This story has nothing and yet everything to do with roasted strawberry milkshakes. Regardless, I’m going to tell it if for the only reason that I can’t get it out of my head until I get it onto paper (or the screen as the case may be).

Gabe and I sat down to a simple meal – a sort of unintended date night. The kids were already in bed and we hadn’t eaten yet, so I stumbled into the kitchen to make us some dinner.

At the edge of the table I set out a cloth napkin and placed the hot cast iron skillet on top. In it tomatoes danced around long-simmered poblano peppers and onions with a few just-set eggs in the middle of it all. Next to the skillet I laid out some homemade bread – too dense, too wheaty and yet, homemade so it really wasn’t too bad.

Our plates sat by the hot pan and I lifted my phone above the scene just enough so that the bread, the skillet and our plates were in view. As I studied the image I noticed that a few random papers made their way into the corner of the frame. I pushed them just out of view and tried for another shot. This time a few of our computer cables cluttered the top right of the image and I shoved them aside and tried again.

Three-quarters of our table was a mess of papers, books, spiderman coloring pages, hello kitty stickers, coffee cups and clumps of oatmeal from the morning. I opted to only shoot the last quarter of our table that showed a simple, yet beautiful meal. I paused that moment which showed two people about to sit down together, after a long day, to enjoy dinner and one another.

For some reason this scene grabbed my attention. For a moment I asked myself, am I being deceitful? It’s not really the whole picture. The reality is the table was a disaster and we were relegated to a fraction of it, tucked deep into the corner because the mess from the day still showed.

But then an even louder voice shuddered the shame and told me, this is what it looks like to have eyes for joy. To be able to focus on the fraction that isn’t messy, that shows beauty and truth and a gift rather than concentrate on the mess.

I hold Ivy tightly on the couch, our legs intertwined. She nestles into my chest as if she’s a part of me. I alternate between kissing the top of her head and smelling it. Breathing in the moment, I count it as joy.

Baron’s words move faster than I can listen as he spouts of the plan for his clan in his new favorite game, Clash of Clans. He’s bursting to boast of his scheme and we listen intently not because we’re so thrilled by his stockpile of gold but because he’s so happy. I squeeze his cheeks together so his lips pucker and his eyes squish against the weight of my hands just as they did when I squished his baby cheeks together. I kiss him regardless of disgusted groans. His smirk doesn’t hide the fact that he still loves my squeezes. This moment is joy.

Gabe came home from the grocery store and before he even made it into the kitchen I could smell the sweet earthy scent radiating from the flat of strawberries he brought home. The kids and I eagerly descended upon the box and immediately stained our fingers with their sweet and vibrant juice. One bite and I had visions of ducking into the rows of berries to pick pounds and pounds to get us through the winter. That taste, so simple and familiar, is joy.

These moments are tucked in between the spilled milk, a relentless pile of laundry, a sink full of dirty dishes, bandaging a scraped knee and a word that falls painfully on my heart. I can choose to go through my day and see only the things that need to be done and the things that I’m not doing but I want a life that recognizes the spurts and bursts of joy that interject our days. I want to laugh as infectiously as the Car Talk brothers and be the source of someone else’s smile. I want to hold my kids tight in this moment not longing for the past or fretting about what’s next but enjoying this moment. I want to sit at the end of a table with my husband and talk to him about his day while ignoring the mess on the other side. I want to pause in the middle of drinking my milkshake and take in its sweetness and soft vanilla scent wading through the pink straw and recognize it for the gift it really is.

I’m still new at this. It is a habit I’m developing. When I’m present to my day even the laundry pile is a reminder of how fortunate we are. The scraped knee is a reminder to be thankful for our bodies that move, grow and heal. It’s not some sort of sappy, false happiness, it’s much greater than that. It’s so much easier for me to let things pile on and feel burdened and distraught but what a better way to live – to present to the joy and recognize its presence all around.

Roasted Strawberry Milkshake

A hot oven never ceases to amaze me. I sit in awe in front of the oven window watching butter, flour and water turn into flaky pastry and now I’ve turned to the oven to transform fresh berries into a sweet, tart and jammy mix that makes a simple strawberry milkshake into something pretty damn magical.

All of this is very adaptable. Add sugar or not, add more berries or less, add a shot of liqueur or leave it out.

8 cups halved strawberries

1/4 - 1/3 cup sugar

1 vanilla bean, split and seeds removed

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees F.

Place strawberries on a parchment lined sheet tray and sprinkle with sugar. Toss the strawberries with the sugar and vanilla seeds and place the vanilla bean on the tray with the berries too.

