CrankyCakes

After a spate of chocolate birthday cakes, I thought the next baked snack ought to be something different.  So I asked the littler monkey if he wanted to help me make an apple cake.   He said, “I LOVE apple cake!” and waddled off to get the little step-stool so he could see the counter.

I started pulling ingredients out of the fridge and the cupboard, and he got a green plastic snake spoon out of the drawer so he could help with the measuring and stirring.

Apple-Pear Snack Cake

[The spice mixtures are approximate, as they were measured with the aforementioned green snake spoon as it was slithering in and out of the mixing bowl.]

Preheat the oven to 350 with a rack in the center of the oven.  Grease a 9 x 13 baking pan.

Whisk together thoroughly:
2 c. white whole wheat flour
1 c. unbleached white flour
2 t. baking soda
2 t. salt
1/4 t. ground ginger
1/2 t. ground nutmeg
1/2 t. dried orange peel (optional)
1/2 t. ground cloves
1/2 t. baking powder

Toss together:
1 large apple, peeled, cored, and cut into 1/2″ dice
1 large pear, cored, and cut into 1/2″ dice
2 T. brown sugar

Beat together in a medium bowl:
1/2 c. olive oil
2 T. butter
1 1/2 c. sugar or brown sugar
4 large eggs
2 c. pumpkin or butternut squash puree

Fold the pumpkin-egg mixture into the flour mixture and beat together just until combined and fairly smooth.  Stir in the apple and pear, then pour into the prepared pan.  Bake until an inserted toothpick comes out clean, about 50 minutes.  Cool in pan on rack, then cut into squares and serve.

The cake is nice, not too sweet, has a moist texture and keeps and freezes well.  In spite of this, the little monkey has declared “I don’t waaaaaaaant [sob] apple cake [sniff],” when it’s been making snack appearances.  His brother is content to eat his piece as well, and so it goes.

I am from a restaurant family.  I spent years and years waiting tables.  Believe me, I know that families with children are a pain in the restaurant tush.  Messy, distracted, noisy, hated by your other eye-rolling customers.  I really know.  From personal pain, I even know the cardinal rules of dining out with tykes:

1. Come early.
2. Eat fast.
3. Tip big.

Now I’m a mom, and I do occasionally like to eat out.  And I’m sorry – Olive Garden and places with the yellow arches and their close relatives are of zero interest to me.  Burlington is a restaurant town – especially relative to its size – and we can do much better.

But I questioned this recently when some friends of my parents came into town and we all went out for breakfast at a place I’ll call, “Dogwood.”  I took the step of giving my children a don’t-be-crazy-when-we-get-there-but-still-have-an-appetite-sized snack.   I brought toys, books, crayons and paper.  When we got there, I went right down the stairs to get the host’s attention and get on the list to be seated.   First one server rushed past without looking at me, then another.  Then after the third and fourth I found myself not only hungry but really, really irritated.  And when the (presumed) host walked up, and looked over my head, past the other eager would-be diners, and said to someone who had just walked in, “Oh hi Dave!  Do you have three today?”  I felt the steam coming out of my ears.

Through clenched teeth, but smiling to show my children my respect for these hard-working restaurant folk, I told them how many were in our group and gave her my name.  We eventually got to our table.  And that’s where I developed the following requests:

• Please do not seat my family at a booth that is anchored to the floor and can’t be moved so that my children could reach the table.
• Please do not give my three and six year old tall goblets filled to the brim with water.
• Please do not look blankly at me when I ask you for glasses that they can pick up and put down without spilling all over themselves, the table, and the bench on which we’re seated.
• If the food I’ve ordered for the children has some weird garnish or topping or something I may not be aware of, please ask me if I want it to be there.  Or else take it off before one of them spots it and starts screaming his head off.
• Please check to see if we need anything after you’ve dropped off the food.  Like ketchup for eggs, without which a 6-year old may be incapable of eating said eggs and may start screaming his head off.
• When the meal is over, please bring the check as promptly as you can.  I know you’re busy and working hard and an interesting person with many other fun things you could be doing and people you could be talking to.  But if you make small children sit still and behave for too long, you’ll find them, you know, screaming their heads off.

Thank you.

This particular place has a menu very similar to that of Penny Cluse, which I tremendously prefer.  Though it’s very, very busy, they’re so efficient, and attentive, and great with kids.  They brought my 3-year old’s OJ in a cup with a lid without being asked.  They brought extra plates without being asked.  Their menu is good and interesting and healthy enough to keep adults and children happy.  They don’t charge exorbitant amounts for sides and substitutions and extras.  We shared their delicious tofu and peanut sauce scramble with toast and a side of fruit and were exceptionally happy.  And no one screamed his head off.

And just last week, in some sort of holiday-season inspired wackiness, I decided to take us out for brunch after our ride on the miniature pony-carts.  So we went to Sadie Katz, where we had had a lovely and successful meal once before.  They are so friendly and so fast, and though they may not be perfectly authentic NY Deli (their latkes are deepfried and a little more like hashbrowns, the onions in their lox & onions omelet are caramelized rather than raw), their food is really solid and tastes great.  My older monkey loves their plate-sized blueberry pancakes.  His little brother pronounced that the latke that came with his cheese omelet was “delicious and delightful.  And yummy, Mommy!”  When the big guy dropped his nearly full chocolate milkshake (hey – it’s the holidays!), the waitress got there quickly, and even rinsed out the hat and scarf that ended up covered with it.

How meshuggah am I?  I have no recollection of what I ate, but I know I liked it.