Brown Butter Financiers

Posted on March 1, 2014 by Ryo

I previously made some blackberry financiers, and since I love the little almond cakes, I made a different version, this time plain, with brown butter.

The brown butter adds a rich, nutty flavor to the financier. It’s a traditional ingredient in financiers, but you have to wonder, why did they think of putting brown butter into them, instead of just regular butter?

Theo was putzing around in his flat near the Arc de Triomphe, fretting about what to do for his girlfriend Camille’s birthday. It was coming up in less than a week, and he had nothing. No party planned. No gift in mind. Nothing. His mind was as blank as the clear cloudless Parisian sky he could see from his window.

He had to get out of his flat. Get his mind working, his creative juices flowing. He walked outside past his favorite bakeries hawking fresh baguettes, past the hat store where he got the very beret he was wearing on his head, past the charming bistro where he had taken Camille for their first date.

Theo was growing despondent. Time was ticking, and he was getting no inspiration from his surroundings, the city he loved, the city where his beloved also lived. He quickly picked up a sandwich from a nearby café and skulked back to his flat, desperately hoping for a miracle.

Camille loved madeleines, that much he knew. The small, shell-shaped cakes were so soft, so delicious, and made Camille smile in that beautiful way that just brightened the entire room around her. He wanted to see that smile again. But he couldn’t just make madeleines. That would be so predictable, so boring.

He idly threw some butter into a saucepan, thinking he’d melt it for some madeleines. It’s not what he’d give Camille for her birthday, but Theo had a sweet tooth himself, and right now, he could really use some madeleines. He turned on the heat and then started to pick up some clutter around his apartment.

As he worked, he realized that he had forgotten about the butter on the stove, and it had started turning brown. Oh mon dieu, he thought to himself, as he quickly took the saucepan off of the heat. He looked at the butter and saw that it had turned brown, but it wasn’t burnt just yet. The butter gave off an incredible, rich nutty aroma. He poured the hot, melted butter into a bowl, along with the brown bits off the bottom of the saucepan.

What could he do with this? The nuttiness reminded him of almonds. He did have some ground almonds handy, as he had been making macarons just the other day with his sweetheart. With the ground almonds, along with some sugar, flour, and some egg whites to lighten the mixture, made a nice cake batter. Maybe he could turn this whole thing into some new confectionery for his loved one.

Theo reached into his cabinet and pulled out the first metal thing he touched, a pan with a dozen small cups in it, much like a muffin tin but shallower. This seemed like just the right vessel for making these cakes; he could get small, individual almond cakes that Camille could enjoy, much like a madeleine.

He poured the batter into the pan and put it into the oven. A dozen minutes later, his kitchen was filled with the delightful smell of browned butter and almonds, and the cakes were a beautiful golden brown. It was all he could do to stop himself from touching the hot pan and burning his hand. He managed to wait a few minutes and unmolded one of the cakes. He popped it into his mouth, and he closed his eyes, a moment of sheer joy. The nutty flavor from the browned butter, combined with the rich, sweet taste of the almonds was heavenly. He couldn’t wait to share his creation with Camille.

Camille’s birthday came, and he had a dozen of his new creation prepared for her. He could barely wait to see her face when she tried one for the first time. After an interminable two hours of dinner, Theo pulled out the small almond cakes and surprised her. Her eyes lit up with the delight of a small child being presented with Christmas gifts she didn’t expect, and she hastily put one into her mouth. She had the same reflex, closing her eyes just as Theo did, but she also let out a small moan. It was almost sexual.

For the remainder of the evening, even as they were surrounded by Camille’s closest friends, it seemed her eyes were locked on Theo the whole time. There was a burning desire in her eyes that he had never seen before. The intensity was almost scary, but he was strangely excited about being the object of her lust.

The guests couldn’t leave fast enough. Camille grabbed Theo by his scarf and pulled him into the bedroom, where she promptly removed his scarf and beret, and in the same motion, pulled his shirt over his head. As he lay there shirtless, his chest heaving up and down with the anticipation of getting laid, she seemed to become even more excited, her mouth rushing to meet his, her tongue plunging deeply into the deep recesses of his throat.

Camille swiftly unbuttoned Theo’s shirt, revealing his chiseled chest, covered with only a light scattering of fine hairs. The sight of his chest consumed her with the most primal of desires. As if possessed by a sex demon, she floated over to her purse, pulling out the handcuffs she kept in there. Her secret desires, now fully on display in front of Theo.

She took his left hand and deftly handcuffed it to the bedpost. Theo, caught by surprise, had no time to object. He trusted Camille enough to let her do what she wanted, though, and obligingly lay down on the bed. The remainder of his clothes, on the bottom half of his body, came off soon after, and he was lying naked with his left wrist restrained.

Camille pulled down her pants and then her panties, revealing a neatly trimmed bush, where Theo’s eyes fixated. He had very little time to stare, though, as she quickly climbed on top of him and started making out with him, grinding her clitoris along the underside of his throbbing, erect penis. They both moaned, and Theo used his one free arm to give her additional stimulation between her legs.

She quickly slapped his hand away, insisting upon his submission to her. That forceful act made Theo even harder, and drops of his fluids started appearing at the tip of his penis, making the gliding motion between their genitals even smoother than it was before.

It was time for her to be penetrated, and Camille expertly straddled Theo’s groin, guiding his penis into her with the accuracy of a skilled sharpshooter. As she consumed him to the hilt, he moaned with pleasure, closing his eyes to take in the moment.

Camille quickly slapped his face to open his eyes. She wanted him to see her bouncing up and down on top of him. He could see his penis going in and out of his vagina like a piston in an engine, and her moans grew louder as if combustion were occurring within her sex.

The tip of his penis repeatedly scraped just the right spot inside of her, and her fluids began running down his shaft. The sweat on both of their brows was visible now, and Theo remained obedient, never moving his arms, just as Camille commanded. Only his hips were thrusting upward, and the force of the thrusts soon brought her to the brink of orgasm. She felt herself feeling lighter and lighter, as if she were about to fly off his body and through the roof, as if his penis were propelling her higher and higher like a geyser’s eruption.

Theo, too, was approaching his orgasm, and he could feel the intense pleasure spreading all throughout his groin area. Their moans became synchronized, growing by the second, until they both could not hold it back anymore. He started shooting his load first, spurt after spurt of warm semen shooting deep inside of her. Those gobs of fluid hitting her insides were just enough to take her over the edge, and she let out the most primal of screams, her vagina contracting like there was no tomorrow.

They both collapsed in a heap in the bed, Theo’s arm still cuffed to the bedpost. He didn’t care how uncomfortable it felt; that orgasm was one of epic proportions, and he was able to satisfy her, too, all because of his magnificent new creation of the almond cake.

OK well the recipe probably dates back way farther than the setting in the story, but I still think it’s plausible. Anyway, I got the recipe here.

