes me realize we have a lot more in common than I thought. She didn’t like it. She’s made it point to feed differently than her upbringing to always serve fresh vegetables, to eat wholesome + healthy and insists everyone around her do the same. Grandma grew up in a very humble home, sometimes relying on preserved vegetables and other canned goods for a meal. She hates all fast food joints, especially hamburgers made with american cheese and never ever eats the stuff. She hides little chocolate candies throughout her home in candy jars saying they’re for the grandkids but, well, we all know better. I hated grandma’s toast growing up, but now, I find myself buying the same kind of seed-filled bread. Then she’d slather some butter on a seed-filled, whole-wheat, hearty piece of bread and insisting that I eat the crusts too because that’s where all the nutrients were. When I was little I’d ask her to make me toast with butter, and she always told me that white bread is made of nothing but garbage. I love this story as much as I love my grandmother because it shows how fierce and fiery she’s always been. When they arrived at the doorway, she hopped down from the roof with a baseball bat and drove them away from her home, yelling to leave her brother alone and never come back. She waited for the mean boys to follow her brother home again and poised herself quietly on top of the roof. They’d also pester and tease him all the way home after school until he arrived at his doorstep.įed up with the bullying, one day my grandmother raced home from school faster than her brother. This brother was a kind and gentle soul, a boy who wasn’t ever looking for any trouble so he never fought back. (I’ve heard the story a million times.) My grandmother was the oldest kid of four, 2 younger brothers and 1 younger sister, just like me.ĭuring their “block-party” potato roasting, there were some neighborhood boys who would come around and stomp on her brother’s hot potato, smashing it into an inedible mess. “It was such a treat,” my grandmother’s told me. They’d savor that potato with a bit of salt. ![]() Then they’d peel back the blistered skin to reveal a hot, creamy white inside. My grandmother Jackie and her brothers used to roast potatoes in a clean trashcan of fire outside their home until the skin was charcoaled black. ![]()
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