Butternut Squash Cake with Cream Cheese Icing

Transformations take place within us every day. Most are so small they are unnoticeable, making tiny changes that move us forward in subtle ways. The large transformations are the moments we don't expect, moments that burst through our minds and our hearts, stealing the air in our lungs with sudden awareness and understanding of ourselves.

Transformations like the moment I realized I was capable of falling in love, as I stood on the Rialto Bridge in Venice, holding hands with a boy and overlooking the dark, moonlit water. The moment I realized a fierce independence lay inside me, as I cut through rough waves, grasping tightly onto a windsurfing board. The moment I realized I could write my own future, as I sat in an uncomfortable office chair, blinking at a bright computer screen full of numbers and symbols.

Transformations move mountains within our souls.

Books are one of the few ways to live a thousand different lifetimes. Each story I hear, whether read or told, opens a window into a new domain of different perspectives on myself and others. Books have the power to change me in both the small and big ways.

When I first encountered John Green's book, The Fault in Our Stars, I found myself sitting on my bed, clutching the book between my hands with a unique desperation. I stayed up late into the night as my eyes traveled over the words; I couldn't read fast enough to reach the next sentence and I couldn't read slow enough to allow myself to fully savor the moment. I laughed and cried simultaneously, my tears spilling onto the page, my heart full of emotion. When I closed the pages, I spent a rare moment in reflection.

The book changed me in that moment. Though I may never pinpoint the ways or means of the change, I could feel the transformation within me—real, raw, and pure.

Little moments are a minor key to the major chords in our lives. The beautiful kindness of a stranger who helps me pick up a pile of dropped books as I apologize for my clumsy nature. The rush of positive emotion brought on by a childhood smell I had forgotten existed. A message from a friend that arrives at precisely the right moment it needed to be heard.

The power of a revolutionary moment, whether large or small, should never be underestimated. An unassuming piece of cake on a dreary autumn afternoon can provide immeasurable comfort to a weary soul.

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Cucumber & Zucchini Cream Cheese Slices

First and foremost, I want to apologize for my leave of absence for the last few weeks. I have not disappeared or taken an unannounced break from blogging. Instead, my explanation is rather simple, albeit mundane—computer problems. The moment I returned from vacation, my hard drive crashed spectacularly, rendering my computer completely unusable. Thanks to my wonderful father and his hard work installing a new hard drive, I have a fully functioning computer sitting in my lap this evening.

I can say with great sincerity that I have missed these small moments we share together.

August is one of my favorite months when it comes to food; it's the beginning of harvest. After a trip to the local farmer's market, my kitchen is suddenly host to my obsession with fresh vegetables. As they line the counter tops and spill out of the refrigerator, I often sit back and seriously question myself on what I've just done, convinced I'll never manage to eat my way through them on time. After a few pasta dishes and makeshift hashes topped with an egg, the vegetables quickly disappear and I find myself back at the market in a week's time.

This is a cycle I wish I could enjoy more than a few months out of the year.

On my most recent trip to the farmer's market, I picked up a bundle of cucumbers, zucchinis, and leeks, among many other vegetables. More often than not I don't have a plan for using them, choosing instead to find inspiration in front of the stove when dinner time comes around. This time the inspiration came from my mother.

During the summer months, she occasionally whips up traditional German summer fare (I come from a long line of German heritage). One of my family's favorite dishes is made with small dumplings which are covered in a cold cream sauce with thinly sliced cucumbers or lettuce. Without her recipe to guide me, I created an inspired version of the dish for myself, turning it into an open faced sandwich so I could easily pack it in my lunchbox during the work week. The ingredients may be simple, but the flavors in this dish are wonderfully complex (and it'll use up some of those ripe vegetables still sitting in the garden).

Cucumber & Zucchini Cream Cheese Slices is a deconstructed version of one of my mother's traditional summer dishes. Thinly sliced cucumbers, zucchini, and leeks are sprinkled with salt and pepper and splashed with vinegar. This salad is then placed on top of French bread spread thickly with cream cheese to create an open-faced sandwich. The acidity of the vinegar and the tang of the cream cheese complement the mild tones of the cucumber and zucchini (with a zing from the leeks) in an unexpected, but welcome manner.

A tip of advice: the thinner the vegetables are sliced, the better the salad comes together (if you have a mandolin, now is the time to pull it out of the cupboard).

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Blueberry Cream Cheese Cupcakes

After I stopped working in a bakery, it took me awhile to began to appreciate cake again. Working in a bakery does have its perks, primarily in the form of an abundance of day old cookies, cakes, and pastries, but the perks can soon begin to feel smothering. It started when I felt bad about tossing out food too old to sell (but not too old to enjoy). I would "save" a pastry from the trash every now and again, as it found its way onto my lunch plate. In a few short weeks, I gained the baker's obligatory ten pounds and began to realize that my mission may not be such a good idea to pursue.

Even so, it wasn't unusual to nibble on a cookie fresh from the oven or eat a day old scone with a cup of coffee to start my early mornings. It's simply a part in the life of a baker.

Eventually, as the story often goes, I grew mighty tired of eating anything baked. I became immune to the scents wafting from the oven and found the willpower, for the first time in my life, to put my obsession with eating butter and sugar at bay. Many days I'd find myself wishing for vegetables to snack on as my perpetual sugar high became too much to bear. Despite this, I could never shake my love and desire to eat cookies.

Cake scraps were easily the most abundant treat in the bakery. I assembled numerous cakes each day and, after leveling the layers, I'd find myself with a pile of scraps that begged to be eaten. Some days I'd throw them away, some days I'd happily eat them, and some days I'd eat them, not because I wanted to, but simply because they were there. As you can imagine, I reached the point where I had a hard time even looking at cake.

Mae West once said, Too much of a good thing can be wonderful, but I'd have to respectfully disagree. I don't think she was talking about cake.

After my days at the bakery, I still struggled with my slight aversion to cake. I'd make a cake here or there (and enjoyed them very much), but I wanted to crave cake again. I wanted to become so overcome with the sweetness of frosting and the classic texture of a good cake that I'd need to turn on the oven just to satisfy my appetite.

Eight months later, I can successfully proclaim my reluctance to cake is over. After making a batch of these cupcakes, I became absolutely smitten. Since these cupcakes were finished off a few days ago, I can scarcely think of anything else when I head into the kitchen to find a snack.

These Blueberry Cream Cheese Cupcakes are a dream. The cupcakes have a bright, exuberant flavor aided by a good dose of vanilla and a smattering of blueberries. The cream cheese frosting, however, elevates these cupcakes from ordinary to extraordinary. The frosting is thick and tangy, offsetting the sweet blueberries with a coveted balance. When I baked these cupcakes, all eighteen were gone in less than twelve hours—three people (including me) managed to make ten of them disappear in just a couple hours.

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