Brown Butter Financiers

1 tablespoon melted butter
50 grams flour
5 grams cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
4 large egg whites
100 grams sugar
50 grams almond flour
1/8 teaspoon salt
130 grams butter

  1. Preheat oven to 425F.
  2. Brush a financier mold or a muffin tin with the melted butter.
  3. Sift the flour, cornstarch, and baking powder.
  4. Lightly beat the egg whites in a large bowl.
  5. Add the sugar and mix well.
  6. Add the almond flour and mix well.
  7. Add the sifted flour, cornstarch, and baking powder, and also add the salt and mix well.
  8. Brown the butter in a small saucepan, whisking frequently so it doesn’t burn.
  9. When it turns golden brown, turn off the heat and pour into a bowl, scraping the brown bits into the bowl as well.
  10. After it has cooled a bit, add the browned butter to the egg white mixture.
  11. Spoon the batter into the financier mold or muffin tin.
  12. Bake at 425F to 11~15 minutes, or until the cakes are lightly brown.
  13. Let the mold or muffin tin cool for 10 minutes before removing the cakes.

The batter. The brown butter smell is heavenly.

I used a muffin tin since I’m not fancy enough to have a financier mold.

After 11 minutes in the oven, they are done and beautifully golden brown.

I had luckily buttered the muffin tin enough that the cakes could just slide out without getting too mangled.

These dried out fairly quickly, and they also didn’t have that much of a brown butter flavor. Perhaps if I had served them shortly after they came out of the oven, they wouldn’t have lost that moisture, or that brown butter flavor. But I still enjoyed the rich taste of these financiers.

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February Is the Shortest Month

Posted on February 28, 2014 by Ryo

Today is the last day of February. It’s only 28 days into the month, and it’s already over.

We’re so used to this happening every year, this abnormally short month, that most people probably don’t even think about it. The other 11 months are normal (where “normal” means having 30 or 31 days), so why is February so special? It’s frustrating. You pay more per day for your monthly mortgage or rent payment because of the shorter month. You have fewer days where you can get stuff done.

There are seven months with 31 days. That’s more than half of the months in a year with an extra day over the 30-day months. If just two of them gave up a day and donated it to February, all months would have 30 or 31 days. Isn’t that way better? Isn’t equality what mankind strives for? And this whole leap day thing can just get tacked onto a 30-day month. It could even still be February. It’d just be February 31st that’s leap day.

And with five 31-day months and seven 30-day months in a regular year, if you, for some reason, forget the number of days in a year, it’s much easier to figure out by simple arithmetic. Seven times 30 is 210, and 5 times 31 is 155, so that’s 365 in total. Much easier than doing 7*31 + 4*30 + 28. Of course, if you can’t remember the number of days in a year, perhaps any amount of arithmetic is too hard. OK that’s mean, I’m totally kidding. Sort of.

More importantly, had February been a normal month, I would’ve had at least two extra days to complete a blog post on financiers. As it is, it will have to slip into March. Which could have been late February, had the months been more balanced. Curse this calendar.

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Maple Syrup Cookies

Posted on January 29, 2014 by Ryo

Maple syrup is intimately associated with pancakes. In fact, mentioning one often conjures up images of the other, as the two are forever intertwined, food partners as inseparable as bagels and cream cheese, or peanut butter and jelly.

But what if you took the sweet, rich flavor of maple syrup and put it into a cookie? The results are actually quite marvelous. And how this idea would have come about, I can only imagine…

In the great snowy forest of Alberta, Ryan sat in his log cabin, reading his well-worn copy of The Life of Pi, dreaming of being out on the ocean, of being away from this eternal winter wonderland.

The trees had given a lot of sap this year, and so he had been blessed with an abundance of maple syrup. Giant jugs of it sat in the corner, as he was unable to find buyers for all of it. There were only so many pancake breakfasts he could have by his lonesome before he would start going insane. What to do with all that maple syrup?

One day, while on a stroll in the woods, he saw a flutter of red in the distance. As he approached, he realized that it was a young woman with a large red scarf. Her leg seemed trapped underneath a tree branch, and she was struggling to get out. Ryan, the gentleman that he was, immediately offered his assistance, which was eagerly accepted, as the poor girl had been stuck there for quite some time in the cold.

“Thank you so much!” beamed the young woman with jet black hair. She stared into his eyes, and immediately they both felt the warmth despite being in a forest of white. “My name is Rachel,” she said, as she held out her hand.

“I’m Ryan,” he responded, taking her hand in his with a firm handshake. Rachel felt a small tingle, perhaps from the cold and fatigue, or perhaps from the unexpected firmness of his handshake after months of no physical contact even approaching that level of sensuality.

Continuing in his gentlemanly ways, he invited her into his log cabin. She marveled at the vast quantities of maple syrup in his cabin. Warm pancakes drizzled with maple syrup were one of her greatest indulgences. And here she was, surrounded by what seemed like an infinite supply of that delightful brown nectar, along with this handsome man who had saved her from the cold.

Thinking of the cold made her think about baking. It was a pastime she often indulged in at home, mixing together large amounts of butter and sugar into round shapes, opening the oven minutes later to greet a tray full of heavenly decadence, popping them into her mouth while still hot, enjoying the sweet, rich goodness of a cookie straight out of the oven.

Rachel blurted this reverie out in front of Ryan. “I love baking cookies!”

Ryan was caught off-guard at her sudden outburst, but was delighted that she had suggested an activity for them, an activity that would produce delicious results. He asked what kind of cookies she was thinking of baking.

Looking around the room and seeing the giant tubs of maple syrup, that was the first thing she suggested. Maple syrup cookies? Who had heard of such a concoction? But maple syrup was basically sugar syrup, with that rich, unmistakeable flavor. And if you can bake stuff with honey, why not with maple syrup?

They started mixing together the dough. Butter, brown sugar, eggs, vanilla, and maple syrup. It formed a rich, brown dough. Baking soda, salt, and flour rounded out the cookie dough, and soon they were scooping out balls of dough onto a baking sheet. Ryan also had some maple syrup on hand, so he sprinkled that on top of the balls for that extra crunch.

Soon the cabin was filled with the heavenly aroma of maple syrup and butter. The cookies had puffed up with a beautiful golden brown color, and they each took one of the hot cookies into their mouths. Their eyes simultaneously lit up with delight, the warm, sweet, delicious cookie filling their mouths with the most delightful taste.

Ryan and Rachel’s eyes were locked together, and instinctively, their lips came together in a kiss. Perhaps it was the shared effort of baking that brought them together. Perhaps sharing the delicious fruits of their labor caused them to want to explore each other’s mouths. No matter, they were locked in a passionate embrace, ignorant of what forces had brought them there.

