Pumpkin Sour Cream Coffee Cake (Gluten Free)

I've had a bit of extra time at home recently, which has led to lots of time to think about food, and how much I love it. Autumn, besides being my favorite time of year, also includes a lot of PUMPKIN!

...and dessert. Which brings me to the point of this post.


I decided to make this gluten-free pumpkin coffee cake today after staring at the back of my Pamela's Baking & Pancake Mix for the past week, being taunted by the Sour Cream Coffee Cake recipe on the back.

If you're gluten-free (by choice or by necessity) and you've never tried Pamela's pancakes, stop messing around and go buy a bag of this! If you aren't gluten-free, you'll still like this stuff. It's seriously delicious. I am a strong believer in not accepting "gluten-free" as a code word for "delicious-free," and that's what you'll find in this coffee cake. It's the best damn coffee cake I've ever made, it was ridiculously easy, and all it took was a little recipe tweaking.

Treat. Yo. Self.

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Pumpkin Sour Cream Coffee Cake (Gluten Free)

Yield: one 9' cake
Time: 1 hr 10 mins, plus cooling time

Filling:
1 cup walnuts or pecans, chopped to medium pieces
1/4 cup white sugar**
1/4 cup light brown sugar**
2 tsp cinnamon

Cake Batter:
2/3 cup room-temperature butter, unsalted
2 eggs, large
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups Pamela's Baking and Pancake Mix (or equivalent pancake mix)
3/4 cup sour cream
3/4 cup pumpkin puree (pure pumpkin, not pie mix)
2/3 cup white sugar
1/4 tsp pumpkin pie spice

Glaze: (double this recipe if you really like glaze)
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1/4 tsp vanilla
1 1/2 Tbsp water

Set oven to 350°F.

Mix together Filling and set aside.

For Cake Batter, mix butter and eggs until fluffy, then mix in vanilla. Add Pancake Mix, sour cream, pumpkin puree, white sugar, and pumpkin pie spice. Mix together until incorporated. Spoon 1/2 batter into greased 9" bundt or springform pan, covering the bottom. Sprinkle 1/2 of the Filling evenly over batter, repeat with layer of batter, then sprinkle remaining Filling on top. Insert knife straight down into Batter, moving up and down around the pan in a zig zag motion. Do not smooth out Batter.

Bake for 45-50 minutes when inserted toothpick comes out clean. While warm, run a knife around the edges of the pan. When cool, remove from pan and pour a thin stream of glaze back and forth over cake.

**A note about the sugar: the sugar in this recipe is already reduced from what the back of the bag told me to do, but if you want to further reduce the sugar, don't be afraid to cut down a little bit in the filling.

Happy Little Trees

"Whoops... that's a tree. It's a tree now." - Bob Ross

Everyone's favorite fro'd out painter may or may not have actually said that quote, but I feel like I always heard him say similar things on his show, The Joy of Painting.

The Joy of Painting was one of the best things that the '90s had to offer. You had the feel of a public access television show, a blacked-out studio, and one smiling man with an easel, his palette, and his beautiful bulb of hair. During his half hour show, he would paint beautiful landscape scenes from scratch, showing viewers how easy it was to layer more and more paint, using brushes and palette knives, and then he would add little details with a small brush, bringing the whole painting to life. He did all of this while talking the audience through the process with his soft, calming voice.

I used to watch this show a lot as a child, and his artistic attitude really made an impression on me. Bob Ross never seemed to doubt himself or what he was creating. If some twitch of his hand made a line look a little differently than he intended, you could count on him adding lots of "Happy Little Trees" to turn that section into a beautiful embellishment rather than a mistake. He would often say something along the lines of...

"Just let the painting tell you what it wants to be. Start painting, and see where it takes you. This is the Joy of Painting. I'm Bob Ross."

I have not fact-checked that quote, so it's probably best for me to stop putting words into Bob Ross's mouth.

The point is, I've been thinking about Bob Ross today, and my own life. I'm at the point where I'm almost done with my first (continued) year of my Bachelor's degree, my writing skills are developing more and more, and I finally feel like going for a career that actually fits who I am. I'm not really an "Admin" kind of person, primarily. I'm not satisfied with sitting by the phones, scheduling meetings, and sorting the mail. These jobs have been very helpful to me in their time, but I'm finding that I want more.

Today, I started working on my resume with a friend of mine. Noticing a slight lack of relevant work experience when it comes to writing, she asked about any writing side projects that I had. There was a lack there, too. This blog has been so infrequently updated—my last post was over a year ago! It was at that moment, talking about my resume, that the possibly-fake quote from Bob Ross at the top of this post came into my head.

