Lemon Cheesecake + Wojapi

Sliced Winter Lemon Cheesecake l www.scarlettabakes.com

If you are a student of anything to any great degree, you are probably able to easily discern areas of conflict within that field.

A., the husband, tells of vociferous debate about certain types of golf clubs, for example.

B., the 9 lb. wiener dog, relays the details of raging discussion about the healthful virtues of 2 Beggin’ Strips vs. 4 Beggin’ Strips before bedtime.

I have no link for that last one. I believe B. may be attempting to put one over on me.

Blueberry Wojapi l www.scarlettabakes.com

A quick Google search of ‘flour in cheesecake’ will alert you to the varied opinions on how to properly bake a cheesecake, and more specifically, whether flour has any business being in the mix.

As with to sift or not to sift and optimal creaming time questions, I monitor the flour vs. flour-free cheesecake debate with great interest: I want my sifted goods to be tender, my creamed butter to be light, and my cheesecakes to be as delicious as possible!

But I know that the time will ultimately come when I must make a choice and pick a side – there can be no hanging chads when it comes to cheesecake preparation.

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Texas-Style BBQ Sauce

Two things are on and popping in my house these days:  the Olympics and barbeque sauce. Not necessarily in that order. Occasionally at the same time.

And as with anything that’s trending in the Bakes household, both are frequently accompanied by vigorous debate as to the proper way to get things done.

With the Olympics it’s a question of event watching management (I’m all about women’s gymnastics, A.’s more of a track and field guy).

With the barbeque sauce it’s a question of sweet Kansas City-style versus vinegar-based Carolina sauce (I’m all about the tart vinegar, A. likes the sugary sweet).

Today, we’re keeping everyone happy with some Texas-style ‘cue sauce and an evening of Olympic water polo-watching.

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Caramel Apple Pie Pop Tarts

Sometimes people say things that really shock me:

“That’s quite enough cake.”
“I don’t care for 80s music.”
“Please pass the potato salad.”
“We’re sold out of Diet Coke, ma’am.” (What’s worse? A morning without your favorite caffeinated beverage or being ma’amed for the first time? Riddle me that.)

A. says I should try not to be so surprised by things.

Something about continually expecting different results from the same behavior + the amount of Diet Coke that I drink = I must be a little crazy. Whatever.

I like to think of my own brand of crazy as charming.

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Home Fries In Orange Salsa

Dear Breakfast,

I love you.

I think you’re really special and I enjoy spending time with you.

You always start my day off right.

After spending time with you, I feel ready to take on the world.

You’re so great for my confidence.

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Chuckwagon Apple Fritters

I’ve been thinking about the Good Humor truck a lot lately. Like, a lot. This happens to me almost every summer.

I get super hot.
The sweating starts.
The farmer’s tan shows up.
The sweating continues.
And I think about ice cream like it’s my job.

Every summer when I was a kid, we would spend our days at the local pool. My brother and sister were champion swimmers and they were rocking the butterfly and breaststroke on the neighborhood swim team.

I was a champion eater. Which meant that I was super good at floating. So I was allowed to tag along on pool days. Score!

Around 11:19 a.m., I’d start to get excited. At 12:31 p.m. I was pretty pumped. And by 1:03 p.m., I was straight up freaking out.

Waiting. Stressing. Counting and recounting my coins. Crying a little.

And then, in the far-off distance, I heard it…

Diddly ding da ding da ding ding-a-ling a ding dongggggggggggggg

(Whatever. That’s totally the song.)

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