Ryan’s bed was mere feet away, and it was a convenient place for them to fall onto. Rachel was relieved to lie down in a warm bed after spending all that time in the snow. Especially with this big strong man’s arms wrapped around her, and his lips surrounding hers. She moaned slightly, as she removed her scarf and set it on the bed.

The red scarf flying off was a green light for Ryan to proceed, and he quickly took off her jacket, revealing a fairly tight sweater that showed off Rachel’s curves quite flatteringly. Rachel reciprocated, removing Ryan’s jacket and scarf. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt that was also quite fitted, allowing his chest, chiseled from the hard work outdoors, to show. She could instantly feel the moisture developing in her nether regions.

The kissing intensified, as did the pace of their disrobing. They were both topless, and soon after, in their underwear, rolling around on the bed with their lips locked together, their chests pressed against one another. Ryan could feel Rachel’s wetness, and she his hardness. They both removed the last barriers to their nudity, and his erection sprung up before her eyes like a rocket going off into space.

The gentleman always keeps protection around, and so of course, Ryan had condoms in his nightstand at the ready. He deftly put it on before sliding easily into Rachel’s now-dripping vagina. The natural lubrication was enough to allow Ryan to go all the way in with no resistance, which elicited an audible moan from him. The moan made Rachel even wetter, if that were even possible, and she started gyrating her hips into his pelvis, feeling his member go deeper and deeper inside of her.

Rachel felt like taking charge, so she flipped him over and mounted him. She bounced up and down on his rock-hard penis, her fluids dripping down the condom. She closed her eyes and moaned, the tip of his penis hitting just the right spot inside of her. Every time it hit her spot, she could feel the pleasure rising within her, until the vat containing it was nearly full. The time had come, and she let out the loudest scream of her life, sheer ecstasy emanating from her vagina that was holding onto Ryan’s penis like its existence depended on being penetrated.

Her screaming was enough to get him off, and Ryan pumped shot after shot into the condom. He shot so much that the condom could not hold it all, and it flowed down his penis and into his pubic hair. Rachel dismounted him and lay next to him, their hands touching, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breaths.

Rachel closed her eyes and smiled. She had invented a delicious new recipe, and on top of that, had met a man that could satisfy her. What more could she want?

It’s not like I chose their names because Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams are both Canadian. No way.

Maple Syrup Cookies

1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 egg
1 cup maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup white or raw sugar

  1. Preheat oven to 350F.
  2. Cream together the butter and brown sugar.
  3. Add the egg, maple syrup, and vanilla extract, and mix until blended.
  4. Sift together the flour, baking soda, and salt, and stir into the mixture until blended.
  5. Shape the dough into 1-inch balls, and roll the balls in the white or raw sugar.
  6. Place the dough balls about 2 inches apart on a cookie sheet and flatten slightly.
  7. Bake 8 to 10 minutes, or until the edges are brown.
  8. Let the cookies cool on a wire rack.

The cookie dough. Very moist from the maple syrup.

Balls of dough, rolled in raw sugar, and then flattened.

Eight minutes later, they are done.

The cookies are nice and brown. It makes quite a few.

The raw sugar makes a nice crunch on the outside.

I liked these cookies because they’re not too sweet, and they’re also soft. The maple syrup flavor wasn’t that strong, but I guess you can’t add too much liquid to cookie dough without ruining the consistency.

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2013 in Review

Posted on January 11, 2014 by Ryo

Well here we are, another new year already underway. And I’ve yet again let myself write even less in this blog, and do even less in my life. Oh well.

What happened in 2013:

Of course, numbers don’t capture the other things I did, like visiting two different foreign countries (Japan, Iceland), finally buying a house (along with increasing my financial obligations accordingly), making new friends (sometimes I’m social too), etc. The first eleven days of 2014 haven’t exactly been fruitful, but hopefully the remaining 354 will bring some more opportunities.

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Caramel Apple Bundt Cake

Posted on December 30, 2013 by Ryo

Caramel and apples are seemingly a match made in heaven. The crunchiness and tartness of the apple, together with the smooth, rich sweetness of the caramel, combine in your mouth to create a luxurious combination that is pretty close to heaven, if such a thing could exist on your tongue.

This magical combination, often found in gigantic caramel apples sold at the shopping mall, is a wonder in a Bundt cake. A ring-shaped cake, with juicy bits of apple, a caramel sauce, and even a cream cheese ribbon going through it? What glorious events must have transpired for this concoction to be have been born?

Apple was the apple of her mother’s eye. Or so her mother claimed, to explain her rather peculiar name that predated Gwyneth Paltrow’s daughter. Apple suspected it was just because her Chinese mother didn’t really know English when she was born, and “apple” was one of the few words she did know. She was often teased at school about her botanical name. “Can I take a bite out of you?” “How about them apples?” and so forth. Kids are mean. At least she wasn’t named Kumquat. Think of the insults that name would have gotten.

Apple, now in college, was a good student. Though quiet and reserved, she had beautiful, long black hair surrounding her small, round face, a face that caused many a classmate to look in her direction when she sat down in class. One day, a tall, handsome Asian boy that she couldn’t help but notice in her chemistry class finally came up to her.

“Hi, I’m Kevin,” said the tall Asian boy, and Apple’s pulse quickened right as blood rushed to her cheeks. “I noticed you seem to be really good at taking notes. I was wondering if you wanted to be my lab partner?”

“I’m Apple,” she replied, barely avoiding a stammer as she stared deep into his large, almond eyes. “Sure, I’m looking for a lab partner, too.” She managed to sound just enthusiastic enough without seeming desperate. Kevin smiled in response, a smile that nearly caused her knees to buckle.

Luckily for Kevin, he wasn’t just a pretty face; he had quite a bit of intelligence in that cranium behind his beautiful smile. They would steal glances at each other while operating the Bunsen burner, smile ever so slightly while pipetting into test tubes. They began to spend time outside the laboratory, working on problem sets at the café, or studying for a test in the meadow outside of the library.

But Apple, innocent as she was, didn’t know how to take their relationship to the next step. She so desperately wanted to kiss Kevin, to feel that physical bond with him that would cement her as his girlfriend. Why hadn’t he kissed her yet? Was she not pretty enough? Was she not giving off the right signals? Was he gay?

She knew that his birthday was coming up. Not that she was stalking him or anything, of course, but they were friends on Facebook, and his birthday was listed as an upcoming event. Kevin had invited Apple to a birthday gathering at a local restaurant, with some of his friends. She couldn’t get him some big, fancy present. What if nobody else at the party was giving him a present? Then it would make him feel uncomfortable, she would blush, and it would just be a disaster. Oh but a cake, what if she made him a cake instead? Then she could show him that she was thinking about him, without being too over the top in her emotion.

Apple wanted the cake to be memorable. She wanted Kevin to think of her whenever he thought of this birthday. How would she put enough of herself into the cake that he would think of her when he thought of the cake?

