A year ago, I tried making the famous Sacher torte for my mother’s birthday. It’s a dense chocolate cake with apricot filling that hails from Vienna. I did tons of research and worked much harder than usual to get the cake just right.

Epic fail, everyone. The glaze was clumpy and the cake was just way too dry. It was so not worth all that time and effort. Luckily, time passed and I decided I wanted to try again, but this time I did it on my terms. That means the cake became a brownie and the glaze was a much simpler version of the process that did me in a year ago.

It’s cliché to say that time heals, but clichés are often quite true. I’ve had friendships end, important ones, without really understanding what happened. It’s hurtful, but stepping back and getting both time and perspective can really help.

One of my favorite short stories is by my favorite author, Edith Wharton. She wrote a story called “Roman Fever” that I’ve read more times than I can possibly say. It starts a little slow, but if you make it through to the end, I promise it will be rewarding. Anyway, it’s about two older women who have all these friendship issues even though they should be well past it. One of the best lines from the story is, “So these two ladies visualized each other, each through the wrong end of her little telescope.”

We’re always looking at other people that way, through the wrong end of whatever telescope we happen to be peering through. That’s how friendships end, why people hurt other people, and why it’s so hard for everyone to get along. Very few people can see inside the real version of ourselves to get who we really are. When we find those people, we should hold on to them, because they’re rare.

One of the people who gets me, and who always will, is my mother. We’re not alike in a lot of ways, but in the important ways, we are. On the surface, we look and behave differently, but we have the same fundamental views on the things that matter. So the least my mother deserves is a cake on her birthday.

My mom is a pianist (and a darn good one), so that’s why I piped some music flair on her cake. My children call her “Baba,” the Russian word for “grandmother,” so that’s the B you see. She likes Sacher torte, so I gave her my best version of it at this point. Maybe someday I’ll do it the traditional way, but this year, she got the brownie-fied version.

A year ago, I couldn’t have thought of even trying something close to this cake again, but hey, time helps. All we need is the space to think and read amazing short stories and everything is healed. So happy birthday to my mom, who is the best. I love her more than I love brownies!

Does that work for everyone? Nope. My friend is more of an evening exerciser. By that time, I am done and a half. Can barely move, except to lift the fork to my mouth to eat dessert. That’s my workout later in the day!

When you want a good breakfast treat that is homemade but easy, I recommend turning to refrigerated biscuits. Not  to make biscuits with, silly. To make something far more fun. This salted caramel pecan pastry ring is delicious and perfect for the morning, not to mention pretty quick to put together. It takes the usual five minutes or so!

When I bake, I often listen to music. It helps pep everything up and I like to fling flour around while I dance in the privacy of my own kitchen. Sometimes the songs are a bit lacking, like this one on the radio lately that just will not stop.

I have no idea who sings it, so bear with me. It’s got lyrics that go something like, “If we’re talking bodies, you’ve got a perfect one so put it on me.” Wow. Those are some lyrics. Yes, I’m being a snob about it. I’m an English teacher.

But the most annoying part about the song is the kind-of chorus, where the singer just bleats one word: “Bodies.” Like, over and over. Or at least it seems to never end.

Why do I keep listening? Well, I don’t anymore. Now I change the station as soon as I realize what’s happening. But the first few times, it was like rubbernecking at a traffic accident. I just couldn’t listen away. I had to figure out if this was really a song.

If I’ve offended you because you love this artist, song, or bodies in general, sorry. I had to get that off my chest before moving onto a much more pleasant topic.

This miracle of a breakfast treat is made by dipping bits of refrigerated biscuit dough into a brown sugar and butter mixture laced with pecans and coarse sea salt. The result is quite lovely, and must be taken very seriously.

In other words, have plans to eat breakfast if you make this. Don’t skip it. Commit.

Breakfast should be something you look forward to, no matter what you crave. Hey, we all like different music, clearly. So we probably don’t all want sweet pastry for breakfast. But I do, so pass this over!

Cinnamon is one of those dark horses. I forget about it for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. And then without warning, I eat a dessert with cinnamon, and wham! I can’t stop.

When I tried Hannah Max cinnamon sugar cookie chips for the first time to decide how to bake with them, I had to slap my own hand to stop it from reaching back into the bag. The cinnamon sugar flavor is more addictive than I expected. It’s always fun when life runs contrary to expectation in a good way!

That’s how I got married, actually. When I started dating Kenny, I didn’t really expect it to last for very long. See, he was super cute and a lot of fun, but I’d known him since college when he was a bit rough around the edges and perpetually playing ping-pong. It’s pretty much all he ever did.

So imagine my surprise when on our first date, we actually had a serious conversation. And he was kinder than I’d ever realized, ready to start the next stage of his life with marriage and kids and all that. In other words, he had grown up. I hadn’t expected that at all. In my mind, he was still playing ping-pong with stale rolls from the dining hall because he couldn’t find the ball.