"Whoops... not much direct work experience with writing. But there's a little bit of relevant experience at these older jobs. And, hey! Editing experience! That's a tree... it's a tree now."

"Whoops... Virginia hasn't been published, and forgot about her blog for a year. But there's still a little bit of material... it's a tree now."

I'm finding that you don't need to have already started with the perfect plan, the perfect position, or the perfect execution for things to work out. You just need to be open, ready to work hard, and be honest with yourself.

So if you're in a similar position as me, and you're standing in front of your own metaphorical easel, seeing a lot of bare valleys and mountains, don't knock those Happy Little Trees. Add them in. Don't be afraid to admit that some of those trees weren't what you expected. Don't be afraid to improvise. Those Happy Little Trees could be just the thing you need.

NaNoWriMo, Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Failure

If you're like me, the idea of taking on new creative projects is really exciting. If you're like me, you charge forward to start biting at your creative endeavors and cram them down your throat with what I can only describe as sheer madness, because you showed up to a bull pen with dentures. And your shop teacher from middle school is there, trying to get advice from you on how to iron pants. Dreams are weird like that.

I signed up for Camp NaNoWriMo in July. If you don't know what that is, check out nanowrimo.org, and enjoy the feelings of hopefulness, adrenaline, and fear.

Before NaNoWriMo, the longest writing project I had ever undertaken happened in the 8th grade when I wrote a 100-page script-form parody of Lord of the Rings, which I called "Lord of the Donut Hole Rings," because I am a writing genius. And the One Ring was a donut. Come on, don't tell me you didn't see that coming. (PLOT TWIST: FRODO IS ALLERGIC TO GLUTEN.) After my project was completed, I handed it in as a normal end-of-term writing assignment at school, to the visible anxiety of my English teacher. After that, I started to turn my parody into an epic hand-drawn flash video on my home computer, but I had to stop after about three minutes of the parody, because I didn't know how to condense data when you create a flash video, and it would basically crash the computer every time. I didn't say I was a computer genius.

The entire time that I was creating LotDHR, I felt nothing but fearless joy, ambition, and delight at what I was creating. The actual act of sitting at a computer and typing up page after page of middle school-grade Lord of the Rings jokes was the happiest thing I could have been doing at that point in my life.

My NaNoWriMo experience was different. All told, I made it about 8 pages in during the month of July, although I did have a fully-developed plot map and all of my scenes written on little note cards, numbered in sequential order. I might still finish this story someday, but who knows. I think I only really tried for the first week and a half of July, and almost that entire time, I was anxious, afraid that I would fail, and afraid that I would create something so irredeemably crappy that my friends, family, and every literary person ever would point their fingers at me and call me, "The Worst Writer Of All Time, For Sure, For Probably Forever."

At some point, probably towards the beginning of the third week, I admitted to myself that I was just not going to get the novel done. I mean, writing a novel in a month is a pretty insane mountain to climb if you're starting from a place of, "Sometimes I Feel Anxious When I Think About Writing In My Journal." Don't even get me started on thinking about writing a blog. Like this one.

Despite all my fears about writing, and despite the fact that I got nowhere close to my NaNoWriMo goal, I'm proud of myself that I'm actually talking about it. Who knows where I'll be a few years from now--I hope I won't still feel this way about writing, and it's really up to me to make sure that I ignore that fear and do it anyway. So, I think that's what I'm learning.

In other news, I got accepted into a school's online BA in English/Creative Writing program, which I will hopefully start at the end of October. The final decision hasn't been made yet, as my husband and I are still talking about the changes that it'd mean for us. However, it's likely to happen...and, how do I feel when I think about the prospect of eliminating the guilt that I've always felt about starting college and never finishing, and that I want to work on my own writing but don't know how?

Fearless Joy. Ambition. Delight at what I'll create.

Arizona Mountain Soup: One Soup to Rule Them All

It's been a while since I've posted, but for my return, I've decided to give you something special—a Hubbard family recipe.

My mom came across this recipe while she was in college, and is still making it to this day. The only time that she's ever been able to not stand eating it is when she was pregnant with me in her first trimester, because she said when she threw it up, it looked just like it did when she made it.

Despite that story, I remember begging my mom to make me this soup all the time when I was growing up. It's amazingly flavorful, simple, cheap to make, makes your house smell damn good, and tastes even better after sitting for a few days in the fridge and then being reheated in a somewhat dirty microwave—which is great news for all of us, don't even lie.