Her namesake, of course. The apple. She would make an apple cake. She had some Honeycrisp apples on her counter. But what else to put in the cake? She scoured her fridge and found some cream cheese. That was it! The tanginess of the cream cheese would go so well with the apples. And then perhaps a nice caramel sauce on top.

The night before the birthday dinner, Apple started making her cake. She mixed up a typical cake batter, with sugar, butter, eggs, and flour, along with some nutmeg to complement the apples. She tossed in some diced apples and poured it into her Bundt pan. Her Bundt pan was her favorite pan. It made such beautifully tall cakes in an attractive ring.

She mixed up some of the cream cheese with sugar and an egg and swirled it around in the batter. After putting it in the oven to bake, she started on her caramel sauce. She mixed together some brown sugar, butter, and cream in a pan until it thickened into a beautiful sauce. She poured this into a jar, and soon the cake was ready. The golden brown ring smelled heavenly as it exited the oven, a halo of earthy apples and tangy cream cheese that would soon be entering Kevin’s beautiful mouth.

Apple made herself look extra pretty the next night. She put on her sleeveless black dress, tied her hair up instead of leaving it in a lazy ponytail like she usually did, and she put on makeup, something she hardly ever did for class. When she arrived at the restaurant, cake in tow, Kevin was already there with a couple of his friends. His eyes lit up upon her entrance. “You look beautiful tonight,” Kevin said to Apple, as he hugged her warmly.

She wanted this moment to last forever, the warmth of his body surrounding her arms, the faint scent of his cologne tickling her nose, his face dangerously close to hers as it rested on her shoulder. “Happy birthday Kevin!” she said breathlessly when he pulled away. “I made this cake for you. I hope you like it.” She handed him a box with the cake in it, and Kevin’s smile widened.

Though they were seated a few seats apart, engaged in conversation with their respective neighbors, throughout dinner they kept glancing at each other, smiling every time their eyes met. The dinner could not end fast enough. Their glances were increasing in frequency, so that by the end of the dinner, they were looking at each other every five seconds.

Kevin’s friends departed, after he gave an excuse of needing to do homework that night instead of going out for drinks after dinner. He had offered to walk Apple home after dinner. Though his ploy to get alone time with her was rather transparent, she didn’t care. She wanted him. He wanted her.

“I loved your cake, Apple,” Kevin said as they ambled toward her apartment. “Thank you so much, it must have taken you forever to make it.”

“Oh no problem, I’m glad you liked it!” Apple tittered. She felt his arm around her waist. Was it finally happening? Was there going to be a good-night kiss?

They talked about the last chemistry lecture, how his friend Michael was already drunk after only two drinks at dinner, how their Asian parents were nagging them about grades. And soon they were right in front of her apartment building. “Well, thanks for coming. Good night,” said Kevin, as his face approached hers.

She closed her eyes. She had been waiting for this moment for weeks. His soft lips touched hers, and she felt electricity. Apple could feel the excitement tingling throughout her body entire. “Do you want to come in?” she said impulsively, after their lips had unlocked.

Who was Kevin to turn down an invitation from this beautiful woman? He followed Apple up to her third-floor apartment. It was small but neatly organized. She offered him some beer, which he readily accepted. This girl bakes and drinks beer, Kevin noted to himself. Here’s a keeper.

They chatted some more, their laughter becoming louder as their beer cans became emptier. The space between them on the couch grew smaller, until their lips met yet again, this time their tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Apple was getting wetter than a swamp after a rainstorm and was also hoping that Kevin wasn’t noticing her dampness. Blood was meanwhile rushing towards Kevin’s groin, which he also was hoping that Apple didn’t notice.

Their kissing becoming more urgent, they slowly made their way to her bed nearby, as Kevin gently deposited Apple onto it like a fish monger laying salmon onto parchment. He slid her dress off of her as if it were a banana peel, leaving her in her bra and panties in front of him. Egalitarian that he was, Kevin removed his shirt to be in an equal state of undress, revealing his nicely toned, hairless chest. More kisses followed, their tongues dancing with each other, and Apple’s bra clasp was easily undone by his deft hand. Her breasts were small but perky, two headlights shining right into his eyes. His hands rubbed the left headlight, playing with it like a monkey plays with food.

The belt buckle was the next article of his clothing to go, followed closely by his pants. His erection was visible in his boxer shorts, and Apple could feel it against her panties, which were becoming more and more saturated by the second. Only one garment on each person was keeping them from complete nudity; these last impediments were quickly removed, their genitals rubbing against each other, producing moans from each participant.

Apple had never been this far with a man. It was all she imagined and more. She was completely enveloped in his warm body, his member rubbing against her sex, which had remained untouched all these decades. She had waited for this moment, and she had lost herself in it, surrendering to his lead. He pulled out a condom from his wallet and put it on quickly, as if he had put dozens of these on in his lifetime. How many women had he been with? The question flashed through her mind, but she quickly forgot it, and Kevin entered her. He encountered the resistance that marked a virgin, and he pressed gently to get through the barrier, causing Apple to wince slightly. But the pleasure outweighed the pain; she desperately wanted him fully inside of her.

Moments later, Kevin was buried to the hilt inside of her, and the thrusting commenced. She moaned as his penis rubbed against her clitoris, a sensation she had never experienced with a man. Sweat started forming on both of their bodies, physical evidence of the passion between them. The pressure in both of their groins was increasing, the pleasure heightening with every thrust. Apple was dangerously close to climax. She recognized this from her solo sessions, the seconds before the dam burst, the anticipation of letting all of that built-up pressure go.

She moaned a primal moan, the pure ecstasy causing her to fly high into the sky, the elation elevating her into the clouds. Her moan was enough to set Kevin off, as he, too, let out a moan, along with his fluids into the condom. The torrent that erupted from his penis was almost enough to fill the whole thing up. He quickly withdrew from her, and they both collapsed on the bed, sweaty and breathless.

This must be what happiness is like, Apple said to herself, thanking the stars that her apple cake concoction had performed such magic.

OK so this cake was good, but perhaps not as good as Kevin found it. The original recipe is here.