Roast for 30-40 minutes until some of the edges of the strawberries have crisped, the berries have softened and a pool of ruby red juice covers the pan.

For the milkshake:

Place a good amount, about a pint, of vanilla ice cream into a blender or food processor along with a cup, or so, of cooled roasted berries and their juice. Blend or pulse until smooth.

Pour into cups and serve with whipped cream.

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you… I could walk through my garden forever.”

– Alfred Tennyson

And in this garden of mine we would picnic everyday, as we did the other night. There would always be stiff Manhattans in the flask, sweet strawberry cupcakes in hand and rich chocolate pudding capped with bourbon whipped cream.

You’d pick me a flower just as two more would pop up next to us.

I could live in this ever-growing garden always, as long as you were there with me.

Strawberry Cupcakes // Chocolate Pudding

Strawberry Cupcakes
adapted from Look, I made that
makes 16-18 cupcakes

Strawberries are definitely not in season here and yet I needed these cupcakes. I imagine the flavor to be much more strawberry-like if the berries are used were ruby red throughout. I’ll try again in June. But regardless we ate them happily. These we topped with brown sugar buttercream and while delicious we decided that lightly sweetened whipped cream and sliced berry on top would have been wonderful too.

2 1/4 cup flour
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/3 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 tea vanilla extract
1/2 vanilla bean (optional)
4 ounces unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature, beaten
1 cup pureed strawberries
1/2 teaspoon orange zest
1/4 tea rose water (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line two cupcake pans with cupcake papers.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cornstarch, baking soda, and salt. Set aside. In another medium bowl, combine the buttermilk, oil, and vanilla extract. Set aside.
Combine the vanilla seeds (if using), sugar and butter and beat until well combined. Add the eggs in a slow stream, beating well after each addition. Beat for 1 minute at medium speed. Gradually add the buttermilk mixture and beat for 1 minute at medium speed.
Reduce the speed to low and add the flour mixture. Mix until just combined. Stir in the pureed strawberries and the orange zest.
Spoon into the prepared cake pans and bake until the cupcakes spring back when touched lightly in the center, about 20-25 minutes. Cool slightly before removing from the pan.
Cool completely before frosting.

Brown Sugar Buttercream

4 large egg whites
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a heatproof bowl set over (not in) a pan of simmering water, whisk together egg whites, sugar, and salt.

Cook, whisking constantly, until the sugar has dissolved and the mixture is warm to the touch.

Transfer to the clean bowl of an electric mixer. Beat on medium speed until fluffy and cooled, about 15 minutes.

Raise speed to high; beat until stiff peaks form. Reduce speed to medium-low; add butter, 2 to 3 tablespoons at a time, until fully incorporated. Add vanilla and whisk to combine.

Chocolate Pudding
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen
Serves 6
This really is the perfect classic pudding. The creamy texture is reminiscent of the boxed variety I remember and crave. And really, it's no more difficult to make. Unless you use the instant pack - that's way too easy and a little odd how it firms up so quickly. 
I used dark brown sugar instead of the white which added more richness and depth to the pudding but I imagine white is the more classic choice. I’ll leave it up to your pudding discretion.

1/4 cup cornstarch
1/2 cup sugar (see note)
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
3 cups whole milk
7 ounces chocolate, coarsely chopped (I used 60% chips)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Combine the cornstarch, sugar and salt. Whisk well to remove any lumps.
In a large saucepan bring the milk to a boil to a simmer. Add the sugar and cornstarch mixture and whisk together for one minute, or until thick. Turn off the heat and add the chocolate. Whisk until the chocolate is melted and everything is well combined.
Transfer the pudding to a bowl, or individual bowls, and place wax paper or plastic wrap directly on the surface to prevent a skin from forming.
Refrigerated until cold and set.

Bourbon Whipped Cream

There's no recipe except to add as much bourbon as you think necessary to a bit of whipped cream. I added nearly 2 tablespoons to about 1 1/2 cups of already whipped cream.

My mind is in a perpetual state of rapid spinning lately. Many projects to tend to, classes to teach, children getting older, dishes to be done, and as always, changes for the family. I guess that is life – the constant striving for balance and struggle to stay afloat in the midst of the continual ebb and flow, but it feels as if lately everything is dotted with an exclamation point.