"I care about my microwave being clean."

On my 18th birthday, God smiled upon me, and my mom gave me a copy of the recipe. Well, she gave me a narrative, really. Its main ingredients are pinto beans, rice, tomatoes, bacon, onion, and garlic, but the amount of ingredients is sort of inexact and up to interpretation. For the purposes of this blog, I made the instructions a little more exact. But if you're ready to have the single most meaningful experience of your life, I invite you to take part in this soup journey.

"My whole house smells like bacon and this is never going to end."

Arizona Mountain Soup

-1 1/2 cups dry pinto beans (tastes much better than canned, but if you aren't that dedicated, go for 2 cans of pinto beans)
-1 1/2 cups uncooked rice
-2 cans diced tomatoes
-1 package bacon (YEP)
-1 medium-ish size onion
-2 or 3 cloves of garlic
-2 Tbsp. Summer Savory
-2 Tbsp. Oregano
-a bit less than 2 Tbsp. Thyme (I told you)
-a bit less than 2 Tbsp. Parsley
-1 heaping tsp. Cumin (do you feel pretty yet?)
-1/2 tsp. Celery Seeds
-Salt and pepper to taste

First things first, if you're dealing with dried pinto beans, make sure that you leave yourself enough time to soak them, and cook them. I've done it the long way and the quick way—the long way typically involves letting them sit in cold water for 8 hours, the short way involves boiling them for a couple of minutes and then letting them sit for an hour. And after that, they take about an hour and a half to cook. Check your package directions and do what's right. I promise you, it's worth it.

While your beans are set up and cooking, you can either jump right into this next step or watch Netflix for 30 minutes.

You know what to do.

Next step: chop up that onion and garlic. Cut the bacon into bite-size pieces.

Your next step is to pull out your dutch oven or large soup pot. They both essentially do the same thing, but the dutch oven just feels so powerful with that heavy lid and that "don't touch me anywhere, I will burn you" attitude. Turn your stovetop to medium heat, and throw the onion, garlic, and bacon in the pot once it's hot.

Let that sit for a bit while you start to cook your rice at this point. Check your package/bag directions. It should take around 15-20 minutes. Back in the Pot of Good Smells, stir it occasionally until the bacon gets crispy and the onion is virtually pulverized in bacon grease. This takes about 20 minutes I think? Enjoy the smells!

It's in the shape of a heart because you're gonna need a new one at this point.

This is what it looks like when it's done. There's a ton of blackened stuff on the pot, which is GOOD. Scrape up what you can while you're cooking the bacon and onion, but don't try to get it all. This is not a race, Seabiscuit. Your time will come.

Dump the two cans of tomatoes in the pot, followed up by a can full of water, and start stirring. You may notice that the pot has suddenly become much cleaner on the bottom. This is simply the magic of cooking, and now all of that delicious oniony, garlicky, reduced-bacon-grease is mixed into your soup. You're welcome.

By this point, both your beans and rice should be done cooking. Throw those in the pot! Also add two more cans of water. Mix everything.

The Spice Family

Now it's time to add the spices. I put a picture in because, don't they all just look like a cute little family? Except the Celery Seeds are adopted.

Don't get intimidated at this stage. You're almost at the sticking-this-in-your-mouth part! Just stir all of the correct spice amounts in the pot, and then add the salt and pepper to taste (if you need a starting point, stir in 1 Tbsp. of salt and half as much pepper--adjust as needed).

Make sure your pot is set on low, then cover it, and let it simmer for at least a half hour. While you wait, why not make yourself a drink? Here's what I made.

I think you can see what's going on here.

(For clarity: Mix that cider powder in a mug with boiling hot water, add your desired amount of Jim Beam, or Admiral Nelson, or Rich & Rare (please not Rich & Rare--this is not the time), splash some vanilla extract into that, then top it off with a shake or two of cinnamon.)

Are you still waiting? Watch some Netflix.

Come back to me.

Don't bother your soup! I simmered mine for about 45 minutes, and this time I also shredded the rest of our Thanksgiving turkey leftovers and threw that in. Oh my, was that a good decision. I have also added roasted green chilies with similar success. ENOUGH OF MY WORDS. This is what it looks like...

Yes.

As I said earlier, this stuff is great when it's reheated. As you may notice, this is more of a "simmery wet combination of food" than a traditional soup. I like it that way. You can add a bit of water when you reheat it, for consistency. It's great with cheese. Or sour cream. Or nothing. Or everything.

Enjoy!