My former ballet mistress once told me that the barre is a dancer’s home. No matter how much time was spent on a stage or center floor, rehearsals and classes began and often ended there, with dancers performing the steps and stretches that were learned from the very moment we stepped into the studio for the first time.

I loved that no matter how great or awful I had performed that day, the barre was always there for me, waiting in the wings whenever I wanted it, offering nothing but comfort and familiarity. On the floor, I’d frantically go over the new combinations – a flurry of microscopic steps, pirouettes and grand jetes – trying desperately to match mind and body to an accompanist, who played perfect, staccato notes with his piano.

Dancing at the barre was a different story. Muscle memory and music would take over, while my mind took a backseat. It was all like sliding into a buttery leather recliner that you’ve spent years coaxing to hug your body perfectly. The pianist played in tune with my every perfect tendu. One flick of his wrist for a high note matched my frappe. A bellowing series of notes, low and slow, matched my plie developpe. Nothing else existed. It really was home.

Over the years, the dance studio would be replaced by the kitchen, with the stove taking the place of the barre.

This is my home now.

This becomes especially true when the task at hand is baking, performed in the wee hours, when it seems you’re the only person in the world not tucked into a warm bed and dreaming of good things. Whatever tasks performed during the day become distant memories, whatever responsibilities lie ahead don’t exist. Muscle memory takes over, and with its help I execute the choreography that I’ve performed so many times before: A scoop of flour added to a sifter. Heavy cream poured with both hands into a measuring cup. My thumb and forefinger, poised to clap imaginary castanets, instead pinch salt into a mixing bowl full of dry ingredients.

The musical accompaniment is rhythmic. A scraping sound from the stainless steel spoon against the Nutella jar. The soft, crunch crunch, crunching as my chef’s knife rocks against a board littered with toasted hazelnuts. The muted pops and subtle hissing from the oven while baking the pan of Gianduia brownies. It all falls into place, like music notes sprinkled over a crisp, white page, with my immediate world as the orchestra. It’s a different dance, but it produces the same warm feeling I used to have while at the ballet barre. It feels like home. (Click on “Read the rest of this entry” for recipe)

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I’m one of those people who can spend whole days trying to finalize a dinner-party menu. The same rings true when I’m finalizing a dish for a potluck or party, especially when meeting strangers who know me only as “the food writer.” To me, it means that whatever dish I hold in my hands while standing on the doorstep of said potluck has to be flawless, or my reputation as a food writer is nil. There’s no room for error. (Cue anxiety.)

Luckily, I have a few back-pocket recipes I whip out in my moments of extreme social anxiety, like the below recipe for pumpkin cheesecake. Found it on Epicurious – along with a few other recipes to throw in the mix to make it sing: caramel sauce, candied pecans and a caramel whipped topping. Why is this two-day bake-monster one of my go-to staples? For one, it’s a showstopper. With toppings, it stands rather tall, and I’ve always felt that taller cakes and cheesecakes are more worthy of bakery-windows and food-porn admiration than shorter, wider cakes. The toppings also act as distractions layered on top, so you can mask virtually any imperfections (i.e., cracks, bubbles, etc.).

For the sake of this post, I’ve combined and reworded the Epicurious recipes to omit the things I didn’t do and include the things I did. (Click on “Read the rest of this entry” for recipe)

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Pumpkin is one of my favorite flavors. The following is a recipe I developed; one of my favorites, and the one I’m most proud of. The story (and the above photo that I took) ran in The Orange County Register this month. it can’t be found on the newspaper’s site, so I’ve posted it here. Enjoy!

Food 101: Pumpkin muffins, or cupcakes?
With this recipe, you can choose between the two, or make them both.

By CYNTHIA FUREY
Special to the Register

It’s a question for the ages: What’s the difference between a muffin and a cupcake? If you slather some frosting on a muffin, would that make it a cupcake, or does the difference lie in the general makeup of the baked good? To help answer this plaguing question, I asked Chef Melissa Simpson, baking guru and culinary instructor at Orange Coast College in Costa Mesa, what her opinion was on the matter.

“Generally, I would say there is little difference between cupcakes and muffins,” said Simpson. “Muffins generally use fruit, vegetables or nuts baked inside the batter. Cupcakes are iced and if filled may use ganache, mousse, or creams. Fruits and nuts may be used inside the filling or garnishes on the tops.”

It seems you can often interchange muffin and cupcake recipes as well. For example, coffee cake has a lighter texture than most cakes, and can double as a muffin if it goes sans frosting or icing. “Instead of icing, it might be topped by a crumble or swirled throughout with cinnamon sugar,” Simpson said. “Carrot cake is another prime example. It can be a muffin or cake, topped with nuts (for muffins) or cream cheese icing (for cakes).”

With these clarifications in mind, I went to work on developing a basic muffin recipe that is slightly less sweeter than most recipes, so if you decide to add frosting it won’t be a sugar overload in every bite. Pumpkin, in addition to fitting into the holiday season, has a subdued sweet flavor as well. The cinnamon cream cheese frosting adds enough sugar and spice to transform the mild muffin into a decadent dessert, and the addition of a small amount of brown sugar gives it a slight hint of caramel.

If you’re going the muffin route, you can add nuts or chocolate chips to the batter to make them heartier for a breakfast meal, or to serve with coffee or tea. Eat them right out of the oven, or give them a short stint in the microwave to warm them up.

If going the cupcake route, you can pipe frosting on with a pastry bag or spread it on with a knife. These cupcakes will be lovely either way as long as you make sure to use at least two tablespoons of frosting for each cupcake (this will give you the professional-looking rounded top that you see in bakeries). I like to sprinkle a small amount of ground nutmeg over the frosting as an elegant finishing touch.

And for those who want to use minimal effort in frosting cupcakes, you can also use a regular spoon. Scoop frosting out of the bowl and add a dollop to each cupcake. This method will require the frosting to be at room temperature so that it’s soft enough to fall from the spoon. But any way you do it, you really can’t go wrong. (Click on link below for recipe)

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