Caramel Apple Bundt Cake

Cake
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 cups chopped apples (about 3 medium apples)
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons dark brown sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract, divided
1 1/4 cups vegetable or canola oil
2 cups sugar
3 large eggs

Cream Cheese Layer
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 large egg

Glaze
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons white sugar
2 tablespoons heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Caramel Sauce
4 tablespoons butter
1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup half-and-half or whipping cream
pinch of salt
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

  1. Grease a 9- or 10-inch Bundt pan, and preheat the oven to 350F.
  2. Whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt.
  3. Peel, core, and dice apples to get three cups of diced apples.
  4. Toss the diced apples with lemon juice to prevent browning.
  5. Mix the diced apples with the dark brown sugar and 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract.
  6. Mix together the vegetable oil, sugar, and 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract until well-mixed.
  7. Add the eggs, one at a time, and mix well after adding each one.
  8. Stir in the flour mixture until combined.
  9. Drain excess liquid from the apple mixture and stir it into the batter until just combined.
  10. Pour the batter into the greased Bundt pan.
  11. Beat the softened cream cheese together with the sugar, vanilla extract, and egg until smooth.
  12. Dig a channel about 1 inch deep in the center of the batter and spoon the cream cheese mixture into the channel so that there is a ring of cream cheese going around the center of the cake.
  13. Swirl the cream cheese mixture into the batter using a butter knife.
  14. Bake the cake at 350F for 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean or with only a few crumbs.
  15. Mix the glaze ingredients (butter, brown sugar, white sugar, heavy cream, and vanilla extract) in a small pan, and put it over medium high heat.
  16. Bring the mixture to a boil, and boil for one minute while stirring constantly.
  17. Pour the glaze over the cake while still in the Bundt pan, and let it cool.
  18. After the cake has cooled, turn the cake out onto a plate and store in the refrigerator for up to two days, covered.
  19. Make the caramel sauce by mixing the butter, brown sugar, cream, and salt in a saucepan on medium-low heat.
  20. Bring the caramel mixture to a simmer, and cook for 5 to 7 minutes while whisking constantly, allowing the mixture to thicken slightly.
  21. Add the vanilla extract and cook for another minute.
  22. Turn off the heat and pour into a jar to refrigerate.
  23. Warm the caramel sauce slightly before drizzling it on the cake when serving.

The batter without the apples. Quite fragrant with the cinnamon and nutmeg.

And then the diced apples tossed in lemon juice, brown sugar, and vanilla extract are stirred in, creating this delightfully chunky batter.

Into a Bundt pan. This is back before I had the Nordic Ware Platinum Collection Heritage Bundt Pan that I always use now for Bundt cakes.

The cream cheese layer, made up of cream cheese, sugar, vanilla extract, and an egg.

Swirled into the cake batter, it turns it a pale color.

After an hour and 15 minutes in the oven, it’s done.

The glaze, with butter, brown sugar, white sugar, heavy cream, and vanilla.

The glaze gets poured on top of the baked cake so that it soaks in.

Onto a cake circle, somehow in one piece.

The moist crumb on the inside.

With the caramel sauce, which complements the apple flavor nicely.

I really liked this cake. Though it is quite a few ingredients, it’s not that hard, and I would definitely make it again.

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Kings Fail Me Too

Posted on December 28, 2013 by Ryo

During my last trip to Vegas, I seemed to be cursed when it came to queens. This time, the king was my death card.

I was in a 1/3 no-limit game where a young, aggressive guy opened to $12 in early position and got 3 callers behind him. I had AhKh in the small blind and reraised to $75. It folded back to the initial raiser, who went all-in for $106 total. Everyone else folded, and I made the automatic call. He said he had QJ, and the flop was QJ with a rag. The turn was a J, and I was drawing dead. So there went one hand with a king.

The second hand was in 2/5 no-limit. We were short-handed, maybe only 5 players, and I opened to $15 in the cutoff with KK, with about $250 behind. The button called, and the small blind made it $50. I 4-bet to $150, the button folded, and the small blind raised me all-in. So of course I called, and the flop had an A, and the case king never came. Not much I could’ve done about that one, getting it in with 50 big blinds with KK is pretty standard, and I was a favorite preflop.

The third hand was again in 2/5 no-limit, and I was down to $192. I raised one limper from middle position with KK, and got 3 callers. The flop was J96 rainbow, and it was checked to me, so I went all-in for $112 into the pot of about $85 or so. The two players after me called, which had me very worried. The turn was a 4, and they both checked, which made me feel better. The river was a 5, and the first player checked. The second player bet $125, getting a fold from the first player, and he turned over 8d7d for a straight. There wasn’t much I could do about this one, since I put all the money in as a favorite. Oh well, that’s gambling for you.

The one time I had aces, it actually did work out. With about $390 in front of me, I opened to $15 with AA in middle position, and one player called in late position. The button reraised to $50, and it was folded around to me, so I 4-bet to $150. The player in the middle folded, and the button called. The flop was QdTd8d. I checked, since I didn’t really have any hope of getting called by worse. The button bet $100 into the over-$300 pot. Since I had the Ad in my hand, I check-raised all-in for $140 more, and the button begrudgingly called with JJ, with the Jd, saying he had a straight flush draw. The turn was a black 9, giving him a straight, but the river 5d saved me, and I doubled up. Sometimes your aces don’t get cracked. And if they do get cracked on the turn, you can resuck on the river.

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Spiderweb Pumpkin Tart

Posted on October 31, 2013 by Ryo

I have fallen so far behind in posting recipes for the things I bake that it’s now been a full year since I made this spiderweb pumpkin tart. But what perfect timing, since it’s Halloween again!

Pie crust is just something that I don’t do, for lack of equipment and courage, but tart crust is something I can fake. So a pumpkin tart seemed like just the thing for me to make for Halloween. And what better way to make it Halloween-themed than a spiderweb pattern on top?

But what evil mind would have thought to put a spiderweb on top of food? Hmm…

Jason was doing his annual Halloween cooking. Every year, he had a feast of epic proportions. Bat wings (chicken wings smothered in squid ink sauce), eyeballs (meatballs with olive slices), bloody fingers (breadsticks with marinara sauce),… the list went on with his creepy concoctions. His one Achilles’ heel, though, was dessert. Despite the array of savory delights he always made, his dessert course was always lacking. This year, though, he resolved to not let dessert be the weakest link in his Halloween buffet.

A trip to the supermarket was supposed to give him inspiration. He roamed the aisles, picking up ingredients, hoping for that bolt of creativity to stoke his dessert imagination. He picked up some cans of pumpkin because, after all, it was Halloween, and pumpkin was very appropriate. But there was nothing coming to him. Pumpkin pie? Too boring. Pumpkin cheesecake? So heavy.

Dejected, Jason dragged home his cans of pumpkin, puttering around in the kitchen, waiting for some miracle to arrive. Just as he was in the depths of despair over his lack of creativity surrounding the sweet part of his meal, the doorbell rang.

He opened the door to find Jamie, his neighbor. “Hi Jason!” she said cheerfully. She was always so cheerful, even in this dreary weather. Jason really liked that about her. And how her breasts always seemed to be perky. But he couldn’t let his eyes wander too far below her face.

“Hi Jamie,” replied Jason, his mood instantly lifted by his neighbor’s presence. “What’s up?”

“Oh, I was hoping I could get some sugar from you. I know, I could just go to the store and buy some, but all I need is a cup. Would you mind?”

“Of course not, come on in,” Jason said, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He led her to the kitchen, where he promptly pulled out a Ziploc bag and deposited a cup of sugar into it.

