Peanut Butter Chocolate Frosted Cake

Dear Friend,

It's been awhile since we've last spoken. Months, years—I've lost count. We used to be close, you and I, talking and laughing over ordinary events and everyday life. We discussed the simple things, such as what we were making for dinner, as often as the big events, the events that would eventually lead our lives away from each other and down different paths.

We no longer live in the same place together, now separated by time zones and countless miles. Our friendship held in the beginning. Though we never talked as often as we wished, we made time now and then to sit in front of a computer and catch up, stealing glimpses of each other's new lives through our living room backdrops. A painting here, a splash of color there; foreign to me, but so familiar to you.

Then, as time predicted it would, our friendship grew strained. A missed call here, a forgotten reply there, and we began to drift apart. As our new lives took hold, it all but seemed to evaporate together. We didn't talk anymore, but we thought of each other often and then less. I learned about your daily life online, so informal and impersonal, but I would take it over silence.

Time and distance pulled us apart. We had fallen victim to the most common reason of lost friendship. We were not the first, nor will we be the last, but knowing this doesn't make it any easier to stomach. Perhaps it was the right time for our friendship to come to a close. Perhaps we will never know.

I feel as if too much time has passed to reach out to you and pretend as if we still are the friends that we were so long ago. I'm torn between writing you to say hello and never writing words to page in the first place. I think of you every now and again, wondering what your daily life is like, hoping that you are happy. I do wish the dearest of happiness to you.

If we do find each other again, I'd love to invite you over for an afternoon, where we could drink coffee and eat cake and talk about simple things and big events. I'd make you this cake, a combination of flavors that you loved more than I ever did. I'd love to hear how you are doing. I've missed you.

As always,
Me

Peanut Butter Chocolate Frosted Cake is a classic cake with a familiar flavor combination. The cake is mixed with peanut butter, which permeates the cake through and through. The final cake is dense, but moist. Spread with a thick chocolate buttercream, it begins to taste dreamy. This is the type of everyday cake that should be enjoyed with friends and loved ones, on sunny afternoons with a side of conversation.

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Molasses Cookies with Ginger Cream Cheese Filling

You don't become a baker without developing a few bad habits along the way. Perhaps my most noticeable habit is that I forget to wear an apron. This wouldn't be a problem with most people. Sadly, the same cannot be said for me. When I worked in a bakery, the first business in the morning was to put on my trusty apron. It was more than just a flour barrier between my clothes and me; I relied on it to take the brunt of my clumsiness in the kitchen (graceful, I am not) and often used it as a towel to wipe my hands when a customer came calling. By the end of the day, the apron was hardly recognizable.

Even though I am a home-baker now, with a closet full of adorable aprons, I don't remember I have them until my pants resemble a powdered sugar nightmare. It's a work in progress.

I'm a little ashamed to admit bad habit #2. I don't own a kitchen timer. When I worked in the bakery, it was standard procedure to never set a timer for any baked goods. At first this seemed odd to me, but the ovens were passed so frequently to reach the kitchen sink and food was so strongly on the mind that the entire time I worked there, we only burned a handful of items. I like to think I've developed a "baker's intuition" in my own kitchen, justifying the fact that I never remember to check the time when I put something in the oven. The truth is that sometimes I have excellent intuition and, well, sometimes I do not.

I have gotten quite well at slightly over-baking a little bit of everything. Can we keep this our little secret, though?

Perhaps most shameful of all is that I am lousy when it comes to doing the dishes after wreaking havoc in the kitchen. My boyfriend could write you a novel revealing the horrors of kitchen aftermath. Always full of excuses, I complain to anyone within listening distance that after baking and photographing (and eating) whatever I've made, I'm much too tired to wash the bowls in the sink. No amount of sad eyes and pouting will convince them to clean up after me (I've tried). This continues to be a battle for me, but I am getting better at it. Slowly.

What are your bad kitchen habits?

Molasses Cookies with Ginger Cream Cheese Filling are spiced with everything nice. The cookies bake up soft and cake-like, with a strong molasses flavor and a touch of cinnamon. The cookies are sandwiched together with a cream cheese frosting spiced with ground ginger. Whether you think of these cookie sandwiches as whoopie pies or not, one thing is for certain—it's hard to stop at one. I like to twist open the sandwiches and eat the halves one at a time just to make them last a little longer.

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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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