Pleasant surprises are the best kind. They sneak up on you and make you wonder if you really do know as much as you think you know.

Cinnamon desserts are in that place for me. I bake them with almost an internal shrug, thinking that somebody will really like it, but not me. After I’ve managed to mainline several helpings of whatever it is, I’ll finally admit that I really love cinnamon more than I expected to.

This cake is ridiculously good. It’s almost a blondie because of a higher brown sugar content to a lower flour ratio. The inclusion of eggs and baking powder makes it rise to cake-like proportions, however, and the cinnamon sugar topping is made of cookie chips.

I cannot say enough about this topping. Some of it floats on the top while the rest of it sinks into the batter at various points, giving the cake a through-and-through cookie chip quotient. With the (sorry if you hate this word) moist cake base balancing the crunchy cookie chips, it’s hard to imagine breakfast getting any better.

If you don’t think much about cinnamon, you’ll have to rethink your internal musings. Cinnamon sugar cookie chips are too addictive to ignore, and put into this cake, they take on a whole new amazing form. Maybe cookie chips on coffee cake isn’t what you’d expect, but it’s a glorious surprise. And those are the best kind!

A product for this post was provided by Hannah Max Cookie Chips. All opinions are my own.

While I was baking this cake, I realized that I don’t talk about my dad much on this blog, which is odd. My parents are a huge part of my life. We live close to one another, so I see them almost daily. And my dad explains a lot about who I am.

For one thing, he taught English for 40 some-odd years. I learned to love reading from him. Every Saturday, he’d read aloud to me for about an hour, even when I was a teenager. I’ll never forget that one of my favorite books, Pride and Prejudice, was first introduced to me with my father’s voice.

Also, my dad has been an instrumental part of my kids’ lives. When my oldest was born, my parents took care of him full-time so that he wouldn’t have to be in daycare while I went to work. They took care of my other two children part-time and they still pick all three up from school every day so that I can stay at work and go to meetings. My father is gentle and loving with my children, and I strongly suspect he thinks they’re even more fun than I was at that age. But as their doting mother, I’m not jealous!

So the least my dad deserves on his birthday is his favorite cake. I didn’t even know he liked German chocolate until relatively recently, because he never told me. And then one day it just came out in the course of casual conversation. That makes sense, because my father is pretty selfless. He wouldn’t run around asking people to make specific cakes for him. I would. But I’m a picky girl.

The cake base isn’t strictly German chocolate, so sorry. I stuck with the classic Hershey cocoa recipe, which I think makes an amazing cake. It’s easy as well, using just one bowl and no butter. My mom, who protects my dad’s cholesterol, would approve.

I can’t say that the frosting is butter-free, though. Sorry! It’s easy, though. You make it on the stovetop and let it thicken. It’s pretty much foolproof. How many frostings come that easy?

Happy birthday, Daddy. I love you. And I hope the rest of you love this cake. It’s as basic and easy as they come!

For some reason, people associate Mother’s Day with brunch. Okay, I know that it’s traditional to take mothers out for brunch on the big day, but why? Don’t we rate a fancy dinner?

Listen, I’m not trying to knock brunch. The food is delicious and decadent, and it’s totally fine to feature chocolate in your pancakes, or waffles, or French toast. How could I possibly object to that? But I really, really love going out for dinner. Dinner out means one night of not having to cook for greedy little mouths.

Still, to appease you brunch fanatics out there, I made this cinnamon crumb bread. It’s pretty awesome, and to be fair, you can also have it for dessert. After dinner out.

I’m being appreciated a lot this week. Yes, Sunday is Mother’s Day, but apparently, this week is Teacher Appreciation Week. That means I got a Reese’s peanut butter cup bar in my mailbox this morning (how well they know me), chips in my box yesterday, and an apple the day before. And it’s really nice to get all the free stuff.

The thing is, I really love coming to work. People talk about how exhausting teaching is, how drained you feel at the end of the day, how demanding everyone can be. So true. But sometimes we get into such a negative place about this profession that we don’t see the great stuff. Like, how every morning, some kid I don’t know holds the door open for me to enter or exit because their parents raised them properly. How my students say “thank you” as they leave the classroom. How I laugh out loud every day so many times, even though I’m not much of a laugher. I mean, kids are funny. Even the 17 year-old ones I teach.

They are also really cool about sharing ideas. I needed some baking inspiration last week, so I asked a few about summer dessert ideas. Boy, did they step up to the plate. It turns out that teenagers really like to think about food.

And so do I, which might be why I love being a high school teacher. It’s even more exciting when ideas come by surprise, like this bread. I never thought about making it until I made these Cinnamon Donuts with Chocolate Dipping Sauce a couple of weeks back, and that formed the basis for making a bread with tons of crumb on top.