“Thank you so much Jason, you’re a lifesaver!” she said with the same cheerfulness she had been maintaining for the past couple of minutes. “So what are you up to?”

Jason unloaded his dessert difficulties onto Jamie. He was incredibly animated when describing his bat wings, his eyeballs, but then when it came to dessert, the cloud over his head was palpable.

“What about a tart?” asked Jamie, after Jason had said pumpkin pie was too boring. “A tart’s sort of like a pie, but it’s a little different, and people love the shortbread crust that goes with it!”

There’s an idea, Jason thought, getting more excited about it by the second. “Thank you so much Jamie, I think that’s a great idea!”

Jamie sat down on Jason’s couch with the bag of sugar, tired from a long day of running errands and baking. She enjoyed this break in her day, hanging out on the couch and just chatting with her neighbor. Her very cute and very single neighbor, she couldn’t help but think.

They talked about their childhoods, their jobs, their parents’ dogs, and before they knew it, they were sitting on the same couch cushion, their hands gently touching each other’s legs as the sun set outside, casting long shadows across their faces. There had been nothing romantic between them before today, but somehow, today was different.

Jason leaned in for a kiss, and Jamie made absolutely no attempt to resist. Her lips met his, his lips gently suctioning her upper lip. She could feel a bit of stubble on his upper lip, which Jamie found strangely attractive. She pushed back on his lips with hers, slowly inserting her tongue into his mouth, meeting his tongue somewhere in that moist cavity.

He ran his fingers through her hair, tousling it a bit, and he saw her in a totally different, vulnerable light. His eyes stared deep into hers, as Jamie found herself slowly melting a bit, the cheerful exterior dissolving into a more sensual, serious demeanor. Their tongues explored deeper depths, and their shirts came off hastily, like they had been covered in mud and needed to be taken off immediately.

Their hands explored each other’s upper bodies, fingers gently circling nipples as moans erupted from their mouths. Tongues darted toward breasts, fingers unzipped pants, and soon they were down to their underwear, a tent in Jason’s and a wet spot in Jamie’s. They both reached under the other’s elastic, their hands going into forbidden regions of pleasure.

They couldn’t resist being clothed any longer, and they both became completely naked, their flesh pressed against each other. His penis was throbbing, her vagina leaking with anticipation. The inevitable penetration occurred, and they moaned simultaneously as they started their thrusting. Like pistons in an engine, they gyrated in unison, their tempo increasing steadily as the feelings of ecstasy built up in their nether regions.

Jason started thrusting with the urgency of a man trapped in a car sinking to the bottom of a lake, and he threw his head back into the air in a display of pure euphoria. Jamie’s moans grew increasingly louder, sounding more primal by the second. The moment had come, and there was no turning back. The dam burst, and Jason unleashed a torrent into Jamie’s sex. The forceful spurts inside of her set off a chain reaction, as the feelings overwhelmed her groin and warmed her entire body, the tips of her fingers and toes tingling with delight.

They both lay on the couch, exhausted from their activity. As Jason lay face up, eyes half-open as if he had just reached an oasis after walking for hours through the desert, he saw a spiderweb in the corner of the ceiling. I need to clean that up, he muttered to himself, though he was still adrift in orgasmic jubilation.

Suddenly, it hit him. He could draw a spiderweb on top of the pumpkin tart that Jamie had suggested. Chocolate would make a nice, deep brown color that would go beautifully with the bright orange from the pumpkin.

Jason smiled, knowing that this year, finally, he had a good chance of breaking the curse of dessert.

Well, hopefully you’re not baking this where there are real spiderwebs. I know I didn’t. As far as I know, anyway.

I got this recipe from Baking Bites. Though I used the tart crust I’m familiar with, and mine doesn’t look nearly as nice.

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Spiderweb Pumpkin Tart

Crust
1 cup flour
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup butter, softened

Filling
1 1/2 cups (15 ounces) pumpkin puree
1/2 cup milk
2/3 cup sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 tablespoon cocoa powder

  1. Preheat oven to 350F.
  2. Mix together the flour, packed brown sugar, and softened butter for the crust, and press it into a 9- or 10-inch tart pan.
  3. Put the tart pan and dough into the fridge.
  4. Mix together the pumpkin puree, milk, sugar, eggs, vanilla, pumpkin pie spice, and salt until smooth.
  5. Take 1/4 cup of this batter and mix it with the 1 1/2 tablespoon of cocoa powder until it makes a smooth brown paste.
  6. Pour the remaining pumpkin batter into the chilled tart shell.
  7. Put the cocoa powder mixture into a piping bag, and pipe a spiral or concentric circle on top of the pumpkin batter.
  8. Take a toothpick and drag it from the center to the outside along several lines to create a spiderweb pattern.
  9. Bake for 45-50 minutes until the filling is set and a knife inserted into the pumpkin comes out clean.

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The tart crust, pressed into the tart pan.

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The batter, with its nice orange color.

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A bit of the batter mixed with cocoa powder, for the spiderweb.

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The batter goes into the tart shell.

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My attempt at the spiderweb. The strands of cocoa batter kept breaking up, so I didn’t get a nice smooth spiderweb like on the original website.

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After baking, the spiderweb looks even worse.

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The surface cracked a bit.

This tart was good, it was like pumpkin pie, but a bit richer, and the tart crust is also denser than pie crust. I think with more practice, the spiderweb will come out more… spiderweb-like.

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The Curse of Queens

Posted on September 5, 2013 by Ryo

I was in Vegas recently, and this time I played a lot more craps and blackjack than poker. But, as usual, some things went well, others poorly. The two hands where I had QQ went rather poorly, unfortunately.

The first hand was in 2/5 no-limit. I was sitting in the big blind with about $600 behind, when four players limped in. I had QQ in the big blind, and I raised to $35. The button and small blind were the only callers, both of whom had me covered. The flop was T73 with two hearts, and the small blind checked. I bet $60, getting a fold from the button, but a call from the small blind. The turn was an offsuit 6. The small blind checked again, and I bet $125, which got another call. The river was a 6h, completing the flush draw, and the small blind suddenly bet $400, enough to put me all-in. I couldn’t really call here, since I couldn’t imagine what he would value bet with that I could beat, nor could I come up with any hands that he would call two streets with and then bluff the river. Unless he went crazy and turned a hand like JT or T9 into a bluff, I thought he must have at least had a big flush on the river, so I folded. I feel pretty good about that fold, but it still hurts to put in over $200 into a hand and then be forced to fold.

The second hand was in 1/2 no-limit, since no 2/5 tables were open at the time. UTG limped, and I was UTG+1 with QQ and raised to $10. A guy in middle position called, as did the big blind, and the original limper folded. The flop was 6s4h2h, and the big blind checked. I bet $20, and only the big blind called. The turn was the Js, and the big blind checked again. I followed that with a $50 bet, which got another call from the big blind. The river was the 9s, and the big blind bet $100. This looked too much like a busted heart flush draw that I had to call, and he turned over… 8s7s. A backdoor flush. He called the flop with nothing but a backdoor flush draw and an inside straight draw. Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting to see that hand.