It doesn’t help, and let me be real honest with you all, that I feel as if my I am an open wound, susceptible to the slightest nudging or faintest prick. I go through seasons of self-doubt – oh believe me, those doubts are always there but there are days when they sit on a cozy little couch in the front of my mind whispering, or more likely, screaming at me. “You can’t say that!” “What are you doing?!” “Do you really think people want to read that? eat that? see that?” Even now as I try to write the things this internal editor screams. She (I don’t know why but she feels like a she) warns me not to be so raw, not to allow the uglies to be seen – the side of me that is riled with insecurity and desperately longs for approval.

In this state I find myself staring at a blank screen wanting so badly for the passion that is burning inside of me and the surge of creativity that is coinciding with this season of doubt to somehow form itself onto the screen into a perfect narrative tied up nicely with a satin bow. But instead I spend what brief time I have flitting about in Internet-land while I wait for the inner voice to quiet enough for me to actually get something accomplished.

My point in exposing this part of me is not that you would throw shouts of approval my way – although, I appreciate it and you people have been so incredibly encouraging in many dark times – but, more so as a bit of therapy for myself in which I invite all of you to sit on the chaise along side of me and also, to open up the discussion as to how you deal with these seasons in your own lives.

Now I realize that this isn’t the normal 300 word sugary sweet intro one might expect when discussing cake – did I mention there will be cake? But in my world food, emotions, community, and life are completely interwoven and as they say – you can’t have one without the other.

As I’ve had to navigate these seasons in the past I’ve learned a few simple changes can almost immediately set me straight once again. One might think then that I’ve got it figured out and we could simply move on to the cake but the reality is while I often know what I should be doing I don’t do it. Call me a toddler.

I have learned that there are times when I need to pull away from Twitter and Facebook. Social media is a wonderful, yet strange creature. I am so grateful for friendships that have developed and opportunities that have been born out of a regular dialogue through these sites but they do, often, paint an unrealistic picture of life. It’s far too easy for me to watch my Twitter stream and dream of the citron grass on the other side with it’s lush softness and lack of weeds. I’m sure one may look at my Twitter page and sometimes think, “Man, that Ashley. All she ever does is eat ice cream and eat great food.” While the ice cream part is true there are definitely frozen burrito days and take-out nights.

Looking to others thinking thoughts of “why isn’t that me?” “How come they get have all the fun?!” It’s ugly, it’s gross and it’s not reality. Really, I wouldn’t change my life for one moment and I feel exactly where I am meant to be but the temptation to be envious and long for something that is not meant for me is a complete distraction from what I should be doing and makes me sound like the child whom I am trying to instruct to stop whining, be grateful for what you have and focus on what you CAN do and what you are meant to do.

This weekend, in an effort to halt this season and become productive once again, I stayed off Twitter (except to post the occasional photo of my children coated in chocolate gelato), didn’t check my Facebook feed and I let the blog sit quiet. I read a book (a very good one in fact), I ate cake made by a friend, we went for a walk. We sat in the grass, watched movies, and friends – I took. a. nap. I literally just sighed as I typed that.

I’m not healed, nor will I ever be. This sensitivity and proclivity to doubt is part of what makes me, me. The flip side of this ugly coin is a person who is keenly aware of the emotions of those around her, who tries to encourage those close in my life in a way that I hope they will never have to experience these painful thoughts and self-doubt.

I am, now, feeling much better and I’m ready for more cake.

While we enjoy our cake together I’d really love to hear your thoughts. Have you felt this way too? If so, what are your ways of pulling yourself out? It’s quite an exercise in strength to allow yourself to be vulnerable but the rewards are so great and I really do want to foster a community of honesty so that we can learn and grow from one another.

Poppy Seed Cake

created using Ruhlman’s Ratio

4 eggs + 1 yolk

1 cup sugar (8 ounces)

1 teaspoon kosher salt

2 teaspoons champagne vinegar

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 ¾ cup (8 ounces) all-purpose flour

¼ cup poppy seeds

2 sticks (8 ounces) butter, melted and cool

Pre-heat your oven to 350*. Spray and line with parchment paper three 8” rounds (or 2 9”).

In the bowl of a stand mixer add the eggs, sugar, salt, vanilla, and vinegar. Gentle warm over a large pot of simmering water whisking the eggs while resting the bowl over the pot. (If you are very brave and have a gas burner, do as I do and place the bowl right of the stove set to low. Continually move the bowl to avoid hot spots and whisk constantly. But please do be so careful). This step isn’t necessary but if you do skip it, at the very least use room temperature eggs as warm eggs invite more air in while whisking, creating a lighter cake in the end.