You can’t lose with crumb. You can’t lose with cinnamon. And you definitely can’t lose if you celebrate life regularly, not just on the days or weeks that are meant as designated appreciation moments. Translation? Eat dessert daily. And for you moms and teachers out there, enjoy the next few days!

You see, I’m one of those women who tries to beat everything. If someone tells me I’ll need to recover from something for 2 weeks, I love to prove them wrong and be up and running at the end of the first week. If someone looks at a piece of cake and says that it’s too rich to eat all at once, you can bet that my piece of cake is long gone. And though I know I’m aging and that time speeds up irrevocably, I keep fighting it. I know it’s futile, but it can’t be helped.

Distraction is a must when you start contemplating your existence, and I like to pour creative energy into birthday cake. This year, my daughter asked vaguely for “chocolate AND vanilla.” I couldn’t ask her to elaborate. She’s a miniature person with a limited vocabulary.

So one night, this idea was born. The base of the cake is pound cake, frosted with a simple vanilla buttercream. Poured on top is the richest, most addictive fudge glaze ever. And let’s not forget the bling.

Or in this case, the cake decorations. She wanted Dora, so Dora she got. I ordered these cake toppers on Amazon (a.k.a. my online home away from home) and piped on a patch of grass for Dora and her buddies to sit on while they eat their cake. It felt like a hopeful design for the upcoming warm weather.

The party was pretty low key, just family and a few friends. We saved the three year-old party for school. I don’t know about you, but the thought of 16 three year-olds running around my house was not appealing. Things are messy enough! This way, everyone got to enjoy a slice of cake in only relative chaos. Unfortunately, the guest of honor didn’t want her picture taken. But her siblings did!

Whenever you make a layer cake, work in three days. Day one is for baking and then chilling the layers, day two is for filling and stacking, and day three is for decorating. You could go faster, of course, but I hate being rushed.

When all is said and done, you have a beautiful cake that nobody will forget. If you’re not partial to kiddie decorations, this cake is classy without all the flair on top, or even with a single rose piped into the center. Go crazy! After all, it’s a birthday!

But then, whoever made that comparison obviously never had a baked donut. And they also never had a donut cake. No, that’s not a cake made of donuts.

Before we progress any further, I need to take a minute to vent about keeping a straight face. In my line of work, I see kids do a lot of things that, well, make me want to react. They sing. They make presentations. They share their innermost feelings. And I’m really glad they do all of that, and I never want them to stop.

But see, my face is a problem. I happen to have a very expressive face, but it’s expressive in a way that nobody can read accurately. Like, whenever I’m deep in thought, people think I’m really upset. When I’m trying to work something out, people read that as super angry. And whenever I’m amused, my face reads as snide.

Honestly, it sucks. People have never read the tone of my thoughts quite correctly, and so I’ve had to cultivate a very bland poker face over the years. My friends get to see my real face, and so do my family. But my students? Heck no. They have no idea.

And in a weird way, this donut cake is the same. It has to pretend to be a simple coffee cake, unassuming, with a lovely cinnamon topping. But really? If you put this batter into donut pans, it tastes just like a cinnamon cake donut. It’s all about the way something gets presented.

See, while I have a hard time controlling my facial expressions, I can totally control what I do with batter. As you can see, this cake is light and fluffy and absolutely perfect for breakfast. And the topping is cinnamon heaven.

In fact, though I haven’t called it one, this is a poke cake of sorts. In order to get the topping to really stick, you accomplish the effect by poking holes all over the cake with a fork, pouring in melted butter, and then adding the cinnamon-sugar topping. The good flavors just get everywhere.

Maybe we regret eating that donut. Or letting our faces betray feelings that are real or just perceived. But folks, remember this one: we never have to regret cake. Especially donut cake.

There’s no exception to that rule on Passover. In fact, while some people call it the holiday of matza, I call it the holiday of crumbs. If you’re wondering why, think about what matza does. It crumbles everywhere. On floors. In hair. Between tiles. Atop light fixtures.

And there I am, broom and dustpan at the ready, to clean it all up. Which is actually a huge step for me, because I am not good at keeping the house clean, much as I try.

I have this theory that we’re all really good at organizing specific elements of life and total crap at getting others together. I’m sure you’re thinking, well, duh. But the people I know who have really clean and organized houses might not be able to get their work desks clean. And the people who get up at the crack of dawn every day to work out (ahem) might never clear out their cars. And the people who can plan out meals for the whole week and do the shopping in one go might not ever be able to work in the time to exercise.

In other words, we’re human. And we tend to focus on what we’re bad at instead of patting ourselves on the back for our natural skills. I mean, I have crazy strong willpower. I have to, for heaven’s sake. I’m a dessert blogger. But I can’t stop getting on my own case about the fact that my house always looks like a hurricane has gone through it.