Despite those setbacks, I was down only about one buy-in at the end, so the end result wasn’t too bad. Next time, I will get my revenge!

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Egg Tarts

Posted on August 31, 2013 by Ryo

It seems that you can find egg tarts in every Chinese bakery worth its salt. The center, a rich, sweet egg custard, surrounded by a flaky crust. When you bite into one, the sweet, custardy interior hits your mouth right before your teeth sink into the layers of flaky pastry underneath.

But why is it that you hardly ever see these made at home? Maybe I just don’t know the right home bakers. Maybe the puff pastry is just too hard to deal with at home. Using a shortcrust pastry is an option, one that perhaps may have been used as an easier alternative at home…

Kevin collected his bottles of liquor and stuffed them into his reusable grocery bag. It was Saturday night, and he was in a foul mood. His friends had ditched him, once again going to the club, a place he loathed because of all the loud music and sweaty bodies and general superficiality. The cashier was friendly enough, but he didn’t card him. A 30-year-old Chinese man, not carded for liquor? He must be showing his age. On top of all this, his mother had just called him earlier in the day, asking him yet again when he would find a nice girl to marry. And once again, he answered that he just hadn’t found the right girl. This was very much true, as Kevin’s friends knew him as one of the pickiest people around.

He dragged his bag of liquor bottles home with him, but, as heavy as they were, his loneliness and frustration weighed him down even more. As he climbed up the stairs and into his apartment, it was all he could do to stop himself from punching a hole in the wall out of desperation. The new bottle of bourbon beckoned to him, and he quickly fashioned himself a Manhattan. That magical combination of bourbon, vermouth, bitters, and cherry was just what he needed on a night like this, a night he had nobody to share with other than his couch and his TV. As he plopped down on his plush couch, large cocktail in hand, the doorbell rang.

Who could that be at this hour, he muttered to himself, as he walked over to the door. He glanced through the peephole to find a young Asian woman there, looking lost and a bit sad. She’s not going to be a robber or a serial killer, he told himself, as he unconsciously straightened up his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair before opening the door.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I locked myself out of my apartment, and my roommate’s out of town this weekend. Would you mind if I came in and used your phone?” Her voice was as cute as her face. And the rest of her body was definitely easy on the eyes.

Who was Kevin to turn down such an attractive Asian girl? “Sure, come on in,” he said, as he mustered a smile, sensing an oasis in the middle of the dreary desert of an evening he was having. Her name was Jennifer, and she had just moved in next door about a month ago. He handed her his cell phone, briefly thinking to himself, why doesn’t she have her own cell?

She made some calls, but, alas, the super was unreachable, and she would be locked out of the apartment until her roommate returned home tomorrow. Why doesn’t she just stay over on his couch, he offered.

Jennifer hesitated. After all, she had known this young man, as friendly as he was, for a matter of minutes. And now she was staying over on his couch? But really, they lived in the same apartment building, right next to each other. What were the odds that she lived right next to a serial killer, and a nice-looking Asian one at that? She accepted his offer.

Kevin noticed that she had a small bag with her and asked what was in it. “Oh this? I just went to the Asian bakery on the way home. Chinese girls, you know…” she said with a smile, as Kevin recorded the fact that she was also Chinese in his ever-lengthening mental list of facts about his new visitor. “Do you want a pastry? I got a custard bun and a taro bun. I really love egg tarts but they were out! So sad…” Her voice trailed off as she stared forlornly at his kitchen. He could sense that she really loved her egg tarts.

“How about we make some egg tarts then?” Kevin asked, both wanting to make her happy and to have something to do together.

“Really? You can make egg tarts at home?” Jennifer’s eyes opened wide, as if she had just seen the most beautiful sunset right in front of her.

“Well, I’ve never actually done it,” Kevin said, Jennifer’s face turning quickly into one of disappointment. “But I’m a pretty good baker, and we can try making some!”

He hated puff pastry, because it was impossible to make at home, and it was so expensive to buy. But would a shortcrust pastry work? He wanted to give it a shot. He mixed together butter, sugar, flour, and some eggs, making a nice, rich crust. “You’re so handy in the kitchen!” Jennifer exclaimed with delight, thoughts of egg tarts occupying her mind.

Kevin whipped out his trusty mini-muffin tin, and he divided the dough evenly between the twenty-four cups. He then set out to make the custard: eggs, sugar, vanilla, and some milk. He whisked it all together until it was smooth and poured it into the dough cups he had made in his muffin tin. “This looks so wonderful!” Jennifer said, her smile widening by the second. He carefully slid the tray with the custard-filled dough cups into the oven and set the timer.

“Can I make you a drink while we wait?” Kevin offered, ever the gentleman. But, let’s be honest, he just wanted to get into her pants, just like most other guys.

“Sure! What are you drinking?” Jennifer asked, oblivious to the ulterior motives that Kevin had in his offer, as she was blinded by his sweet smile.

“I’m having a Manhattan, do you like those?” Kevin asked, staring deeply into her pretty brown eyes, her beautiful smile that an artist would die to paint.

“I do, actually! But can you make mine with a lot of cherry juice?”

Kevin quickly fashioned another Manhattan, this time adding a lot of cherry juice from the jar. “Here you go,” he said, handing her his handcrafted cocktail.

Jennifer took a sip. “Oh wow this is really good! If your egg tarts are even half as good, I might have to marry you!”

Kevin blushed fifty shades of red. He quickly turned away, hoping she didn’t notice, but it was clear that there was now sexual tension between them, hanging in the air above them like heavy fog in San Francisco.

The timer went off, saving Kevin from any more embarrassment, and he quickly donned his oven mitt and retrieved the muffin tin. The egg tarts had baked beautifully, the crusts now a golden brown, the filling puffed up. Jennifer could hardly contain her excitement. She was bursting with delight, an explosion of exuberance speeding straight toward the tarts.

“Be careful!” said Kevin, noticing that she almost touched the red-hot muffin tin.

“Sorry I can’t help myself!” she giggled, as she stepped back. “I’ll work on my drink while I let these cool.”

Now why can’t her eyes be fixed on me instead of those damn tarts, Kevin thought, as she admired the bouncy girl hovering over his improvised egg tarts. They chitchatted about their lives, where they’re from, he’s an engineer at a startup like everyone else around, she’s in marketing for a tech company like everyone else who’s not an engineer, he wants to settle down and start a family, she’s looking for the same after a recent string of bad breakups, and soon it had been enough time for the tarts to cool.