Whip the  warm eggs on medium high until tripled in volume, about 3 – 5 minutes. The final whipped eggs should be a faint yellow, like butter.

In a medium bowl combine the flour, poppy seeds, and baking powder. Whisk to combine.

With the mixer on low, carefully add the dry ingredients. While there are still little pockets of flour, start adding the melted and cooled butter. Turn off the mixer and use a rubber spatula to finish mixing by hand. Scrape down the sides of the bowl to ensure everything is incorporated. You are more likely to over-mix by using a machine which is why I prefer to finish off the cake by hand.

Divide the batter into your three prepared cake pans and bake until just golden around the edges and when you gently press the cake it will spring back. This will take about 20 minutes.

Remove from the oven and let cool in the pan for 5 minutes before inverting onto a cooling rack to let them cool completely.

Mascarpone Frosting

½ cup Mascarpone

½ cup (1 stick) butter, softened

¼ teaspoon kosher salt

2 cups powdered sugar

1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1 teaspoon vanilla

Cream the Mascarpone and butter together until blended. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Slowly add the salt and powdered sugar. Stir to combine. Add the lemon juice and vanilla.

1 pint strawberries

Wash the berries and reserve a few of the prettiest ones to sit atop the cake. With the rest of the berries remove the green and quarter them. If yours are like mine and need a little nudge of sweetness sprinkle with sugar – my preference is brown sugar.

Assembling the cake

On a cake stand place your first layer. On top of that add about ¼ of the frosting. It will be a very thin layer of frosting. Scatter half of the strawberries on top of that. Take your second cake layer and place the top onto the strawberries. Repeat the process of frosting and berries. Finish with the third layer, again with the top of the cake resting against the berries. Use the remaining frosting to cover the top and finish with the reserved small, pretty strawberries.

Poppy seed cake, mascarpone frosting, strawberries

Poppy Seed Cake

created using Ruhlman’s Ratio

4 eggs + 1 yolk

1 cup sugar (8 ounces)

1 teaspoon kosher salt

2 teaspoons champagne vinegar

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 ¾ cup (8 ounces) all-purpose flour

¼ cup poppy seeds

2 sticks (8 ounces) butter, melted and cool

Pre-heat your oven to 350*. Spray and line with parchment paper three 8” rounds (or 2 9”).

In the bowl of a stand mixer add the eggs, sugar, salt, vanilla, and vinegar. Gentle warm over a large pot of simmering water whisking the eggs while resting the bowl over the pot. (If you are very brave and have a gas burner, do as I do and place the bowl right of the stove set to low. Continually move the bowl to avoid hot spots and whisk constantly. But please do be so careful). This step isn’t necessary but if you do skip it, at the very least use room temperature eggs as warm eggs invite more air in while whisking, creating a lighter cake in the end.

Whip the  warm eggs on medium high until tripled in volume, about 3 - 5 minutes. The final whipped eggs should be a faint yellow, like butter.

In a medium bowl combine the flour, poppy seeds, and baking powder. Whisk to combine.

With the mixer on low, carefully add the dry ingredients. While there are still little pockets of flour, start adding the melted and cooled butter. Turn off the mixer and use a rubber spatula to finish mixing by hand. Scrape down the sides of the bowl to ensure everything is incorporated. You are more likely to over-mix by using a machine which is why I prefer to finish off the cake by hand.

Divide the batter into your three prepared cake pans and bake until just golden around the edges and when you gently press the cake it will spring back. This will take about 20 minutes.

Remove from the oven and let cool in the pan for 5 minutes before inverting onto a cooling rack to let them cool completely.

Mascarpone Frosting

½ cup Mascarpone

½ cup (1 stick) butter, softened

¼ teaspoon kosher salt

2 cups powdered sugar

1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1 teaspoon vanilla

Cream the Mascarpone and butter together until blended. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Slowly add the salt and powdered sugar. Stir to combine. Add the lemon juice and vanilla.

1 pint strawberries

Wash the berries and reserve a few of the prettiest ones to sit atop the cake. With the rest of the berries remove the green and quarter them. If yours are like mine and need a little nudge of sweetness sprinkle with sugar - my preference is brown sugar.

Assembling the cake

On a cake stand place your first layer. On top of that add about ¼ of the frosting. It will be a very thin layer of frosting. Scatter half of the strawberries on top of that. Take your second cake layer and place the top onto the strawberries. Repeat the process of frosting and berries. Finish with the third layer, again with the top of the cake resting against the berries. Use the remaining frosting to cover the top and finish with the reserved small, pretty strawberries.