So if I’m gonna give myself some props right now, let’s get to this crumb cake. It’s a Passover recipe, and it’s seriously the best one in my arsenal. This comes from Susie Fishbein’s Passover by Design cookbook. If you’re not familiar with her work, she has changed the face of kosher cooking in America. Her books are seriously amazing, and I can’t recommend them enough.

Every year when I bake this cake, it gets destroyed. Almost immediately. I make this for our family holiday meal, and I watch it disappear before my eyes. I have some very picky eaters at these get-togethers, and some people really hate Passover food. Regardless, they all love this cake.

It’s also blindingly easy to make. If you’re in a city where the lady finger cookies on top aren’t available, substitute any bland, vanilla-type cookie. The idea is to make a crumb topping without having to go through the usual process.

When you’re done, you have a cinnamon-studded cake that can give any non-Passover cake a run for its money. Truth be told, if I were being super hard on myself, I wouldn’t even post this recipe, since I didn’t make it up. But really, let’s be honest. My house is a mess. Sometimes I need a little help. None of that matters when you consider that I can bake up a crumb cake that anyone will eat on Passover. Now that’s something worth celebrating!

Today’s offering is inspired by Kenny, a.k.a. my non sugar-craving half, who thinks all desserts are too rich. I love pound cake, but he has two bites and puts it aside. So I decided to halve the butter, brown it, and see what happens. Verdict? Success!

People forget how amazing half can be. Why do you think that combo meals with a cup of soup and half a sandwich are so appealing? Reducing something by half can open up options or completely reframe the way we look at the world. Imagine what life would be like if you always had to do everything wholly at one time. No dividing a project in half and doing the rest later, no eating half the brownie and saving the rest for tomorrow, no dressing partway in black and accenting with red shoes and a red jacket. You get the idea.

Restaurants should definitely serve half portions as a rule. Think how much more customers would be willing to try! You wouldn’t have to stare down a giant plate of pasta, wondering if it could feed a small family. Instead, you could have half of it, and maybe have room for dessert. As a rule of thumb, always save room for dessert! But you’re getting advice from a dessert blogger here.

As for pound cake, putting in a whole pound of butter is definitely called for sometimes, but to be honest, even half that amount still makes for a pretty rich cake. It’s still good for eating by itself, or cutting into chunks to dip in chocolate, or pairing with fruit. You won’t miss that half pound!

In fact, the full half pound isn’t all in the cake itself. You reserve a tablespoon of the browned butter and brush the top of the cake with both that and sugar while it’s baking. It’s pretty much the perfect finish for the cake.

To be honest, I might have let this go in the oven just a touch too long. My baking projects are usually punctuated with needy children, so I would advise you to keep a close eye on the cake. You want a toothpick to come out clean, but that’s it. Don’t wait for it to brown too much.

If we had a chance to do everything more halfway, some parts of life would suffer. But think about how much potential lies in half. After all, we can’t have everything!

Do you remember the red pistachios? Do they still exist?

I loved those things. They got red dye all over my hands, but I always thought they tasted better than the regular kind. My grandparents always kept them around for me. And then one day, they disappeared. I haven’t seen a red pistachio since.

Things have a habit of disappearing, unfortunately. There’s a great poem by Elizabeth Bishop called “One Art” where she talks about what she calls “the art of losing.” It’s a great poem, and my English teacher self highly recommends it to you. But I sometimes get creeped out by how much I’ve lost without even realizing it until after the fact.

It’s normal, of course. My childhood houses are gone, the cities I grew up in, all in the past. And while I’d like to think that they’re still out there somewhere, it’s hard to factor in the existence of a house I no longer live in, or a city I haven’t seen in years. But that’s life.

Luckily, pistachios still exist, even if they’re not red. And they come in great flavors. If you’ve never tried a salt and pepper pistachio, you are missing out. And if you’ve never had pistachio cake, that needs to end right now.

This cake recipe was handed to me years ago by a friend, and I just never tried it. To be honest, it didn’t look right at first. Pistachio pudding mix existed? And I could put it in cake?!

Oh, I was such an innocent. Cake mix rocks, pudding mix rocks, and when you put them together, they create even more delightful results. In this case, you get a perfectly dense, does-not-taste-like-a-mix, beautifully green cake.

Just in time for St. Patrick’s, might I add! That’s right. I’m getting into the holiday spirit here. And the glaze pushes this cake right over the top. I put some almond extract into the glaze (which I would inhale straight if I didn’t suspect it tastes icky by itself) and that really made that pistachio flavor pop.

The thing is, we never notice some of our favorite things until they’re gone. Or people, really. I miss a lot of people. I miss places I grew up. I miss red pistachios. And while I hope never to miss pudding mix, you never know. The time is now. Cherish what you have!