They both took an egg tart out of the muffin tin. Kevin watched as Jennifer took a bite out of one. She closed her pretty eyes to savor the moment, and right when she bit into it, he could have sworn he heard her moan a little. She chewed the egg tart so carefully and delicately that her slim mouth barely moved. Kevin’s mouth started hanging open at the sight when she opened her eyes and said in a voice that was almost too loud, “Kevin! This is so wonderful! I can’t believe you can bake like this!”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the delicious egg tarts, but Jennifer suddenly found herself lunging toward Kevin, her lips making a beeline for his. Their lips interlocked, they made their way over to the couch and started furiously making out, as if the world were going to end tomorrow and this would be their last chance for human affection. Their tongues went deep into each other’s mouths, reaching all the way back to their throats. Their mouths were as intertwined as two mouths could possibly be while still obeying the laws of physics.

Jennifer reached up and pulled off Kevin’s shirt, after which she immediately went for his right nipple, sucking it up into the vacuum of her mouth. He moaned involuntarily and then reached over to lift off Jennifer’s shirt as well. With a deft flick of his right thumb and forefinger, he undid her bra, revealing a pair of perky breasts that were just the right size. He rubbed his hands all over them, sucking on her left nipple while plunging his hand down the front of her pants. The moisture down there was palpable, and he quickly unbuckled her belt and unbuttoned the button on her jeans. His fingers explored the inside of her panties, brushing against her clitoris, which elicited several moans from Jennifer, her fluids flowing more freely now.

But now it was her turn to do the pleasuring. She unbuckled his belt and slid his jeans down, revealing a tent in his boxers that he could not conceal. She grabbed his member through the fabric and heard a grunt from him. She could see a small wet spot near the tip of his penis, and she yanked down his underwear, causing his erection to spring up after being freed. Jennifer grabbed it and started stroking, eliciting more moaning from Kevin. He reciprocated, yanking down her jeans and panties, and slid his right forefinger into her vagina. Her toes curled with pleasure, and more of her fluids found their way onto Kevin’s finger.

Their kissing had turned into throat exploration, and it was all they could do to keep themselves from ripping the skin off of each other. Kevin grabbed a condom from a nearby drawer and quickly put it on himself, plunging his covered cock straight into her awaiting vagina. They moaned simultaneously as penetration occurred, which was followed by urgent thrusting. Their tongues continued to explore each other’s mouths, and the thrusting increased in intensity.

Their moaning had reached a crescendo, their rhythm now so fast that they could hardly keep up. They had both reached the point of no return. Jennifer went first, as she let out a primal scream. She felt like she was flying, flying out of her body, off the couch, straight into the air and showered by a bombardment of starlight. Mere seconds later, Kevin was ready to release, as he let out what an observer might call a yell, releasing his fluids into the condom with so much force that neither would have been surprised if it had punctured it. He withdrew his member from her sex, and they both collapsed on the couch, naked and intertwined.

The power of egg tarts is amazing.

OK, so perhaps that’s not really the origin of shortcrust egg tarts. I mean, it was probably carefully thought out in a kitchen or something. But here’s a recipe I found on allrecipes.com. I didn’t have evaporated milk, so I substituted some regular milk instead, and I think it worked out fine.

IMG_5373

Egg Tarts

Crust
1 cup powdered sugar
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup (2 sticks) butter
1 egg, beaten
1 dash vanilla extract

Custard
2/3 cup white sugar
1 1/2 cups water
9 eggs, beaten
1 dash vanilla extract
1 cup evaporated milk (or just regular milk)

  1. In a bowl, mix together the powdered sugar and flour.
  2. Mix the butter into the sugar and flour mixture until the mixture is in small crumbs.
  3. Stir in the egg and vanilla until it forms a slightly moist dough.
  4. Form the dough into 1 1/2-inch balls, and press the balls into a mini-muffin tin or into egg tart molds, covering the bottom of each mold.
  5. Preheat the oven to 450F.
  6. Mix together the white sugar and water for the custard in a medium saucepan.
  7. Bring the mixture to a boil, and cook the mixture until the sugar is dissolved.
  8. Remove from heat, and let it cool to room temperature.
  9. Strain the nine beaten eggs through a sieve and whisk into the sugar-water mixture.
  10. Stir in the evaporated milk and vanilla.
  11. Pour the mixture into the tart shells.
  12. Bake the tarts for 15 to 20 minutes, until golden brown and the filling is a bit puffy.

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The crust, with powdered sugar, flour, butter, egg, and vanilla.

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The dough, divided amongst 24 mini-muffin cups. They ended up quite thick.

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The filling, made with sugar, water, eggs, vanilla, and milk.

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The filling, poured into the mini-muffin cups.

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After 20 minutes in the oven, they’re done.

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They managed to hold their shape even outside the muffin tin.

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The shells were quite thick, and I had some filling left over, which I baked in some ramekins. Next time, I’ll have to make the shells thinner and make more egg tarts.

The egg tarts with the shortcrust pastry were not anywhere near as good as the ones from the bakery with the puff pastry, but they were much easier to make, I’m sure.

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Million Dollar Dilemma

Posted on July 31, 2013 by Ryo

With the annual McDonald’s Monopoly game underway yet again, I find myself dreaming of winning a million dollars. Because really, who wouldn’t want a million dollars magically added to their bank account, just because they ate a bunch of fast food?

The Monopoly game only offers the million dollars in the form of an annuity that pays out $50,000 every year for 20 years. But in other lotteries and sweepstakes, they often offer a lump sum option to get all the money up front, instead of receiving it as an annuity. So the question becomes, when is it better to get it as a lump sum?

Let’s say the jackpot is d dollars, with the annuity spreading it evenly over n years. For simplicity, let’s say that you somehow have a way of earning a fixed interest rate r, compounded annually. You will have received d/n the first year, which will be d(1+r)/n with interest. Then the second year, you receive another d/n, which also earns interest, but since the amount from the first year has earned interest, you actually have d(1+r)2/n + d(1+r)/n. Continuing this pattern, after n years you will have d((1+r)n + (1+r)n-2 + … + (1+r)) / n = d((1+r)n+1 – 1) / nr dollars.

Let’s assume that the lump sum is some fraction p of d. Then if we had gotten pd dollars in the beginning, after n years we would have pd(1+r)n dollars. Then we can find the breakeven point for p by setting these two values equal to each other. So we end up with p = ((1+r)n+1 – 1) / nr(1+r)n.

In the McDonald’s case, n = 20. Let’s assume that we can somehow get r = 0.07. If we plug those into the formula above, we get p = 0.58. So that means if the lump sum is at least 58% of the total amount, then it’s better to take the lump sum up front. It might seem like you’re getting a small fraction of the actual jackpot, but you end up ahead in the long run. (This is ignoring all the tax implications and so forth, and also assumes that you have a reliable interest rate, which is quite ridiculous.)

It’s quite annoying to have to do all this math. But if I won a million dollars, that’s one annoyance I would certainly live with.

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